Of Kings of Old, Chapter 11
Title: Of Kings of Old
Chapter: 11
Pairing: Peter/Caspian
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even the laptop I wrote this with belongs to the good people of Mastercard.
Summary: What would you give up for love? And would it be worth it?
Warnings: Like before, I must warn you against the angst and the hints of physical abuse.
A/N: I know I am/will be taking some liberties with the timescales/frames of actual and imaginary events, but I do it for the sake of the storyline. Some of the events and names in this fic are real. The story remains an AU.
| | Previous Chapters | |
“And how long has he been like this?” Doctor Anderson, the family doctor of the Pevensies’, who had seen every one of them born and grow up, asked with his deep, booming voice. Susan offered him a cup of tea, and sighed.
“Peter hasn’t slept or eaten anything after the officers took Caspian away. That was a couple of days ago.”
“And Caspian has been unconscious since…” The Doctor waved his hand in a motion that encouraged Susan to answer the question.
“Since a few hours ago. I doubt he has been eating or sleeping either. He was arrested on… somewhat false accusations and I assumed the stress…”
“Of course, of course.” Doctor Anderson nodded and sipped his tea.
Susan sighed and glanced at the master bedroom door, which they had left wide open so that they all could keep an eye on the two former kings. Peter was sitting there, on a rather uncomfortable chair, his eyes locked upon the motionless Caspian. With dark circles around his eyes, Peter looked like he hadn’t slept for a forever. His skin was pale and his breath heavy, but he remained there, next to the large bed that in fact belonged to their mother, staring at Caspian, as if he could will the other man to regain consciousness. Susan felt more responsible than anyone for what had happened, and felt it imperative to fix things. She had taken control of the matters as soon as Mr. Thomas and Peter had returned to the house with the unconscious Caspian, arranging a comfortable bed for the patient and trying to persuade Peter to sleep for a few hours, or at least to eat, without much success. When Caspian didn’t respond to any of the methods Susan tried to revive him, she had called the family doctor.
“I am going to subscribe some mild sleeping tablets to help Peter rest. Caspian however… I am not sure what I can do to help him. Apart from the exhaustion and the clear abuse he received while arrested, there is no physical reason for his state. The bruises and cuts he has are mere wounds and not serious enough to cause this. I am not sure as to why he has not woken up yet.” The old, grey haired man said calmly, placed his empty cup on the table, and waived Susan not to fill this again. “Perhaps it would be best if we would take him in to a ward.”
“Would there be any harm of staying here?” Edmund, who had been listening to the conversation, asked. “I just think Peter would be more happy if Caspian remained where he can keep an eye on him.”
“I suppose not.” The Doctor pushed his thick glasses up his nose with his index finger. “Perhaps it would be best to admit them both in, but seeming that you would rather keep them at home, I see no reason why they should not remain here. I will make an appointment to come and see them again on Monday morning, and write that prescription for Peter.” Susan got up to see the good Doctor out.
Peter lovingly stroked the dark locks of Caspians’ off his forehead, his expression blank. He had not moved from the Telmarines side since he had been laid on the bed, and did not plan to do so before he would wake up. Peter wasn’t deaf, he had heard the Doctor tell Susan that he could not explain why Caspian was not awake yet. In his heart, he knew why that was, and he also knew that the Doctor could never understand the reason of Caspians deep sleep. He could only hope Caspian would hear the soft words he whispered to him, and come back to him.
--
”Tell me this is all right. I need you to tell me.” Caspian asked, his breath ghosting Peters lips, his own so close to them he could practically feel them. Peter stared at him for only a few seconds, before bridging the few inch distance between them and pressing their lips together. Caspian took a sharp breath through his nose and tilted his head, entangling his fingers to the soft, golden hair of the High King. A million thoughts ran through his head, most of them incoherent and pleading. He parted his lips, his tongue sliding against Peters, his heart pounding in his chest like thunder. Peter, after a moments hesitation, granted him access and let out a small sigh of bliss when their tongues touched, ever so gently.
