Disclaimer: I do not own any of CS Lewis' books or characters or actors that play the characters.
Chapter 2:
Caspian had seen many beautiful summer days in his life, but this afternoon was especially exquisite. They were resting in a sunlit meadow. The air was sweet and the rays of the sun warmed his skin, peeling away the layers of melancholy. He put his hand up in the sunlight, trying to hold it just there so that if he squinted, he could pretend he was carrying a ball of golden fire in his palm.
The grass was sweet-smelling and thick as a carpet beneath him. It was a relief to strip down to his linen shirt and bare feet, and to just lie on the ground, not worrying about a thing in the world.
Peter was nearby, playing with the Rilian, and Caspian smiled at his husband's cheery laughter. They were having a footrace, and Peter was running deliberately slow so the little prince could reach the tree first, tumbling to the ground in a fit of giggles.
The button at Peter's collar had fallen loose, his shirt slipping to expose one shoulder. Caspian knew the skin was warm and sweet, and he wanted to reach out and touch, but was content to languish on his back for the moment and watch. A breeze was blowing, stirring the crown of gold hair on Peter's head so that it fanned his rosy cheeks with every movement.
"You beat me again!" Peter said breathlessly, as Rilian won the race with a shriek of triumph. Caspian marveled at the look of pure adoration on Peter's face. It was a touching sight, the golden prince and the dusky child playing together in a field of sun-kissed grass.
Caspian felt like they had been here their whole lives, doing nothing but this, relaxing, breathing in the sweet Narnian air, and being utterly content. He looked up into the brilliantly blue sky and tried to pick out shapes in the fluffy white clouds.
A terrible cry startled Caspian out of his reverie, and he stood to see what was the matter. Peter was there, pale and wide-eyed, with a look of such startled anguish that it frightened Caspian.
"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he asked. Peter's face was white as paper, his mouth twisted into a pained grimace. A whisper escaped from between those colorless lips.
"I'm bleeding."
And he was. To Caspian's horror, blood began trickling in steady streams from the lines of that horrid scar, making the brand stand out bright red on the pale cheek. Blood started pouring from his nose and mouth, bursting in thick gushes from his eyes. Peter opened his mouth in a silent scream, and held his hands up so that Caspian could see that the seams of his fingernails were bleeding too.
Caspian couldn't move or scream. He couldn't even close his eyes to block out the terrifying image…
"Your Majesty! Wake up!"
Someone was shaking him.
"N-no! Oh, no…"
There was blood everywhere and he couldn't stop it.
"Your Majesty, please!" More shaking.
With a choked-off scream that died into a gasp, Caspian jerked awake and found himself tangled in sweaty blankets. His manservant was still gripping his shoulder, looking alarmed.
"Are you alright, Sire?"
"Some water," Caspian mumbled, running a shaking hand over his face. As the servant ran to fill a cup, Caspian hastily looked over at Peter's side of the bed, half-expecting to find bloodstained sheets. But his husband wasn't there, nor anywhere else in the room.
"Where's Peter?" inquired the king, after he had gulped down most of the water that the servant brought him.
"King Peter rose early. He wanted me to tell you that he would see you later today."
With a groan, Caspian realized that he had overslept and that Peter would already be up and about. They had gone to sleep on a rather uncomfortable note the night before, which made Caspian suspicious that perhaps Peter was put out with him. That, coupled with his disturbing nightmare, created an uneasy churning in his stomach. He wanted to see his husband, badly.
Tossing the covers aside, Caspian stood to get dressed.
In a court where ladies' necklines dipped low and bodices were laced tightly to accentuate bosoms, Queen Susan's collar remained stubbornly high. Buttons held her neckline close to her throat and her sleeves went past her wrists. A plain girdle, belted snugly, hinted at a girlish waist, above a set of voluminous skirts that flowed all the way down to her feet.
She wore no braids or curls, and no jewels in her ears or on her neck. Besides her gold crown and wedding ring, gracefully arched eyebrows and a pair of full red lips were her only ornaments.
