actor: ben barnes

Shift in Seasons - Summer

Warnings: So much angst. Language. Broody Peter…

A/N – So….I love the Pevensie’s. I don’t know if this blog does a good job of sharing my love of all things Narnia so I’m mixing this chapter up a bit. If you’re not into it…I get it lol. But I really wanted to capture something different for this story…please don’t interrupt this as anti peter angst. Also, there are some references to God but only because of the parallel relationship and role it plays in the world of Narnia and I tried to capture that in this AU. If it makes you uncomfortable, maybe don’t read this.

Peter’s Perspective

May 22, 2017


I’ve been debating the best way to reach out to you. To talk to you. How many months has it been since we’ve had a conversation that isn’t a one sided? Where we use Susan, or Edmund or Lucy as buffers?

So I went and got a shrink. Yea – just like you suggested. I fucking hate that you were right.

But you know how I get when I’m stuck in my head.

I remember a long time ago that Caspian told me that he wrote you love letters for years after you broke up. That he wrote them to have some form of connection to you. And I guess….I guess perhaps I thought to do the same. To have some connection to you.

All I’ve ever wanted was to have a connection with you.

I want to be able to forgive you. I want to be able to forgive myself. I’ve been talking to my therapist about it. I want to be able to have some kind of relationship with you, if not for the sake of my sanity then for our daughter. I want to be able to be a good partner to you in raising her.

Our fight five days ago is what really got me thinking about this. Raya has never looked at me with such fear as she did when we argued last Thursday. I said hateful things. You said hateful things. Raya was crying – the neighbors called me after to make sure everything is okay. We can’t continue like this.

And the only way I know how to remedy this is to be honest I guess.

So here it is - my being honest.

I always knew you were never mine. I always knew that you belonged to him.

When you had walked into the courtyard of Cair Paravel High School, your hair blowing array in the early autumn wind, your eyes looking lost as you glanced from your schedule to the many old buildings, I knew that you were something special. You had gotten a rise out of all of us 11th grade boys, our eyes glued on you as we meekly searched for words to escape our normally busy and talkative mouth. It was probably because you were something new, this shiny new person from the big city who had a sense of confidence and allure that the girls from around town couldn’t have. We were all vying for your attention. It was probably why I didn’t notice that Caspian had silently been plotting, trying to figure out ways to connect with you. Figured he would try.

I didn’t think he’d win you over completely.

After you turned me down, I was sure you were one of those girls who weren’t into dating. When you asked me out to the museum, I thought it was your way of saying you were willing to put forth the effort in getting to know.

And then a week later, you were making out with Caspian at the park.

He never boasted about dating you. In fact, he was surprisingly private about your relationship. No matter how many times guys prodded. Prodded because they saw the way he changed when you walked into a room. The way his features softened as he adoringly looked at you, found opportunities to brag about you. The way he blushed after he walked into a space, clearly fresh from a make out session, and we all teased him. He had told me three months into your relationship, still new and living on the edge of the unknown, that he loved you. It had been after football practice and him, me and a few friends had ambled back into school with the hope of killing time before heading home. We had rounded a corner to be greeted by the ballet club and you. Only Caspian had known that you were a ballerina that you had been practicing it for years and we all were enthralled as we watched you move effortlessly in the space, your body twisting and bending in a way that mesmerized us. When you were done, Caspian had run to you enthusiastically lifting you in there before planting your body with kisses and you had giggled bashfully as he boasted of the brilliance of your performance.

When we left that night, a proud smile on his face as we walked in the winter’s cold, he had admitted how much he loved before you guys had broken up that he loved you. Had said it with such shocking confidence that it scared even me, to be filled with such a strong emotion. I was upset for the rest of the night, couldn’t put my finger on it until I was in bed, thinking back in bed and when the realization hit me I was overcome with sadness, tears rocking me to sleep.  

Even then I knew that Caspian was made to love you.

