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Between Two Ages	By : AislingSiobhan Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 4542 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Hey! I’m rather disappointed with FFNet. Usually I only get a few reviews at LJ (this time I got quite a few) and loads on FFNet but I only got 2 this time. Which is annoying as I know for a fact that almost 15 people Alerted this story.
Thanks to everyone on AFF and LJ who reviewed.
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Words: 3,360
Chapter 2
Foreign Visitors
When the excitement of their return had died down, Peter called them all to order. With the grace known only to those who have reigned fairly and wisely for many years Peter ascended the platform and sat down in his throne. Susan followed his lead and sat to his left, while Edmund sat to his right. Lucy took the last throne, the one beside Susan, and once all four were sitting down a hush fell over the hall.
“We will celebrate our return afterwards,” Peter promised his disappointed looking subjects. “But now, to more important matters. How long have we been absent?”
“Three week, O good my King.”
“Goodness gracious,” Susan breathed, her hand pressed to her chest. “We were gone barely minutes.”
“You know time works differently here, Sister mine.” Edmund shot her a soft smile and Susan let out a deep breath.
“I apologize. Continue please,” she said this last bit to Peter.
The blond nodded. His head suddenly felt heavier as Mr Tumnus came up behind him and laid his crown upon his head. He shot a smile over his shoulder and watched for a second, as Susan was re-crowned. “When did the strangers arrive?”
“They call themselves Telmarine’s, from Telmorra, but I have heard of no such place.” Oreius the Centaur was their most trusted advisor as well as their army General. “Perhaps they are from your world?”
“They look Spanish.” Lucy whispered at Susan.
“I’ve never heard of Telmorra before, what about you Peter?”
The blond shook his head at his brother and frowned. “It is possible that they are from a world that is neither mine nor ours, Oreius.” He rubbed his chin and turned his head so he was able to catch a glimpse of these Telmarine’s out of the window. “Where did they come from?”
“You have been gone for three weeks Sire. Two weeks after your disappearance, we woke one morning and those two battle ships were present. By noon those tents were pitched and we had men banging down the doors to Cair Paravel, demanding an audience with a King we could not give them. There have been two other messengers this week, O good my High King.” The centaur dipped into a short bow before rising and moving to look out of the window. His body blocked Peter’s view, so the blond turned his head back to the assembled guests.
“Has there been any trouble in our absence?” Susan asked as she reached out to squeeze Peter’s hand.
“The giants from the North attempted another rebellion. But it was easily squashed.”
“How so?” Peter frowned, and then steepled his fingers beneath his chin. He suddenly realized he no longer had stubble, and that made him frown. He was, once more, a child.
“They believed the Telmarine’s to be Narnian armies, readied to attack them.” Shallowpad croaked, flapping his wings. “I myself went to explain to them that these strangers were not here by your accord, most Magnificent King.”
Peter nodded slowly, trying to let the information sink in. “But the Telmarine’s have not attacked?”
“They hunt, as we do,” one of the Leopards said.
“They attempted to eat one of us Talking beasts, but I believe we frightened them off. They only hunt dumb animals now.” It was a dog that spoke this time.
“I do not believe our King has any more questions at present.” Susan clapped her hands and those standing over to the corner of the room beside the doors suddenly picked up their instruments and began to play music. “We have returned.” She smiled.
“PRAISE ASLAN!” The crowd roared.
Fauns pulled flutes from their fur or their clothing and began to play along with the band. Dryads and Nymphs started to dance. Those that could cook immediately made their ways to the kitchens to prepare food for the celebration. Others dimmed the lights and began trying to make decorations. Lucy had a jolly good time helping a dwarf try to attach banners to the ceiling, for both were rather short people and neither could reach even standing upon one another’s shoulders. In the end, the banners were pinned to the wall, around waist height. But no one found fault with it, for they were all happy creatures this day.
Or at least they were until a furious banging came from the direction of the Front Gate.
Peter could hear the guard shouting as he made his way from the Throne Room to the Gate. He pulled open the small, human sized, door, rather than opening the entire Gate. “Is there a problem, O good my Guard?” He asked, frowning at the second man.