In the Great Hall at Cair Paravel, her throne sat to the lower left of Caspian's, but she preferred to stand most of the time. She was pacing back and forth that morning, as the Lord Chancellor and the other officials debated on the affairs in Northern Narnia.
"Your Majesty, we have received continuous reports of giants raiding the farms in the Northern Frontage," Cornelius said. "While these people have been peaceful towards Narnia in the past, I fear that such recent shows of hostility cannot be allowed to go on. We must send reinforcements to the north and then contact the leader of the giants for a peace council."
"Perhaps their lands are growing sparse," suggested another, "and they are raiding the Northern Frontage for food. If so, we might find it advantageous to aid them by supplying resources. That would at once put them in our debt, and therefore our friendship, and stop all acts of hostility."
The queen cleared her throat and turned to face them. An almost-visible cringe seemed to sweep through those assembled, as if they already knew what she would say.
"There will be no peace council, or aid," said Susan. "If we are to believe these reports, then what the giants are declaring is open war. Hostility shall be met with hostility."
"But your majesty, surely we must talk with their leader first-"
"We don't talk with barbarians, sir," she interrupted. "If these people have attacked our villages to the north, then they have committed a grave offense against all of Narnia. We must deploy troops as soon as we are able, in order to counter them." She drew herself up tall, looking quite imperious. Her whole body tensed as if she were a taut bowstring ready to launch her next words like an arrow.
But before she could speak again, a cry went up from the end of the Hall: "His Majesty, the King Caspian!" She gave a startled little gasp and whirled around to stare at the entrance.
Caped and crowned, the Telmarine king strode in, flanked by his gentlemen and his guards. Looking impressive as always, he walked the length of the Hall while the people parted and bowed before him with sighs of, "Your Majesty."
He stopped before his throne and turned to Susan.
"Madam," he said respectfully, bowing to her with his hand at his waist. For awhile, she stared at him with unblinking eyes.
Then, as the people held their breaths, her features relaxed and she smiled. "My king," she greeted in return. She bent her knees just a little, gave the slightest sway of her shoulders, the tiniest toss of her embroidered skirts: a gesture that was meant to be a curtsey. "You are home early. I was not expecting you to arrive so soon."
"Yes, well," he replied, "I was most eager to come home again."
"Perhaps later you will tell us all about your journey to the Lone Islands?"
"Of course," said Caspian, nodding. He turned and lowered himself regally onto his throne while Susan remained standing. "Please, my Lords, if you will be so kind as to repeat to me the news of the Northern Frontage raids?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Cornelius, smiling warmly. "It is good to see that you have returned safely," he added, before starting to recite the reports once again. Soon, the Lords' voices were overlapping and echoing as they once again fell into the discussion about the giants.
As the officials droned on, Caspian looked at the empty throne to his right, then scanned the entire Hall for Peter. His husband wasn't there.
"Susan," he whispered, and she walked up so that he could talk into her ear. "Where is he?"
"Oh, you know," she replied, with a little shrug. It meant what both of them had come to expect: that Peter had abandoned the castle walls in favor of riding out so he could take a more hands-on approach to governing the land. He would often ride through the villages and take up people's petitions in person, meeting with the local magistrates and mayors to personally oversee matters in Narnia.
"What, alone?" Caspian queried.
"No," she said, with a sardonic twist of the lips. "The Prince Consort is with him."
His eyes took another perfunctory sweep around the room and noted that Rynelf was absent as well. He frowned.
"Oh, I see."
Rynelf smiled as he rode behind Peter. He couldn't take his eyes off the young king, loving the way the sun glinted on blond hair and flushed cheeks. Peter's mouth was open in a thrilled, breathless laugh, the kind that he only made when his thighs gripped the flanks of his mare and the wind was blowing through his hair while they galloped over the Narnian hills.
Peter turned in the saddle to face Rynelf and Rynelf quickly hid the tender smile he was so brazenly displaying.
"We're almost there!" the king called, beaming.
