Hullo, this is my first time writing in Narnia section. I'm rather nervous because English isn't my main language and well, I can't even really tell the difference between British and American, thus my attempt to be as close to as the chronicles may be incredibly poor, not to mention the grammars. My dear friend, Teruame, helped with this fic to minimize the mistakes. Hopefully the mistakes won't disturb your reading. And I definitely do not own Chronicles of Narnia, neither the books nor the movies. This fic is based heavily on Prince Caspian movie, though there are parts from the book.

There are sounds coming from the usually quiet and grave place that was once a battlefield. They are no mere sounds, but joyous sounds that used to be rarely heard in Narnia. There are unbridled voices, talking loudly instead in whispers, there are times when those voices turned into laughter, and there is sweet music made by beautiful singing voices and melodious instruments can be heard. Various figures can be seen around bright, crackling fire where the source of those sounds is coming from. However, there's someone who doesn't seem to be caught up in the merriment, despite the smile he puts up on his face. His dark eyes are searching for something or someone amidst the celebrating crowd of Narnians.

He can see the youngest Queen of Old dancing along with newly-awakened Dryads with such joy that those who see the sight cannot help but smile and revel in the warm feelings that haven't been felt for a long time. His countenance softens; the Narnians deserve it more than anything after everything they had to endure due to the selfishness of his ancestors. A slight quirk suddenly makes an appearance on his lips when he notices that the young Queen manages to persuade her reluctant older sister to join the dance with few words and a few not-so-gentle tug on her arm and a pouting look that any decent person or subject cannot refuse, so it doesn't come as a surprise when the Gentle Queen, whom as her title suggests, is unable to turn down the heartfelt request soon joins her younger sister. He watches the surreal vision before him with great amazement. Despite their age and appearance, their movements are nothing but of great beauty and elegance and he knows he isn't the only one who looks upon the sight in admiration.

His eyes stumble upon the familiar dark hair of the Just King who is sitting among the creatures of Narnia, listening intently to what they are telling him with a serious and thoughtful expression on his face–his elbow on his leg, his chin in his hand. He can easily imagine him assuming the same position 

on his throne, one of the four thrones in Cair Paravel, listening to his subjects and giving them council and judgment they need as it's asked of him. Unconsciously, Caspian bites his lower lip, a habit that tends to make its appearance whenever he is nervous and a habit he has yet to overcome. Not liking the direction his mind has taken, he forces himself to return to task at hand. He cannot find the one he's looking for. He has expected that the man he sought won't be far from the other monarchs, but he doesn't find him around them, not even his brother. He doesn't know where else to look for the High King for he barely knows said person well, and the chronicles told by his nurse and professor isn't enough to tell him of the other man's line of thinking. He decides that the place where the bridge used to be is a good place to start.

He has looked thoroughly around the river bank, but he doesn't find the one he's looking for. The place is deserted and comfortingly quiet, and he encounters several Narnians who bow to him and nods in return to acknowledge them, a courtesy he's still getting used to getting from the once-merely-legend inhabitants. He sighs in exasperation and defeat and begins to think that it's a ridiculous notion in the first place. They aren't exactly best friends during the short time they spent together, so why is he looking for this certain King of Old? King Edmund is a better and more likely candidate to talk to in terms of whatever that is on his mind.

He decides, rather dejectedly, that it's the best course of action and turns back to retrace his steps along the river edge. He listens to the sounds of stream, the nocturnal animals of Narnia making peaceful sounds that haven't been heard for a long time. He breathes in the cold air of the night, letting it fill his lungs and calm him down. Along the way, he stumbles upon a small dirt path that he didn't notice before. Raising an eyebrow in interest, and letting his curiosity get the better of him, he chooses to follow wherever the path leads him to with his hand ready upon the hilt of his sword. Up he goes beyond the rising path and eventually he finds himself on a clearing. Slowly and carefully, the Telmarine advances forward, only to find a familiar figure at the edge of the clearing.

The figure has his back to him, but he can see the side of the figure's face to confirm the identity of the silent man. He stands tall, noble, and proud as it's the impression given from his posture even as he has his left leg before him on higher rocks; his hand is poised on the hilt of his faithful sword. His golden locks sway lightly in the night breeze, his eyes holds a faraway look within its depths, his 

features completely calm and peaceful. Suddenly he feels that he's intruding into a private moment, and that he's not supposed to be there. He's about to turn around and return to where he came from when a voice calls out, strong and clear in the peaceful silence and distance between them.

