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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
- 4
- 5
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Oh, shall I compare me to a summer’s day? I am more lovely, but too much of a slacker! Sorry this has taken so long, but if it makes any one feel better, I’ve been neglecting all of my fandoms! Uni is kicking my arse, but the exam I was meant to have Monday coming was post poned to the following week, so no harm, no foul if I work on fiction instead, right?
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Words: 2,726
Chapter 5
The Inspection
Caspian had begged to come with them. He had fallen to his knees with his hands clasped before his chest and pleaded with Peter to allow him to go. Peter had held fast, agreeing with his siblings that Caspian should not be allowed to join them because he was not a King or Queen of Narnia. Follow protocol must be followed, they had said, and Peter had to agree because they were right. In every one of their other inspections it was just the four of them, Oreius, Fledge, and a few trusted others. Never before had they brought a member of the group they were inspecting with them. But Caspian refused to be left behind. He simply refused to lose out on time that could be spent with Peter.
“I will not remain behind, I will not!” The Telmarine said, his voice cold and his face blank.
Peter’s hand moved forward, cupping Caspian’s cheek in a light grip. Caspian turned his face away. Peter’s fingers tightened on the other boy’s face, turning his head so that they were eye-to-eye. “I would like nothing more than to remain with you, but I cannot. Since I must go, I wish you could come with me, but you cannot. I cannot change how things are done simply for you, Caspian.”
“Why? Are you not High King?” Caspian said sullenly. He moved back, jerking his face out of Peter’s grip and moving out of the other man’s reach.
“I am,” Peter agreed. “But being King is more about what other people need, doing what makes ordinary people happy, than pleasing those close to you. I am sorry, Caspian.” Blue eyes softened as they met sad brown eyes.
“I don’t like it when I’m away from you.” Caspian whispered. He stepped forward, his arms winding around Peter’s neck. A hand pulled Peter’s head down, and Caspian rose on to the balls of his feet, rising up to press his lips against the other man’s. “You will come back?”
“Of course.” Peter promised, before moving back to capture Caspian’s lips again. “Go now I must, my love, or I will never be gone.”
”Good,” the Telmarine murmured, his arms sliding down to cup Peter’s waist. “Never go away from me.”
“I will always return, but I cannot promise never to leave. Duty and honour and kingship call me away.” Peter broke away, moving back to stand before the mirror in his room. He carded his fingers through his hair, flattening it. He grabbed a cloak off the edge of his bed and threw it around his shoulders. “Until I return.”
He walked out of the door, and Caspian watched him go in silence. The Telmarine moved to the window, leaning out over the edge slightly as he watched, waiting for Peter and his siblings to come into view. His eyes followed them as they disappeared along the path, and kept going, each of them on horseback, with Peter and Falde in the lead.
“I love you,” Caspian whispered into the quiet room. No one heard him, and outside, Peter didn’t look back.
XXX
They rode for what felt, to Peter, like weeks. In fact, they had only been on the move for two days, but as far as the High King was concerned, they had been away from Caspian for too long the moment they left home. It was strange, he thought, how attached he had become to the other man in only months. He had had lovers for years at a time before, and his heart had never clenched so horribly then as it did now. He wondered if perhaps the Narnians were right? The rumours circulating at present were that Peter planned to marry Caspian: maybe there was some truth to those rumours that the Narnians had noticed but Peter was still ignorant of?
Blue eyes narrowed in thought, his mind awhirl with images of Caspian in white, with a crown upon his head, standing beside Peter and the four – no, five – thrones at Cair Paravel. It was a lovely thought, and lost in the image as he was, Peter didn’t notice the three arrows that whizzed towards him from out of the trees.
The forest was deathly still, too still, but no one had paid it any mind. It had been so long since their enemies had been within Narnia. Fighting at the boarders, maybe, but this close to the heart of their home? Not since the White Witch! Edmund was the first to realize that they had been foolish and unprepared. He threw himself off of his horse, and tackled Peter from Falde’s back. The horse dived to the ground, a curse on its lips and its tail flicked angrily. The Talking Beast gave a loud neigh and sprung to its feet, stomping angrily at the ground as it hovered protectively in front of Peter.
The blond was on the ground, beneath Edmund, and he pushed his brother away and rolled to his knees. A pained gasp escaped him, and one hand covered his mouth to muffle a soft cry as the other hand probed at the arrow that stuck out from his stomach. The other two arrows had missed him.
“Shit! Peter!” Lucy hissed, looking over from where her and Susan were hidden behind an over turned tree.
“Language,” he heard Susan scold and allowed himself a small laugh.
