Jealous

He that is not jealous is not in love. (St. Augustine)

"We'll go."

Peter Pevensie stepped forward, his eyes somber and icy in the afternoon sunlight. Caspian felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the calmly spoken words. He'd known this moment would come, but he'd hoped it would've been delayed for some time. He'd come to find he liked the Pevensie family; not only because they were the Kings and Queens of Old, but because they were likeable themselves. Lucy was so sweet and innocent, Edmund dryly sarcastic but charismatic nonetheless, and Susan so beautiful and independent. And Peter, of course; noble, self-sacrificing, short-tempered Peter who'd made Caspian so frustrated within hours of knowing each other. Caspian, for some reason, thought he'd miss Peter the most; someone to fight with that he knew he could never hurt, someone who gave as good as he got, someone who refused to bow and scrape and instead looked at him with arrogant icy eyes and stood with a straight back. Yes, no matter how lovely Susan was, Caspian would miss Peter the most.

"No," Caspian's attention was drawn back to the scene when he heard Aslan's calmly spoken words. Peter's eyes widened and the icy stoicism in them changed for a second. "You all are still needed in this place. Your journey in Narnia has not yet finished." And, for some reason Caspian couldn't understand, Aslan's eyes were on Peter as he said this, and continued to rest solely on the High King.

"But Aslan!" Susan protested. "We need to go back!" To Caspian's confusion, Susan sounded nearly panicked. Aslan slowly turned his head towards her and gave a soft, sad sigh.

"Oh, my daughter," he said quietly. "You wish so deeply to be something which you are not." Susan flushed slightly. "Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to this time. You are still needed in Narnia, to keep the peace for a while. The Narnians do, of course, trust King Caspian, but some Narnian allies in the noble courts would not be unwelcomed. You will stay here, and when you need to go back to your home, I will return and send you there." Aslan's eyes were steady and understanding. Susan pursued her lips but voiced no more protests.

"Well I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm glad to stay!" Lucy piped up with a brilliant smile on her face.

"Yeah, maybe I can get my bloody torch back," Edmund murmured, a barely noticeable smile on his face. Peter thumped the back of his brother's head softly.

"Don't say bloody," he said with a smirk and Edmund scowled up at him, though Caspian noticed that it was more than a little half-hearted. Apparently, Peter noticed this as well, for his smirk changed into a smile as he looked down at his little brother. Edmund didn't like Peter's tender look and he immediately turned away, his nose up in the air. Peter chuckled and mussed up Edmund's dark hair, earning an indignant huff from his younger brother. Caspian smiled at their antics. They hadn't been like that when he'd first met them; Peter was too stiff to be affectionate, and Edmund didn't accept it easily even when Peter gave it out. Now, though, they were much more comfortable together. Maybe it was because they were back in Narnia, where they were legendary kings together. Every story about the Old Kings and Queens had King Peter and King Edmund at each other's side, protecting each other's backs. They were completely loyal to each other, and completely loyal to their sisters. Caspian had never seen a closer family, and sometimes it made him long for a family of his own. He hated Miraz even more for screwing up that chance for him.

"You're welcome to stay in my castle," Caspian said, stepping forward with a gentle smile on his face. Peter looked over at him, his eyes steady. They locked eyes for several moments before Peter gave a smile.

"If you can stand to put up with us," he joked and Caspian laughed.

"I would like nothing better," he said, and his eyes never strayed to Susan. One fine golden eyebrow rose as Peter gave him a questioning look but Caspian just smiled. He couldn't stop smiling, it seemed. It was finally sinking in; the Pevensies were staying! He'd become friends with them over the exhausting war, and now he wouldn't have to lose them so soon after meeting them. Caspian couldn't have felt more happy about that.

The Telmarine capital was absolutely beautiful in Peter's opinion. Not as beautiful as Cair Paravel – nothing could compare to what used to be Peter's home in Narnia – but it was a magnificent castle nonetheless. Peter could see why Caspian loved it so much. He himself kept finding himself wandering the corridors, stopping every so often to stare at a particularly lovely painting or tapestry.

