Disclaimer: Not C.S. Lewis nor do I own the songs used for this meme challenge.

Filippa Giordano - Me he enamorado de ti

Caspian would sometimes sing in Spanish to him, just lullabies in the night before they went to sleep. Peter didn't know what they meant but with Caspian's arms around him, breath in his ear, and the starry skies above him, he didn't really think the words mattered.

He swayed to the rhythm of Caspian's deep voice, soft sounds but hands hard and calloused on his arms. He liked to think it was perfect that way, the Spanish syllables just drifting to his ears with only the word "amor" ringing in them afterwards.

The word was sung many times in the song, enough so that Caspian said it stronger and louder, punctuating it with a kiss to Peter's neck and Peter drifted to sleep in his arms, amor just breath on his throat and a soft smile against his hair.

Harry Potter Soundtrack - Something wicked this way comes

"Peter, what are you doing?"

Peter briefly looked up from the boiling pot in front of him.

"Nothing," he said surreptitiously, propping the book in front of him with one hand and stirring with the other.

"Peter, nothing, not all the magic in Narnia, is going to make you a better cook." And Caspian pried the wooden spoon from Peter's hands.

Peter looked down glumly at the bubbling green concoction before him. "I can try."

Tesla - Caught up in a dream

Peter stared out onto the battle field. It was barren or would have been except for the bodies littered across it, some in small heaps, some he wasn't sure were even dead. He almost didn't wish that he had come to Narnia for the second time - it wasn't how he remembered it to be. The wind blew slightly but did nothing to cool him. This wasn't the Golden Age anymore, he had to remind himself, if the ruins of Cair Paravel and the vision before him were anything to go by.

There was a presence behind him, Caspian no doubt, as the prince had the unfortunate habit of always approaching him when he was angry or distressed.

"It had to be done," he said looking out over the same battlefield.

It was easy for him to say; he hadn't know these people. They hadn't been the descendents of his people once; he felt a certain deeper historical connection to them than any the prince could have. He was responsible for them as much as he was responsible to them.

"You're still a good King."

"No, you're the King now," and Peter swept past him, leaving Caspian with the carnage before his feet.

Switchfoot - This is home

God. He clenched his fists together, suddenly angry at Aslan for taking everything away and not leaving him with a grain of hope. Edmund had it, Lucy had it, and Susan just didn't care. Even if the Lion hadn't had any intention of letting him back into Narnia, he would have gladly taken that hollow glimmer instead of this shattering reality.

Aslan threw him around as he pleased from one world to the next until reality became a blur, until Peter didn't know exactly what he was craving -- yearning -- for, just that he was. He had forgotten what the Narnian air smelled like, forgot what talking animals sounded like, forgot what Cair Paravel felt like but he knew that in an instant he would recognize it if only it was there.

He looked at the dormitory that housed his room. Not home, not the hint of magic that Narnia had, but he let his mind drift over the columns and the gothic arches and tried to picture Cair Paravel before him, beautiful, rebuilt, and he walked with his head held high.

If he just imagined, then he could almost bear the glances of the boys and ignore the lightness on his head where a crown should be. Home - anywhere he created it, and for now, that was all he had.

Evanescence - Breathe no more

There was the bridge and the twenty foot drop into the water. There were the lights that reflected off of the surface. There were the sirens somewhere off in the distance.

Then, there was nothing.

There was the reflection of Narnia in the water and on the other side he could almost see the beach and the sands of Cair Paravel, the islands, the caves that he explored. He could just touch it, extending a hand out to it, and suddenly he understood the desperation of the White Witch, how close it all seemed and if it would just come into his grasp he could just-

Peter fell; it wasn't a long fall but it was face first and he thought that he almost imagined the smiling face of Caspian just below the surface welcoming him home.

Cascada - Bad Boy

Fuck, Caspian. He mentally groaned in his mind at the sight of his lover, wet and dripping from a morning swim.

Peter glanced around the beach, making sure that there was no one around, before he practically pounced on Caspian, stripping him of the rest of his clothing, and dragging him down beneath him.

He pounded into him, the sand making deep groves and hills on the sides of Caspian's body as the Telmarine arched up into him, away from the hot sand (though he suspected that he secretly liked the feel of it), it sticking to both their sweat slicked bodies.

"Tomorrow?" Peter asked after he slid off and out of Caspian.

Caspian replied with only a breathless "Yeah," before collecting his clothes and sword, thoughts all ready filled with imaginings of the next day.