He was dressed in rags, all grey in colour, but he had a large red sash tied around his waist and knee high black leather boots. He also had an eye patch on. Peter frowned at him, for he recognized the state of dress but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen clothing of that sort before.
‘I’m sure the Spanish don’t dress like that’, he thought idly to himself as he waited for an answer.
“No problem, O Majesty. This man just wanted to speak with you. But I have informed him that you are in the midst of a celebration.”
“Nonsense.” Peter held his hand out to the other man. The man shook it, but he didn’t seem to take Peter very seriously. “If you are sent by the leader of those mighty sea vessels then, please, tell him to come to us. We wish to speak with him also.”
“Sir,” the man said and nodded his head. “I shall inform our King at once. Expect him within a day.” He turned, without bowing or bidding Peter a good day, and ran down the path towards the coast.
Once he was out of sight, the Guard turned to Peter with a furious look upon his face. “How dare that- that- that cretin not bow before the High King?”
Peter merely smiled and laid his hand on the Guards arm until the man had calmed down. Most of the guards were slaves bought or rescued in Tashbaan or those that had travelled up from Archenland to Narnia and had found employment in the army.
“I believe he does not think me a King. Perhaps,” Peter spoke as he led the guard back inside. “Perhaps he believes me the son of a King, or a well dressed servant.” For one must remember that Peter was not dressed like a King of anyplace, let along Narnia. He and his siblings were once again wearing the clothing they had worn as the first entered the wardrobe.
The guard noticed Peter picking at his shirt and smirked. “Then we shall have to dress you, my King, before they arrive.”
“Yes,” Peter said, “we shall. You never can make a first impression twice, after all.”
XXX
That messenger was the fourth in one week and Captain Caspian the Second (who now thought of himself as King) was elated to finally be allowed an audience with the ruler of this barbarian land.
“Who agreed?” Caspian the Second said.
Caspian the Third and his brother Calpian the First were standing beside their father, listening to him converse with the messenger. Now, bare in mind that at one point in this story we will encounter a boy named Caspian the Tenth, and so that is quite a few Caspian’s to call by name and number. Perhaps it would be easier to simply call them by their number, as if the number was truly their name? But that would be not at all respectful. Fortunately for us, Caspian the Second was one of the few with a middle name. That name was, believe it or not, Miraz. So from henceforth, unless a person is directly addressing Caspian the Second, we shall call him Miraz, just to save on confusion.
The messenger frowned, “a child, my King. He was about Caspian’s age, no older and dressed in clothing similar to our own.”
“Perchance a servant, then,” suggested Miraz, for he didn’t think any King would be seen dressed in less than the best.
“Father,” Caspian asked softly, loath to interrupt but he desperately wanted to know. “Are you going to meet with this King?”
“Yes.”
“May I come with you?” Calpian was the one to shout this out.
Miraz smiled at both of his sons and nodded, “you both will come. As will our guards.” The messenger clicked his fingers and five men walked towards them. Each was of a sturdy build, muscled and rather fierce looking. They would do well to protect the King and his heirs. “We shall go now. Surely they will not expect us so soon, and I would like to take them by surprise.”
Caspian didn’t question why his father wanted to surprise these Narnians. Instead, he was wondering whether the boy who answered the door was blond with blue eyes, and still as beautiful as he remembered?
XXX
The guard who had been at the door with Peter earlier was named Damne. He was the same guard who opened the door for Miraz and his sons, and for the following five Telmarines. With a curt bow, the Archenlandian man led them inside, and towards the Throne Room where the Kings and Queens were waiting. They had changed their clothing now and had their hair done, as the others had partied.
Miraz looked around the room, taking in the banners with distain and frowning at the noise the band were producing. For Telmarines had not the same musical taste as Narnians and so Miraz thought the music rather poorly. Caspian the Third however thought everything he could see was fabulous and beautiful.
None more so beautiful than the blond boy he had spotted in the woods. For there he was, right in front of him, a feast for Caspian’s hungry eyes. And, what was this? The boy was sat upon the throne?