Peter wasn't sure how he felt about staying in Narnia. Part of him was ready to go back to England, to start his life there anew, without all of the fighting that'd gotten him in trouble for the last year. But another part longed to stay in Narnia forever; it was his home, despite being born in England. Narnia, no matter how it changed or what name it went under, would always be his home. It was a place he loved, and a world he would fight for. Peter had thought when he looked at the door made from a tree that he would be ready to leave; that maybe he should leave. After all, he'd done no one any favors during the time he'd been there. The one thing he'd done right was to challenge Miraz.

Peter, looking back at his actions during this entire adventure, found that he was horrified with himself. Especially about the invasion of the Telmarine castle. He still woke to nightmares about that night; seeing brave Narnians dying around him, seeing their pleading faces behind the closed gate. Peter closed his eyes as the images flashed before him again. He would always feel their blood on his hands. There was nothing that could be done to soothe his guilt. It had been his fault.

"Excuse me? High King Peter?" Peter opened his eyes, a bit startled by hearing his title in a Telmarine accent. He was so used to Caspian's familiarity and the Telmarine's scoffing disbelief in a High King that he thought he'd never hear the title in that accent.

The man in front of him was tall and dark, like every Telmarine Peter had met, with liquid brown eyes and chocolate brown hair. His build was that of a swordsman, to Peter's experienced eye, and the teenager found himself sizing the other man up before he could stop himself. Likely Peter would be able to win; the other man would be taller, but Peter was faster and more agile. But the blond shook those thoughts away. The Telmarines were allies now; there was no need to think such thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked pleasantly. "And who are you?"

"Andres Dionicio, Your Grace," the man said with an easy smile as he gave a bow.

"What can I do for you, Andres?" Peter said calmly. He'd decided to abandon formality a long time ago when he was still High King Peter of the Golden Age; unless he was with his equals, then he found no reason to give titles. Arrogance, yes, but also the truth. Plus Peter also got unhealthy pleasure out of annoying people; especially nobles, who got annoyed so easily but said nothing for fear of offending the king. Peter could be sadistic at times. But, to his surprise, Andres wasn't annoyed at all with his informality. Instead, the nobleman smiled as if it pleased him.

"Oh, there is nothing at all I need of you, Your Grace," he said. "It is just that this is the first time I have been able to look upon the High King's face and it was so handsome that it startled my senses from me." Andres swept into another low bow. Peter blinked, completely startled by the compliment. He'd heard plenty of that kind of talk from human women in the Golden Age, but never from men; at least, not directed to him. The men always directed their attentions to Susan or even Lucy, when she'd grown up a bit. Never had Peter had any male attention directed towards him, though he knew such persuasion did exist; he wasn't clueless, after all.

"You flatter me, Andres," Peter murmured, unsure of what to say. In his Narnian court there were more non-humans than humans; there'd been no need for courtly flirtations, and Peter rarely indulged in them anyhow. He was too straight-forward to participate in such things; Susan, the master of court seduction, had often laughed at him for his disgust of subtle wooing. But he was in the Telmarine court now, and he couldn't afford to be rude, even if he had been High King.

"I cannot flatter when I speak only the truth," Andres delivered smoothly and Peter couldn't help the feeling of admiration at the quick delivery. The man was obviously skilled at courtly flattery.

Peter had just opened his mouth to speak when he heard his name called from down the corridor. Peter turned to see Caspian striding toward him, impressive kingly cloak flying sharply behind him. Peter stifled a laugh at Caspian's face; the young king looked completely aggravated and Peter was sure at least part of it was his ridiculous dress. 'Poor fellow,' Peter thought; he knew all too well the pains of wearing stately clothes during important meetings and parties. They were beautiful, yes, but extremely painful to put on and frustrating to keep in good condition.

"Yes, C-King Caspian?" Peter corrected himself quickly. Caspian was his equal and, more than that, he was deserving of his respect.

"The council wishes to speak with you," Caspian said, his eyes cutting to where Andres stood, a blank look on his face. "They want to discuss your family's position here." Peter sighed; politics. How he hated it. He turned to Andres with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry to leave so soon after we've met, Andres," he said casually. Andres smiled and bowed lowly.

"You may leave my presence, High King Peter, but you will never leave my mind." Peter sighed; now that had sounded like a bad pick-up line. And the man had been doing so well too. However he gave Andres a slight smile and turned to Caspian. He blinked in surprise when he saw his fellow king's eyes had narrowed in on Andres' still bowing frame with an almost angry look.