You, on the other hand, proudly boasted your relationship. Not in a way that was obnoxious – like all the girls did when they got boyfriends. You were silently boastful. You let it be known to any man who you were with. Wore his jacket wherever you went, his letters a fashionable accessory. If you had a hickie on your neck and someone asked about (Susan the most because her love for Caspian was an equal obsessive torment), you would giggle about how Caspian had been the perpetrator of the crime. Nothing more. You were always pretty PG about the intimacies of your relationship.

Then there was that spring our junior year when you wrote that poem in English class, the one that got even Mrs. Walters to tear up. Had gotten you national recognition – you remember that? I remember that I had been morose about you and Caspian – that this was more than a young high school crush – so I tuned the whole situation out of my mind. It was one drunken night when I was home alone that I finally looked it up online and read it. It was beautiful. It was filled with the affections of your love for him. I could remember the way you had sounded as you read it, standing in front of the class with the paper shaking as your eyes locked with his. The way the tears poured from your eyes as you exalted a breathless I love you. Caspian had been wrecked. Had proud, silent tears streaming down his face as you walked back to your seat. He had stood up and grabbed you to him, kissing you fiercely that even Mrs. Walters forgot that it was inappropriate.

Someone had snagged a photo, capturing the photo and memorializing it in our yearbook that year. The kicker of it is that it’s still a token photo for our alma mater.  

Caspian carried a copy of that love poem with him everywhere. He still does. Keeps a version of it in his wallet. I saw it once months ago and, while all of me wanted to be angry, couldn’t be.

That was the symbol of your love.

Do you understand how desperate I have always been for you, to see you in that light – and for you to always have belonged to someone else?

Do you understand?

June 16, 2017

It’s humid on the island.

The humidity is overwhelming, taking over all of my senses. Clouding my ability to think. And it’s only May.

Raya is on her back, our little treasure, looking up at the clouds as we wait for you to come and pick her up at the park. She’s restless. She misses you. Doesn’t like it when you’re gone too long. For how much she is daddy’s little girl – she adores her mother.

She can’t know what has happened between us but she does sense the difference. She cries more at night if she’s with me for more than three days. She doesn’t cry with you. She has fits if she isn’t able to talk to you. I know that is something she does with you, but it seems far less and in between.

I figured it’s because there’s someone else stepping in, replacing me. Even though you’ve been vocal and honest about your relationship with Caspian, how you’ve tried to establish distance between our child and him, it’s inevitable he doesn’t know her by now. And that’s how I know.

Know that Raya is always seeking him as much as she is you. All my fear collapses on itself when I think about it, attacking my dreams. I’ve gone weeks met with restless sleep, the icy fear gripping around my heart.

Raya, like her mother, loving Caspian more than me.

I’m supposed to continue on my journey of the story in falling for you. Therapist thinks it’s really good that I’m analyzing the hostility I’ve built up since our daughter’s been born. Notes that it probably stems from my fear of feeling you slip from me throughout our life.  

Hate that the dick is right. He’s not an actual dick – he’s actually a really nice guy. Except when I get talking about you, then he became challenging. Condescending. You know how I feel about condescending, privileged douche bags. A hate I’ve formed that I’m starting to realize might be self-stimulated.

But enough of that for now. Let’s get back to the story book of our life.

In college, that was when things changed. That you started to see me in a different light. I wasn’t just Pete anymore. Pete had become Peter.

It was probably around sophomore year at university. That year that we had traveled abroad together, unknowingly to the other, and had shown up in a Spanish bar together. I had just transferred to Yale and had opted to go abroad because the idea of being in America during my parents’ divorce just sounded horrible. You were drunk, carefree and loving before our eyes connected across the bar. We hadn’t spoken for a year or two and we spent the night catching up, small admissions escaping our lips freely as more wine hit our lips.

