A/N: Yes, is is I, The King of Not Updating For Long Periods Of Time™
I seem to be through the bad part of tests and assignments and whatnot and I have the next few chapters done (I've had some time off school, and I've used that time to write as much as I can) but not edited, so hopefully they'll be up next week to make up for my disappearance. I'm far too attached to this story to abandon it.
Peter didn't manage to get to sleep that night. He'd tossed and turned for hours before finally giving in and going to sit outside and stare up at the stars. But they didn't seem to offer their usual comfort, nothing around him felt right. His siblings weren't here and he'd made a deal with the White Witch only to spend the first fourteen years doing absolutely nothing but get attached to the person he was supposed to protect.
A part of him wanted to give up, there was no possible way he would be able to convince Caspian of his uncle's true colours until it was too late. Even if he managed to kill Miraz, he would have to do it before Prunaprisma's child was born, before Caspian would force to flee, and then Caspian would hate him forever, eternally convinced of Miraz's innocence.
But a larger part of him knew that he had no choice, he'd come this far already. He had gone so far as to make a deal with Jadis, and if he didn't carry on, he would fail for the second time in a row, fair Narnia, fail Aslan, fail his siblings and fail Caspian. It was funny, to him, how the boy he had sworn he hated (though he hadn't really, he'd just felt as though he was being replaced) was now the person he considered to be not just his best friend, but his only friend.
He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his siblings in this timeline - they weren't even his siblings this time, he realised. He wondered if the three of them were siblings - he certainly hoped so. Were they alright? Would Susan take good care of Edmund and Lucy? Of course she would, she'd have to.
It was as he was considering this that a little voice popped up in the back of his head. Telling him that this was, of course, assuming that they existed in this timeline at all.
If he'd thought that the idea that he wasn't related to his family had hurt, the idea that they didn't exist at all was worse. So much worse. He had never expected for Jadis to send him back so far as to alter the details of his birth, to change the entire timeline. He had expected her to send him back to when he'd first met Caspian, or before that, just far back enough for them all to have saved Narnia. He wished she had.
But it was too late for turning back, and in the morning, both he and Casian would turn sixteen. Meaning that he had just under a year until Miraz's son would be born. Just under a year to convince Caspian his uncle was planning to get rid of him as soon as his own son was born, under a year to rid the kingdom of Miraz and restore Caspian to his rightful place on the throne. It had to be done, he knew that, but he wasn't entirely sure it could be done.
But then again, if it wasn't, if everything wasn't fixed before then, Narnia would be much, much worse off than it had ever been, without the help of Edmund, Lucy and Susan - Peter and Caspian would be on their own, outside of the castle, with no army, and they would have no hope of ever defeating the Telmarines.
Lost deep in his thoughts, Peter hadn't noticed the sun beginning to rise and the moon beginning to fall back behind the trees.
He continued to sit until he heard someone sitting down next to him, and looked over to see it was Caspian.
"Peter... Have you been out here all night?" He asked, and Peter simply answered with a shrug. Caspian sighed, he knew there was something bothering Peter, and he only wished he would be comfortable enough to share it. They'd never hidden anything from each other before, and he saw no reason that should change now.
"Why are you out here anyway, shouldn't you be preparing for some stuffy birthday feast?" Peter stated dryly, and Caspian chuckled softly under his breath in response.
"I snuck out. Wanted to say happy birthday to you before everything gets too crazy."
Peter ducked his head and smiled slightly, it really was insane to him that he'd hated Caspian before this whole thing had begun.
"So, will you be coming to my birthday ball later?"
At this, Peter snickered, Miraz would probably have a heart attack if he showed up.
"Cas... It was alright when we were younger but... Now it'll just be hours of me sitting by while you're talking to nobles and... I just, I don't feel like going."
Caspian's face fell, he knew Peter was right, it wouldn't be fair to ask him to go, but he wished he could celebrate his birthday with his best friend, and not for the first time, he found himself cursing the class difference between them.
A sort of solemn silence settled over the two, and just as Caspian went to speak, Peter cut him off before he could begin.
"You should go. Before people start to worry." His voice was barely above a whisper, and Caspian nodded slowly, standing up to head back to the castle, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.
Peter's day was entirely uneventful after that, he spent the day doing his chores around the stables and talking to the horses (he had to remind himself on more than one occasion that they can't actually talk back) to try and distract himself.
Time disappeared quickly (and yet all too slowly at the same time), night had fallen and still Caspian hadn't returned to tell Peter about how the celebration had gone. Of course, he'd never promised he would, but it had just kind of become tradition for the two of them over the course of the years. Caspian would have his birthday celebration, tell his uncle he was retiring for the evening and sneak out to visit Peter for a few minutes to complain about all the stuffy, pretentious noblemen he'd been forced to make pleasant conversation with.
But that night he never came, and as he went inside and climbed into bed, Peter tried his best not to feel a little disappointed (he did).
The one thing he did know with absolute certainty, however, was that he could no longer put off what he had to do. Miraz had to be stopped, and there was just under a year remaining.
Peter went to bed that night carefully constructing a plan against the man in his head.
Of course, if Caspian had foreseen what was coming, well, then, he wouldn't have complained a word about stuffy birthday celebrations or pretentious nobles.