Narnia fic: He Shall Stand Before Kings [Peter/Caspian, adult]
Title: He Shall Stand Before Kings Author: celandineb Fandom: Narnia Pairing: Peter/Caspian Rating: adult Warnings: nothing in particular Summary: High King Peter must learn a new role, and the new King Caspian must accept necessity. Note: ~3100 words. This is for thevina, who saw Prince Caspian with me and thought that the slash potential of Peter/Caspian was much greater than Edmund/Caspian. Nevertheless, this is a bookverse fic, not filmverse. The title is from Proverbs 22:29, KJV.
Peter's wrist ached no longer; after the defeat of the Telmarines, Lucy had treated him with her cordial despite his protests that she ought to save it for those more badly wounded.
"You are the High King," she had said, "and it only takes a drop."
So now, the following morning, Peter paced restlessly through the camp. Caspian's messengers were on their way to announce amnesty to the Telmarines, and Aslan's offer of a new home to any who refused to live peaceably with the Old Narnians. Since those who wished to accept the offer were to come to Beruna within five days, there was no purpose in moving to the castle where Caspian had grown up, though the new king had sent for clothes and other necessities.
It was odd, even disturbing, not being the one in command. Caspian acknowledged Peter as High King, to be sure, yet now for the first time ever in Narnia, Peter had no real role to play. All right and proper, but Peter chafed nonetheless.
He was standing at the edge of the river, looking unseeing at the newly-restored ford, when a cough at his elbow brought his attention back to what was happening around him.
"Please, your majesty," said the faun who stood there -- Anteros, Peter thought his name might be. "King Caspian desires your presence. If you will come with me?"
Peter followed the faun to the pavilion where Caspian sat in state on a splendid chair hastily brought. To anyone else, the king doubtless appeared composed, but Peter had been in the same circumstance, two years before or twenty or perhaps two thousand, depending on how one counted, and he knew that Caspian must feel harried and uncertain. Aslan was not present. Peter supposed he was speaking with the girls, or simply making himself known to the Narnians and such Telmarines as were about.
"You wished to speak with me?" Peter asked, and caught the gleam of relief in Caspian's eyes.
"Yes. If you would all give half an hour to the High King and myself, please," Caspian said to the others present.
Doctor Cornelius raised his eyebrows, but along with Trumpkin and Trufflehunter and Glenstorm and others whose names Peter was unsure of, he withdrew. A gentle breeze blew through the open sides of the pavilion; their words might be private, but they would not be unseen.
Without waiting to be asked, Peter sat in one of the vacated chairs. Caspian nodded at him.
"Thank you. I'm not entirely accustomed to such ceremony; though a prince, with my uncle as regent I tended to be shuffled out of the way whenever possible, and other matters were more urgent when we were all at Aslan's How," Caspian said. "It's disconcerting to have one's friends, even one's own old tutor, suddenly treating one as a being apart. I'm glad you don't find it necessary."
Peter smiled. "In public, I shall maintain the correct protocols. King-to-king, I've never enjoyed them much either. Ruling with Edmund and Susan and Lucy, we of course didn't bother with that sort of thing amongst ourselves."
Caspian frowned a little. "That's one of the things I wished to discuss with you, the relationship between the High King and the lesser kings and queens -- with myself in particular, of course."
"As I told you yesterday morning," although it seemed far longer ago than a single day, "I, we, came to help you take your rightful place, not take it from you. I do not know how long Aslan intends for us to remain this time, but I doubt it will be anything like as lengthy a stay as the last... and so you should consider my High Kingship as nominal, although I would be pleased to advise you on any matter that you wish."
"I would welcome that," said Caspian. He bit his lip and opened his mouth as if to say something more, then shook his head slightly without speaking.
"At least you can take over an established government," Peter said, trying to be encouraging. "Miraz may have behaved as a tyrant in many ways, but you have generations of Telmarine rule to draw on: courts and records and tax collectors and judges and so on. We had to start from scratch, very nearly, after the White Witch's death, and with the best will in the world it seemed to take ages to settle things."
"That is true," Caspian said. Again he hesitated, but this time he spoke. "If you would stay here to advise me today -- and I will send for King Edmund as well -- I would be very grateful. And I would also ask you to join me this evening, in private, so that we might have discourse on some matters that I would prefer not to be widely known?"
"What matters, if I may inquire?" Peter's curiosity was provoked.
"I...I would rather not say, just now." Blood rushed up in Caspian's cheeks. "Will you join me?"
"Of course," Peter assured him. "I will come to your tent the third hour after supper."
Peter enjoyed the rest of the day, now that he had some purpose. He and Edmund sat together near Caspian as the new king spoke with his supporters, working out how in principle he wished to rule. Caspian had been taught in general terms how the Telmarine kings had structured their government, and thus had ideas of what changes he would make, though he would need records and reports to make the transition smooth, and the process would doubtless take some months or more to complete. Still, that was better than the years it had taken Peter.