They reached a grassy glade near Omaru and Rynelf dismounted first, casting a wary glance at their surroundings. Though Narnia had been more or less in peace for the past few years, there were always enemies who would wish King Peter harm, and so Rynelf always kept a hand close to his sword belt whenever he accompanied Peter outside the castle walls.
"Don't look so nervous," Peter said cheerfully, taking the time to unsaddle his horse so she could roll around in the cool grass. "We're only here to meet with the centaurs. I doubt there are any assassins here."
"My apologies, Your Majesty. I can't seem to help it," said Rynelf, laughing a bit when he realized he was holding his sword hilt in a vise-like grip and glaring at every piece of shrubbery within striking distance.
"I know," said Peter. "You're a good friend, Rynelf. I always feel safer when you're with me." The young king smiled and touched Ryenlf's arm. He had meant to sound lighthearted and playful, but to Rynelf, the honey scent of flowers grew just a little bit sweeter and the grass just a few shades greener at those soft words.
Rynelf started when he heard hoof beats from afar, then relaxed when he realized it was the centaurs they had come to meet.
"My noble friend, Suncloud," Peter greeted their chieftain as they approached.
"Hail, King!" cried Suncloud, who was a beautiful, broad-shouldered creature with golden-brown flanks and golden hair. "My kin and I are most grateful that you agreed to this council."
"You are most welcome," Peter replied, and the centaur bowed his head in solemn respect while the others did the same. "For what reason did you want to meet with me, sir?"
Suncloud looked grave. "Though my heart is glad that I am in your presence, my king, I am grieved to say that I come for a complaint."
"A complaint? Against whom?" Peter demanded.
"Against you, Your Majesty."
"Me?" cried Peter. "What offense could I possibly have committed against you or your kin?"
Rynelf was shocked as well. The centaurs had always been on good terms with King Peter, if not for his own merits, then because of his relation to Queen Susan.
"There are lands to the west of the River Rush, woods and glens that have always remained sacred to our people. Our ancestors have watched the skies there, studying the movements of each star and planet since before even the Golden Age of Narnia. Every joy and every terrible thing that ever happened on earth, our prophets and star-gazers first witnessed in these places, where starlight and moonlight shine the brightest.
When the Telmarine barbarians first invaded, centuries ago, we were forced to flee. Then, Aslan returned and with the Great Battle, peace was restored once again. My kin returned to these sacred places and our hearts rejoiced that the ways of old would continue.
But a few days ago, a group of Telmarines came to our woods and cut down our trees. They built houses on the grounds that our people have roamed for centuries. They hunted animals who have sought refuge in these ancient lands for generations, and they took fish from the rivers that were older than before their own forefathers ever set foot in Narnia.
They took the land and used the land without respect, without care. When I and my sons confronted them, they claimed that they were given leave to settle in these woods by you, King Peter. And only because of our love for you did we allow them to stay so long, though I was angry with them and would have gladly fought them until they were all slain."
"Well," said Peter, looking quite grim, "I'm glad you did not, because that would have been both rash and unkind."
"So is it true, then?" one of the younger centaurs spoke up. "Were you the one who allowed those Telmarines to invade our woods?"
Peter was silent, frowning at the accusation. Rynelf stared at Peter, waiting for the king to deny it. To his surprise, no denial came.
"If I have offended your people," Peter said to Suncloud, "then I am sorry. I cannot claim ignorance, for I knew what these woods meant to you. In my defense, I have held council with your leader, Glenstorm, about this and he has agreed that considering the circumstances, such allowances could be made. It was my mistake to assume that all centaurs would know of this, and for that I am sorry."
There was a silence following his words and the centaurs looked very hostile, as if they were restraining themselves from shouting out in anger.
"And why, Your Majesty, did you allow the Telmarines to defile our land?" said Suncloud, in a low voice.
"Telmarines?" said Peter, and Rynelf could see the king's shoulders stiffen. "They may be descended from people of Telmar but they are Narnians, just as we are. Aslan himself made it clear that Narnia was to belong to Talking Beasts as well as Men. And as for the said defilement, did these people fell any talking trees?"