"King Caspian," Peter said a little too loudly, grabbing Caspian's attention. "We should get going . . . ?" he let it trail off as a question. Caspian nodded quickly, apparently getting over whatever had been bothering him.

"Yes, the council is always in a hurry . . . ." Caspian said. "I'll see you at dinner tonight, Andres," he added in to the nobleman before catching Peter's elbow and hurrying them away.

"I can walk myself, thanks!" Peter said with a huff, turning his arm sharply out of Caspian's grasp. The other teen looked startled for a moment.

"Sorry," he muttered, all too used to Peter's easily changing temper. "So you've met Andres Dionicio," he added in flatly.

"Yes," Peter answered with a small, suspicious look at Caspian. "He was nice enough, I guess, though all that flattery was a bit annoying." Peter decided he wouldn't question Caspian's slightly relieved look. "Is he one of your nobles?"

"Yes, he's a Count's son," Caspian answered absently. "He's been at the court for years . . . He served under my father for the two years before he . . . died."

"Really?" Peter asked, fascinated. "He didn't look that old."

"You Narnians aren't the only ones blessed with longer lives," Caspian said wryly. "The Telmarine people live for at least 200 years; the oldest of us lived to 215. Andres' actual age may be 40 or so, but he looks like he's only 20."

"Wow," Peter said. "I would've never guessed."

"Yes, well," Caspian's voice took an acidic edge, "Andres sees his youthful looks as an advantage."

"Advantage? To what?" Peter asked, though thinking about the way Andres had approached him he felt he had a good idea of what it was.

Caspian gave him a side-long look. "An advantage to the seduction of young ladies . . . . and young men." Caspian's eyes were unreadable.

"Ah yes," Peter said, a bit uncomfortable both with the way this conversation was going and the undecipherable look in Caspian's dark eyes. "I got that impression already, actually," he admitted.

"He flirted with you?" Caspian said, sounding incredulous and, to Peter's surprise, a little bit angry as well.

"Well, yes," Peter said uncomfortably, shrugging. "He didn't touch me at all, just offered a bit of flattery . . . . It really wasn't all that bad."

"What, so you wanted him to flirt with you?" Caspian asked, eyes narrowing in Peter's face. "You like the attention that much, High King?"

Peter's eyes were narrowing now, his famously short temper coming out to play. "Excuse me if I don't get riled up at a bit of innocent flirting, King Caspian. I know he meant no harm by it."

"Whatever else you may think of it, whatever he did was not innocent flirting," Caspian said a look on his face that Peter couldn't describe. "Andres doesn't do innocent flirting. If he sets his sights on someone he . . . courts them until they give into him. Which usually doesn't take very long," Caspian added in sourly. Peter gave a laugh, and since he was still bitter about the comment on attention it had a mean edge to it.

"What? Don't like being ignored Caspian?" he asked snidely. Caspian tensed.

"No, I'd just prefer he be more discreet in his affairs!" Caspian snapped out. "But obviously since he's set his sights on you, that's not going to happen." He frowned.

Peter blinked, startled by that statement. "Set his sights on me? Why would he do that?"

Caspian gave him a startled look. "Peter," he said seriously, "you are one of the Kings of Old – more than that you are the High King – and you are, whether you know it or not, very handsome. Andres has set his sights on less, I assure you."

Peter blinked, completely astonished that Caspian – of all people – called him handsome. He found that he couldn't say anything to that argument, too stunned by the words of his fellow King. Caspian, seemingly realizing what he said, stiffened a bit. If Peter didn't know better, he would've said there was a blush on the Telmarine's cheeks.

"Just – stay away from him, alright?" Caspian muttered softly. Peter frowned at him.

"Why should I?" he asked, feeling his rebellious side rising up again. Caspian gave him an incredulous look before throwing up his hands in resignation.

"I give up! Nothing can get through that thick skull of yours! Fine, be molested for all that I care!" With that, he stormed off, apparently not caring about the meeting that he'd been about to lead Peter to. Peter watched him go before slowly heading to the council room on his own, his thoughts still on the strange argument that had just taken place.