Every once in a while Caspian would consult with Peter or Edmund or both, or one of them would interject a suggestion. It was satisfying to see how Caspian worked with others, courteous and willing to listen to advice, but also able to assert himself and hold firm when he disagreed with a proposal. Though Caspian's views and methods were not always those Peter would have followed himself, he would make a good king, Peter thought.
The meal at the end of the day was merry; they dined informally again, as they had the previous night, with music and bonfires to gladden hearts still rejoicing at yesterday's victory. Afterward there were stories told -- Peter heard Lucy laugh in delight to hear the tale of The Horse and His Boy, in which she and Susan and Edmund had all played some small part. Susan appeared thoughtful, even solemn, and stayed quiet through the story-telling. Peter watched after her as she slipped away early, but Edmund discussed the battle of Anvard and King Lune's treatment of Rabadash of Calormen with Reepicheep.
Caspian listened to the stories, and asked questions, but his eyes kept flickering back to Peter, who tried to read his expression and failed. He was slightly surprised when Caspian asked openly, "Are you coming, High King?", as he rose to return to his tent, but only because Caspian had made such a point that whatever it was he wished to discuss was a private matter.
The flaps of Caspian's tent had been left open all the evening, and the air inside was cool. Caspian lowered them himself, dismissing his attendant until morning.
"I can serve myself, and the High King, with a cup of wine at need," he said with a laugh, and the man bowed and withdrew.
Once again Peter seated himself without ceremony, and Caspian smiled.
"What is it you wished to discuss?" Peter asked.
Caspian held up one hand. "Permit me to serve you with some refreshment first," he said, and Peter reined in his curiosity and acquiesced, sipping the strong smooth liquid with enjoyment. Though no wine-bibber, he had learned to appreciate the fine vintages of both Narnia and Archenland when king, and had missed them upon his return to England.
Taking a cup for himself, Caspian drew his chair closer to Peter's and looked at him earnestly. "What is the first duty of a king?"
Peter blinked. "To discharge equitably his responsibilities to his people."
"I was taught that it was to provide an heir to the throne," said Caspian. "That was the reason for my conflict with my uncle, as you know; once he had a son of his own begetting, his brother's son -- though the true heir -- was a threat to him and his."
"Yes, so Trumpkin told us," said Peter.
Caspian drank a long draught from his wine. "Would you agree that providing an heir is a king's first responsibility?"
"Not first," said Peter thoughtfully. "An important one, to ensure continuity of rule, but not the only one."
"You never married, nor did your brother or sisters, so the chronicles and stories say. Is that true?" asked Caspian.
"It is. With four co-ruling, the question of an heir did not immediately arise; if one of us had died, the others would have continued on their thrones."
"Yet by the time of your departure from Narnia, you were, what, nearing forty yourself? Had you not thought that it was needful to secure the succession?"
Caspian's gaze was intent, and Peter shifted uncomfortably, recalling the reasons why he had never sought marriage during his rule, none of which were meet to tell Caspian as they involved others and not just himself.
"The matter was not yet pressing," he said shortly, looking away. "As it is not yet pressing for you."
"It will become so, soon or late." Caspian's voice was sad. "And that will pose..." he paused, "difficulties, I fear. I wished to know if you had the same reason for trouble as I."
Peter gave a bark of laughter. "Our reasons could not be exactly the same, I assure you." Whatever Caspian's reason might be, that was impossible.
"Ah."
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Caspian turning the silver cup in his hands, running his thumb over the embossed image that adorned it. A mounted knight, if it was the same as that which Peter's cup bore.
"I must speak of this to someone," Caspian said finally. "And you will not be here forever, so... Will you swear to keep my confidence, High King Peter?"
The formal request made Peter straighten and answer in kind, "I swear by the Lion himself, I will, King Caspian."
"Know then that I prefer men to women -- not that I have yet taken either to my bed, but I know my own desires," Caspian said. "I cannot imagine binding myself to any woman for a lifetime, knowing that I could not give her my heart in truth."
"A king rarely if ever weds for love," Peter reminded him. "And one may esteem one's spouse and honour her, even if love comes not to your marriage."
"You speak true, I know, but it seems to me a sorrowful thing, to share bed and board and yet not love. You refused marriage also -- but not, it seems, for the reason I would wish to?"
"No." Peter had had some experiences with other boys, at school, and once or twice in Narnia for reasons that had been compelling at the time; however, his tastes did not generally lean in that direction. Not generally. He regarded Caspian thoughtfully. "I had other reasons for my refusal, although I assure you I do understand your feelings."
"Do you?" A gleam of -- hope? relief? -- shone in Caspian's eyes. "I feared you would despise me for them."
He was braver than Peter had realised, then, to have spoken at all.
"No. I have known well other men who felt similarly." Edmund, for one, although he did not think that Edmund knew that Peter was aware of his preferences. A king must exercise discretion. From his observations that very day, Peter suspected that Edmund might regard Caspian in such a light... and now he was forced to recognise that Caspian's feelings toward himself were something more than simple admiration for a man who was to Caspian a legendary hero.
