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24 March, 1002
3rd POV
"Pete, slow down," Edmund said after Peter explained his plans in the latest council meeting.
"Oh, sorry Ed, am I talking too fast?"
"No, it's not that but..." Edmund placed a hand on his forehead, exasperated. "can we have the room please?" he said looking back to the lords, not really asking.
"What's this about Ed?" Peter asked once they were the only ones left in the room.
"It's just... you're making all these plans Pete... and they great you know. Imira's great, she's terrific, I love her, you know that but... you're getting ahead of yourself." Edmund explained.
"How come?"
"Well, you're already making these plans for this huge celebration, and all these things that are yet to happen for quite a while... and right now, we have things we really need to deal with. Urgently. More so may I say, than your wedding." Edmund said, standing on the other side of the table.
"Such as?" Peter asked, confused as to what his brother meant.
"The rebels. In the west. Pete, we still haven't dealt with all of them. They're still hiding out there and you're... look you need to prioritize," Edmund finished with a firm hand motion.
Peter evaded Edmund's eyes and stared at the wall stubbornly.
"Look, I know you're excited to get married to her, who wouldn't be, she's amazing. But you need to remember, you're a King. You've got responsibilities." Edmund explained in a calm manner.
Peter thought about this for a while as he walked to look out the window. Down below, he could spot Imira in her training gear sparring with Eurybe and Alcibe. She looked happy. "Well, if you're the one lecturing me on responsibility, then I think I should listen," Peter said with a small smirk.
"Thank Aslan," Edmund muttered to himself.
"Call the lords back in then," Peter said looking back at his brother.
"Me? You do it,"
"You're the one who asked them to step out," Peter pointed out.
"To your benefit," Edmund said smugly taking a seat and leaning back, making it clear he was going nowhere.
"Fine," Peter said walking towards the door.
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After his talk with Edmund, Peter decided he had to tell Imira they would not, after all, be travelling to Datram by the end of the week.
"Hello," Peter said, greeting Imira who sat on the railing sharpening her sword.
"Hey," she greeted him looking up from her sharp task.
"Can we talk?" he asked looking up at her.
"Sure," Imira said, placing aside her sword, but remained sitting up there. Peter was glad the blade was out of her hands. Who knew how she'd react. "Hey I'm thinking we should stay in Datram for a few days, two or three, and then set sail for Aotherra. I'd like you to meet my cousin, and my uncle, and my grandmother. And then on our way back, I could show you Goldstone and-"
"We can't go to Datram," Peter stated, interrupting.
"What? But you said-"
"I know what I said, and I meant it, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I was thinking as Peter, not as High King. And as King, I cannot just leave. Especially now," Peter explained.
"Especially now?" Imira asked. For a short happy while, she had forgotten of all the troubles that ached the realm.
"There are still enemies we haven't dealt with," Peter reminded her.
"The witch's allies," Imira said, remembering their foes.
"Yes. I need to take care of them before I can do anything else,"
"We,"
"Sorry?"
"We need to take care of them," Imira said with a small smile.
"Yes, we do," Peter said, remembering when Imira told him in the woods that she would go with him next time.
Imira placed her hands on Peter's shoulders and helped herself down.
Peter took a step towards her with a smirk, forcing her back against the wall. He leaned forward, making her think he was going to hiss her, but he was reaching for her sword. He grabbed it and brought it between the two of them.
"You should get back to your training then," he said, still smirking.
Imira took the sword and walked away holding back a smile as Peter watched before leaving for the armoury.
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