Even without Caspian, the Telmarine Council met with Peter and his siblings. They eventually came to the decision that Peter would be the Narnian's spokesperson in the Telmarine court, as he was the High King. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy would also be very high up in court, and the Telmarine Council had assured them that if any of the other three Pevensies had anything they wished to do, they only need name it. Peter had seen them eyeing Susan as they said this and felt a twist in his gut.

However, now that it was settled and announced, Peter noticed the Telmarine's were acting much more warmly to him and his family. Perhaps before they had been afraid he'd try to steal the throne from Caspian, or other such nonsense. Whatever the reason, Peter was glad for the easing of tension. However, there was one exception to the new rule and that, surprisingly or not, was the King himself. Caspian seemed to get stiffer and stiffer with Peter – and Peter alone – everyday that the blond got more comfortable in the court life. Just yesterday he'd been conversing with Andres Dionicio and he'd noticed Caspian glaring at them from the corner of his eye! Peter honestly had no idea what was wrong with the King. Andres may have had a reputation as a playboy, but Peter was more than sure that he wasn't after him. Why would anyone like him? Peter knew he was decent in the looks department, but he was nothing extraordinary; he never deluded himself of this fact. So he doubted that Andres would pursue him, even if he was High King. Caspian was delusional.

Sure, Andres would give him a look every so often and seductive and suggestive phrases flew out of his mouth every other sentence, but Peter knew that it could only be for fun. Plus, even if Andres was pursuing him – and that was a big if – Peter wouldn't accept his advances anyhow. Mostly because he'd known Andres a grand total of a week and had yet to find any depth to the man. Perhaps it was because the nobles at the Telmarine court hid their emotions better than Narnians, but Peter had, on more than one occasion, tried to start a topic with Andres that didn't revolve around dancing or flirting or the court gossip. And Andres had smiled, listened, and politely changed the subject to something he was more comfortable talking about. It was maddening and prevented Peter from even considering Andres as a partner. There were just some things he looked for in a significant other that had to be there, and intelligence and intellectual curiosity was one of them. Sure, Peter wasn't like Susan with his head constantly in the books, but he wasn't stupid either and he found during the years of the Golden Age that he enjoyed a good discussion about politics or theology. It was interesting, which had surprised Peter at the time.

No, there was no way Andres would be a possible partner. Besides, Peter was a long-term fellow; he didn't do one-night stands. And considering both that Andres was a notorious playboy and that Peter could be very well be leaving in the next week, Peter thought that the relationship wouldn't have worked out even if he had wanted it. Peter, personally, thought that he didn't want a relationship at all right now. How could he know when he'd be leaving Narnia again? He didn't want to set himself up for that sort of heartbreak, especially knowing that he would never be able to come back afterwards.

Peter sighed, leaning against the wall of the corridor he was in and staring moodily out of the window in front of him. He found that it was better to avoid thinking of returning home; otherwise he'd just depress himself. But sometimes it just slipped in and he found his mood growing darker. He loved Narnia. He didn't want to leave it to never return. This was why he selfishly, secretly hoped that Aslan would never come for them at all and he'd be allowed to live out the rest of his days in Narnia. But Peter doubted that would happen. He knew all too well that sometimes Fate had plans for you and you couldn't escape them.

Peter sighed again and decided that it was high time that he go back to his room. Caspian was having a ball that night to celebrate his birthday, and Peter was required to attend. He wasn't sure if he would've otherwise; Caspian's mood had been foul for the last week and he liked to take it out on Peter most of all. And, inevitably, Peter would fight back, which led to fights worse than those they'd had fighting Miraz, shockingly or not. But Susan had insisted that he be there, and he had ten minutes to get ready before it officially started. Peter grinned as he moved to his room; Susan, doubtlessly, would be appalled that he'd put getting ready off until ten minutes before the ball. He knew that his sister could spend a full four hours preparing herself, but Peter preferred to just throw on his clothes and be done with it. He'd done it when he was High King and he'd do it now.

Peter strode into his room, not taking the time to admire the large space, beautiful tapestries, and expensive furniture. Truly, his family's rooms were second only to the King's. But Peter just wanted to get dressed and get to the ball and then slip away when no one was looking. Which, knowing both his luck and his fame, was unlikely. He'd probably have to stay at this thing for the entire night. Peter sighed at the thought, but resigned himself to his fate. He'd learned long ago that long, boring parties were the other inevitable thing in life next to death and taxes.

