Narnia Preferences and Oneshots

Peter Oneshot

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(A/N: Hey guys! So, I'll explain the 'test' thing that I did: Whenever I make outfit preferences, you may have noticed that I do have a sort of persona for each of the outfits. Usually Caspian's girl, for lack of a better phrase, is more girly and has more pink, Peter's girl is more refined and professional and Edmund's girl is more dark and casual. I noticed that the one that gets the most comments is almost always the Edmund ones. I thought that happened because the outfits were usually darker, so I did one where every outfit was black, just to see if you guys would pick differently because every outfit had your seemingly favorite color or if you would stick to Edmund for whatever reason. Don't get me wrong, I love Ed, but I was curious as to why almost everyone chooses him. Upon further research, I came to the conclusion that most of you pick Edmund's because it's more casual, a stereotypical but true preference among fangirls. I would like to know what you guys think of my test. Did you guess what it was before I told you? Remember to eat something, drink some water and take your meds! Love you!)

Oneshot: Peter's wife is being told off for not being like a 'lady'

State dinner. Not really your favorite event of the week, you must admit.

No one even knew about it until two days prior. For whatever reason, the other kings had, behind Peter's back nonetheless, decided that they weren't open on any other date. The messages their riders had carried had sent the castle into a frenzy. You in particular were going to be closely monitored.

While you were High King Peter's wife, you were not his queen. Before the wedding, everyone had urged you to take the crown, saying that your life would be easier and that you should follow tradition. You didn't listen. Screw tradition.

You were not Peter's queen but you were his wife, a decorated warrior of Narnia. You had trained harder than anyone in your regiment to get to your position. You were not taught discipline and you were certainly not taught grace, two things that the noblewoman teaching you etiquette was sure you would never possess.

You had shown regress at the thought of acting prim and perfect on a regular day when not under the scrutiny of high-powered people with influence. No one was sure how you were going appear in front of the newcomers.

Things started out alright. The castle had been prepped, made up to befit the finest in the land and their mothers. The staff put on smiles, the Kings and Queens their crowns, and you were talked out of wearing your sword around your hip on top of your dress.

Everyone gathered outside to greet the visitors. Peter's siblings stood to his left in order of age and you stood to his right. Peter's arm was gently resting around your waist. You clasped your hands in front of yourself, hoping that it would deter the men from trying to kiss them.

Your efforts were, unfortunately, in vain. When the kings and noblemen approached you, they did not wait for you to extended your hand; they forcefully grabbed it from in front of you and kissed it slowly, keeping full eye contact with you. The rough callouses on your hands registered for some of them. You could see it in their eyes when they grabbed your hands; they could tell these were not the hands of a lady, but a warrior.

As if the patronizing hand kissing was not enough, you had been informed that many of the men were sure to ask you to dance in the ballroom after dinner. You grimaced at the idea. It wasn't that you could not dance, but the fact that these men who could be better described as pigs would have every chance to touch you. You had seen the likes of it before: A young lady looking for a husband is asked to dance by a man of status or money. Flattered that a more likely than not older man would fancy her, she accepts the offer. It could be simply observed that many of these girls had not been seen smiling since.