#cairspian

❛ stop  it . ❜

even after the slow ,     terrible passing of a year ,     peter remembers what he had thought were his final days in narnia     —     until around five minutes ago ,     at least     —     with astonishing clarity ;     is still painfully intimate with the unadulterated grief that had sprouted in his chest like the viral  side - effects  of a poison when the great lion had bared his teeth to tear apart his heart .     you  will  not  be  returning  to  narnia .     was this a mistake ,     then ?     

if nothing else ,     peter pevensie is realising that he’s growing awfully tired of saying his last goodbyes over   &   over again .     

he cannot bear to spare a thought for the fate of the king whom he had once loved ;     but peter’s heart betrays him when his mind’s eye flashes with moving pictures of gentle ,     brown eyes and the swooping curve of his lips when graced with the  affections  of  a  smile .     how many years has it been ?     will peter be seeing caspian ,     or laying  forget - me - nots  upon his majesty’s dusty ,     hallowed tomb ?

he isn’t terribly surprised by his distinct inability to recognise the island for what he had once known it to be     —     but what  does  render peter into a stunned silence is the appearance of an old ally at his feet ,     who seizes the leg of his trousers and pulls him into the shadows as he babbles about an abduction     ( he does not let himself think about what reepicheep’s presence  really  means )  .     

their plan is one of rescue :     lucy     —     and  eustace ,     oddly enough     —     are to be sold into slavery if left to their fate ,     and not ten minutes pass by the time peter is lowering a hood from his head in the main square ,     meeting lucy’s  star - beam  smile with an affectionate quirk of his lips before going  right  for the ringleader with a silver sword from drinian’s collection .     he’s a little rusty ,     but this has never given the high king cause to falter .

❛ never again will you sell another  living  being  in these lands , ❜     commands the former emperor of the lone islands as he brings the slaver to his knees and presses the tip of his sword to their throat ,     but peter falters when a flash of movement across the square ensnares his attention .     

          ❛ caspian . ❜     

it isn’t a word ;     it’s a prayer ,     a song peter knows by heart and carries with him always ,     an ancient call that echoes from ear to ear in the darkest moments of the  wicked  night before it lays down its arms and surrenders to the dawn .     peter lets his sword fall to the ground with a dull clatter ,     leaving the slaver to face a minotaur that approaches in his stead ,     and already ,     he  knows  a  dreadful  truth .     if he isn’t careful ,     he will never again have the strength to say goodbye .

for  a  moment ,     peter  forgets  all  about  their  game .     he has masks to wear ,     a role to play     ⸺     but ocean blues seek out the tranquil solace of the hunter’s irises ,     black as the fathoms that run deep below his own calm waters ,     and peter  comes  to  life  ‘neath the darkling’s attentions .     [  their  darkness  is  a  part  of  you ,     just  as  much  as  the  fractals  of  sunlight  that  pass  through  the  surface  above .     you  would  dive  down  into  their  eyeless  depths   &   let  your  lungs  have  their  fill  of  the  darkling ,     if  you  could .     maybe  you  will .  ]     

the thick furs of caspian’s cape envelop the space around the two of them ,     reducing the wintry forest   &   its open air to  mere  inches  of room to breathe ,     and peter lets them crowd him against the rough bark that encircles the trunk of a thick pine tree ,     delighted smile playing  near - imperceptibly  ‘cross pale features as deft fingers reach to pull them closer ,     closer .     [  they  can  do  anything  they’d  like ,     now  that  they’ve  found  you .     it’s  all  you  want .     it’s  only  fair .  ]

❛ only  by  you , ❜     peter murmurs ,     gaze dropping ‘neath the gentle curves of caspian’s dark eyes as a thumb lifts to snag at the pillowy centre of their bottom lip .     ❛ i  wouldn’t  mind ,     if  you  wanted  to  swallow  me  whole . ❜

❛ haven’t changed your mind yet ,     then ? ❜     he asks quietly ,     squeezing an eye shut with a subtle wince as caspian uses the damp towel in their hands to pat carefully at the cut o’er his right brow .     ❛ i think you’ve drawn the short straw in this deal ,     caspian  maravilla     ——     i don’t know about you ,     but i’d take  giants  over the wankers at hendon any day of the week . ❜     what  do  you  get  in  return  for  all  of  this ?     is the question that hangs between them .     a  lifetime  in  hiding ?     a  long  fall  from  prince  to  pauper ?     perhaps it isn’t the falling that they should fear .     perhaps the real danger lies with the landing .

                     in the silence ,     he inhales ,     exhales ,     and finally lets go .  