…
Peter buried his head to the green grass beneath him, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Caspian stopped moving, his dark eyes filled with worry. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, his voice trembling, with concern, but also the burning pleasure of being buried inside Peter. The High King took a deep breath, and tried to relax his tense muscles. “No.” He whispered. Caspian knew he was lying, but did not have the heart, or will for that matter, to argue the matter. Peter pushed himself closer to Caspian, taking the length of the other man into him fully. Caspian closed his eyes and let out a gasp. Slowly, still scared he was hurting Peter, he started to move, pulling himself out and then pushing back in, in a steady, careful motion a few times before the most curious thing occurred. Suddenly, as if Caspian had touched a spot he didn’t know existed, Peter spat out incoherent words, threw his head back and actually moaned. “Oh Gods.” Caspian whispered, when Peter started to meet his thrusts, pushing himself against him and whispering, sometimes crying out loud pleading words. When they came, in unison, Caspian could swear he saw stars.
…
They laid under the stars, exhausted by the hunt that had lasted whole day. The back of Peters head was leaning against Caspians chest, Caspians fingers lazily playing with his fair hair. “Caspian.” Peter said, pushing himself up to lean against his elbows. “Yes?” The Telmarine asked, his fingers now drawing small circles against the soft skin of Peters cheek. “I think there is something I should tell you.” The High Kings voice was deep, raw, dark. Caspian frowned, sat up and tilted his head, meeting Peters eyes. “Peter?” He coaxed, when the other man remained quiet. “I suppose I should tell you, that I love you.” Peter said, with a faint voice. Caspian let out a sigh of relief, cupped his beloveds face and drew him into a gentle, affectionate kiss. “And I love you.” He whispered in midst of kisses that were to follow the first.
…
When the crown had been placed upon his head, Caspian had met Peters eyes and smiled. Peter had returned the smile, weakly, and then turned to face Susan who whispered something to him. The smile on the newly crowned kings face died slowly, confusion settling in. The look in Peters eyes was as much doleful as glad. Caspian glanced at Aslan, who had crowned him a mere moment before, and understood. He knew it was over.
...
“Are you sure this is what you want, young King?” Aslan asked him, quietly. Not disapprovingly, but he could sense that the Lion hoped that he would have changed his mind.
“I am sure.” The young King whispered, his heart already lighter than it had been since that tragic day he had lost it.
“And yet, you have come here.” The Great Lion said, quietly.
Caspian blinked a few times, looked around him, confused. This was not England, nor was it Narnia. The memories that had been flooding his consciousness as alive and real as they were happening that very moment had blurred into a grey and shapeless, apathetic world that surrounded him, and the golden Lion in front of him. He took a breath, if only to examine if it was indeed air he was breathing, and tilted his head.
“Where am I?”
“You are in between.” Aslan replied, slowly walking to him.
“In between what?” Caspian whispered, reaching out and touching the mane of the Lion, to make sure he was there. The golden stands between his fingers assured him that where ever he was, at least himself, and the Lion were real.
“England and Narnia, dream and reality, life and death.” Aslan said, vaguely. Caspian understood that the Lion did not want to elaborate on the matter. For some reason, he didn’t wish to push it. “What matters, all in all, is that you are here.”
“Why am I here?” Caspian asked, stroking the familiar fur beneath the mane.
“That only you can answer.” Aslan purred against the caress. “You have come here for a reason only you know.”
“But I do not.” Caspian cried out, taking a step back from the Lion and ran a hand through his hair.
“Then you would not be here.” This was a statement, which called for no arguments.
Caspian licked his lips, and sighed. “But if I do not myself know, why I am here, how can I get out of here?”
Aslan walked to him, sighed and said; “You have been brought here because your heart lies in turmoil. What you have seen, what you have experienced, has made you soul withdraw to this place, where it can search for answers. Until you have made peace with your choices, and most importantly yourself, you will remain here.” Aslan faced the former King, with compassion in his eyes. “I will stay with you, Caspian. To whatever end.”
--
Peter landed a small, tender kiss on the cold, sweaty brow of the Telmarine Prince. “Come back to me.” He whispered, with a tired voice.
“Peter.” He heard Susan’s voice at the door, alarmed, fearful. When he didn’t respond to her, he coughed and repeated; “Peter. Please, come here would you… Mother’s here.”