Peter approached his closet and drew out the clothes that Susan had selected for him for tonight (he wasn't ashamed of having his sister dress him; after all, Susan was the best fashion advisor Peter could hope for and she'd never led him wrong before). He did have to admit that it would look pretty good on him. The shirt was long-sleeved and high collared, colored completely black except for the trimmings, which were a blue that, according to Susan, matched Peter's eyes. Over it went a sleeveless jacket that was the same blue as the trimmings and had black lacings down the front tying it together. Peter, reluctantly, admitted that it was a good combination, even if he did feel uncomfortably like he was wearing a turned around corset. His pants were skin-tight, like all of the pants in Narnia, and as jet-black as the shirt. They were tucked into soft black leather boots. Around Peter's hip there was a silver belt with a scabbard for his sword to rest against his hip. Peter always had the sword at parties; he'd learned during the third year in his reign that most attackers liked to do it during parties, where they felt the leaders would be most vulnerable. After that night, Peter always brought his sword with him to parties, no matter how frivolous they may have seemed to him. Finally, around Peter's neck was a thin silver chain. Unknown to anyone outside of his siblings, it had a tiny silver lion's head hanging from it, with tiny red stones set for its eyes. Peter had had it made not long after they'd arrived back in their old world, feeling nostalgic for Narnia and having just enough pocket change to boy the delicate piece of jewelry. Afterwards, he'd intended to give it to Susan, but he found that he wanted to keep it instead, and had worn it ever since.

Peter ran a fine-toothed comb through his hair, smoothing out the worse of his knots, and then, with a look in the mirror, deemed himself ready to go. He looked good enough, thanks to Susan, and he had exactly three minutes until the ball started and he was expected to dance in the opening dance! With that thought in mind, Peter hurried from his room and down to the ball room, hoping that this night wouldn't go all wrong.

Caspian was immeasurably, undoubtedly, uncontrollably bored.

He watched lazily as the Telmarine nobles danced down below him, their brightly colored clothes flashing as their bodies twirled around each other. The Telmarines were usually a serious group of people, but when it came to parties they were all full of fun; women especially. Usually Caspian would be right down in the middle of them, dancing his heart out. But tonight he felt strangely listless, unwilling to dance with any of the numerous girls that had approached him. He'd danced once with Susan (earning approving looks from the council members) and once with another noble lady whose name he couldn't even remember, and then had retired to his throne for the night, content to watch rather than participate.

Caspian had been feeling odd for the last few weeks; ever since he'd caught Peter with that bastardo Andres. He wasn't sure why the sight of them together, with Peter so obviously enjoying the other man's company, irked him so. But, nonetheless, it did: immensely. Caspian still wasn't sure why it did.

Maybe it was because Andres was too old for Peter? Or because he was so disgusted to see his friend and comrade treated like a bear to be hunted, pursued only for the thrill of the chase? Yes, that had to be it. Peter was worth much more than a one-night stand. He'd never met a more generous person, or a more selfless one, even if the blond was short-tempered, a little on the arrogant side, and completely hard-headed. But that was just Peter. Caspian had learned to accept him in the months following their first meeting.

Caspian had every reason to be protective of Peter; after all, decent the rising number of their recent fights, the blond was still his friend. He'd seen more stubborn people submit to Andres, and he'd been friends with several of the girls he'd used and discarded. He'd seen their heartbreak over it, and he didn't want the same thing to happen to Peter. Though he doubted the blond would blubber his way out of heartache. It was more likely Peter would bottle it all up until he exploded, and that was something Caspian wished to avoid. Andres would play with his friend's heart and abandon him, and Caspian didn't want Peter to get hurt. That was why he was so angry about their meetings. Caspian pushed out the voice in the back of his head that told him what rubbish that was and whispered what the real reason for his baffling anger was that he was jealous. Caspian knew he couldn't be jealous; he didn't like Peter that way. Even if the blond was handsome and had a charming personality when he wasn't annoying and a good head on his shoulders; it didn't mean that Caspian liked him. He could admire those traits in a friend, couldn't he? The little voice snorted in the back of his head, but Caspian ignored it.

Caspian sighed. Everything seemed so complicated. Maybe he should dance some more; dancing always had a way of clearing his mind. He mused on it for a moment as his eyes scanned the room, looking for a possible dance partner. When he saw that a pretty girl that looked no older than him was standing off to the sidelines, clapping her hands heartily to the beat, he made up his mind. He stood and made his way to her, ignoring the bows of the people he passed.

