“Really, Your Grace, I insist, you should go first - you are the High King, after all.”
Peter eyes the man beside him, stiff and straight-backed, looking like his heavy furs dropped the weight of the world on his shoulders, all stark black, from hair to clothing to boots, the only relief the white pommel of his sword; quite a contrast, Peter thinks ruefully, to his own burnished gold and red and white, to the lightness in his step and the easy languor of his tall frame.
If he hadn’t decided before, he surely has now - this is a man who needs friends if ever he saw one, and Peter, who has always been excellent at making chums, says, “No, please - I may be Narnia’s King, but it’s you who is the King in the North, and as the North is where we are - yours is the precedent,” and gives Jon the most polite of nudges out onto the dais.
Never Thought About Love When I Thought About Home
Peter eyes the man beside him, stiff and straight-backed, looking like his heavy furs dropped the weight of the world on his shoulders, all stark black, from hair to clothing to boots, the only relief the white pommel of his sword; quite a contrast, Peter thinks ruefully, to his own burnished gold and red and white, to the lightness in his step and the easy languor of his tall frame.
If he hadn’t decided before, he surely has now - this is a man who needs friends if ever he saw one, and Peter, who has always been excellent at making chums, says, “No, please - I may be Narnia’s King, but it’s you who is the King in the North, and as the North is where we are - yours is the precedent,” and gives Jon the most polite of nudges out onto the dais.