![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: Men of Honor
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "You could stay here," he suggests. Peter/Glozelle, PC missing scene.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to Walden Media.
Author's Note: I believe it wasrealpestilence who pointed out that Glozelle was exactly Peter's type, and encouraged this madness.
"Where exactly are you planning to go?"
Glozelle turns around slowly. Peter of Narnia is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted up, his gaze cool and sharp.
"Archenland or Calormen, perhaps," he says. "They always need soldiers."
"Some things never change," Peter observes.
"I suppose not."
The boy king -- and he is a king, more so than Miraz, Caspian IX, or their father had ever been -- pushes himself off the doorframe and steps forward. There's suddenly a sheathed sword in his hand, a Telmarine one. The door closes behind him.
"You could stay here," he suggests. "Stay in Narnia. Caspian could use a man like you."
"Not a man like me," Glozelle says. "I have been with Miraz for too long, I think. I cannot stay in Narnia."
"Then I suppose you'll want this," Peter says, and holds out Glozelle's sword, hilt-first.
Glozelle steps forward and wraps his fingers around the scabbarded blade, but doesn't take the sword. "You trust me with a blade?" he asks. "Why?"
"You're a man of honor," Peter says simply, and lets go.
Glozelle draws the sword and drops the scabbard. He puts the tip of the blade agaisnt Peter's throat. "Are you so sure?"
The High King regards him calmly over the blade. "Yes," he says, and presses forward until the sword creases his throat and two drops of blood bead up. He raises one hand and pushes the blade aside, approaching until he and Glozelle are within kissing distance of each other.
"You're not going to kill me, General," he says, and then he reaches up and curves one hand around the back of Glozelle's neck, pulls his head down to press their mouths together.
Glozelle's too shocked to respond at first, but he opens his mouth after that instant and kisses Peter back. The boy king kisses like he's done this before and done it often, and while he's doing so he pries Glozelle's fingers from his sword-hilt and lets the blade clatter to the floor, forgotten. Glozelle turns them around, jerking at the edge of Peter's shirt and walking him backwards to the bed.
Afterwards, Peter stretches languorously, arching his back like a cat. He's naked and unashamed in his skin as he leans down and reaches for his trousers.
Glozelle watches him from the bed. Peter's skin is smooth and unscarred, the flawlessness of youth marred only by the still-fresh bruises from the battle. There's an old scar on his left arm, just over the muscle, and marks on his knuckles, on his face -- less than any cadet his age would have. The age he looks -- not his real age.
Glozelle knows that very well now.
He gets up and begins to dress. Peter leans down and picks up his discarded sword-belt, buckling the red leather on over his hips. There's a blood stain on his collar. Glozelle sits on the edge of his bed and pulls on his boots.
Peter picks up his fallen sword, sheathes it, and holds it out towards Glozelle.
He doesn't take it.
"This changes nothing," he says. "I will not stay in Narnia, not for Caspian."
"I don't expect it to," Peter says calmly.
"If you were to take the throne --" Glozelle begins without thinking, then stops.
Peter gives him a sweet, sad smile. "I don't think I can," he says. "But I appreciate the thought."
He keeps holding out Glozelle's sword, his arm unwavering. When Glozelle doesn't take it, he lays it down on the bed beside him. "Think about it," he says. "Caspian's about to be thrown to the hounds. He needs someone he can trust."
"That someone isn't me," Glozelle says.
"It could be," Peter says.
"I don't think so."
"Then good luck," he says, and leans down to kiss Glozelle again. Then he leaves and shuts the door behind him.
Glozelle stays where he is for a long time, looking at his sword. He can still taste the High King's kiss on his mouth when he rises and begins packing.
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "You could stay here," he suggests. Peter/Glozelle, PC missing scene.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to Walden Media.
Author's Note: I believe it was
realpestilence who pointed out that Glozelle was exactly Peter's type, and encouraged this madness."Where exactly are you planning to go?"
Glozelle turns around slowly. Peter of Narnia is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted up, his gaze cool and sharp.
"Archenland or Calormen, perhaps," he says. "They always need soldiers."
"Some things never change," Peter observes.
"I suppose not."
The boy king -- and he is a king, more so than Miraz, Caspian IX, or their father had ever been -- pushes himself off the doorframe and steps forward. There's suddenly a sheathed sword in his hand, a Telmarine one. The door closes behind him.
"You could stay here," he suggests. "Stay in Narnia. Caspian could use a man like you."
"Not a man like me," Glozelle says. "I have been with Miraz for too long, I think. I cannot stay in Narnia."
"Then I suppose you'll want this," Peter says, and holds out Glozelle's sword, hilt-first.
Glozelle steps forward and wraps his fingers around the scabbarded blade, but doesn't take the sword. "You trust me with a blade?" he asks. "Why?"
"You're a man of honor," Peter says simply, and lets go.
Glozelle draws the sword and drops the scabbard. He puts the tip of the blade agaisnt Peter's throat. "Are you so sure?"
The High King regards him calmly over the blade. "Yes," he says, and presses forward until the sword creases his throat and two drops of blood bead up. He raises one hand and pushes the blade aside, approaching until he and Glozelle are within kissing distance of each other.
"You're not going to kill me, General," he says, and then he reaches up and curves one hand around the back of Glozelle's neck, pulls his head down to press their mouths together.
Glozelle's too shocked to respond at first, but he opens his mouth after that instant and kisses Peter back. The boy king kisses like he's done this before and done it often, and while he's doing so he pries Glozelle's fingers from his sword-hilt and lets the blade clatter to the floor, forgotten. Glozelle turns them around, jerking at the edge of Peter's shirt and walking him backwards to the bed.
Afterwards, Peter stretches languorously, arching his back like a cat. He's naked and unashamed in his skin as he leans down and reaches for his trousers.
Glozelle watches him from the bed. Peter's skin is smooth and unscarred, the flawlessness of youth marred only by the still-fresh bruises from the battle. There's an old scar on his left arm, just over the muscle, and marks on his knuckles, on his face -- less than any cadet his age would have. The age he looks -- not his real age.
Glozelle knows that very well now.
He gets up and begins to dress. Peter leans down and picks up his discarded sword-belt, buckling the red leather on over his hips. There's a blood stain on his collar. Glozelle sits on the edge of his bed and pulls on his boots.
Peter picks up his fallen sword, sheathes it, and holds it out towards Glozelle.
He doesn't take it.
"This changes nothing," he says. "I will not stay in Narnia, not for Caspian."
"I don't expect it to," Peter says calmly.
"If you were to take the throne --" Glozelle begins without thinking, then stops.
Peter gives him a sweet, sad smile. "I don't think I can," he says. "But I appreciate the thought."
He keeps holding out Glozelle's sword, his arm unwavering. When Glozelle doesn't take it, he lays it down on the bed beside him. "Think about it," he says. "Caspian's about to be thrown to the hounds. He needs someone he can trust."
"That someone isn't me," Glozelle says.
"It could be," Peter says.
"I don't think so."
"Then good luck," he says, and leans down to kiss Glozelle again. Then he leaves and shuts the door behind him.
Glozelle stays where he is for a long time, looking at his sword. He can still taste the High King's kiss on his mouth when he rises and begins packing.