“Peter, stay down,” the Talking Horse said. He looked worriedly down at his human, black eyes blinking and tongue lolling. “We’ll take care of this. Phillip,” he called and Edmund’s horse trotted forward.
Susan began firing arrows into the trees and, after seven arrows, three cries of pain echoed back to them. Edmund charged forward, flanked by both of the boys’ horses and the horses the girls had ridden on stayed in front of Peter. He clutched his sword with one hand, the other tugging the arrow from his gut. Lucy appeared beside him, her brow furrowed as she chewed on her bottom lip.
“Did you bring the cordial?”
“No, I didn’t think we would need it, Peter. O brother mine, do not leave us?” She whimpered as Peter raised him self up slowly to draw her into a hug.
“I shall not, Lu. I shall be fine.” His breath came laboured but he fought back his fear. He had had worse than this in his fifteen years in Narnia. This would not be the end of him.
They had already seen Beruna for themselves, and Peter agreed with Susan: something was wrong with the castle being built there. It was too small, not as splendid as Miraz probably would have preferred. There was something strange going on and this attack proved it. Ten men had followed the Kings and Queens from Beruna. Three were killed by Susan’s first volley of arrows, two more by her next attack. The horses, one for Phillip and one for Falde who kicked both men’s heads in, killed two. Edmund stabbed the eight with his sword, and took the head off of the ninth without a pause. When there was one man left, Edmund dragged him back towards his family.
“Look what I found, O good my King.” Edmund pushed the Telmarine, and he fell to his knees with a cry. Edmund held the sword at the back of his neck. “What shall I do with him?”
“Bring him with us,” Susan said as she stood and brushed down her dress. She replaced the bow and arrows into her quiver and mounted her horse. Lucy followed her lead. Both of their gazes were fixed on Peter, who despite hardly being able to move was also trying to get back onto Falde’s back. The horse was almost lying on the floor, trying to make it easier for the High King.
“He can wait,” Edmund agreed. He hurriedly tried their attacker’s hands, and threw him over Phillip with a scowl. “You ok, Pete?” He asked softly.
Finally, seated on the back of the white stallion, the High King nodded. “I shall be, after a long bath and some ale.”
“You’re too young to drink, Peter,” Susan huffed, “honestly, think of the example you are setting!”
“I’m thirty-one-years old!” The blond huffed. His arms were wrapped around his waist, holding his wound, and Falde led them through the forest and back towards the castle at the coast because Peter was barely able to keep himself awake though he would not admit it. Arguing with his sister helped keep his focus off of the pain. “I’m bloody well old enough to drink.”
“Language!”
“And I’m old enough to curse as well,” the King grinned back at her. Unfortunately, turning in his saddle was not a good idea for someone with a stab wound. Pain coursed up his spine and Peter gasped shallowly, his eyes fluttering closed as a wall of black swept towards him. Susan rode directly beside him the rest of the way, making sure Peter didn’t tumble from the horse. For a day and a half they travelled without stopping, desperate to get Peter home to Lucy’s cordial before it was too late.
XXX
Caspian paced Peter’s bedroom for the first two days, only leaving to use the facilities or to find food. On the third day, even as Peter was returning, he went back to his ships and sighed in annoyance as his tutor tried to teach him more pointless history that he had already lived through. All the while, his eyes drifted to the portcullis of the Galleon, through which he could barely glimpse Peter’s bedroom window. He didn’t know why he kept staring at the wall, even on the fourth day since Peter left, because surely he would see them on the winding road well before he would see Peter staring down at him through an open window.
It was, in fact, later on during that fourth day that Caspian heard the trumpets sounding. They were announcing the return of Narnia’s Kings and Queens. Caspian sat up straight, excited beyond measure, but determined to keep him under control. It was only when the trumpet abruptly grew silent that Caspian realized there was something wrong. If he squinted, he could make out the pure white horse that Peter usually rode upon, but he could not see anyone on its back. But it looked like – no, it couldn’t be – why would?
Edmund was carrying Peter inside Cair Paravel.
All of a sudden Caspian’s heart skipped two beats, his breath caught and he felt like he was underwater. His lungs strained for air, and when someone asked if he were well their voice sounded far away and strange. “Father will want to know what is wrong,” he said at last, his voice strained and desperate and nothing like his own.
He stood, ignoring the food on the plate before him, and giving no thought to the rumours his people might spread, he ran towards the Cliffside. He began to run up the road, jumping over sticks and stones and panting horribly by the time he was half way up. Tears of frustration wetted his eyes, and he feared something horrible would happen to Peter in the time it took Caspian to reach the doors of the castle. Just as he was about to give up, a cry bubbling in his throat, Falde appeared before him.
