He never really cared for the rushing waters that lapped at the bank of their Oceanside vacation home that was often visited over the summer holidays, but he never made mention of it to anyone. Instead, he learned to live with it, to coexist alongside the gurgling waters and the cries of the gulls that soared over head, though it was much to his dismay.
In the same respects, he did not like the blare of the battle horns as he road slowly, head held high, out to the front of the line of battle, trying to seem much calmer than he really was inside. He managed to overcome it, however, and became one with the fact that the stomping of hooves and the ring of blade against sheath was no more than a part of warfare.
He never was able to overcome the thought of failing at something that mattered, no matter how insignificant or to whom it had its worth. In the end, he found that he couldn't win at everything and that, even if it didn't come out the way it was supposed to, it's not a loss, but a learning experience upon which to better understand his weaknesses and strive to improve himself.
In other conducts, he could never find a way to differentiate within himself whether or not he was doing what was right or what was wrong. After thirteen years of life, he finally settled upon the fact that, no matter which path is chosen, the end result is full of new possibilities, and even if it seems like a negative outcome, there are endless ways it can be reversed.
In one world, he couldn't adjust to the weight that was placed upon his shoulders in the absence of other guidance. He never liked to lead, never wanted to be in charge, but was thrust into the role of a father when there was no other option.
In the other world, he learned that what must be done, should be done so that, even in the midst of it all when on one side lie the completed trail and on the other lie the unexplored lands, he was obliged to carrying on, because that was what he was meant to do.
As he stared out at the seemingly endless numbers of armed warriors, dark-clad and grim faced before him, and back at the innocence of his new home, he knows what he must do. When the voice of his brother, calmer than he must feels, whispers, "I believe in you," he knows that it is right, and that it is just, and that it is inevitable.
Peter knows there is no other way.