Author's note: I'm really sorry that this update took so long. I've had a lot going on and haven't had the chance to write or come online much. I promise that the next part will not take this long to be posted. Thank you so much for the reviews and emails! Coming back and reading them really motivated me to continue this fanfic.

Part 4

Not wanting to start a fuss over nothing, Peter had gone to Caspian's chambers to confirm that it was missing a prince before he actually began to worry. If there was one thing that Peter hated to do, it was worry. He was constantly fretting over the safety of his siblings and was quick to blame himself for any harm that befell them, whether it be physical or emotional. It wasn't so unusual for him to lock himself away somewhere to wallow in the tiresome burden of his own responsible nature. When he carefully stole into Caspian's bedroom to find it empty, he found himself once again confronted with an emotion that pinned him as being responsible for the prince's absence. That sense of responsibility bordered on fear when he couldn't think of any reasonable explanation as for why Caspian hadn't returned to the castle yet.

Had he upset Caspian with his testosterone-motivated posturing? Maybe the prince had ventured off further into the forest in order to release the frustrated anger that he hadn't cast upon Peter himself. No, that didn't seem very likely. Caspian wasn't the sort to do that kind of thing. Then what?

Coming up with nothing substantial, Peter was left with no choice but to double check the campfire site for Caspian. If the prince had already reentered the castle and was only hiding, then there would be no harm done… except for the bodily injuries which Peter mentally guaranteed himself he would inflict on the pretty upstart. But if something was wrong… If something had happened to Caspian… Peter would not be able to sleep until he found the prince, one way or another.

Pulling on a blue hooded cape that he 'borrowed' from Caspian's own wardrobe, Peter set out in the rain to find his new 'friend'. He retraced his steps once outside the castle walls, brushing the back of his hand over his face now and then to clear it of the heavy rainwater. It was literally pouring buckets outside. The only thing that urged him onwards was his concern for Caspian's safety. He wouldn't have been caught dead outside in such a storm otherwise.

The thick hood was more or less useless thanks to the gale winds that slapped his face and whipped the hood and cape to and fro in a crazy dance around his body. As he approached the campfire site, his eyes fell on the scattered articles that had been strewn all over the mucky ground. He was in the process of retrieving his shield when a horrific sight caught his attention. There, over by the tree, lay Caspian, his hair plastered against his face, his lips parted in a soundless scream. He was entangled in what appeared to be thick ropes that were dragging him down into a watery pool of mud. One of his hands was weakly tearing at his throat, but other than that he lay there, allowing the ropelike creatures to do whatever they wished with his body.

"CASPIAN!" Peter dashed over to the prince, slipping and crashing to his knees at the edge of the sinking pool. Caspian didn't react at all, indicating that he either hadn't heard Peter call him or was too distressed to do anything other than gasp for air from his constricted throat. "Hold on! I'll have you free in a moment." Upon closer observation, Peter was able to identify the strange black roots that had trapped Caspian. They were keeping the prince completely immobile. He had probably lost the strength to fight them any longer judging by the cruel way that they were digging into his limbs and body.

First things first. He needed to destroy the one that was clinging to Caspian's neck before it strangled him to death. The only problem was that he hadn't anticipated any sort of trouble on his midnight, stormy adventure - aside from another argument with Caspian himself – so he hadn't come prepared. His sword was still safely locked away in the castle, in a heavy trunk situated at the foot of his loaned bed. Damn it and double damn it! A testing tug on the constricting root did nothing more than choke Caspian further so Peter quickly released it. Glancing around frantically for something heavy or sharp, his gaze fell upon Caspian's lost sword a few meters away. Peter dashed over to the sword, lifted it effortlessly and was back kneeling at Caspian's side within seconds.

"Hold on!" Peter repeated as he held the sword aloft and then swung it down harshly on the root. The detached tendril flailed about for a few seconds before falling slack and then releasing Caspian. The young prince continued to gasp, alarming Peter severely and causing him to wonder if perhaps Caspian's windpipe had been crushed in the attack. And still, the remaining roots would not relent in their mindless task of attempting to drown Caspian. Now, fully enraged and willing to inflict some major damage of his own, Peter slashed at those offending roots, tearing into them, chopping some cleanly in two. Finally, he had Caspian free and bent down to drag the Telemarine clear of the mucky pool that had almost become his burial site. "Caspian! You're free!" Peter cupped one hand behind Caspian's head to support the soaking wet, muddy prince as he coughed roughly, his throat no doubt raw and quite inflamed. When Caspian still did not draw in a normal breath, Peter peered down into the prince's handsome face, trying to convey his own sense of calmness and stability. Unfortunately, Caspian was unable to benefit from Peter's make-belief strength because the younger man was apparently unconscious. The urgency of his gasping was a purely physical response to the violent way his body had been treated.

Overhead, a streak of lightning zigzagged down across the sky, coming within inches of striking the highest branch of the monstrous tree that had attacked Caspian.

"Let's get you back to the castle… put some warmth back in your skin," Peter said in a loud, confident voice. He felt none of that confidence as he hoisted Caspian into his arms, forcing himself to bear the chill that the prince's icy body shared with his arms and chest. He hated that Caspian lacked the strength to will himself back to consciousness. He cursed as he stumbled back to the castle, losing his footing several times in the muddy ground, once crashing down onto his right knee to avoid dropping Caspian. However, at the bottom of all his anger and cursing lay a heavy guilt that blamed him for having left Caspian alone and at the mercy of the vile entity that had inflicted injury and pain on a man whom Peter was forced to admit that he cared deeply about.

To be continued…