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bedlamsbardHI. Want to know what I've been writing in class these past few days? Werewolf!Pevensies! This time in Narnia.
He's expecting the man -- boy, little gods, he's no more than fifteen -- to stop his attack once he's been disarmed, but instead the boy bares his teeth in a snarl and leaps at him as Caspian's still trying to tug the sword free. It's not a boy that hits him but a wolf with golden fur; Caspian goes tumbling down with the wolf on his chest, still groping vainly for his dagger.
"Peter!" he hears a woman shout, and the wolf raises its head and shakes it, resolving into the boy, who's straddling him with Caspian's own dagger at his throat.
And the High King was a wolf upon the battlefield, meeting his foes body to body and tooth and claw against naked blade.
"High King Peter?" he gasps, feeling the blade bite sharp against his skin.
The boy frowns down at him. "Prince Caspian?" he says dubiously.
"Behind you, Pete," a second boy says, and the High King turns his head. Caspian looks too, ignoring the press of the dagger against his Adam's apple.
"I thought the High King was a Son of Adam," one of the watching Narnians says darkly.
"I am a Son of Adam," Peter says, straightening and leaving Caspian on his back as he walks over to pull his sword -- little gods, Rhindon itself, the sword of Narnia -- free of the tree.
"You are a werewolf," Asterius corrects.
Caspian gets up slowly, reaching for his fallen sword. Werewolves are dark creatures, dangerous creatures, untrustworthy, treacherous, bloodthirsty killers who served as the White Witch's shock troops -- according to legend.
"Don't even think about it, your highness," says the girl who called the High King's name, and Caspian turns to see her with a great bow, an arrow on the string and aimed straight between his eyes. Queen Susan the Gentle. There's a second boy beside her, a naked sword in his hand, a younger girl, and a distantly familiar dwarf.
Caspian lowers his sword.
"You noticed," the High King says flatly. "You're a minotaur. Who are you to judge?"
"The High King and his family are supposed to be human," Glenstorm says. His glare is sharp and accusing.
"Oh, for the love of Aslan," the second boy hisses. He strides forward to stand at the High King's side. "We can leave, if you'd prefer. Although it'd be a damn foolish decision."
"This is not spoken of in our legends!"
"You travel with minotaurs and you have a problem with werewolves?" the youngest girl bursts out.
"Legends," Queen Susan says darkly, "aren't always correct."
"You broke a man's neck tonight," Caspian says. His voice is shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
Peter raises his eyebrows. "Broke a man's neck?" he repeats. "I'm still picking bits of Telmarine out from between my teeth."
"You've been watching me all night," Peter says against Caspian's ear, his voice dark with promise. He runs a hand down Caspian's hip to linger on his thigh, two fingers just brushing the front of his breeches.
Caspian draws in a sharp breath.
"I -- I haven't --" Caspian says, his voice shaking. He's lying, and Peter knows it. Caspian hasn't been able to take his eyes off him.
The High King laughs; Caspian feels it in his bones. Peter's directly behind him, so close that the layers of cloth and air between them seem superfluous. "Look at me," Peter orders, soft and sure, and Caspian turns his head.
The High King's face is caught between shadows and the flickering gold of the firelight; Caspian has only the sharp impression of it before Peter's mouth is on his.
Peter's lips are shockingly soft, almost like a woman's, but he kisses like no one Caspian's ever known before, all teeth and tongue and sharp desire. He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until Peter stops kissing and Caspian looks for him. Peter looks wrecked, cheeks flushed and mouth red and swollen, his pupils blown. He's disconcertingly human. They've switched positions sometime; Caspian has Peter up against the wall, a knee pressed between his thighs and his hands against Peter's, splayed out on either side of his head. He doesn't remember moving at all.
Caspian freezes. Peter's head is tilted up towards him and he looks almost surprised; it's the first time Caspian's ever been aware of the few inches he has on the High King.