Miraz seemed to notice the seating arrangements at the same moment his son did, for his eyes widened and his lips drew into a tight line. “King Peter I presume?”
“Good wishes, O good my sir.” Peter said, bowing his head slightly in front of his guests. “I am High King Peter. These are my siblings, Queen Susan and Lucy and King Edmund.”
“Good wishes,” the other three said simultaneously.
“Please,” Peter waved a hand as he spoke. Three Fauns ran forward, bearing chairs, and placed them on the ground behind Miraz and his sons. “Take a seat.” Caspian was the first to sit down and when nothing bad happened to him, his brother followed suit. Miraz looked around the room, sneered at quite a few of the Narnians and swept his cloak beneath him; so when he sat, he sat upon the thick fabric rather than on the chair itself. A few of the Narnians began whispering at his actions, for it was considered quite an insult to turn ones nose up at another’s hospitality.
“Now,” Peter continued, holding up a hand to silence the mutterings of his subjects. “Where have you come from? Tell me of yourself, good my sir.”
“King Caspian the Second, if you will.” Miraz drawled with his head held high. Edmund noticed the elder of the two boys (Caspian, of course) rolling his eyes.
“Very well, fellow King, where do you hail from?” Everyone seemed to lean forward in his or her seats eager to hear the answer.
“We come from the land of Telmorra, where my esteemed father was King.” Miraz paused dramatically. It seemed that he had the gift of telling stories in the way of Calormens. The Tisroc (may he live forever) was often known to speak as such. Peter was quite used to it, especially after the almost engagement between Prince Rabadash and his good sister Susan. So he waited patiently.
“One day, a fine and good day, we set out upon our vessels. By the thousand, we were, four ships total,” another roll of Caspian’s eyes followed for he knew his father was lying through his teeth. “But we were set upon by our enemies. They sunk two of our ships, but we managed to escape with our lives. It was a horrid and blessed day together when we survived the battle, for while we had our lives we no longer had our homes. We wandered, drifting endlessly, until at last we spotted land. As you know, we moored upon the coast just down below. I have been told this is called Care Parawell.”
“Cair Paravel,” Peter corrected him and then nodded his head for Miraz to continue.
“My esteemed father died at sea, long before we arrived in these lands.” Now that was a lie if there ever was one. Yes, Caspian the First may not have been a sea faring man, and he may have taken ill, but he should have recovered if Caspian the Second had not held a pillow over his face the moment land came into sight. Now, as you may guess, neither of his sons knew the truth of their grandfather’s death. “I am now King of our lands, though I admit I have no idea how to return to them.”
Something seemed to dawn on Calpian for he suddenly burst from his seat and stared wide-eyed at his father. “Where are we to live? We can’t possibly sleep in those tents forever!”
“Of course not,” Susan said with a soft smile. “I am sure Peter can spare land for you to build upon, a castle if it pleases you.”
“Many thanks.” Miraz bowed his head and pulled his son down into the seat again. If one knew Miraz very well they would have been able to tell that his bowing of the head was meant more in a sardonic manner than a gracious one. He had no intention of building on whatever rejected piece of land these barbarians gave him. He would carve his own place into this new world and damn anyone who got into his way.
“You may have some land to the North-East of Beruna,” Peter said at last. “I’ll have some guards accompany you and show you the area.” Cair Paravel was to the East of Beruna, close enough to keep an eye on these foreign visitors but not close enough to be suspicious. The forest and the mountains were to the South, so there would be nowhere to build there. And Aslan’s How was to the West and Peter would not stand to have someone build upon it. So that left the North to North-East of Beruna.
Miraz nodded and thanked them, as he would have been expected to. As they left, hours later, after talking of many things, Caspian the Third hid behind a nearby tapestry and kept very still and quiet. His father, brother and guards left but he remained.
Caspian the Second walked briskly back to his ships. Once there, he found those that had been loyal to him, not his father, but him alone and he gathered them together well out of sight of Cair Paravel. “We have been given land at some place called Beruna. We will be shown there tomorrow. We must pretend to build upon that land.” The others nodded.