"No, sire."
"Did they murder any talking animals?"
"No."
"And of the animals they did kill, did they kill for sport or for food?"
"I did not see them kill for sport."
"And did they take anything that was more than what they needed? Did they waste? Steal?"
"No."
"And did they come in such great numbers that your kin had no place left to watch the stars?"
"No."
"Then there was no defilement."
"The humans' very presence is insulting!" shouted one of the others. "No Man has ever been allowed to make his home in these woods! King Peter, hasn't Aslan Himself charged you with protecting Narnia, after we have suffered-"
"These woods are fertile," Peter interrupted, frowning. "I gave these people leave to farm and hunt there because their homes were destroyed, either in the war or by Miraz's thoughtless greed. You Old Narnians weren't the only ones who suffered under the Telmarine kings. They were starving, sick, and dying because Miraz's soldiers pillaged and murdered their people just as they did ours."
"But surely there must have been other places for them to go!"
"Go?" Peter said with a short laugh. "Don't you understand? These people had nothing. Should I have sent them trekking across the country just to scratch out a pitiful living where nothing grows? Or to another wealthier village where they'll have no trade or means to support themselves?"
Suncloud stamped the grassy ground with his hoof, squaring his shoulders so that he was practically radiating indignation. "Your Majesty, we centaurs have always been loyal to you, as we were charged by the Great Lion to be faithful and good to our king. But you seem to have forgotten Aslan's charge to you, to restore Narnia to its former beauty and glory and being kind to us Talking Beasts. You were supposed to bring back the older, wiser ways but instead, you allowed the one thing we have all fought to prevent: Telmarines have once again invaded our wood, which has been steeped in history and tradition for longer than we've been alive. No matter what their circumstances were, they have violated the sacredness of this place. They must leave!"
Peter's face colored rapidly and Rynelf could see that the king was dangerously close to being furious. The blond stepped up close to Suncloud and looked the centaur in the eye, though he was at least a few head shorter.
"Sacredness? What parts these woods are sacred? The trees? The grass? The water?"
"Yes! All that and more. The very air is precious to us."
"More precious than the life of a child? Or his family?"
Suncloud had nothing to say to that, but his tail flicked angrily.
Peter sighed. "I don't wish to create trouble between our races. The Telmarines came to me for aid, and whatever I did, I did out of duty and love. With that, I have caused you grief, and I am sorry. What can I do?"
"It is my wish, and the wish of my kin, that you remove these people from our forest."
"No," said Peter. "They stay. If they are able to live in peace with you, then they stay. But if they violate any laws by killing a talking tree or hunting talking animals, then I will order that they find homes elsewhere. But for now, they stay."
The king and the centaur glared at each other, and Rynelf found his hand once again straying to his sword hilt. The others looked dangerous. Hands were clenching into fists, hooves were striking the ground and dragging furrows into the earth, and eyes were blazing with anger. Still, Peter stood his ground, refusing to budge or break eye contact, even when Suncloud walked up so close that they were almost touching.
Finally, after a few tense moments, Suncloud backed away a few paces and bowed his head in reluctant acquiescence. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I bid you farewell." With a swift, sharp hand motion, he turned and galloped away, his followers behind him.
Rynelf didn't realize he was holding his breath until they all left and he let it out in a huge sigh. He unclenched his hand from the hilt of his sword and looked at Peter, who still hadn't moved from where he was standing. The king looked sad.
"We should go," Peter said softly. He turned to pick up the saddle and whistled for his mare.
"Was that wise, Your Majesty?" Rynelf asked worriedly. "The centaurs might not easily forgive what they think is an offence."
Peter sighed again and patted his horse on her pretty white nose. "Do you know, I wonder, what it's like to starve?"
"I…"
"I do. I have starved and watched my sisters and brother starve. Do you know what it's like to watch your baby sister waste away until she's nothing but bones? What's it's like to wonder if sweet little Princess Lucy would survive the next winter, with the hunger and cold and disease and filth all around you? I do, and I will not be so cruel as to let others suffer the same."
