From Within

All around him the Narnians were swarming off the bridge. None of them appeared to be seriously injured and, as he heard the sound of the heavy portcullis slam down, Caspian was relieved to see that nearly all had escaped. Still, even those few dozen or so who were trapped were a terrible loss. A loss that would not have been if only Peter had heeded his counsel. For a few, brief moments, Caspian internally cursed the other man and his refusal to listen to any opinion other than his own.

"The High King."

As the rest of their soldiers escaped the drawbridge, Caspian saw what his tutor had. Peter was on the far side of the drawbridge and making no move to leave his trapped soldiers.

"What is he doing?" Cornelius wondered aloud.

The drawbridge began to go up and Peter still showed no signs of retreat.

"Peter!" Caspian shouted, urging his horse forward a few steps. "Peter!"

It was too late when Peter finally did react. As though shaking himself out of a stupor, Peter suddenly burst into movement, spinning his horse around and starting towards the drawbridge. By the time that he reached it, the angle was too steep, the far side up too high. Any jump would send both horse and rider into the river far below.

"Peter!" Caspian called, spurring Destrier back towards the castle.

Then the drawbridge went up and he couldn't see Peter any longer. He was trapped. Behind him, Susan was shouting for her brother, rushing forward as well. Glancing over, Caspian could see the terror clear on her face. A terror he felt inside, but couldn't acknowledge. Unlike Susan, he knew what possible fate awaited their king.

When Susan started forward, Caspian slid to the ground and gathered her up against him. She kept screaming her brother's name, fighting against him. With dismay, Caspian saw that the griffins were flying along the Great River, away from them. They were the best chance of getting to Peter quickly, before Miraz harmed him. Caspian still had every faith that Peter could be rescued without them; it would simply take much longer and leave their leader in peril longer.

After the initial moment of panic, Caspian pulled himself together. There was so much that needed to be done. Miraz would no doubt advance his forces on the How. They needed to fortify their defences and prepare themselves for what was to come; something that could not be done while they all hovered on the edge of the river.

"Your Majesty, you must return with the others," Caspian said, steering her towards Destrier. "Lead the army back to Aslan's How."

"What? No! We have to go back for Peter," Susan insisted, turning away from the horse.

Caspian persisted, shaking his head. "I will return with your brother, but you must go now. Our people need hope. Glenstorm, watch over Queen Susan on your return."

Glenstorm inclined his head. "Yes, Majesty."

"Caspian, no," Susan tried to protest once again. "Let me go with you."

"I am sorry, your highness, but I will not place you in further danger."

Susan continued to protest, but in the end allowed herself to be guided away by Glenstorm. Caspian watched them go and only when he could see no more movement among the trees did he start back towards the castle. He would have to act quickly for while he did not think his uncle would kill Peter outright, he would not long remain unharmed.

Caspian darted between the shadows towards the nearby bend in the river. Miraz knew of the tunnel as it had been constructed as an escape route for the Telmarine kings in case of attack, but it was the only way into the castle with the drawbridge raised and the portcullis temporarily disabled. Caspian had no idea how he'd get back out once he had Peter, but that was something he'd get to when the time came. He first had to find Peter.

Clambering down the granite shore, Caspian used the moonlight to search out the false wall that covered the entrance to the tunnel. After a few failed attempts, Caspian found the proper place. He peered into the tunnel, frowning at the pitch blackness that greeted him. The moonlight only managed to penetrate a few feet into the tunnel. After that it was the darkest of darks. Edmund's silver torch would have been ideal in that situation, but it was unavailable to him so he had no choice but to advance into the darkness without a light.

Caspian made his way cautiously along the passage, his fingers scraping the wall. It was, at the moment, the only way he could tell where he was going. From what he could recall, there were no steps, just a gradual decline under the river before it came out in an unused alcove in the wine cellar. As he had been a child the last time he was in the tunnel, Caspian advanced cautiously, each footstep careful and measured. He would be of no use to Peter if he fell and injured himself.

"I would not put your foot down there, Highness."

The voice came from ground level and startled Caspian. He remained stock still for a moment, straining to see through the darkness.

"Majesty?"

Caspian sighed with relief and carefully set his foot back in its original position. "Master Reepicheep, I had not expected you here."

"It seemed to me, your highness, that a mouse would be a beneficial ally as we are able to move about freely in small spaces and are much better apt at seeing in the dark," Reepicheep said from below in the darkness.

"It is a very brave offer you make, noble mouse," Caspian said, inclining his head in the direction of Reepicheep's voice.

"I would be remiss if I didn't make the offer. My honour would not withstand it."

"Then I will not hinder you."

Before long, Caspian was glad of Reepicheep's presence. The mouse's ability to see in the dark was far superior to his own. Reepicheep was able to direct him around fallen bits of masonry that would have otherwise caused him to stumble. If they were able to make their escape the same way, Caspian planned to bring a light. It was difficult enough for him to traverse the ancient tunnel, let alone him and Peter together.