Chapter: 11
Pairing: Peter/Caspian
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even the laptop I wrote this with belongs to the good people of Mastercard.
Summary: What would you give up for love? And would it be worth it?
Warnings: Like before, I must warn you against the angst and the hints of physical abuse.
A/N: I know I am/will be taking some liberties with the timescales/frames of actual and imaginary events, but I do it for the sake of the storyline. Some of the events and names in this fic are real. The story remains an AU.
| | Previous Chapters | |
“And how long has he been like this?” Doctor Anderson, the family doctor of the Pevensies’, who had seen every one of them born and grow up, asked with his deep, booming voice. Susan offered him a cup of tea, and sighed.
“Peter hasn’t slept or eaten anything after the officers took Caspian away. That was a couple of days ago.”
“And Caspian has been unconscious since…” The Doctor waved his hand in a motion that encouraged Susan to answer the question.
“Since a few hours ago. I doubt he has been eating or sleeping either. He was arrested on… somewhat false accusations and I assumed the stress…”
“Of course, of course.” Doctor Anderson nodded and sipped his tea.
Susan sighed and glanced at the master bedroom door, which they had left wide open so that they all could keep an eye on the two former kings. Peter was sitting there, on a rather uncomfortable chair, his eyes locked upon the motionless Caspian. With dark circles around his eyes, Peter looked like he hadn’t slept for a forever. His skin was pale and his breath heavy, but he remained there, next to the large bed that in fact belonged to their mother, staring at Caspian, as if he could will the other man to regain consciousness. Susan felt more responsible than anyone for what had happened, and felt it imperative to fix things. She had taken control of the matters as soon as Mr. Thomas and Peter had returned to the house with the unconscious Caspian, arranging a comfortable bed for the patient and trying to persuade Peter to sleep for a few hours, or at least to eat, without much success. When Caspian didn’t respond to any of the methods Susan tried to revive him, she had called the family doctor.
“I am going to subscribe some mild sleeping tablets to help Peter rest. Caspian however… I am not sure what I can do to help him. Apart from the exhaustion and the clear abuse he received while arrested, there is no physical reason for his state. The bruises and cuts he has are mere wounds and not serious enough to cause this. I am not sure as to why he has not woken up yet.” The old, grey haired man said calmly, placed his empty cup on the table, and waived Susan not to fill this again. “Perhaps it would be best if we would take him in to a ward.”
“Would there be any harm of staying here?” Edmund, who had been listening to the conversation, asked. “I just think Peter would be more happy if Caspian remained where he can keep an eye on him.”
“I suppose not.” The Doctor pushed his thick glasses up his nose with his index finger. “Perhaps it would be best to admit them both in, but seeming that you would rather keep them at home, I see no reason why they should not remain here. I will make an appointment to come and see them again on Monday morning, and write that prescription for Peter.” Susan got up to see the good Doctor out.
Peter lovingly stroked the dark locks of Caspians’ off his forehead, his expression blank. He had not moved from the Telmarines side since he had been laid on the bed, and did not plan to do so before he would wake up. Peter wasn’t deaf, he had heard the Doctor tell Susan that he could not explain why Caspian was not awake yet. In his heart, he knew why that was, and he also knew that the Doctor could never understand the reason of Caspians deep sleep. He could only hope Caspian would hear the soft words he whispered to him, and come back to him.
--
”Tell me this is all right. I need you to tell me.” Caspian asked, his breath ghosting Peters lips, his own so close to them he could practically feel them. Peter stared at him for only a few seconds, before bridging the few inch distance between them and pressing their lips together. Caspian took a sharp breath through his nose and tilted his head, entangling his fingers to the soft, golden hair of the High King. A million thoughts ran through his head, most of them incoherent and pleading. He parted his lips, his tongue sliding against Peters, his heart pounding in his chest like thunder. Peter, after a moments hesitation, granted him access and let out a small sigh of bliss when their tongues touched, ever so gently.