The young king shivered and leaned against his mare's neck, hiding his head in the snow-white mane. He wrapped his arms around the animal as if bracing himself for a blow. Rynelf could see him biting his lip, and the Telmarine wanted very badly to take Peter into his arms.
The wind blew and ruffled Peter's clothes, pushing the fabric up against the king's body. Rynelf could see the outline of his arm, the shape of his back, how it shuddered with each breath. He swallowed. He could smell the scent of Peter's skin and hair.
Peter straightened suddenly and Rynelf dropped his hand, lighting-fast, not even realizing that he had reached out to touch.
"We should go," Peter said again, starting to strap on the saddle. "Caspian will be wondering where I am."
It wasn't until late in the afternoon that Caspian saw Peter again. He found his husband in the queen's chambers, sitting and plucking at a lute while Thomas the musician taught him a new song. Rynelf and Susan were sitting near the window and he was reading quietly to her while she lounged on her sofa. For awhile, Caspian leaned against the doorway, watching them.
Peter was stroking the strings with his long, slim fingers, head bowed over the instrument, soft lips parted in a smile. The window was open and the rosy light from the sunset gilded his honey-colored hair, his lashes and brows. The Narnian king, who always hated to be restrained, had discarded his jacket and velvet cape, which lay in a heap on another chair. He sat in his thin linen shirt, which was so soft and white that the sunlight made it nearly transparent.
He may as well be naked, Caspian thought. He could see the exact shape of Peter's body, how his belly flexed as he stretched, even the dusky pinkness of Peter's nipples pressing against the fabric as the blond arched his back. Caspian could see the laces at Peter's throat shift with his pulse.
Caspian's quick glance towards the window confirmed that he wasn't the only one looking. Rynelf, devoted though he was to his task, kept looking up from the inked words to steal a glance at the blond Narnian. Caspian saw that Rynelf's hands trembled slightly with each page turn, and that the burn on his friend's cheek was not just a reflection of the sunset.
Peter strummed the lute, filling the room with the pleasant hum of music.
"Touch by touch, breath by breath…" he sang softly, eyelashes fluttering as if in a dream.
Clearing his throat, Caspian stepped into the parlor. As Thomas stood up and bowed deeply, Peter's eyes lit up and he smiled.
"Caspian!" he breathed, getting up and taking his husband's hands. Though Caspian flushed at such a public display, Peter leaned close and kissed his lips. How is it, Caspian thought, heart thumping, that a kiss could taste so sweet?
"I missed you," said Peter, eyes shining with love.
"I missed you, too," Caspian replied. Peter looked so happy to see him that Caspian hated that he was bringing bad news. Stalling for time, he called over the serving maid to pour some wine. After they drank and talked pleasantly for awhile, Caspian cleared his throat and said, "I need to talk with you about something."
Susan sat up from where she was lounging. She looked at Rynelf, and as if some unspoken signal was given, the Prince Consort closed the book, stood, and left the room. Thomas followed, and so did the serving maid.
"What is it?" Susan asked, coming over to sit at the table with them. Peter looked a bit worried at his somber mood.
"I have just had a message from Glenstorm. It seems that Peter had managed to offend his nephew, Suncloud, and his kin in the Shuddering Wood."
"Oh," said Peter, sighing. "That."
"Suncloud's people claim that you have both abused your power as a king and disregarded your duty to protect and uphold the centaurs' right to their land," said Caspian. "Is this true?"
"Perhaps," Peter huffed, pushing back his chair and getting up to pour another glass of wine. "But I only distributed some of their precious land to the people from one of the outlying villages."
"That was a foolish thing to do!" snapped Caspian, annoyed at Peter's flippant tone. "You know how the centaurs feel about tradition. Such a thing would obviously have upset them."
"Those villagers needed a home more than Suncloud needed to star-gaze!" Peter snapped back. "I did what I thought was right!"
"Without consulting me. It was a big decision to have made, Peter, and you should not have made it on your own!"