"The passage ends here, sire," Reepicheep said after several silent moments. "I can see no hinge and no knob. How is it to be opened?"

Fumbling forward the final steps, Caspian scrabbled his fingertips over the dusty bricks, searching out the release. He dug his fingers into every groove and every bit of mortar between hip and shoulder level, unable to see the markings that showed the path to its location.

"How do we open the door, my liege."

At last, Caspian's middle and fourth fingers fell into place. "Like this."

Leaving the fingers of his left hand in the indentations, Caspian drew his sword with his right. He could hear no sound beyond the echo of their voices, but that did not mean there weren't some of Miraz's men on the other side.

"Ready your sword, sir mouse, for we may have to do battle," Caspian said just before pressing hard on the indentation.

The lock disengaged, the heavy stone door swinging open easily. Light began to seep into the dark tunnel, the sliver quickly growing larger. Caspian had barely begun to push when it was pulled from the other side. He released the door, readying his sword so that when the first blade reached towards him, he deflected it.

"Brigands!" Reepicheep shouted, scurrying forward.

Caspian used the distraction to his advantage, cutting down the nearest of his uncle's guards before he had a chance to react. The shelves that filled the room made fighting difficult. There was little finesse, only desperation as Caspian hurried to neutralize the men before they could raise the alarm.

Caspian faltered briefly, twisting down and away from his opponent as a blade sliced across his forearm. He continued the motion, swinging around completely so that his sword caught the guard across his lower legs. When the soldier stumbled to his knees, Caspian quickly finished him.

"What now, sire?" Reepicheep asked once they alone remained standing.

"The dungeons."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Wake up, boy!"

Peter gasped, curling in on himself in order to absorb the blow. Which put him that much closer to the kick aimed at his back. Dark, hollow laughter echoed off the walls and floor.

"This cannot be the great king of legend," Miraz taunted, his voice ringing loudly in Peter's ears. "Only the Narnians would place such faith in a mere boy."

Peter struggled to his knees, making it only half way before a solid punch to his chin tumbled him again.

"Whether I live... or not... the Narnians will survive," Peter groaned, rolling onto his back. He coughed, blood from his split lip dribbling over his chin. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "Narnia will be theirs again."

That time the blow was to his side from the boot of Miraz's general. Grunting, Peter allowed the force of the kick to roll his body onto his side. He listened intently to the sound of Glozelle's footsteps and when he thought the general near enough, he rolled over again, spinning around so that he could kick out at Glozelle. Peter caught a lucky break, his boot colliding with Glozelle's knee, causing the older man to fall. Scrambling quickly, Peter crawled hurriedly across the room, using a nearby chair to pull himself upright.

On the other side of the room, Miraz continued to watch, smirking in amusement. "You are surprisingly tenacious. Foolish, though. A smarter man would have escaped while he had the chance."

"Not all of us are the coward that you are," Peter said, wavering momentarily as he stepped away from the chair. Locking his knees, he remained standing, glaring at the would-be king of Narnia.

Miraz rose to his feet, striding across the room. Peter stiffened when he saw the Telmarine carrying his sword, Rhindon, twirling it about idly. "The sword of legend, lost for centuries. It was long believed that you took it with you when you abandoned Narnia. Odd, isn't it, that a man who will abandon his country will stay behind to be slaughtered with his soldiers."

By the time he finished speaking, Miraz was standing directly in front of him. Holding it upside down, gripping it just below the hilt. The lion's head on the pommel was tilted slightly towards Peter. He knew better than to reach out and take back his weapon. Glozelle was standing back only because Miraz wished it so. All it would take was one signal from Miraz and the general would strike.

"How desperate these Narnians must be to send children to do their fighting," Miraz sneered before striking Peter across the cheek with the butt of his own sword.

The hit spun Peter around and he dropped once again to the ground. Peter struggled to lift himself up again, his vision darkening at the edges. He tumbled onto his side. Peter strained to make out some shape in the encroaching darkness, something that he could focus on. A flash of movement near one of the arched doorways caught his attention. The pale shape moved a second time. Peter followed that shape—an arm—up and over a shoulder until his eyes locked on a familiar face.

"Caspian," Peter moaned, trying and failing to drag himself towards that beckoning sense of peace and safety.

A boot pressed down on the centre of his back, slamming him to the ground. "That weakling can do nothing for you now."

Peter kept his gaze on the spot where he was so certain he'd seen Caspian. Until the blackness completely covered his vision.

xxxxxxxxxx

Caspian stood trembling against the wall, hand over his mouth. His uncle's brutality was well known, but he'd never before witnessed it firsthand. Let alone against someone he cared for. Stubborn and frustrating as Peter could be, he was still someone he respected and who was becoming a friend.

"My lord, they are transporting High King Peter to the dungeons," Reepicheep whispered as he rushed into Caspian's hiding place.