"Would you like to dance the next dance?" he asked, smiling at the girl. She blushed but nodded with a twinkle in her eye.

The next dance started almost immediately, and Caspian clasped the girl's hand in his own as he started to twirl her around the room.

"What's your name?" he murmured.

The girl smiled shyly up at him. "Bellini, Your Grace," she murmured. "My family recently moved to court."

"It's nice to meet you, Bellini," he said with a smile. She seemed like a sweet girl, and she had quick feet, two things Caspian liked in a dancing partner.

Caspian mostly kept his eyes on Bellini's face, but every so often he would glance over, out into the crowd. It was during one of those moments that he first noticed Peter Pensieve at the side of the ballroom next to one Andres Dionicio. Caspian's hands tightened around Bellini's waist and hand. Peter looked absolutely stunning; black was most defiantly his color. It brought of the blond of his hair and his tanned skin, and the blue overcoat and trimmings made his eyes seem deeper. Caspian, knowing Peter's attitude towards clothing, suspected Susan had picked out that particular outfit. She did have good taste.

Obviously, Andres thought Peter looked wonderful as well; the Telmarine noble was eyeing the blond in a way that made Caspian's eyes narrow. It was a look of hunger and lust; one he'd seen on Andres' face many times before, when the older man had found a new conquest. Andres was leaning in close to Peter, his hand against the blond's arm. Peter looked vaguely uncomfortable with the closeness, but he wasn't pushing Andres away. Caspian growled, low in his throat.

"I'm sorry, Bellini, but there's a matter I must address," he murmured to the girl. Bellini looked startled, but she nodded and dropped into a curtsey nonetheless as he swept past her and out of the crowd of dancers, heading towards the corner where Peter and Andres were residing. It was just as he was drawing close that Andres made his move.

The older noble had slid in close to Peter and gently brought a hand up to cup his sharply defined chin. Then, gently, he'd brought their mouths together. Caspian's eyes widened as he saw the sight and then narrowed in anger. 'Hijo de puta! How dare he put his hands on my Peter!' He ignored the voice that slyly commented how Peter had suddenly become his when only minutes ago he'd been unwilling to acknowledge he might like Peter as more than a friend.

"Excuse me," Caspian said icily, sliding in next to the kissing couple. Andres immediately parted from Peter, who looked wide-eyed and flushed. Caspian grit his teeth. "I need to speak to High King Peter for a moment, if you will Dionicio." Andres immediately tensed when he heard his King's tone. He didn't know why Caspian was angry with him, but he was well aware of his leader's displeasure. Unwilling to incur Caspian's wrath anymore he left with a parting suggestive smile to Peter. Peter, still looking completely bewildered, flushed more deeply in response. Growling slightly, Caspian grasped Peter's elbow and hauled him out of the ballroom, ignoring the whispering nobles they passed. He dragged the blond with him down the corridor until he found a door, flinging it open to reveal the empty council room. Caspian threw Peter in before him and followed with an angry stalk, slamming the door behind him.

"Caspian!" Peter yelled exasperatedly, swirling around to face the Telmarine King with flashing blue eyes. "What the bloody hell was that about?!"

"What? Sorry that I interrupted your time with your lover," Caspian sneered. He felt rage building inside of him, even if he still wasn't sure of the exact cause. He just knew that seeing Peter and Andres together had caused something burning and hot to rise up inside of him.

"He's not my lover!" Peter yelled, pinkening slightly. Almost absently, his hand rose to rub at his mouth. Caspian scowled when he saw it.

"Could've fooled me," he spat.

Peter looked up at him, eyes angry. "He's not," he insisted. "I don't know why he kissed me! And in a public place no less . . . ." Peter sounded immensely confused. Some part of Caspian relaxed at that, but he still felt incredibly angry and flustered.

"Well that's obvious," he said, drawing Peter's attention to his face sharply. "He was marking you." Caspian's hands curled into fists at the notion.

". . . . Marking me?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Caspian said, waving his hand impatiently. "By kissing you there, he was warning the other nobles that you were his for the night." Caspian sneered. "That'd make them all back off."