"Caspian?"

The prince stills abruptly, his body tensing at the sudden acknowledgment. He feels, at that moment, reminded of the many times when he was caught sneaking out of the castle in his early years that more than once earned him a stern reprimand from his uncle. It's an odd feeling, considering that the other man is supposedly not much older than he is. Holding back the urge to simply pretend to not have heard anything and take off, he turns to face the lighter-haired young man and to answer politely,

"Your Majesty."

The only source of light comes from torches below, and Caspian has yet to be fully accustomed to the darkness, but he thinks he saw a tight smile on the High King's face.

"Stand with me? I wouldn't mind some company," King Peter gestures his side. There's a moment hesitation before the future king of Narnia takes up the invitation and sets himself rather awkwardly on his right side. There are no words spoken between them, to his relief, because he doesn't know what to say and he will leave it to the king to start any conversation.

Peter returns his gaze ahead and Caspian follows his line of sight to get a glimpse what he might see. There isn't much to see at first, due to the darkness of the clouds covering the sky; eventually, the moon and stars reappear as the clouds gave way to let them shine brightly upon the blessed land of Narnia, bathing everything in a pale, ethereal glow. Caspian finds himself catching his breath in his throat at the unravelling sight. Despite the remains of the previous battle, one can still see the beauty that the land possesses.

"Remarkable isn't it?" Peter speaks as though he reads his mind.

"Yes," Caspian agrees breathlessly.

"You have seen nothing yet, Caspian. There's more to see of Narnia, of your kingdom"

The Telmarine prince turns sharply at the sudden statement, only to find clear blue eyes looking at him calmly; he knows that the other man truly meant his words. Suddenly he feels incredibly inadequate, his fears and doubts making themselves known at the thought of his impending fate as the leader of this land blessed by the Aslan. His gaze falls to the ground, unable to meet the legendary king's eyes. Again, he was reminded of the reason why he was looking for King Peter.

"I… I don't know if I'm ready…" ready for such responsibility, for the kingship, those words went unsaid. He inwardly winces winced inwardly at the uncertainty in his voice, unconsciously gritting his teeth in shame of showing such weakness in front of the King. He mentally berates himself over and over again for the slip up, thinking how he has greatly ruined his self-image by his confession, the same self-image he doesn't doubt already pretty much ruined since their first meeting. So engrossed in berating himself was Caspian, that he nearly misses Peter's words,

"When do you think you are?"

Caspian starts, not expecting a reply, let alone for the boy king to discern the underlying meaning. He reluctantly glances up to have a better look at the other's expression, half-expecting a look of disapproval, and is immediately surprised to find nothing of sort on his face; instead there is a slight, not unkind smile upon the High King's face. It takes him a while to find a proper answer, a little bit taken aback with the unexpected response.

"I… don't know," he admits softly.

"I don't think we'll never be ready when we're given such responsibility upon our shoulders"

The usage of the word we makes Caspian look at Peter more intently and again, it seemed as though the king doesn't seem to have difficulty in reading his thoughts as if he was an open book.

"Do you think I didn't feel the same way when I was told to lead the army against White Witch and become the High King of Narnia?" There's a wry look upon his face as he adds, "I was anything but prepared, I had never trained in wielding sword, let along hold it in my previous life before coming to Narnia. I think in that respect, Caspian, you're more fortunate than I"

The darker-haired boy's eyes widen at the new bit of knowledge, for it's new to him. He can hardly believe it, then he remembers that the four monarchs are only a year older than when they started their rule, which means that the oldest of them were about his age when they sat at the four thrones of Cair Paravel. The realization only makes him more self-conscious than ever,

"But you won against the Witch," Caspian points out, "and your reign was the Golden Age in Narnia"

"I didn't win against the Witch, Aslan did," Peter corrects him, "and I did not rule alone, for my brother and sisters ruled with me to make it possible. I believe Doctor Cornelius didn't fail to tell you this when he told you of the chronicles"

"He did not," Caspian confirms confirmed. Peter doesn't fail to notice the look of lingering doubt on the Telmarine's face, for there's a slight twitch on his eyebrow.

"Then what makes you doubt?"

Caspian tears his gaze from the High King to the sight before him, feeling uncomfortable every growing minute in his presence.

