Narnia Preferences and Oneshots

Peter Oneshot 1/2

blub

(A/N: Hey guys! So I know that I didn't update on Monday. Sorry about that. Sherlock left me in a really strange mindset and I was kinda all over this place so I think it's best that I waited until today to update. I'm not going to be talking about Sherlock other than the fact that I liked the episode, but I'm not going to ask for any opinions on it because ya gurl ain't about that life so let's think about something other than Sherlock >.< Remember to eat something, drink some water and take your meds! Love you!)

Oneshot: You are captured during the Golden Age

When Y/N didn't show up for breakfast, he was curious.

Peter knew how much she liked food; why would she miss a meal? He was tempted to go and check on her, but he wouldn't have time between his meeting and practically inhaling breakfast to run all the way across the castle. So, he made the perfectly rational assumption that his best friend, towards whom he seemed to harbor deeper feelings, had slept in.

When Y/N didn't show up for their mandatory meeting, he started to get nervous.

While she frequently slept in, Y/N never dared to miss a meeting with the council, whether she could get away with it or not. She was always there, in her seat, asleep or not, ready to pretend like she cared what was going on. Though no one explicitly mentioned it, Peter noticed people sparing glances in her chair's direction. At the beginning of the meeting, someone had passed out a pile of parchment that had notes to remember. Peter had stowed his away with some other papers he carried with him, but Y/N's sat, untouched and askew, nearly falling off of the table and into her seat.

When he started to ask around and not even her maids had seen her since the night before, Peter dropped everything and ran to Y/N's rooms.

As he ran through the halls, passing puzzled servants and noblemen alike, his brain couldn't help but find itself in the worst of places. He probably looked like a fool, dashing through the corridors at such a high speed, but frankly Y/N's safety meant more to him than the questions people might have later.

When he saw the note, his legs felt as flimsy as twigs, while the rest of him stiffened like a rock.

He plucked it from underneath the book Y/N had been reading, scanning the parchment in a quick haste to make sense of all of it. The window let in a draft, drawing attention to the fact that it was open. Peter moved towards it, grimacing when he saw a piece of fabric caught on one of the hinges; it was a dark red speckled with silver, the pattern that each of the royals wore to state dinners and balls, a pattern that Peter himself had chosen. The night before had been a rather pointless ball Susan had thrown. Her brothers limited her to one irrational ball a season, and Susan's winter balls were something to behold.

When he finally came to his senses, Peter sent out the cavalry.

He knew who the note was from, because explicitly, in her own handwriting, Y/N had explained what had happened; the Telmarines, who had been threatening a move on an important person at Cair Paravel for months, had taken her, forced her to write a note telling everyone what had happened and left, not-so-carefully taking her from the castle.

When he knew that everything was being done to find Y/N, he went to his study, immersing himself in the work.

It didn't seem to work. His effort was half of what it would normally be, when his hands weren't shaking and there weren't tears streaming down his face. He violently threw his pencil across the room. Head spinning, he tried to make sense of it. One part of his mind was screaming, shouting that he should have seen it coming, that somehow the Telmarines could tell that Y/N was important to him, but the other part of his mind was logical, whispering and seemingly tired, reminding him that the prospect was insane.

When he compared the piece of cloth from the window to that of his own clothes, Peter nearly screamed.

The fabric from her dress should have been the exact same as from his tunic, yet the silver that was supposed to speckle the satin was muted, covered by something the same red color. The clear silver pieces were near and far between, but present, a barely lit light in this ever dimming tunel. The cloth had her blood on it, Y/N's blood, a sign that she had in fact been harmed during the kidnapping, probably being as stubborn as always and not following the assailants orders.