Peter blinks once, slowly, and the spell is broken. "Inside," he says. "I want you in a bed."
He's expecting the man -- boy, little gods, he's no more than fifteen -- to stop his attack once he's been disarmed, but instead the boy bares his teeth in a snarl and leaps at him as Caspian's still trying to tug the sword free. It's not a boy that hits him but a wolf with golden fur; Caspian goes tumbling down with the wolf on his chest, still groping vainly for his dagger.
"Peter!" he hears a woman shout, and the wolf raises its head and shakes it, resolving into the boy, who's straddling him with Caspian's own dagger at his throat.
And the High King was a wolf upon the battlefield, meeting his foes body to body and tooth and claw against naked blade.
"High King Peter?" he gasps, feeling the blade bite sharp against his skin.
The boy frowns down at him. "Prince Caspian?" he says dubiously.
"Behind you, Pete," a second boy says, and the High King turns his head. Caspian looks too, ignoring the press of the dagger against his Adam's apple.
"I thought the High King was a Son of Adam," one of the watching Narnians says darkly.
"I am a Son of Adam," Peter says, straightening and leaving Caspian on his back as he walks over to pull his sword -- little gods, Rhindon itself, the sword of Narnia -- free of the tree.
"You are a werewolf," Asterius corrects.
Caspian gets up slowly, reaching for his fallen sword. Werewolves are dark creatures, dangerous creatures, untrustworthy, treacherous, bloodthirsty killers who served as the White Witch's shock troops -- according to legend.
"Don't even think about it, your highness," says the girl who called the High King's name, and Caspian turns to see her with a great bow, an arrow on the string and aimed straight between his eyes. Queen Susan the Gentle. There's a second boy beside her, a naked sword in his hand, a younger girl, and a distantly familiar dwarf.
Caspian lowers his sword.
"You noticed," the High King says flatly. "You're a minotaur. Who are you to judge?"
"The High King and his family are supposed to be human," Glenstorm says. His glare is sharp and accusing.
"Oh, for the love of Aslan," the second boy hisses. He strides forward to stand at the High King's side. "We can leave, if you'd prefer. Although it'd be a damn foolish decision."
"This is not spoken of in our legends!"
"You travel with minotaurs and you have a problem with werewolves?" the youngest girl bursts out.
"Legends," Queen Susan says darkly, "aren't always correct."
"You broke a man's neck tonight," Caspian says. His voice is shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
Peter raises his eyebrows. "Broke a man's neck?" he repeats. "I'm still picking bits of Telmarine out from between my teeth."
"You've been watching me all night," Peter says against Caspian's ear, his voice dark with promise. He runs a hand down Caspian's hip to linger on his thigh, two fingers just brushing the front of his breeches.
Caspian draws in a sharp breath.
"I -- I haven't --" Caspian says, his voice shaking. He's lying, and Peter knows it. Caspian hasn't been able to take his eyes off him.
The High King laughs; Caspian feels it in his bones. Peter's directly behind him, so close that the layers of cloth and air between them seem superfluous. "Look at me," Peter orders, soft and sure, and Caspian turns his head.
The High King's face is caught between shadows and the flickering gold of the firelight; Caspian has only the sharp impression of it before Peter's mouth is on his.
Peter's lips are shockingly soft, almost like a woman's, but he kisses like no one Caspian's ever known before, all teeth and tongue and sharp desire. He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until Peter stops kissing and Caspian looks for him. Peter looks wrecked, cheeks flushed and mouth red and swollen, his pupils blown. He's disconcertingly human. They've switched positions sometime; Caspian has Peter up against the wall, a knee pressed between his thighs and his hands against Peter's, splayed out on either side of his head. He doesn't remember moving at all.
Caspian freezes. Peter's head is tilted up towards him and he looks almost surprised; it's the first time Caspian's ever been aware of the few inches he has on the High King.
Peter blinks once, slowly, and the spell is broken. "Inside," he says. "I want you in a bed."