❛ i think we got off on the wrong foot , ❜     he says ,     voice low     —     yet inexplicably clear ,     even o’er the chattering din of blacksmiths   &   beasts within the  fire - lit  walls of the how .     perhaps it’s something in the air ;     something that teaches him to invoke the nobility and commanding grace of a  king  once more .

❛ let me make it up to you :   how about another spar ?   something a little more amiable ,   this time. ❜     he tears a page from deep within edmund’s book of diplomacy as he tips his head     —     to almost anyone else ,     it would appear that the high king ,     ever  the  warrior ,     is merely restless to greet whatever adventure will next rise from beyond the horizon yonder     —     but what peter really means to do is direct caspian’s attention toward the small crowd of narnians who watch their  every  move   ( mostly fauns and talking beasts at present ,     but it’s been a rotating roster of spectators from the moment caspian had first disarmed him in the forest )  .  

they do not know who to follow ,     he thinks     —     and in keeping his distance ,     peter hasn’t exactly helped dissipate this terrible tension between the two of them .     still ,     while the narnians have been watching them ,     he’s  been  watching  caspian :     ‘cross the how ,     on the training grounds ,     in his moments of peace within the eye of this perpetual storm .     he’s a dreamer .     he  could  be  a  king .     already ,     peter believes in the choice narnia has made ;     he believes in what they can achieve together .     but he also knows that everything will fall apart if they aren’t careful     —     so as he idles in front of the other ,     he offers out a hand to help caspian stand .     it isn’t exactly a white flag ,     but  it’s  a  start .

but it is caspian’s day ;     caspian’s  era ,     and as the king approaches his hiding place ‘neath the covers of the darkened courtyard ,     peter realises he cannot bear to taint the sweetness of this fair eve with bitter talk of goodbyes .     ❛ hullo ,     your  majesty , ❜     he says instead ,     eyeing the familiar adornment ‘pon the other’s head with a wry smile .     ‘ you are narnia’s to keep , ’     he had whispered only hours ago as he had bequeathed his crown to caspian with a voice that was not entirely his own .     ‘ put your faith in her ,     and she will not lead you astray . ’     caspian will make a fine king ,     he thinks .

somewhere beyond their line of sight ,     the fauns’ lively music decrescendos into a gentler ,     slower melody ,     and peter sets aside his cup before rising gracefully   &   holding out his hand with a subtle bow .     ❛ may i ? ❜     he isn’t one for celebrations ;      but  he’d  rather  dance  than  talk .

still ,     the strong wine is slowly working to unravel the knots in his tongue ,     and once he is in caspian’s arms ,     his resolve is quick to shaken .     ❛ tell me a secret , ❜     he whispers .     give  me  your  heart ,     he thinks selfishly .     ❛ something to hold for you .     something you have never before given away . ❜     something peter can tuck between his ribs and carry back with him to england ,     even as everything else is  left  behind .

vaguely ,     he realises that susan is speaking     ——     but peter’s own words twist into  bitter  and  ugly  things in his chest ,     and he keeps them locked away behind his teeth like poison vials on a shelf .     neither anger nor panic ,     he knows ,     will change aslan’s mind .     and yet ,     it continues to build in his lungs ,     in his airways ,     until he is convinced that this leaden weight will pull him down to the bottom of the sea and cradle his head in its hands ‘til he drowns :     don’t  send  me  back  there .     don’t  send  me  away  from  him .    

still ,     he has enough presence of mind to mirror his sister when both she   &   aslan slow to a halt ‘neath the shelter of the courtyard ,     and when his eyes lift away from the cobblestones under his boots to survey the sudden disturbance of this terrible peace ,     he falters :     for a moment ,     the rest of the world seems meaningless in the wake of the new king’s gaze ,     warmed into a gentle  honey - brown  by the dappled sunlight overhead   ( never before has anyone looked at him with such unabated  longing ,     he realises )  .     caspian is a tether in a storm ;     dry land after weeks of nothing but sea and sky ,     and peter pevensie doesn’t know how he is supposed to let go .     ‘ everyone  has  assembled , ’     caspian hedges ,     and they know that this is the end .

❛ go ahead , ❜     he tells susan ,     gesturing after aslan   —   who walks on with a slow flick of his tail ,     but only after a meaningful glance at peter that  twists  his  stomach  into  knots     ——     with an almost imperceptible tip of his head .     ❛ i’ll catch up . ❜     he waits until both lion   &    queen are out of sight before moving   ( slowly ;     each step is an exercise in  self - control )     to close the terrible distance between himself and the remaining soul in the courtyard .     how long had he been awake ?     had they been looking for peter ?     as he takes caspian’s hand and squeezes it with a smile that does not quite reach his turbulent eyes ,     a small voice in the back of his head laments for all that he had never dared permit himself to want .     more  time .     more  time .     more  time .     ❛ can  we  talk ? ❜