Instantly, Caspian straightened, sucking in a deep breath. Peter had remained strong and determined even in the face of death; Caspian could do no less in attempting a rescue. He would have stepped in while Miraz had Peter in the hall, but knew that he stood a better chance of getting Peter out when he was in the dungeons. Disabling a mere guard was far easier than stopping Miraz, Glozelle and the guards that had been in the main hall.

"We will wait for Glozelle to leave before entering," Caspian whispered as he and Reepicheep hid inside a storage closet near the dungeon entrance. "There should be only the few guards and so long as we are quick, we should be able to rescue the High King without raising the alarm."

It took far longer than Caspian had thought for Glozelle to leave the underground prison. Those endless minutes were tense, his heart thumping so loudly that he was certain Reepicheep would be able to hear it. Each breath that he took seemed to echo in the cramped space. The store room was incredibly musty, the food and bedding it stored given very little thought or care. Caspian nearly sneezed more than once, but managed to swallow it each time, desperate not to give himself away.

At last, Glozelle appeared in the corridor, his expression a confusing one. His features were hard and expressionless as Caspian was used to, but his eyes appeared troubled. Caspian had always thought of his uncle's top general as a rather emotionless man, doing Miraz's bidding without a second thought. Never before in all the years that he'd known him had Caspian ever seen Glozelle show any emotion other than devotion to Miraz's orders.

Glozelle paused briefly in front of the door that he and Reepicheep and Caspian feared that they'd been discovered. He held his breath, his eyes wide as he stared through the tiny crack in the door, waiting for Glozelle to continue on. Hoping that Glozelle would continue on. He and Reepicheep had come too far to fail then.

Then Glozelle looked directly at him.

Caspian's breath caught in his throat. Glozelle's eyes were staring straight into his and any moment the general would yank open the door.

Only Glozelle turned away.

Caspian slumped against the wall, exhaling loudly. He didn't know why Glozelle hadn't given him away, but was grateful that the general was at least going to give him a bit of time before raising the alarm. Whatever the reason was, Caspian planned to take full advantage of the time Glozelle had offered them. If they were truly lucky, Glozelle would simply fail to tell Miraz that he'd been spotted within the castle, especially so near to the dungeons.

"The time is at hand, brave sir mouse," Caspian announced, reaching out to grasp the doorknob. "We must be quick for I do not know how much longer we shall remain unnoticed."

"Give the word, sire, and I will gladly risk my life in defence of our High King."

"Let us hope that it does not come to that, noble Reepicheep," Caspian murmured before pulling the door open.

Caspian opened the door only wide enough for him to poke his head out of and peer both ways down the corridor. As he had hoped, the guards appeared to have remained inside the main area of the prison, no doubt having been ordered not to allow Peter out of their sight. Motioning for Reepicheep to follow, Caspian hurried to the heavy oak door that led down to the dungeons. The door itself was unlocked, and Caspian opened it slowly in hopes that it wouldn't make a sound. There was a slight creak when the door was about halfway open that caused Caspian to freeze. He waited for a few endless seconds, his ears straining to make out sounds from below.

"If I may," Reepicheep said, darting around so that he stood between Caspian and the opened door. "I do believe that my size will grant us the necessary element of surprise."

Standing aside, Caspian motioned for the warrior mouse to precede him down the dimly lit stairs. They both moved silently, Reepicheep scurrying quickly down the steps as Caspian slipped through the door. He closed it carefully behind him; just enough so that it would stay closed, but still open easily.

When he turned back around, Reepicheep was already at the bottom of the curved staircase, disappearing from Caspian's sight in the blink of an eye. Caspian hurried after the mouse, a pained cry echoing in the dim, cavernous area. Rather that take all of the steps, Caspian jumped the final three, landing near to a body with several thin slashes at vital points in the body. Caspian jumped to the side, darting away from the sword that was thrust in his direction. He twisted his torso about, bringing his blade up to block a second thrust aimed at his head.

"Traitor!" Amado, the dungeon overseer, shouted when the man caught a glimpse of his face. Amado was no warrior, and though it grieved him to kill a man who had done him no harm in the past, rescuing Peter was essential for Narnia's survival.

With Amado dealt with, Caspian grabbed up the keyring that hung on the wall near the table and chairs that was used by the guards. Reepicheep had the third guard down so Peter's retrieval could happen with relative ease. Even so, Caspian had no intention of letting his guard down and called for Reepicheep to watch the stairwell while he freed Peter from his cell.

Caspian darted from one cell to the next, peering into the gloom. The only light came from the sconces on the opposite wall so much of the cells were in darkness. It was Peter's hair that made him visible. The shock of blonde hair, lank and dirty as it was, was clearly visible even in the dim light. Caspian rushed forward, his eyes never straying from Peter's still form as he rushed towards the gate.

"Peter," he called, fumbling to put the key in the lock.

Peter shifted a bit, rolling onto his back. His head flopped to the side, brows furrowing slightly. "Caspian?"