The horse came as if out of a dream. Caspian looked ahead of him and the way was clear. He looked at the ground, trying to catch his breath and suddenly the animal was there, in his path.
“You won’t stop me,” Caspian snarled, terror fuelling his words.
“I wish to help you, climb on my back, Telmarine.” Caspian froze, not sure whether to believe the words he was hearing. “High King Peter will rest better if you are beside him. Come, we do not have long.”
“Is he dying?” Caspian asked in a small voice, even as he heaved himself onto the horse.
“No. He is quite healed, but he will wake soon. I had hoped to have you there when he remembered himself.” The horse wouldn’t speak again, no matter how much Caspian begged it for answers. In the end, Caspian just held tight to the reigns and trusted the Talking Beast to take him home.
XXX
When Peter awoke it was to find brown eyes staring down at him, tears dripping from dark eyelashes. “Have you stopped weeping, o beautiful stranger?” Peter asked with a faint smile. His eyes sparkled as Caspian started at his words. “Hast thou no tear? - Weep now or never more! See! On yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love,”1 his voice was soft as he spoke, quoting something, though Caspian did not know what.
“You scared me.” Caspian said at length, his voice held a reproachful tone.
Peter sat up in the bed. His hand reached for Caspian’s and the Telmarine gave it willingly. Peter pressed a kiss to Caspian’s knuckles and whispered against them, his eyes never leaving Caspian’s, “but I returned to you.”
“Like you promised.” Caspian crawled onto the bed beside the King. His movements were careful, gentle, as if afraid to hurt the blond man.
“Like I promised.” Peter repeated, his eyes travelling along Caspian’s bare chest. “Was there no need to dress?”
“You lost some blood. You’ve been asleep for a day, and I saw no need to dress, your majesty, when no one would see me but your bedroom walls.” Caspian gave him a sly smile and unbuttoned his trousers, kicking them to the floor.
“You have no shame.” Peter laughed. He pulled his pyjama shirt above his head and dropped it to the ground.
“I didn’t even see the wound. It healed so fast.” Caspian’s fingers hovered above the spot Peter had been shot, his fingers hesitantly brushing against the healed skin and pulling back as if burnt.
“You will not hurt me. Lucy’s cordial heals extremely well.” Peter promised, before pulling his lover down for a kiss. Somehow, during the kiss, Peter’s trousers joined Caspian’s on the ground. In a matter of moments Caspian found himself pinned beneath the High King, though he was not complaining much.
“You were injured!”
“And now I am not. Though if you refuse me, my pride would be severely hurt.” Peter gazed down at the dark haired man, a soft smile on his face.
“I would never refuse you,” Caspian breathed, spreading his legs wide in invitation. “I love you,” he whispered as Peter’s fingers moved down to touch his entrance.
Peter met his gaze fully; his eyes sparkled warmly as he leant down to brush his lips to Caspian’s. “And I realized while I was gone, that I love you more than I’ve loved anyone else. It sort of scares me.”
“Don’t be scared of me.” Caspian let out a moan soon after speaking. Peter’s fingers worked him, using spit as lubricant but Caspian did not mind as long as Peter continued to stroke that spot inside of him – right there – that was making him see stars.
“Not of you, but of what could happen to you.” Peter’s fingers left him, and Caspian gave a disappointed groan. Something else was pushing against him now, and his first reaction was to tense and fight back, but he looked up at Peter, heard Peter whispering ‘I love you’ and relaxed completely. A grunt escaped him as Peter pushed past inside of him, stilling to let Caspian adjust before pulling back and rocking forward again.
As the pleasure rushed through him and over him, and downed him beneath their currents, Caspian threw his head back and screamed as jolt upon jolt of pleasure seared his body from the inside out. He came hard, Peter’s hand clenching around his shaft and he felt something warm inside of him, just before Peter collapsed beside him with a grunt.
“Nothing will happen to me,” Caspian said when he had control over himself. “You are here.” He said it with such conviction that Peter was stunned speechless. Naked and sticky, the High King dragged Caspian against his side and buried his face into the dark hair. “I love you, Peter.” He breathed sleepily.
“And you, o forever mine.” The King replied, just as they both drifted off to sleep.
XXX
1 – “Lenore” by Edgar Allen Poe.
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Thanks for reading. If you’ve come this far it would be cricket to review!
I’m thinking of doing a Peter/Edmund one shot, if I ever find time to work on it. Opinions?
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Between Two Ages