"Do you find women entirely repugnant?" Peter asked after a moment, as a way to carry on the conversation while he considered his alternatives. "You are correct that eventually there will be pressure brought to bear on you to marry and sire a son, although if your uncle's son survives to manhood, he could be your heir instead."
"If Prunaprismia chooses to accept Aslan's offer, as she well might, having no position here any longer as the widow of a traitorous usurper, Miraz's son would go with her," Caspian pointed out. "And my forefathers tended to leave but one son to follow them. I have no other kin closer than a cousin or two in the fifth degree."
"Then you must wed, it is true," said Peter. "Though High King, I cannot release you from the need to provide a successor, despite my own judgment that ruling well and justly is of greater importance. A king must look to the future, and the well-being of his people not merely in his own lifetime, regardless of his own wishes."
Caspian bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I will do my best, my lord. If I must wed, then I will, and within ten years; for fate is fickle, as we both know."
Peter finished his wine and set the cup aside, waiting until Caspian looked up before speaking again. "Because I trust you to do so, I will grant you any other boon you desire."
"Any boon?" Caspian caught his breath.
"Any," repeated Peter, knowing what Caspian would almost certainly request. "With the stipulation that, as you asked me to keep this conversation in confidence, so should your boon be secret between us."
"Of course," Caspian agreed hastily. "I... I thank you for your generosity. Peter," he added, seeming to try the name on his tongue, pronouncing it with care. "I think you know what I would ask of you, but I do not demand it, if it is not to your liking to lie with men. Sooner would I never do so than be with someone unwilling."
Peter eyed him with deliberate consideration. "To lie with another man is not my usual preference, but I have had some experience and do not dislike it; and the two of us, I think, could find great pleasure together."
Caspian flushed. "As I said, I have never..." he began.
"I understand." Having offered himself to Caspian, Peter was prepared to carry through, whatever that might require. "I will show you what I know of passion between men."
He stood, and Caspian stood likewise, his expression diffident, waiting for Peter to take the lead. Grasping Caspian's hand, Peter drew him toward the simple camp bed that stood against one wall of the tent.
"We must be quiet," he warned Caspian. "Sound will carry through canvas walls." At Caspian's nod, Peter bent and removed his shoes, signalling Caspian to do likewise, then lay down.
Caspian's lips were rough in spots where he had bitten them, but he quickly opened his mouth to Peter's searching tongue, his own responding after only brief hesitation. He tasted sweetly of the wine they had drunk together, and put his hand up to Peter's neck, pulling him closer.
It had been months since Peter had lain with anyone, and the hasty fumbling lust of schoolboys were hardly to be compared with the ardour of a king. Caspian might never have had the opportunity to gratify such desires before, but he learned from Peter's unspoken teaching and was both generous and welcoming.
Peter stayed him when Caspian moved to take off his garments. "Too great a risk," Peter murmured, and Caspian grimaced with regret, but acquiesced, only unlacing and parting them enough to enable Peter to touch him, and doing likewise to Peter in return.
There was no opportunity to take Caspian fully; that would require greater time than they had, if Peter were to do so with the care he would prefer to take, given Caspian's inexperience, and require as well some ointment or unguent which they also lacked. Thus Peter merely pressed against him, heat and hardness meeting, hands learning the strokes that would bring pleasure to another both like and unlike oneself.
Caspian breathed quickly, almost panting, and raised one hand to stifle a whimper against his own fist as Peter's caresses caused him to shudder in a greater ecstasy than he had known, a joy doubled for being shared. His other hand was sticky with his own seed as he fondled Peter in return, and Peter kept his eyes on Caspian as he let himself spill against the other boy's skin. He had far more practise in keeping quiet during such an encounter, and made only the faintest groan when the climax overtook him.
"I, I, my lord," Caspian gasped, and then, "Oh," as Peter raised Caspian's fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, then kissed Caspian, feeding him the taste of himself.
"Are you satisfied with your boon?" Peter asked Caspian as they set their clothing to rights, using a damp handkerchief to wipe clean what needed it.
"I am." Caspian made as if to kneel, but Peter put his hands on Caspian's upper arms, lifting him up and embracing him.
"From this night forward, you kneel to no one, save Aslan. Not even to me. I am High King of Narnia, not a petty tyrant to demand ceremony as substitute for power I do not have." He kissed Caspian on one cheek, then the other. "I will support and advise you for as long as Aslan permits me to remain in Narnia, but what we have done this night will not be repeated."
Not between them, at least, though Peter could not regret what had passed. Edmund, though -- perhaps Edmund might become to Caspian what Peter himself could not be, if Caspian had the wit to see that Edmund shared his inclinations.
"I understand." Caspian's voice was full of solemn determination. "I thank you for the favour you have already shown me; I will not beg for more than you are willing to give."
Peter paused, his hand on the tent-flap, and stepped back to Caspian to kiss his lips a final time. "If my esteem is of any value, you have it -- you have well-earned it through your courteous behaviour, King Caspian."
Then he departed to the tent he and Edmund shared, where he rolled himself in his blankets and slept, content.