Flinging open the door, Caspian burst into the cell and over to Peter. The other man was bound at the wrist and struggling to lift himself up. Caspian placed a hand on his shoulder to still him then quickly unlocked the manacles. Up close now, he could see the damage that had been done to the High King. His thick leather jerkin had been removed, and the dark shirt underneath was torn and stained.

"We must be quick," Caspian urged as he helped Peter to a seated position. "I do not know how long we'll remain undetected."

Peter's head dropped forward onto Caspian's shoulder and he released a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you," he whispered, his breath hot against Caspian's throat.

Holding an arm tight around Peter's waist, Caspian slowly levelled them both to their feet. Peter wavered, his hands gripping tight to the edges of Caspian's jerkin to keep himself upright. Together they staggered out of the cell, Caspian slowing his steps to keep pace with Peter's fumbling ones. With each slow, tottering step that Peter took, Caspian found himself wishing that he'd brought his horse with him to the river tunnel.

Reepicheep was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. He bowed respectfully to Peter, who managed a brief nod in return.

"Are there any sounds from above?" Caspian asked the mouse as he and Peter began to slow task of mounting the stairs.

"None, your highness," Reepicheep assured him. "There should be little difficulty in returning to the wine cellar."

"I will trust in you to get us where we need to go, noble mouse," Caspian said, momentarily tightening his grip on Peter as the other man stumbled on one of the steps.

By the time they reached the top of the staircase, Peter was breathing heavily, his knees wobbling. But he had his head up, his eyes focused forward on the path of their escape. Glancing to his left, Caspian was surprised by the look of sheer determination on his king's face. Injured and in an obvious amount of pain, Peter remained focused through it all. Any doubt Caspian had about his devotion towards the Narnians was banished in that moment.

The trio hurried as quickly as they were able to the wine cellar deep within the bowels of the castle. Every few steps, Caspian would glance over his shoulder, checking to make sure that the corridor behind them remained empty. So long as any threat remained small, Caspian was confident that they'd make it out okay.

The lower corridors in the castle were a confusing labyrinth that one could easily get lost in if they didn't know the way. When he was young, before Miraz had killed or banished many of the lords, he had played games in the lower hallways with the other boys his own age. They'd spent hours hiding and chasing each other through the dark tunnels. There had been so many battles and so many games, but those were all only distant memories. However, should the need arise, he still remembered most of his hiding places.

Peter stumbled just as Caspian was turning once again to check behind them. The two opposite motions nearly brought both of them down. Caspian managed to swing the both of them around far enough to the right so that his back collided with the wall, holding them up. Peter bumped into him with enough force to temporarily wind him. He held tight to Peter, who had sprawled against his chest. He ducked his head down, trying to catch sight of Peter's eyes. In the short time that he'd known him, Caspian had noticed the High King's ability to school his features to mask whatever emotion he was feeling. His eyes, though, they told the truth.

The half-lidded blue eyes were dulled with pain. There was also something else there. Something that Caspian couldn't quite figure out.

"You okay?" Caspian murmured, his mouth very close to Peter's as he spoke.

Peter grunted, trying to remove some of his weight from Caspian. "Yeah."

Caspian didn't believe him, but he chose not to contradict the other man. Instead, he gently eased Peter into a more upright position so that they could continue on towards the wine cellar. Only when they were back at the How would he examine the possible emotion lurking in Peter's eyes.

"Hurry, your majesties," Reepicheep urged from further down the corridor. "We dare not linger long."

Slipping Peter's arm back over his shoulders, and winding his own arm around Peter's waist, the two of them followed after the minute knight.

xxxxxxxxxx

Right foot.

Left foot.

Right foot.

Left foot.

If he could only keep his feet moving, he would be out of the castle. Somehow Caspian, and apparently Reepicheep as well, had found a way into Miraz's stronghold and he would do nothing to put them at risk after they had already done so much for him.

Though, to him, it felt like hours since he'd become trapped on the bridge, Peter knew that it hadn't been that long. An hour, perhaps, not much longer. Peter had been convinced that he'd be left to rot in the dungeons for his failure. He'd led many good Narnians to their deaths when they would have at least had a chance to defend themselves at the How.

"Sit here a moment, Peter."

Caspian's voice broke into his thoughts, causing him to stagger briefly as the words upset his concentration. He fumbled briefly, grabbing hold of the first thing he could, steadying himself. His vision spun and he had to blink several times before he could see Caspian clearly. He was sat down on something sturdy, shifting his grip on Caspian so his hands were wrapped around the prince's forearms.

Caspian's hands came up, one cupping his neck, the other pushing hair away from his face. "We are nearly there, Peter. There is only the final tunnel and then we'll be free of the castle."

Peter worked his throat, trying to coax any bit of saliva into his mouth. "Thank you. You didn't have to come. Thank you."

Caspian's fingers squeezed briefly on his shoulder. "There is no need to thank me. I could have done nothing else."

