ignite me / p. pevensie

chapter twelve

As Rowyn held a book in her palms, she walked up to one of the tallest towers in Cair Paravel. Her footsteps halted, however, when she heard a male singing softly.

It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

Rowyn recognized the tune to be an old Narnian lullaby sung entirely in the old language of Narnia.

Now on her tip-toes, she climbed up the stairs and smiled widely when she saw Peter with his back to her painting. She smiled at the way he swayed with the tune he sung as he traced golden paint across the canvas.

Rowyn rested against the railing that rested between two pillars and smiled more. "I didn't know you could sing." Peter jump so heavily that Rowyn worried he may fall off the edge of the tower.

Peter turned to her with wide eyes and then positioned himself in front of the canvas, blocking it from her view. "W-What are you doing here?"

Rowyn leaned back on the railing and faced him. "I come up here to read. I didn't realized you used it as an art and singing studio." She bit down a laugh and smiled slightly. "What are you painting?" She pushed herself away from the railing and went to go closer to him but he moved so she couldn't see the painting.

"Uh—it's nothing!" He told her after he cleared his throat and adjusted his paint stained tunic.

Rowyn cocked an eyebrow and placed her hand on his. The burn she gave him wasn't enough to hurt him, just enough to make him falter his movement so she could push him away from the painting. "Is that . . . me?" She questioned when she saw a gorgeous painting of a woman standing in the sun, her hair having ignited a shade of orange from the light.

Peter fiddled with his paint brush. Only Rowyn made him this nervous. "Um, yeah it is."

Rowyn's heart turned in her chest. "Peter—this is beautiful. I had no idea you painted so well or even at all." She turned to smile at him. "No one has ever painted me before."

Peter's nerves left his veins and he came to stand beside her with his arms crossed. "I only painting thing that I think are beautiful and worth remembering forever." He smirked to himself.

Rowyn's throat tightened as he spoke. "You think I'm beautiful?" Her voice was quiet.

He nodded. "I would have to be either blind or just a fool not to . . . every man in Narnia would agree with me." Rowyn turned her gaze back to the picture and bit her lip to hide a wide smile. "You've developed well—I mean—uh—I mean y-you've grown well . . . into a fine woman—oh Christ I need to shut up."

Rowyn chuckled softly and shook her head. "I know what you mean, don't worry, Pete." She panted his shoulder and moved to sit on the railing. Thankfully her balance was good or she would've fallen to her death. "Can you teach someone to paint? Or is it something you're born with?"

Peter looked at her and then added something to his painting. "I use to be quite shite in the beginning, if I'm honest, so yeah you can teach it. Why? Are you interested in learning how to paint or do you just want to spend more time with the Magnificent King?" He peeked his head out from behind the painting and winked at Rowyn. Rowyn was grateful for his playfulness at the moment. The pair got along great by themselves, but when they were ruling side by side that's when things got rocky.

She bit her lip to hold in a laugh. "Oh yes, my oh my! I want to spend every minute of my life around the Magnificent King!" She pretended to fan herself with her hand. Pete laughed at the girl and returned to his painting. "I want him to teach me things . . ." Rowyn smirked and crossed her legs.

Peter cleared his throat and tightened his hold on his paintbrush. "Like what?" He played along, moving away from the painting to look at Rowyn.

She look down at her lap and shrugged. "Well I'd love to learn how to paint and maybe . . . how to work my way around a sword—I'm sure you have much to teach." She cocked her eyebrow up at him and smirked softly.

Peter set down his paintbrush and stepped closer to her with his arms now crossed. "I'm sure you know your way around a sword, my Queen."

Rowyn shrugged. "I know the basics—I'm more skilled with daggers—but I'm sure you could teach me some more . . . intensive things about swordplay." She stood and looked up at him. His breath caressed her cheeks from their closeness. Rowyn gripped the railing behind her.

"What are you playing at, Galathynius?" His voice was very quiet. So quiet that Rowyn wondered if he meant for her to hear it.

"You know, I heard Susan is planning a ball for Lucy's birthday on Friday." She spoke after a moment of them just staring at each other.

Peter nodded and laughed quietly. "The whole lot of Narnia has heard . . . maybe you and I could attend together." His paint-stained hand brushed her cheek.

She gulped hard and bit her lip. "If I decide to stay for long. You know I don't care much for the big parties—Lucy knows to. She told me she doesn't expect me to stay for long."

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I know—how about this? I'll train with you tomorrow and then Friday you'll owe me a dance."

Rowyn looked down at her feet and nodded. "Maybe, Pevensie . . . maybe."

And in that moment, a small ember in her chest began to glow brighter for the Magnificent King.

Peter took a deep breath and moved a few steps away from her, allowing Rowyn to finally breath normal. "I'm sorry about breakfast a few days back." He confessed and grabbed his paintbrush.

Rowyn shook her head. "It's okay, I shouldn't have pushed you-"

"I shouldn't have shouted at you." Peter looked at her and then down her body. "You don't deserve that."

Rowyn licked her lips and crossed her arms. "Can we just try and go a week without butting heads while in the throne room?"

Peter chuckled softly and nodded. "Can we just try to work together more often? I miss fighting beside you." Rowyn's mouth twitched upwards as she thought of the many times they had done so.

"I miss that to."