Peter stiffened indignantly at that. "I'm nobody's possession!" he hissed angrily. "Least of all Andres Dionicio's! I never even said I was interested in him, why would he . . . ." Peter trailed off and blushed slightly. Caspian snorted.

"Never said you were interested?" he said disbelievingly. "You shouldn't have been so friendly with him then. You certainly looked like you were interested from where I was standing."

Peter blinked. "You cared to look?" he asked.

Caspian became slightly flustered at that question. "It was hard not to notice!" he snapped. "You looked like a moon-struck centaur."

Peter smiled slightly at that, and the sight of it threw Caspian off-balance. Peter usually always had a serious look on his face, and if he was smiling, it was usually a fake, kingly grin; it was rare to see him smile so openly. Caspian, personally, thought the look suited him. But he had to wave off such thoughts; after all, he was here to scold Peter, not make poetry about his smiles. Plus, hadn't he decided he didn't like Peter as more than a friend? 'Maybe if he stopped smiling like that you could actually believe that,' that irritating voice told him frankly. Caspian shook it off, wishing he could just stop it from whispering things like that at him.

"I told you he was bad news," Caspian said accusingly.

Peter glared at him, anger renewing. "Well excuse me if I don't take your word as law. I thought I might as well get to know the person before I listened to the rumors; amazing, huh?" Caspian personally thought it was amazing how like Edmund Peter could sound with the right intonation.

"He's broken more hearts than anyone else I know!" Caspian said, running his hands through his hair. "You could've been one of those many!"

Peter snorted. "As if," he said. "I know this may surprise you, given how irresistible Andres is supposed to be, but I don't see him as anything other than acquaintance. I don't do one-night stands."

Caspian felt the anger drain out of him when Peter said that as it was replaced with something that felt suspiciously like relief. Caspian tried to block out the reason why he might be relieved Peter wasn't interested in Andres, but a little voice whispered in the back of his anyways. 'You like him,' it said gleefully. 'You and I both know it. You don't want Andres to get his greedy little paws on him. You want him for your own. Just acknowledge it.'

Caspian growled a little before he sighed inwardly. He'd been shoving that thought out of his head for so long, but now that it snuck back in, he found that he couldn't deny it any longer. He was attracted to Peter; both physically and emotionally. He could accept that; he had been raised in the Telmarine courts, where same-sex couples were as accepted as regular couples. He doubted that the council would object to him courting Peter; after all, the Narnian's were the ones to come up with the magics that allowed some men to have the abilities of a woman and give birth, if their relationship ever went that far. They'd only pushed Susan on him because they assumed he liked women only. And Caspian had; until he'd met Peter. Stubborn, hard-headed, fiery, impossible, wonderful Peter. Caspian wondered why he hadn't seen his attraction sooner. Probably because Caspian had been content to delude himself into believing he loved Peter as a friend and nothing more.

Caspian looked up to see that Peter was watching him with a confused expression on his face. "Caspian?" the blond asked.

"Peter . . . . Is there any other reason you wouldn't accept Andres' advances?" he asked.

Peter blinked, surprised at the sudden calm in his friend. "Well . . . ." he started, a bit uncertainly. "I have nothing against homosexual relationships; I had a few back in the Golden Age, though they never went very far. But I don't think it'd be a good idea to start a relationship here now." Caspian felt a pang in his heart at that. Had he just discovered his affection for Peter only to lose hope at the same turn? "It just doesn't seem right, what with Aslan being able to turn up any day and whisk us all away."

Caspian frowned at that. It was true, of course. Aslan could come any day and take Peter and his siblings away. Caspian felt immensely sad at that thought; not only because he would lose Peter, but because he would lose all of the Pevensie family. He'd become friends with them, and he didn't want to lose them anymore than he wanted to lose Peter. He eyed the blond speculatively. He knew that Peter was speaking the truth, and that a long-term relationship could only end badly. But . . . he wanted it. And Caspian had been denied very little in his life; so little, in fact, that he'd become very used to getting what he wanted. And now that he knew Peter had engaged in homosexual behavior before (and he tried to ignore the green monster that rose at that thought) he didn't have any other qualms to talking to Peter about his desire for a relationship.