Peter knew there was something to that statement left unsaid, but he was too tired to decipher it. Instead, he turned his attention to something he regretted not thinking of before. "Edmund? Susan?"

"They got away safely," Caspian assured him. "And soon so shall we."

Peter let his eyes drift shut and leaned forward until his forehead touched Caspian's.

xxxxxxxxxx

Both he and Peter were breathing heavily when they reached the bank opposite the castle. Peter's steps were faltering more often than not, but Caspian managed to get them both to the treeline. He carefully eased Peter down against a large tree and then slumped down himself. They could not afford to remain so close to the castle for very long, but likewise they would not get far if they were exhausted. Caspian was internally cursing himself for failing to plan beyond getting into the castle. It was a very long walk back to Aslan's How, the journey made even longer with Peter's injuries.

"Reepicheep, I need you to run as quickly as you are able and catch up with the army," Caspian instructed, his eyes scanning back towards the bridge that connected the castle to the mainland. "King Peter and I will travel as best we can, but we will require horses to complete the journey."

"It will be done, your highness," Reepicheep said, bowing to both kings.

The mouse scurried away into the darkness, leaving him and Peter alone. The blonde was slumped where Caspian had set him down, his eyes shut and his breath raspy. Leaning in, Caspian inspected Peter for any serious injuries. The High King's left eye was badly swollen, his face mottled with dark bruises. He also had a split lip and a cut through his right eyebrow. Peering through the rips in Peter's shirt, there were patches of dried blood and even more bruises, some of them nearly black. Caspian worried what else was hiding beneath the dark fabric.

"Is there any pain that you cannot bear?" Caspian asked after performing his brief inspection.

Eyes still closed, Peter shook his head. "Just... just give me a moment to rest. I'll be okay in a minute."

Caspian didn't believe it for a moment, but knew better than to argue with Peter. The other man was far too stubborn to concede to any argument he offered. So Caspian shifted over, sitting cross-legged next to Peter, their bodies touching from shoulder to knees. Caspian could feel Peter leaning more and more into him as the moments added up. Until Peter's head was resting against his shoulder.

"Your majesties."

Caspian's head shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. "Glenstorm."

The centaur inclined his head respectfully. "Queen Susan sent me back, along with her horse, in order to speed your retreat to the How."

"I'll have to thank my sister for her foresight," Peter grunted as he leaned away from Caspian.

Rising quickly do his feet, Caspian reached a hand down to Peter. He hauled Peter to his feet then led him over to Destrier who stood placidly alongside Glenstorm. The warhorse remained still as Peter struggled to mount. When at last he was seated on Destrier, Peter leaned forward, his head brushing against the horse's mane. Caspian easily jumped up behind him, sliding up close so that his thighs fit on either side of Peter's. He reached around Peter to grab the reins, holding it in his right hand, his left arm around Peter's waist, holding him steady.

"Come, we should be away before Miraz notices what you have taken from him," Glenstorm said, his eyes fixed on the castle.

"The quicker the better," Caspian agreed, steering Destrier around so they were facing the other direction.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Lucy, please come inside," Susan insisted from the walkway behind her.

Lucy scowled briefly, but didn't turn away from the treeline. "I'm not going inside until they come back."

"Lucy—"

"NO!" Lucy shouted, louder than she'd intended. Biting her lip, Lucy turned around slowly. "Sorry, Susan. I didn't mean to yell. I'm just worried about Peter."

Susan walked over and wrapped her arms around Lucy. "I know you didn't. But staying out here isn't going to make them come back any sooner. Now please come inside, you haven't eaten all day."

"That means the others haven't either," Lucy said quietly. There was no need for her to elaborate on just who the "others" were. As the time grew longer, Lucy found herself fearing for Caspian and Reepicheep just as much as she did for Peter. Glenstorm, at least, was safely outside the castle.

"If they don't come back, we'll have to go right away to find Aslan," Susan murmured absently. "I'm not sure what we'll do otherwise."

"Don't talk like that!" Lucy chastised her older sister. "They'll all come back.... Maybe one of them's hurt and they have to go slowly for his sake."

Lucy tried hard not to think of the fact that it was likely Peter who was the most injured. The Narnians had been all too quick to tell stories of Miraz and his cruelty once they were back safely at the How. Nikabrik had gone as far as to say that Peter wasn't likely to be kept alive for very long. If at all. It was after that comment that Lucy had fled the main chamber of the How and taken her post outside to watch for the others' return.

With a sigh, Susan sat down next to Lucy on a toppled column. "I'm sorry, Lu. I don't mean to be such a worrywart all the time."

"I just want them to come back," Lucy whispered. She then jumped to her feet a moment later when she caught sight of a movement at the treeline. "Susan, look!"

The shifting greenery very quickly became two distinct shapes. On the left was Glenstorm and on the right a dark horse. A dark horse bearing two riders.

"Peter!" Lucy shouted when she noticed her brother slumped rather bonelessly against Caspian.

