for all of five minutes, arthur lets himself believe his father never has to know. they were a short five minutes indeed and he falls back on wondering how to break the news to his father in such a way that he will not then try to trounce narnia for the Greater Good. he isn't like his father; arthur knows not all magic is evil, feels this to be true as he looks upon the narnian landscape and queen susan's gentle smile.

+

he continues to let merlin think he doesn't notice when his eyes flash gold.

+

"your majesty!" peter calls out, full of the high spirits of victory. whatever was happening at the southern borders is now apparently not.

the high king strides to him as arthur bows, grasps the prince's forearm and throws his arm around him in familiar embrace. arthur stumbles; he is slowly becoming acclimatized to the familiarity of the narnian court, but such displays still faze him, more used to a court that is demure under uther's steely glare.

"i take it it went well on your southern borders," says arthur.

"as well as can be expected," peter replies with a shrug, his arm still on arthur's shoulder. "the calormene are tricky bastards, they'll be up to something soon enough. lu's told me there's to be a banquet later?"

"yes, in the evening--"

"much too late," peter cuts in. "ask one of the servants for a bottle of wine, your majesty, and meet my brother and i in the field beyond the garden."

he pats arthur's back in a good-natured sort of manner, and is off.