"Peter," he said, stepping forward. Peter blinked up at him as Caspian came closer. Caspian was only a few inches taller than the other boy, probably because he was older. Peter didn't move away as Caspian came closer, which the Telmarine King took to be a good sign. Carefully and gently, he took Peter's chin in his hand (making him think of Andres for a moment, but he pushed that thought out of his mind) and brought Peter's face to his own, touching their lips in a chaste kiss. He made sure to make his hold loose, so Peter could break away whenever he wanted to.

To Caspian's surprise, however, Peter didn't even try. Instead he leaned forward, one of his hands curling around Caspian's bicep and the other moving to the King's dark hair, grasping at the strands there. Caspian, startled by this sudden acceptance, froze for a moment before he continued the kiss, deepening it slightly. Peter gave a low grown and Caspian took that as his cue to break away slightly. He stayed where he was, in Peter's personal space, but he didn't press forward for another kiss. Instead, he met Peter's slightly hazy blue eyes evenly.

"Peter," he said warmly, and the blond's face flushed. "I know that you don't want to start a relationship here, but I like you. I . . . want you." Peter flushed even deeper at that. Caspian found it endearing that even though this boy had lived in the Golden Age and had no doubt been courted before (again that green monster, but Caspian pushed it aside) he was still able to blush like a maidenly virgin. Perhaps Peter was just modest. "I would like to court you, if I have your permission."

Peter blinked. "C-court me?" he stuttered out, knowing the significance of that ritual. "But your council won't possibly allow that!"

"Of course they will," Caspian said with a smile. "They'll have no objections whatsoever."

"But what about if Aslan asks me to leave!" Peter said, moving away from Caspian. The King frowned and snaked his hands around the blond's waist, keeping him close by. Peter didn't struggle out of his hold, though he did frown at Caspian. "You can't court me knowing that I could abandon you at any day."

"Are those your only protests?" Caspian asked. "That you'll have to go back to your own world at any moment and that my council might protest?" Peter flushed and muttered something under his breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," Caspian said, smiling. Peter shot him a glare.

"I said," he said loudly and clearly. "That I may like you as well, though you shouldn't let it go to your head." He frowned sternly in Caspian's direction when he began to grin like a fool.

"Well, if you like me and I like you, we should do this, don't you think?" Caspian said, leaning forward to capture Peter's mouth in another kiss.

This time it progressed a bit when Caspian nipped Peter's bottom lip, and Peter gasped, allowing Caspian's tongue into his mouth. Caspian eagerly began to explore, moaning lightly at the taste. He felt more than saw a fine flush settling over Peter's face, but the other boy was tangling his tongue with Caspian's so the King doubted he was overly embarrassed. Caspian drew himself away when the need to breathe became overwhelming, and he stared, panting, at the vision that was Peter Pensieve. He forced himself to look away before he pounced on the High King again. He doubted he'd be able to stop himself.

"Peter," he said. "Will you allow me to Court you?"

Peter recognized the formality in the words and nodded solemnly. "Yes, I will." There was no flash of magic to acknowledge the bond, but they both felt the steady weight of a bond in place. Caspian grinned at his friend and soon-to-be-lover and Peter gave a smile in return.

"What do you say we ditch the party?" Caspian said, hands looping around Peter's waist. Peter gave him a look.

"I wouldn't mind it," he said dryly, "but isn't it your birthday party?"

"Well yes," Caspian admitted. "But I can think of more interesting things for us to be doing, can't you?" And he swooped down on Peter and began to ravish him once more. Peter found that he couldn't argue with that.

Author's Note: Holy shit! This was meant to be a 5-page one-shot on the potential cuteness of Jealous Caspian, but it turned into a monster when I wasn't looking. Jesus. Anyhow; I finished this in a rush because I wanted to post something on Friday the 13th. Yes, probably the shallowest reason I've ever had for posting a story, but I couldn't resist! This story seems a little unrealistic looking back on it, but this is my first venture into the Narnian universe, so I can't help but be a mite bit wobbly. Hopefully you found something enjoyable in it, however! If nothing else, imagining Peter in my outfit made me drool like the fangirl I am . . . you may not have noticed, but I love Peter endlessly. Edmund and Caspian are close ties for my second favorite Narnian character, but Peter's at the top. Anyways! (I'm rambling!) I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review~!

bastardo: Bastard
'Hijo de puta!: Son of a bitch