"So you agree with them, then. You think I have abused my power." Peter's eye narrowed dangerously and he pressed his mouth into a thin line. Caspian groaned in frustration.
"No, Peter-"
"I didn't think that such an obvious choice needed your approval and I don't think that helping people is an abuse!"
"Well, what do we do, then?" Susan interrupted, tapping her fingers lazily on the table top. "What does Glenstorm want? What does his nephew want?"
"Glenstorm just wants the situation appeased," sighed Caspian. "And Suncloud wants the Telmarines out of his woods. He wants a complete relocation."
"Oh, 'his' woods, indeed," scoffed Peter. "Does he have a deed for the whole Shuddering Wood?"
"This is no laughing matter," said Caspian sternly. "The centaurs have always been our most loyal friends. They fought with us during the war and without their help, we might very well have lost! You should not have offended them. We will have to evict the villagers."
"No, out of the question!"
Susan sat calmly, looking back and forth between her brother and brother-in-law as they argued. Her eyes were cool and calculating. Just as the debated escalated to a shouting match, she stood gracefully and went to stand beside Peter.
"I agree with my brother," said Susan, putting her hand on Peter's shoulder. Caspian was taken aback by her quiet yet firm statement. He looked at them from across the table, the two siblings, joined in their decision against him. Two pairs of blue eyes stared back, Susan's, cool, and Peter's, impassioned. He stared at their faces, one flushed and one calm.
"Fine," said Caspian, feeling absolutely galled. "I see. That's the way it is, then."
Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked out.
"Wait, Caspian…" Peter called, and tried to grab his sleeve, but Caspian pulled away. Angrily, he stomped through the halls of Cair Paravel until he reached the armory. Picking out a sword, he made his way to the courtyard so he could work off his anger with exercise.
By nightfall, Caspian was still out of humor with Peter and Susan. They hardly spoke over dinner and later that night, after they had both dressed for bed, Caspian sat up at his desk and wrote a letter to Glenstorm by candlelight.
Sometime near midnight, Peter shuffled into his study, wearing a dressing gown.
"Come to bed, love," said Peter.
"You go ahead," Caspian replied shortly. "I'll be there when I'm done." His quill scratched loudly on the paper and he dipped it in the inkwell again.
"What are you writing?" Peter asked, coming up behind him to read over his shoulder.
"A letter to Glenstorm. Trying to fix the mess that you created."
"Oh, Caspian," sighed Peter, "pleased don't be angry at me anymore. We shouldn't be fighting after you've just returned from being away so long. Come to bed."
When Caspian didn't reply, Peter pressed close and started kneading his shoulders.
"Hmm, you're so tense," Peter murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Caspian's neck, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his ear.
"Come to bed," Peter whispered huskily. Caspian could tell by his husband's hitching breath and hot hands that Peter wanted to make love. Normally, he would have delighted at the idea, but he was too foul-tempered that night. The thought of Peter's naked desire annoyed him.
"I said I'll come later," Caspian grouched, shrugging off the passionate caresses. Peter froze at his icy tone, then straightened up.
"Oh, fine," he huffed, then drew his dressing gown tight about himself and left the room.
An hour later, Caspian finished his letter. The candle had burned low and he blinked in the dim light. He looked around the dark, empty room, shivering a bit at the chill. As he drew his robe tighter about his shoulders, he realized that his anger had cooled. He began to feel just a bit guilty for having been short with Peter.
He got up, stretched his cramped muscles, and made his way through the suite to their bedchamber. Now, the idea of snuggling with Peter between the sheets was more appealing.
"Peter?" he called softly, stepping into their bedroom. He found Peter sprawled face-down over most of the bed, snoring loudly.
"Um, Peter?" Caspian whispered, trying to sound seductive. He edged his way onto the mattress and leaned over his husband, lightly caressing the side of Peter's face with his fingers. Another snore was all that greeted him.
Caspian sighed, shrugged off his dressing gown, and got into bed. He tucked Peter in a bit more, then lay down to go to sleep.
Notes: Thanks so much for reading! As always, plz plz feedback!