Lucy took off running, fast as she was able, to meet them. As she ran, her right hand clasped over the flask belted at her waist. She could hear Susan running alongside her, but her eyes never left those approaching them. As she got closer, she noticed Reepicheep peering around Glenstorm's torso, but the bulk of Lucy's attention was on Peter and how still he was. He was bruised, bloodied, and all of the bits of leather protection he'd been wearing were gone. Along with his sword.

Caspian looked relieved to see her and stopped his horse about halfway across the glade. He slipped easily from his horse's back and by the time she and Susan reached them, he was easing Peter into his arms and to the ground. Caspian was very careful with Peter, cradling Peter against his chest and holding him securely.

"Queen Lucy, quickly," Caspian urged as he tilted Peter's head against his shoulder. He kept his hand cupped around Peter's head, his other arm wrapped round her brother's body.

Dropping to her knees alongside Peter and Caspian, Lucy uncorked the diamond flask. Her hands shook briefly, so Lucy took a deep breath to steady herself. She held the flask up to Peter's slack mouth and watched as a big, fat drop of the cordial gathered at the rim. It slipped out very slowly, falling onto Peter's tongue.

They all waited several long, very tense moments, during which time Edmund came gasping to meet them. Very slowly, they could see the bruises fading from black to purple to green and finally to a sickly yellow before the colour melted to a more natural pink. The cuts and gashes were knitting themselves together at the same time. When only the dirt and blood remained, Peter's eyelids began to flutter open and he took a deep breath. Caspian seemed to hold Peter tighter then for some reason and his face dropped into Peter's hair. And, just as strangely as far as Lucy was concerned, Peter leaned into Caspian.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Lucy cried, launching herself at Peter once Caspian had lowered his arm.

Peter grunted, but pulled her into a lop-sided embrace. "Thanks to you, Lu."

Lucy snuggled in closer, burying her face in Peter's neck. He was sweaty and smelly, but she didn't care. Peter was back safe and sound.

xxxxxxxxxx

Peter sat at the edge of the stream, tugging his boots off. Beside him, Caspian was stripping out of his shirts. The Telmarine's movements were sluggish and he struggled for a few moments to pull the second shirt over his head. Caspian had been awake for well over a day and Peter was rather surprised that he was still awake. Reepicheep and Glenstorm had found their beds a while ago and he had slept much of the way to the How. Caspian, though, had been awake the entire time.

"You look ready to drop," Peter commented as Caspian slumped down beside him.

Caspian grunted as he pulled at his right boot. "I will do after this. I cannot recall ever being so tired."

Peter lifted his ruined shirt over his head and let it drop to the ground. At the moment he had only one other shirt so Peter knew that he would need to repair it. With luck, though, they'd defeat Miraz within the next few days and he'd be able to obtain a new shirt in the Telmarine's capital city. His clean set of clothing were further up the bank, away from the water, along with Caspian's. There was no one else in the area, the two of them being allowed a few minutes' peace.

"The water will certainly wake you up," Peter gasped as he stepped into the surprisingly cold stream. "Holy...!"

As he had done on beach holidays with his family when he was younger, Peter dove into the water in hopes getting used to the cold water quicker. When he surfaced, Peter glanced back to the shore in time to see Caspian drop his trousers and undergarments to the ground. Peter bobbed low in the water on the pretence of scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

Following suit, Caspian bounded into the water. The Telmarine prince was shuddering when he emerged, water pooling around his hips. "I will never again grumble over the length of time it takes to fill a tub with hot water."

Peter's chattering teeth made his laughter sound odd to his own ears. "War certainly makes you appreciate the comforts of home."

"Certainly this must be nothing unusual for you. In all the stories my tutor told me, there were often wars with those from beyond Narnia during your reign." Caspian ducked his head below the surface of the water, running his fingers through his hair to force out any tangles. "Is it true that you fought giants?"

"That was a lifetime ago," Peter sighed. And it was. He had grown old once before in Narnia, only to return to find it nothing like he remembered. "Anyway, you are now Narnia's future."

Caspian's face paled even more at that revelation, his lips appearing almost blue in contrast. "I don't think that I'm ready."

"Neither did we when we were crowned," Peter admitted, wading through the water until he was barely an arm's length away from Caspian. "In the end, you learn what you must and do the best that you can."

"Is it really as simple as that?" Caspian asked, taking a step towards him which brought them into even closer contact.

Near enough that it only took a subtle movement to bring their fingers into touching distance. A subtle turn of his wrist was all that it took to brush the very tips of his fingers over Caspian's. He tried not to show surprise when Caspian turned his left hand over, linking their fingers together. The Telmarine prince's free hand came up to cup Peter's cheek. He didn't move his body any closer, but Caspian's eyes didn't waver from his.

"I am very glad that we were able to free you from Miraz's clutches," Caspian murmured, smoothing his right thumb over Peter's cheek. "He would have taken great pleasure in destroying you."