Motley Crue - If I die tomorrow

Peter sat staring at his hands. There was nothing to think about, no strategy in his head that he could run through because after so many of these fights he knew there was nothing that he could do to predict what would happen. It was best not to think about it anyway.

Instead, he tried to figure out what he would say to Caspian. A number of things ran through his head: advice on how to rule a kingdom, instructions on where the royal maps and treasures from the Golden Age were held, where he wanted his body to be buried, the things that were left unsaid in the silence between them. He didn't think he needed words to express that.

"Peter?" came the tentative voice from behind him. He willed himself not to cry. That was advice for the king too: don't cry.

"I love you and I'm sorry if something happens to me tomorrow," he said in a rush as he stood to face Caspian. "I'm sorry for the things I said and for ever doubting you and for acting the way I was and how all of this didn't work out exactly how I wanted it to. But mostly, just I love you and if I'm still here tomorrow, I promise to come back to you," he finished softly, a little out of breath.

"Promise?" Caspian walked over to him and placed both hands on the sides of his face. He brought Peter's gaze up to meet his.

"Promise," said Peter resolutely. And Caspian leaned down to give him an almost brotherly kiss on the forehead before Peter threw his arms around him and Caspian enveloped him in what he hoped wasn't their last embrace.

Saliva - Always

Peter rammed his sword as hard as he could across at Caspian which caused him to take a hesitant step back, surprised. It had been a year since Aslan had allowed them to stay and he thought that they had finally achieved a comfortable companionship.

Peter growled deep in his throat. Apparently not.

"Come on, Prince," he snarled, taking another swipe and Caspian knew he was angry for some reason because Peter only called him Prince when he was trying to point out his superiority.

"Peter?"

"Shut up and fight," he said throwing Caspian's disarmed sword back at him, the tip facing Caspian's chest. He was taken aback.

Was this the Peter that had just professed his love for him last night, the same Peter that had lain in his arms so contentedly? Was this Peter somehow compensating for what he must have thought were moments of weakness?

Caspian allowed himself a little smirk, coming up close to Peter, ignoring the King's startled gaze, and running a single finger down the back of his hand in a way that he knew made him shiver. He stepped back, keeping his blade and gaze locked onto Peter's.

"Love doesn't make you any less of a man," he said before they continued fighting, Caspian with a renewed concentration and Peter with a slight relaxed smile on his face.

Angels - My boyfriend's back

Peter rode back to the castle, happy that finally the extended campaign was over and he would be able to see Caspian and his siblings. The castle loomed just over head and he sped up a little, forgetting the men following him as he charged into the entrance, the gate not fully lifted just so that he managed not to knock his crown over in passing under it. He allowed himself a jovial laugh as he entered the castle.

"Caspian?" he yelled loudly as he wandered through the halls and into the throne room where he knew Caspian probably was. He entered it happily, taking in the banners and the sights and the smells that distinctly meant home.

There, he didn't see just Caspian as he had hoped, but rather Caspian and some woman - harlot, he thought in his mind - clinging onto him. He would have normally been amused had this been Edmund or Susan or Lucy in the same uncomfortable situation, but now he stalked angrily to the throne. Everyone knew that King Peter didn't allow suitors in his court.

He placed a protective hand on Caspian's waist, the woman's eyes going wide at the gesture.

"I'm home," he breathed seductively, leaning closer to Caspian's side, and hoping that the woman noticed.

"Oh. High King Peter," Caspian said more for the woman's benefit than his, though he knew Peter loved the way he said his name. He stressed the King, drew it out and gave the woman a pointed look. Peter laughed a little to himself at her stunned face. Her hand immediately dropped from Caspian's arm, and she took a step back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Yes, well, we have some business to attend to. You understand," he said, leaving the implications hanging in the air and leading Caspian down the stairs, arm wrapped around him even tighter.

"Completely unnecessary," Caspian said once they were out of earshot. "I had it under control."

"Oh, but so much fun," Peter replied and gave Caspian a kiss, leading him further down the hall to their bedchambers and away from annoying women.

Avril Lavigne - Touch the sky

For the first time in three years, Peter was truly happy. Such absolute serenity and tranquility of thought, he thinks he has never known since the Golden Age (and even then he was often fraught with some worry). Now, he could finally relax. Something warm was surrounding him, a body with hands and arms and soft skin.

"Lean on me. I am here." There was the voice that he had not heard except for in his dreams. He does not want to ask what happened to him; he thinks he knows. Only in a place so much like the heaven he imagined, would he be free to feel like this.

Aslan smiled benevolently up at both him and Caspian.

"Welcome home, my son."