Discliamer: I own nothing but Pella.

A/N: An old piece that I jotted down quickly when I was wondering why the hell Peter would fall in love and even marry a slightly awkward, uncommanding girl who provided no political advantages. I simply couldn't come up with a single reason why Peter would even fall in love with her except for small things--it's a good thing Lucy is smarter than me and Pella.

"I…I don't see why." The woman was twisting the newel post round and round, biting her lip and displaying all other signs of discomfort caused by insecurities.

"What do you mean?" The other, younger woman questioned. Her eyes appraised the woman intelligently.

"Why he…he asked me to marry him." She started ripping the worn cotton handkerchief in her hand. "I mean—" The words began to tumble out of her mouth like a stream tumbling too quickly over rocks. "I cannot coax him out of his tempers like Edmund, nor do I make him laugh at the worst times like you, and I do not provide patient advice like Susan. I do not even give him something specific to fight for—he already has you. I…I do not give him anything he does not already have. And as for romance?" She gave a shaky laugh, bordering on hysteria. "He has many more beautiful women at his disposal, and many more elegant and refined."

The younger woman's brow furrowed slightly as the older one fell silent. "Can you not see?"

The older one did not reply. She turned to gaze out of the window, looking truly melancholy.

The younger woman sighed, and lay a comforting hand on hers, giving the cold fingers an affectionate squeeze. "You give him a future to hope for."