Caspian doesn’t quite know what to think of these kings and queens of old.
To the casual observer they seem like ordinary children, look a little closer and you see their royal nature shine out – a gaze that is a little to knowing, a bearing a little too proud, and their words too self-assured, too definite, like they could never imagine anyone questioning them – but this is not what truly disquiets him.
Because their royal bearing, though no less real for it, hides something else, something that is only unleashed in the tensest, most high-stake situation, something feral: it is a too-wide, almost vulpine grin on Edmund face, or little Lucy barely suppressing a snarl, it is the ferocious way Peter beats at his enemies, not stopping until they are broken mess on the ground, and the way Susan stalks instead of walks, like she is always looking for her next prey- sometimes Caspian pities Miraz, for he shivers at the thought of being their enemy.
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To the casual observer they seem like ordinary children, look a little closer and you see their royal nature shine out – a gaze that is a little to knowing, a bearing a little too proud, and their words too self-assured, too definite, like they could never imagine anyone questioning them – but this is not what truly disquiets him.
Because their royal bearing, though no less real for it, hides something else, something that is only unleashed in the tensest, most high-stake situation, something feral: it is a too-wide, almost vulpine grin on Edmund face, or little Lucy barely suppressing a snarl, it is the ferocious way Peter beats at his enemies, not stopping until they are broken mess on the ground, and the way Susan stalks instead of walks, like she is always looking for her next prey- sometimes Caspian pities Miraz, for he shivers at the thought of being their enemy.