"I don't feel worthy for Narnia," Caspian has already grown lesser care of his ego by telling his feelings openly, "I don't really know much of them but of the chronicles told to me. The Narnians accepted me because I just happened to be the only Son of Adam that dared to go against the Telmarines only because the king happened to be my usurper uncle who wanted me dead"

"That's… quite a way to put it." The younger man doesn't fail to detect the faint amusement in the other's voice; he would think the same thing, if he were in his place. He sounds anything but calm and confident, and he was rambling, an obvious and common sign of anxiety.

"I act nothing like a king. I could barely get anything done by myself before you came. It was only because of your presence among us we found the courage to actually do something. The Narnians readily followed you without question; they respect and believe in you, in their Kings and Queens of Old despite your sudden disappearance centuries ago"

There is a notable silence between them that makes the prince thinks that he made a mistake.

"That's how Narnians are, Caspian, their unwavering faith and endless forgiveness, even though the people given those might not deserve it." The dark-haired boy turns sharply at the words, and finds great pain and anguish within the cerulean depths of the High King's eyes. It takes him a while to understand the look in Peter's face, who continues to speak to him with a gentle smile that's not quite reaching his eyes,

"You've proven your worth more than you realize, Caspian. You've been more a King than I was when I came. You did well with the Old Narnians. You led them; you gave them hope and answered to it as expected of you, as expected of a King," Peter's smile widens slightly, and Caspian thinks he saw a hint of pride, "I suppose apology is in order. I have been such a brick to you. I should have listened to you and to the others when I made that reckless plan." Peter bows slightly to show his regret and apology, a gesture that completely took Caspian by surprise.

"No! You were doing what you thought best! Despite my disagreements, I thought no less of your plan to work. It was only because of my foolishness that it failed. If only I wasn't carried away by my emotions…" he pauses, "It must be difficult for you, to see someone like me leading your people, the very descendant of the people that makes your people suffer and destroys the country you ruled…" Caspian clenches his hands tightly, his face betraying his emotions, his anger, his guilt, his pain and his sadness. Peter says nothing as he watches the future king of his country bares his emotions, sadness evident in his features.

"It was," Peter spoke softly, but it didn't lessen the blow to Caspian. "This is the land that my siblings and I love so much that we'd give our very lives to protect. This is the land we never want to leave, and we always want to return to. When we finally returned… and to find it this way… It hurt. It hurt more than anything." He turns to look upon the land that despite the changes remains its hold upon his heart. My land… My country… My people… he squeezes his eyes shut forcefully to stop the images of his failures from haunting him.

"I wanted to help. I was ready to give anything in my power to help. But I forgot who I was, I wasn't the same person, I wasn't the King Peter the Magnificent and the High King was no King without Aslan the King above all High Kings. I forgot, I lost my path, I lost my faith. I took too much pride in myself, thinking that now I was in Narnia again I could do anything. Because of my pride, my people had to pay with their lives. I was nothing magnificent, and I didn't deserve such high praise from you, Caspian"

Caspian looks at the now silent figure, taking in every word without letting his eyes away from the older boy. Although he cannot see the older boy's expression, he can feel the sadness and regret emanating from the High King. However, there's no change in his posture, he holds his chin high, his shoulders square, his back straight, yet with such humility and nobility that makes Caspian realizes what makes the king before him was given the title Magnificent. At that moment, all of his doubts seem to disappear. He straightens himself and let his gaze roam to the sight of Narnia before him, following the other's example and starts to speak,

"Since my nurse and doctor told me of the chronicles, I've always admired the High King the most," Caspian doesn't look at Peter as he speaks, "I must admit, as a child, the stories of King Peter enthral me more than any other stories. He was everything that a true knight, a true hero should be. Brave, noble, strong, magnificent… That's how I portrayed him to be. When I finally met the King himself, I was… disappointed, for he was nothing like I expected him to be. However…"

"I realized it was just a child's fantasy. I forgot what makes the heroes within the stories became what they were was their trials. How they were faced to many challenges and enemies. How they were faced with their greatest enemy: themselves." At this, Caspian dares himself to look at his childhood hero in the eye who's taken aback with the sudden gesture; his dark eyes were bright and determined in the darkness of night, and he speaks spoke with such conviction to him,

"Heroes were those who prevailed against their trials. They weren't perfect, but it was their imperfection that made them perfect. You might have failed, King Peter, but you didn't allow your failure to hinder you to blind you, to do what was right. You acknowledged your failures when you could have chosen not to. You are worthier than any man of the title bestowed by Aslan himself"

The High King didn't hide his surprise at Caspian's words, but the surprise doesn't last, as his features soften in pride and affection of which are usually seen from a father to his son, from a brother to his own, and Caspian, who has never known his father, has never had a brother of his own, thinks that he 

knew now how it felt to have a father and a brother. King Peter places his hand upon the future king's shoulder.