We had ended up at my place, our limbs tangled in the other. When I woke up, my arms nestled around you, I had prayed to God. It was odd, praying, I hadn’t done it since I was a child and yet I remembering whispering thanks because finally, finally you were mine. You had woken up, smiling and confused, before proposing to get breakfast.

And then we became inseparable.

We traveled across Europe together. We never officially announced our relationship when we were there, you had made it clear that I could date other women. But I had felt…I couldn’t date other people. I did but I was never mentally connected to them. Not emotionally. I was too stuck on you. When people back at home saw the goofy selfies we took, I always told them that you were my girlfriend.

So when we came back to the states, I asked to make it official and you had hesitated. Had only given in after a semester of testing the waters.

I should have known that you weren’t ready then.

I blame Susan for the winter incident. I know she did it because she felt neglected from Caspian. Despite their history, Susan couldn’t get it. Us Pevensie’s were cursed I suppose. Couldn’t understand that the two people we were desperately in love with were promised to each other. Caspian wanted a distraction and found one easy in Susan. Susan clung onto it greedily. But she couldn’t just be satisfied by that. She had to finally prove that she was better than you – that she had the one thing that was missing from your life.

So she coordinated the meet up at the game.

When she told me this years later, a drunken night after a fight we had gotten in, before you were pregnant, I wanted so desperately to hate her. Figured that was the reason why we never worked out. But I couldn’t do that to her, to myself. I understood it even if it hurt.

Caspian and I had been talking still since high school. Just a week before the game he admitted that he missed you. That he felt stupid and foolish for letting you go. That the girls he dated, my sister included, were fine but didn’t inspire him the way you did. Make his heart full.

Susan and I had been deliberate about not sharing with either one of you are relationships. It was selfish of us, we both know that, but could you blame us for wanting to hold on to something so much?

So you could imagine my surprise, after the game where I had put my heart into, beat by him in something that I had also reigned in – the one thing I thought he couldn’t touch, when you barreled into my car and demanded if I knew he was back in this part of the country. How you were angry that I hid that from you. And the words that came afterwards. How I felt like you were still hung up on him and the silent way you responded back. And then the knife that pierced my heart.

You didn’t belong to me. We were just fuck buddies.

God, I was so angry at you. At him.

I should have just driven us home in angry silence, letting time dissipate the tension in our argument. Instead, I let you walk out, back to Susan.

Back into his arms.

Edmund had been the one to tell me about that night. Caspian and him are pretty tight, more tight than we are. Edmund looks up to him, admires him I would argue. So of course, one night a few years back Caspian drunkenly admits how you both blew up at each other before he admitted his feelings for you. That you had eagerly kissed him back when he found himself drawn to you. 

You were going to sleep with him and it was me that had interrupted the little triste.

Guilt had washed over you for days, Y/N, do you know that? Emitted from you. That was why I demanded you choose. Had to claim you for mine once and for all.

I was so naive.

When you finally did look me in the eye, when you had finally touched me in that way that had me melting under your embrace, I allowed myself to believe the lie that you were mine once again.

The crime of love.

You can never own what was never yours.

July 5, 2017


It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. My therapist has been probing me too but after that last confession….

This all still seems to be too soon and it’s been years.

Raya is gone. She’s been with you for two weeks now. Correction – you, her and Caspian.

I appreciate that you both were honest about it. But Y/N….I think after you read these letters, we talk about our relationship in a way that’s honest and honors the other.

I’ll be honest in this:

1)      Since Raya has been gone, I’ve been stricken with the fear that she will want Caspian more than she wants me as a father.

2)      Since Raya has been gone, I realize how much I depend on those interactions we have. That I cling onto the little bit of you, even if the words are short or fueled with anger. Any piece of you gives me life.

3)      I thank you for being more honest and open in our communication, especially since Caspian has been spending more time with our daughter.

4)      I don’t know how to deal with the knowledge that I have lost you forever.

I know I have. Sitting her, the day after the fourth of July, the evening air clinging onto my sticky skin as I sit on the porch, thinking about and Raya, makes me know I have. Even at our worse, you were always here.

