Chapter Text
His first thought is that it’s like a dream—the kings of old, here to aid him in his time of need.
His second thought, once everything quiets down, is about Peter’s hand around the hilt of his sword.
After his coronation, this is his undoing.
He tells himself it's the wine that compels him, the giddiness of celebration, but when Peter's hands are on him he stops pretending.
Peter is gentle and a little awkward, and Caspian wants every golden part of him, can feel the goodness in his touch.
Maybe this is what it means to be king.