“I trust, my King,” for they had all been told to address him as such while in Narnia, “that we are to find someplace more suitable?”
“Yes.” He nodded at who had spoken. “You are to lead a scouting party. Ten men, split into two groups. You and a man of your choice will lead them through Narnia and find the best place for me to build my castle upon.” The other’s bowed and was dismissed. Miraz looked around him, noticed Calpian standing a few feet away so as not to hear anything but to seem interested in his future duties as King; but he did not see Caspian.
Meanwhile Caspian the Third slowly creeped out from behind the tapestry. Without being noticed he made his way to the Thrones. Only Peter remained seated; the others were dancing and eating, laughing and smiling with their friends. Caspian stood beside Peter, but unlike Miraz, Peter did not start or attack him. It seemed as if the Narnians trusted their subjects far more than his father trusted the Telmarines.
“Hello,” Caspian whispered in Peter’s ear.
The blond smirked. He did not turn his head to see who had spoken, but he couldn’t make out the voice so he smiled and repeated the greeting. “Who might you be?”
“Prince Caspian the Third.” He said moving back and dropping into a shallow bow before rising again. He smiled at Peter. “And you are High King Peter.”
”I am.” Peter frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you have gone home?”
“I am never going home.” The boy smiled wistfully. He was only Peter’s age, but Peter had been through so much and he had already grown up once after all. Only three weeks ago – Narnia time – he was a thirty-year-old man. And now he was but fifteen again. “Spain seems so far away now.” He muttered.
“So you are from Spain? Lucy was right?”
“We are not royalty, King Peter. I believe my father is just milking this situation for all it is worth. Are enemies as he called them were the Amada. The Spanish authorities.”
Peter suddenly realized where he recognized their style of clothing. Storybooks and fairy tales always had Pirates dressed as such. “Sea bandits?” He asked quietly so that no one else would overhear.
“Yes, pirates. But you can call me Prince if you like?” Caspian gave him a rather seductive grin, his hand cocked on one hip as he ran the other through his lovely brown hair. “What can I call you?” He seemed to breath the words rather than speak them, and Peter felt his groin stir.
“Peter will do.” He said sternly, trying to control himself. The boy couldn’t be more than sixteen: legal yes, moral no.
“Not master, or Sir?” Caspian asked, before giving a soft giggle. “Well, you’re no fun at all.”
Peter had had many lovers in his time as King, both male and female, but none had the effect on his that Caspian did with just a few words. “Peter,” he almost moaned his own name, “will do.”
Caspian leaned in close, his lips almost brushing Peter’s, for he was a terrible tease. He whispered, “Peter it is,” before he pressed their lips together softly and drew back just as the others noticed he was still present.
“Excuse me?” Susan said, hands on her hips.
”Excuse me,” Peter mumbled, standing up and fleeing the room. Caspian tried to follow him but Susan took hold of his arm and pulled him towards a different door.
“You should have gone home by now,” she scolded him. She was completely unaware of the reason Peter had fled the room. Perhaps she was worried that Caspian had insulted Peter, and Peter left so he did not harm the boy in anger, or maybe she thought Peter feared the King Caspian would think his son compromised or kidnapped by Peter? Though, if Susan knew the truth of the matter, she would say the boy hardly had virtue left to compromise.
“I’ll go, I’ll go,” he said holding his hands out in surrender. “But, do me one favour, fair Queen of Narnia?” Susan nodded, a small frown on her beautiful lips. “Tell Peter,” the word sounded like a sin on his lips, Susan noted, “that I’ll come back.”
She watched him go. He practically skipped down the dirt road that led to the coastline. High above, in one of the towers where Peter slept, the High King himself leant out of the window and watched the young man disappear from view. Shaking himself mentally Peter went back to his room, waited a few moments and then re-joined the party as if something had happened.
But he couldn’t forget the softness of Caspian’s lips against his own.
Nor did he think he wanted to forget.
XXX
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Between Two Ages