And now you’re gone.

July 30, 2017

Sun kissed skin. There’s just something about it that looks good on you.

Lucy – I decided – will get my wrath when all this is gone. Probably in the form of tears and alcohol but a wrath nonetheless.

When she told me you wanted us all to hang out, like old times, I thought I had gone deaf. Or crazy. You hadn’t wanted that for decades.

And now you wanted to make the peace.

Of course I went. I had to. I had to see you. Our conversations have been brief, but their pleasant. You smile at me again. Raya is so happy when we’re both around.

Then I remember that Caspian was going to be there.

A beach day. That was what Lucy thought would be best. All of us sitting along the shores of the Atlantic, the waves beating a soundtrack to our day. It had been years since we’ve all gone as a family. It should be fun.

That was what she kept chiming.

It was going to be fun.

She had been wrong.

It was fine with the four of us of course. We had gotten there the night earlier to hang out and relax. Lucy with her boyfriend, Susan with the guy she was dating and Edmund with his girl. Do you remember that girl that Susan had introduced me too, Loren. She had known that I was a love sick puppy the moment you had arrived.

You were alone as you came up the condo stairs, Raya squealing in your arms to see me and her aunts and uncles. She was going to be two soon and was growing faster than either of us could keep up with, her face slowly maturing and I remember looking at the both of you and thinking that she was going to grow up to be so beautiful, the replication of you in her.

You were already in beach garb, shorts that allowed all of the boy’s eyes to wander, to feast on your teasing exposed ass that your swimsuit was failing to cover. The T-shirt you wore was thin, the cleavage from your swimsuit peeking out and making me wonder what it would feel like to taste your skin once again. Your hair was a mess as you slipped out of your sandals, pushing your sunglasses up on your head as you smiled pleasantly at all of us, chatted a bit. You were even joking with me.

Then Caspian had shown up.

He was coming from a conference and was still in a suit, out dressing all of us with a finesse smoothness. But it wasn’t the suit. It was the way the suit fit on him. When he walked, it was with the swag of a fucking model. His hair was still styled in that edgy way that Edmund had convinced him months earlier, his sharp jawline maintaining his groomed beard that made all of the women inhale as he smiled at them. Lucy had greeted him easily – they chatted regularly. He knew her boyfriend.

Susan was having a fucking meltdown, lust blanketing her eyes as she tried to ignore him.

The new guy she was with, Derrick or whoever, stood with us just as awed, obviously conflicted and confused. Who the fuck was this guy?

Raya was the saving grace as he stood leaning against the couch, his eyes searching for you. You and her had gone out to the balcony and upon hearing Caspian’s voice she had been squealing to get to him. You had propped the door open and her bare feet padded toward him quickly, giggling and screaming out “Pian, Pian.” Her face alight with a smile, her hands reaching out to him.  

The fear of her loving him gripping my heart like ice once more as he lifted her, gracing her face with kisses as she clung on to him. Raya being a lovable person but only reserving so much love for myself and you. And now she was sharing it with him.

Then there eras you.

You had been outside on the phone, talking to your mom when you turned and saw him. Leaning against the rail, your chest rising and falling slowly as your eyes connected. We could all fill it, the way his eyes tenderly softened as he bounced Raya in one arm and his long legs started moving toward you.  

His hands slipping around your waist as he bent down to kiss you, conversation forgotten as your hands wound around him and your daughter.

This was the first incident.

The second incident happened hours later on the beach. We had made lunch then headed down to the large sandbox, finally able to share a single conversation without the intrusion of awkwardness. You and I had been talking about Raya’s visiting schedule with either of us. Caspian was ahead of us, Raya in his arms as he made casual talk with Susan who had all about forgotten about the guy she brought as he meandered further with Edmund, Lucy and their partners.