Peter leaned lightly into the touch and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "I didn't mean to get left behind. I just.... I don't know what happened, really. They were all there and I wanted to help. It's my fault it happened. If I'd just listened to you and staid—"

The rest of his words died in a rush as Caspian's lips closed over his own. He was initially caught off guard, but didn't pull away. Once he got used to the feel of Caspian's against his, Peter tilted the angle of his head so that Caspian's firm upper lip was caught between both of his. It was strange and new, but so very welcome. As the kiss extended and Caspian's teeth lightly brushed over his bottom lip, Peter brought his hands up to close over the darker man's throat.

Peter's eyes drifted shut as the kiss changed from a single long one into a series of short, soft kisses.

"I hadn't exactly intended that," Caspian said quietly against his lips a few minutes later.

"As long as it's not something you regret," Peter whispered, suddenly all too aware of the fact that he was naked. When he started to lower his hands and pull away, Caspian immediately reached up to clasp his forearms. "Caspian?"

"I most certainly do not regret it," Caspian assured him, his thumbs stroking the undersides of Peter's forearms.

xxxxxxxxxx

"The Lion has not come! You did things the High King's way, and it failed. Now it's time to call on another ancient power. One that held him at bay for a hundred years."

Caspian shook his head, stalking away from Nikabrik and his incessant prattle. He'd left Peter with his siblings while he went to scavenge dinner for the two of them as they'd spent mealtime at the stream. Lack of sleep was making him quite irritable, and Caspian was very close to snapping at the infuriating dwarf. He had no idea what Nikabrik was after, but Caspian knew that no good would come of it.

"Not now, Nikabrik," Caspian insisted, speeding up his steps in hopes of outdistancing him.

A strangle gurgling laugh behind him caught Caspian's attention. He spun around, hand on the hilt of his sword, only to be caught up in a strong vice-like grip which pinned his arms to his sides. Caspian opened his mouth to scream, but a blow to the jaw silenced him. A second hit stunned him long enough for his arms to be bound and a foul-tasting cloth to be tied over his mouth.

"It's time for you to put your blood to good use," Nikabrik sneered as the large, hairy creature slung Caspian over its shoulder.

Caspian continued to fight and struggle the entire time, but the arms holding him were too strong. Shouting for help was just as futile. The creature moved with a frightening speed, carrying him deep into the How, to its very center. Once there, he was thrown onto the ground before the grand arch and the image of Aslan.

While Caspian struggled to his knees, a gnarled, shrivelled creature began pacing around him, speaking a language that he couldn't understand. A dark language that flowed over his skin like a viscous fluid. Its large, talon-like nail was dragging along the ground, cutting a groove around him in the shape of a circle. Caspian had no idea what was happening, but knew that no good would come of it. He redoubled his efforts, lurching away from the hairy beast standing guard over him. A rough hand grabbed his bound wrists, bringing him to a painful halt.

The old hag then spun towards the arch and slammed a crystal sceptre into the ground at its base. Ice grew from the sceptre, spreading across the floor to the columns of the arch and up. A wall of sheer ice that reached to the lintel. In shock, Caspian realizes that he can see the image of a woman in the ice. She was gloriously beautiful, but her smile made him tremble.

"One drop of Adam's blood and you free me," the ghostly woman murmured, her dark eyes locked on his. "Then I'm all yours, my king."

Caspian shook his head, his muffled denials drowned out by the sound of Nikabrik's excited laughter. His wrists were wrenched apart then, but still held fast by the large beast behind him. The hag slithered up next to him and sliced a knife across his left palm. Caspian shouted out in fear, his eyes widening when he saw the fingertips of the white woman slip through the edge of the ice. Fingers of flesh reaching through the ice.

"No!"

At the sound of Peter's shout, Caspian nearly sagged. At the very last moment, he stopped himself, tightening his muscles so that the beast wouldn't be able to get him any closer to the witch. The White Witch. Once he realized just who it was he was facing, Caspian redoubled his efforts to free himself from the iron grip that held him. There was a foul breath, smelling of death and rot, panting against his cheek. And the more he tried to pull away, the tighter the beat squeezed his wrist. Caspian could feel his bones grinding together as his wrist was twisted painfully.

"Come on...." the White Witch prodded, straining against her icy prison.

Behind him, Caspian could hear the sounds of a fight. The other Pevensies were most certainly involved in the fight, but a quick glance to his left showed that Peter was the closest.

"Get away from him!" Peter shouted before launching himself at the hairy beast.

Before he could completely comprehend what was going on, Caspian found himself thrown to the ground. He and the monster tumbled end over end, stopping when they crashed into a nearby column. For a brief moment, Caspian found himself short of breath. There was a spark of pain across his ribs that made moving painful. He couldn't afford to stay still, though. Caspian struggled free, reaching for his sword only to find that it wasn't there. Glancing up, he instead found it clasped tight in Peter's right hand.