…
Peter buried his head to the green grass beneath him, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Caspian stopped moving, his dark eyes filled with worry. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, his voice trembling, with concern, but also the burning pleasure of being buried inside Peter. The High King took a deep breath, and tried to relax his tense muscles. “No.” He whispered. Caspian knew he was lying, but did not have the heart, or will for that matter, to argue the matter. Peter pushed himself closer to Caspian, taking the length of the other man into him fully. Caspian closed his eyes and let out a gasp. Slowly, still scared he was hurting Peter, he started to move, pulling himself out and then pushing back in, in a steady, careful motion a few times before the most curious thing occurred. Suddenly, as if Caspian had touched a spot he didn’t know existed, Peter spat out incoherent words, threw his head back and actually moaned. “Oh Gods.” Caspian whispered, when Peter started to meet his thrusts, pushing himself against him and whispering, sometimes crying out loud pleading words. When they came, in unison, Caspian could swear he saw stars.
…
They laid under the stars, exhausted by the hunt that had lasted whole day. The back of Peters head was leaning against Caspians chest, Caspians fingers lazily playing with his fair hair. “Caspian.” Peter said, pushing himself up to lean against his elbows. “Yes?” The Telmarine asked, his fingers now drawing small circles against the soft skin of Peters cheek. “I think there is something I should tell you.” The High Kings voice was deep, raw, dark. Caspian frowned, sat up and tilted his head, meeting Peters eyes. “Peter?” He coaxed, when the other man remained quiet. “I suppose I should tell you, that I love you.” Peter said, with a faint voice. Caspian let out a sigh of relief, cupped his beloveds face and drew him into a gentle, affectionate kiss. “And I love you.” He whispered in midst of kisses that were to follow the first.
…
When the crown had been placed upon his head, Caspian had met Peters eyes and smiled. Peter had returned the smile, weakly, and then turned to face Susan who whispered something to him. The smile on the newly crowned kings face died slowly, confusion settling in. The look in Peters eyes was as much doleful as glad. Caspian glanced at Aslan, who had crowned him a mere moment before, and understood. He knew it was over.
...
“Are you sure this is what you want, young King?” Aslan asked him, quietly. Not disapprovingly, but he could sense that the Lion hoped that he would have changed his mind.
“I am sure.” The young King whispered, his heart already lighter than it had been since that tragic day he had lost it.
“And yet, you have come here.” The Great Lion said, quietly.
Caspian blinked a few times, looked around him, confused. This was not England, nor was it Narnia. The memories that had been flooding his consciousness as alive and real as they were happening that very moment had blurred into a grey and shapeless, apathetic world that surrounded him, and the golden Lion in front of him. He took a breath, if only to examine if it was indeed air he was breathing, and tilted his head.
“Where am I?”
“You are in between.” Aslan replied, slowly walking to him.
“In between what?” Caspian whispered, reaching out and touching the mane of the Lion, to make sure he was there. The golden stands between his fingers assured him that where ever he was, at least himself, and the Lion were real.
“England and Narnia, dream and reality, life and death.” Aslan said, vaguely. Caspian understood that the Lion did not want to elaborate on the matter. For some reason, he didn’t wish to push it. “What matters, all in all, is that you are here.”
“Why am I here?” Caspian asked, stroking the familiar fur beneath the mane.
“That only you can answer.” Aslan purred against the caress. “You have come here for a reason only you know.”
“But I do not.” Caspian cried out, taking a step back from the Lion and ran a hand through his hair.
“Then you would not be here.” This was a statement, which called for no arguments.
Caspian licked his lips, and sighed. “But if I do not myself know, why I am here, how can I get out of here?”
Aslan walked to him, sighed and said; “You have been brought here because your heart lies in turmoil. What you have seen, what you have experienced, has made you soul withdraw to this place, where it can search for answers. Until you have made peace with your choices, and most importantly yourself, you will remain here.” Aslan faced the former King, with compassion in his eyes. “I will stay with you, Caspian. To whatever end.”
--
Peter landed a small, tender kiss on the cold, sweaty brow of the Telmarine Prince. “Come back to me.” He whispered, with a tired voice.
“Peter.” He heard Susan’s voice at the door, alarmed, fearful. When he didn’t respond to her, he coughed and repeated; “Peter. Please, come here would you… Mother’s here.”