We had gotten to our spot, settling in as we doused ourselves with sunscreen and started shedding our clothing to our swimsuits. Everyone but you. You were hesitant, your eyes racking over the bodies of the women who were chatting gleefully and Caspian had pulled you down into his arms, whispering something in your ear that had you blushing and smiling as his hands reverently brushed over your body.

You had told me once, after you had Raya, how insecure you had become about your body and your body weight. You had been working out, eating right but felt like your body wasn’t the same and avoided places like this. I had thought that insecurity had waned out but watching you, your self-conscious eyes tugging at your shirt I knew it still lived within you. How, I didn’t understand.

You were beautiful. All of you is beautiful.

Raya and I were sitting in the sand, trying to build a sandcastle when you stood up, muttering under your breath.

“Fuck it.” You had said, kicking off your shorts and tossing your shirt to the side. You strolled out to the waves – that sun kissed skin gleaming on your skin. I watched memorized as the sun followed the movement of your curves, your silence turning into glee as you laughed, playing in the waves. It reminded me of a summer commercial, of how marketing companies try to capture the essence and happiness off beach season.  

Caspian hadn’t taken his eyes off you, his heavy lidded eyes drinking you in, undressing you, probably fantasizing about all the things he was going to do to you later. Things that I fantasized about doing in the emptiness of my home.

“Mama’s pretty…” Raya had said softly, looking up at me expectantly to respond, her round cheeks matching her crusted sand hands.  

“Yea, baby girl, she is very pretty…”

“She’s beautiful.”

Caspian’s voice was low as he stood up, smiling down at Raya.

“She’s our beautiful queen remember Raya?”

Raya smiled, nodding as she turned back in my lap, her attention drawn back to filling her bucket with sand. Caspian and I made eye contact and something passes between us. We don’t voice it, but we both know it.

‘She’s beautiful and she’s mine’ is what his eyes told me as he threw me a sad smile, following you out to the waves as you both laughed and played in the surf. Flicking water on each other, throwing each other in the water. It’s in the middle of him capturing you in your teenage game, your legs wrapping around his lean muscular body, his tan skin complimenting your sun kissed one that you both kiss each other tenderly like teenage lovers.

Lucy awed loudly, drawing attention to your intimate moment because she’s always been vocal for the love story that was you and Caspian and Raya had patted my chest, pointing toward you and Caspian.

“Mommy and ‘Pian are the King and kueen. And I’m da pincess.”

My mouth running dry as I looked down at her happy eyes. She’s too young to have known how the words pierced my heart.

You were his queen. He was your king.

And that left little room for me.

August 8, 2017


Raya is the spitting image of you. She has your bright eyes, your laughter and your thirst for curiosity.

She has my hair color, blonde wisps that curls unruly on her head. Its longer now that she’s older and getting thicker, a gift from you and when I’m left trying to tame the unruly locks, I remember the way you looked as you stood in the mirror each morning, trying to manage your own hair before dodging out for work.

An image that Caspian gets to treasure forever.

Raya has my dimples. The two indentures that bite into her chubby cheeks appear when she’s happy, frustrated or concentrated on something really intently. It is funny, to have a daughter that mirrors my actions.

She also has my stubbornness. She was going to be a strong willed woman, would probably push back on everything she didn’t agree with. Would probably believe in standing for causes that put her on the front line of danger, unmoving in her beliefs. She was going to be a fighter. We both knew that.

She was starting to fight us if we tried to dress her in an outfit she didn’t like.

She’s turning two today, our princess. It’s been three years since we both found out that she was coming into this world and two since she’s graced us with her presence. She woke up in the early morning, unaware of her special day, screaming out my name in gleeful excitement. She’s such a happy child – gives me light in my world of darkness.

Its barely 11 and we will need to head to your place soon. You have a fun event planned filled with gifts, games and lots of alcohol for the adults. You’re logic that we all could celebrate is spot on, and our families have relented in joining. Justly, they have distanced themselves since Raya’s birth.  We are explosive typically when we are together and they can’t handle. But now Caspian’s family is also joining and everyone is excited for the reunion.