Needing some kind of weapon, Caspian stretched to reach for a bit of fallen stonework. Just as his fingers were closing over the edge of the fist-sized rock, the weight from his back was gone. He looked over his shoulder and when he saw that Edmund had the beast well in hand, Caspian scrambled to his feet and towards Peter.

Peter hadn't moved an inch, and the woman's icy smile was back in place, her fingers waving delicately in his direction.

"You know you can't do this alone," she seemed to coo in an affectionate tone.

With no other weapon and Peter seemingly frozen in place by the White Witch's spell, Caspian threw the rock he held with as much force as possible towards the ice wall. A crack appeared across the center of the ice sheet and then it shattered into thousands of pieces, collapsing in on itself.

Before all of the pieces stopped falling, Caspian was rushing towards Peter, calling his name. Peter turned towards him and the two men threw their arms around each other.

"Thank god," Peter moaned against Caspian's cheek. "She nearly had you."

Caspian merely held on tight to Peter, any words he would have spoken choked in his throat.

"Are you all right?" Peter demanded, pulling back so that he could see Caspian's face. He ran his hands over Caspian's chest, searching out any injuries that might be hidden by his shirt.

"Fine. Fine," Caspian assured him, placing his hands overtop of Peter's roving ones. "Peter, I'm fine. Are you?"

Peter's response was to lean forward, kissing him quite soundly. Caspian responded instantly, the same desperation that was driving Peter thudding through his own veins. He still didn't know entirely what had happened, but knew that it would have been catastrophic had Nikabrik and the dark creatures succeeded. His hands were gripping at Peter's upper arms, holding on tight to him. Peter's hands on his hips were anchoring him into place, their warmth radiating even through his clothes.

"Well that was unexpected," the bemused voice of Trumpkin broke in.

xxxxxxxxxx

She didn't know whether they meant to do it or not, but Peter and Caspian were standing exactly the same. Arms at their sides with the elbows slightly bent and their legs spread a bit. They were also standing so close that their arms and the backs of their hands were touching. Lucy couldn't remember ever seeing two boys kiss, but she didn't think it was reason enough for Susan to be scowling so much and stomping about.

"Have either of you really thought about this?" Susan demanded, stopping mid-stride to frown at them.

Peter was frowning as well and moved just enough so that it look like he was in front of Caspian. Only they were still touching. "I don't understand why you're so angry, Susan. It's not like this is something that was planned."

"You still have to know that this isn't something that can happen," Susan insisted, stamping about again.

"Begging your pardon, your majesty, but I do not see how it is your concern what your brother and I do or feel for each other," Caspian spoke up as he nudged forward so that he was beside Peter again.

"It's my concern because he's my brother."

Caspian inclined his head briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your brother, yes, but still his own man able to make his own decisions. Especially when those decisions do not directly affect you. Which, I can assure you, this does not."

Before Susan could say anything back, Peter spoke again. "Susan, look, I know you may not approve, but it's still my decision to make. And I've made it. All I ask is that you try to respect my decision. Is that really too much?"

Susan scrunched her face up and stamped her foot a bit, but eventually managed to choke out a very annoyed, "No. So long as you know that I don't like it or approve of it."

"Then that's just how it'll have to be," Peter shrugged before taking Caspian's hand and leading the Telmarine prince out of the room.

After Peter and Caspian left, the only sound in the great room of the How were the flickering flames in the trenches that ran around the room. Lucy wasn't sure what to say, if there was anything she could say, so she looked over at Edmund who was concentrating very hard on his boots.

Finally, though, Edmund looked up, staring at Susan's back.

"He's happy, Sue. For the first time in a year, he's happy. Let him have this."

xxxxxxxxxx

"You should sleep," Peter murmured as he settled down next to him on a bedroll.

Yawning, Caspian blinked his eyes owlishly, trying his best to stave off his exhaustion. His mind was simply too busy for him to give in to his body's cries for sleep. "So should you. Lucy's potion may have cured your body of its injuries, but it has not erased the effects of what happened from your mind."

"Sleep will likely not make that any better," Peter said quietly, reaching a hand out across the space that separated him from Caspian.

Caspian slid his hand over Peter's, closing his fingers around it. "You will not know until you try."

With a bit of shuffling and rearranging of both themselves and their bedrolls they found a position that was comfortable for both of them. Caspian lay on his back, a rolled up cloak under his head as a pillow, while Peter was on his stomach, half on top of Caspian with his head resting on the darker man's shoulder. Both of their blankets were draped over their joined bodies. As they were on a cave floor, it was not the most comfortable of beds, but until Miraz was defeated and they were able to return to the castle it was the best available.

"To a restful night," Caspian whispered, fumbling about for Peter's right hand which was resting on his chest.

Peter lifted his head, grinning slightly, then leaned down to brush a light kiss over Caspian's lips. "A restful night."

Caspian returned the smile and a second soft kiss. Then, at long last, they settled down to a much needed sleep.