A/N: Okay, so I'm a very big lover of Narnia, but this is my first official fanfiction on it. I hope you enjoy it. :3
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or it's characters - they belong to C.S. Lewis.
Turning over onto his side, he found he couldn't sleep. It wasn't a surprise to him of course; he had known that he wouldn't be able to relax that night. Sighing, he silently rose from where he had been lying, careful to not make a sound. He snuck past his sleeping siblings and walked down the passageway with his sword tied to his belt – even after all these years, he knew not to venture anywhere without Rhindon.
He stepped out from the How into the night, finding himself at the very top of it. He walked away from the opening he had come from, sitting down further along the rough stones holding it together. He looked around his surroundings, seeing the outline of the trees across the field and surrounding them. He leaned back and supported himself on the stone behind him, looking up at the stars twinkling in the sky. What had he come back to? This wasn't his home. The Narnia he left had been bursting with magic and life everywhere he looked. The trees, like Lucy had said, once used to dance. The Nymphs would burst out of them, coming to play with Lucy whenever they could. Back in their Golden Age, they had spent more times in the woods having picnics with the Nymphs than Peter could remember. They were always so kind, so loving towards them. The inhabitants of Narnia themselves had become Peter's best friends – Oreius being one of them. He and the Centaur had developed a firm friendship, and Peter would often go to him if he needed advice on anything. Mr Tumnus had also become a friend to Peter. The Fawn lived in the Castle with them – Lucy would not have it any other way, she wanted her dear friend to stay with them instead of returning back to his house across Narnia. Mr Tumnus would often tell them stories that were Narnian fairytales when they were younger, and as they got older he proceeded to write tales about them, making new history for Narnia.
As Peter thought about his old home, he felt his heart sink. The Narnia they had returned to after being ripped away so cruelly was not the same as the Narnia they had left. When he fell back through the wardrobe, Peter wanted nothing more than to venture back through to his home. His heart didn't belong in England any more, and neither did he. He belonged to Narnia – and had always done, even if he hadn't known it at first. He didn't know how to adjust with being back in England, being just a child again. It frustrated him. He had lived in Narnia, he had grown up there and to be pulled away from everything with all of the memories of it truly pained him. He couldn't bear being back in his fourteen-year old body. He often picked fights as a release of his frustration, but became more angered when he realised he couldn't win as easily as he did in Narnia. The rules were different in England – he wasn't a King anymore, and he found it hard to accept.
Coming back to Narnia after that year made Peter happier than he had ever been. However, seeing the ruins of Cair Paravel wrenched his heart terribly. He knew that something had gone wrong in Narnia after they left, and he felt guilty because of it. He had let his entire world down. He would never forgive himself for it. To discover that they had returned a thousand and three hundred years later struck spears into Peter's heart. His beloved country, destroyed over such a period of time. Invaders – Telmarines – had ruined the country. They had ruined his Narnia.
He pushed his thoughts out of his mind, trying to calm down as images came of the Telmarines tearing Narnia apart. No, this wasn't his Narnia that he had returned to. It was a Narnia that had lived past Peter's age – it was a Narnia that had deep scars and battle wounds. It was a Narnia changed, a Narnia that no longer upheld the values of magic. This Narnia didn't even look like Peter's Narnia. The terrain had changed; the country had altered in his absence. Peter knew as soon as he saw Caspian that his time was over. Narnia had outgrown him, it didn't need him anymore. Peter tried to fight against the idea of Caspian ruling, but deep-down he knew it was the right thing. Peter didn't know the customs anymore; Peter didn't know what the Telmarines were like. Caspian knew everything, and he would make a fine ruler of Narnia.
Looking up at the stars, Peter had to finally accept it. This was not his Narnia, and he was not its King. He was nothing more than a boy who had been cruelly taken from his world and brought back to learn that his time was over in the one place he felt he belonged. He blinked back a stray tear and stood up, shaking his head. He pushed all of his thoughts out of his mind as he clasped his hands together, heading inside. Tomorrow they would plan their attack – and for his own sake, Peter hoped it would go smoothly.