I’m afraid to see you.

Afraid because you’ve been kinder. Afraid because we’re able to have family dinners and have conversations that aren’t fueled by anger. Afraid because he is the reason you have changed, he is the reason you check your phone, a smile tugged on your lips before returning your attention on us.

A little over seven months you’ve both been dating and yet it feels like more. Like all the time you’ve both been separated has been sealed up with this rekindling.

I want to get over you, I’ve decided.

And yet my heart won’t let me.

Help me. Please God. Help me.

August 12, 2017


I found these letters when I was cleaning out Raya’s bag after the party. I felt bad at first, reading these intimate admissions in your journal but they were all addressed to me so I figured…..I’m sorry if this angers you. Sorry if this ruins all the work we’ve put in to restoring some form of relationship. If I broke your trust.

But Peter, why didn’t you tell me?

Why didn’t you tell me how much you loved me? You always hinted, teased, flirted with the emotion and I thought, honestly, I was just a way to pass time. That’s how you’ve always defined our love. That’s all I’ve ever been able to see.

I understand now that you’ve used that as a cloak of your true feelings, that because of our history and my history with Caspian, it was the way you protected yourself from disappointment.

You never voice yourself. You always have to put on this image of being strong willed, put together, organized, a leader. And you are. But you’re also human and humans have to show their emotions.

I’m happy you’re seeing a therapist. Truly. I want you to figure out how to love yourself in ways you’ve never allowed. So others know how to love you back.

I say this because I don’t want you to feel mislead in my next words and to understand ultimately my response.

I will always love you Peter.

Not in the way you will love me. Not in the way that I love Caspian. Or Susan. Or Lucy. Or Edmund. Or even our precious little Raya.

But I love you.

I love what you taught me. I love that we have grown, struggled, cried, yelled and loved each other in this journey we call life. You have taught me what it means to stand up for myself, for others. To fight for what I want. To love….to love Caspian in all the ways he has understood how to love me.

You are right. I love you but my heart does not belong to you.

That doesn’t mean you are alone. It does not mean that you have to be miserable. It just means that you have to accept what our love was. That through it, we have our beautiful daughter and to start fighting for the love you desire, that you deserve, with someone else.

I can help you Peter, but you have to talk to me.

I know that you probably hate this, but I also think talking to Caspian might help to. He understood the toll he’s taken by being in the picture. He loves you Peter – you’re like a brother to him. Talk to him.

If you can’t talk to him, talk to me. Just say something.

But Peter, stop slipping away. I see it, feel it when we’re together. You’re slipping away and I can’t lose you. You’re so important to so many people, so important to me.

Talk to me Peter. I’m here. Just talk to me.

Can we just talk about Ben Barnes as Sirius Black???

Originally posted by nellaey


Originally posted by breakfreemodel


Originally posted by marinaelia


Originally posted by cute-guysxx


Originally posted by soldier-ofwinter


Originally posted by scrapbookofmarauders


Originally posted by imlikepadfoot


Originally posted by teendotcom

Originally posted by find-a-reaction-gif


I can’t help myself but get involved when the world seems to spin into disarray and you don’t feel any control or that your voice counts. So, any way I can help voice the concerns of those who don’t feel they have a platform. There are causes that we should all be aware of and support and push all the time in terms of equality for race and gender and others that are more personal to me.

you know i remember when i was in the fourth grade and ben barnes played prince caspian in narnia 2: sword boy or whatever and i never even saw that movie because i loved the first one too much and i was like… who is this man on the poster??? who is this person??? ruining one of my favorite movies??? …… he’s so pretty????

and now i’m sitting here almost twenty years old watching the punisher and this man…. has the nerve to continue to be…. so stunningly handsome…. and it’s so offensive to me like i remember you sir i remember you and your hair