"You have proven your own worth, Caspian. You shan't doubt yourself any more. You will learn how to be a King the moment you become one, let Narnia guide you along the way. Love this realm and its people like you love yourself, embrace them like they are your own. They do not serve you for it is you who serve them. You are and never will, be alone. Do not lost faith in Aslan like I did. Do not lose faith in yourself, because Aslan chose you. His trust is never misplaced," at those words, he gives a comforting squeeze upon Caspian's shoulder, shoulders that will bear the great weight of the whole country.

At the moment, Caspian never doubted who the man standing before him was. The High King over all Kings in Narnia, High King Peter the Magnificent. Under whom he and his heirs shall rule while his race lasts as King of Narnia, and he can't be more honoured to accept the responsibility bestowed to him by Aslan. He will not and shall not fail the man before him and the great lion for the honour.

Any trace of fear, doubt, and inadequacy is utterly diminished when the future king raises his gaze to look deeply, yet respectfully to the King of Old. There is no more words spoken, because there is no need. They finally reach a form of understanding between them. Peter squeezes Caspian's shoulder for the last time before his hand falls back to his side. Caspian understands that it's about time for him to retreat to give the High King time for himself that he has unintentionally intruded upon. He gives a slight bow to excuse himself wordlessly and is returned in turn by the same gesture, not failing to notice the gratitude in the clear blue eyes and with more silence and grace he didn't possess when he came, he returns to the path where he found this place.

Peter only feels than sees as Caspian goes further and further away from him, leaving him on his own, or at least he thinks so. He barely gives a glance toward an vague direction in the darkness behind him,

"You've chosen well..."

Slowly from the darkness a figure appeared, the moonlight falls down upon his golden fur and mane, making him no less brilliant and noble under the shining sun.

"…Aslan."

"As I always have, child, as you have always known…" comes the deep, solemn, resonating voice that could only belong to the High King over all High Kings. The lion moves gracefully upon his paws that makes no noise as he approached the Son of Adam's side who is about to fall down on his knees only to be stopped by a slight shake of his mane and he remains standing reverently before the lion. Those clear blue eyes never leaves the lion's figure the moment it appeared but never meets those golden eyes. Aslan doesn't fail to notice this, his features crinkle in amusement and in sadness for he knows his children better than anyone else.

"I believe you shall take your own words for yourself, High King," there's no hint of reprimand in his voice, instead it's gentle and soothing. Peter says nothing, there's a small yet sad smile on his lips as he returns his gaze to his land. The son of the Emperor-over-the-Sea gently nudges the young man's side; there is a hint of purr as he does so. Slowly and hesitantly he combs his fingers through the silken golden mane.

"I'm sorry…" his voice quiet, "For everything…" Peter knows that he needs not to elaborate.

"You will always have my forgiveness, my dear child, only when you find it in yourself to forgive yourself," there's a pause, sadness colours his voice, "You've always been too hard to yourself, more than you realize. Oh I know, son, I know." He emphasizes, stopping the protest he knows that will come.

"I have always been with you, even when you can't see me and I will never cease be with you, for you are the King of my choosing and my trust… is never misplaced." Aslan uses Peter's own words to emphasize his point.

"Oh, Aslan," Peter finally breaks, a single tear falls from his eyes. His hand within the golden mane trembles, but he doesn't try to wipe the tears away, confiding his fears, his doubts, his sadness, his 

pain to the beloved lion whereas he can't do the same to his siblings or anyone else in that matter. Aslan returns the trust equally, comforting his beloved son.

"You're not perfect, and you will never be, but it's your imperfections that make me love you."

With those words that are the greatest gift one can receive, Peter finally and completely, lets go.

Hopefully it isn't that bad… Review? And beta-reader? –gives pleading look-