Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Narnia or its characters despite the fact I've been crowned a Queen of Narnia on four separate occasions.
Author's Note: This story is based on Disney's Prince Caspian movie. It covers events after the final battle until just before the Pevensies leave for home.
WARNINGS: Some blood and violence. No sex, slash, incest etc.
It was the night after the most exhausting day of the most exhausting week of his entire life, and Caspian couldn't sleep. He could blame the battle's leftover adrenaline, which still made him want to start at every sudden sound and movement. He could blame his sore body: the strained muscles, the bruised back, the aching arm. But in truth, it was his mind keeping him awake. No matter what he did his thoughts refused to silence.
After the battle, Aslan's Howe was no longer a viable place to stay. The entrance was still blocked and the ground around it was too unstable and too much like a graveyard. So they set up a temporary camp at Beruna using some of the Telmarine's own supplies as they dealt with the injured and the dead. Once they were rested and recuperated, they planned to move on to the castle where they hoped the few remaining soldiers would not give them too much trouble. The Telmarine soldiers that had surrendered were now weaponless and armourless but well guarded. For the most part, there was a sense of resignation amongst the newly made prisoners but there remained some disquiet and unease.
Caspian knew they couldn't be kept prisoners forever. A decision had to be made about their fate and the decision would have to be his, the first of many decisions, because though there had yet to be an official coronation, with Aslan's blessing, he was king. It was all his responsibility now.
Stretched out on a blanket in one of their hastily erected tents, the new king turned over for the hundredth time that night. Glancing around, he noted that the space next to his remained empty. Edmund was most likely still on guard duty. Across the tent, he could just make out the form of the high king lying quiet and still.
When shifting position for the hundredth and first time proved just as ineffective at making him comfortable, Caspian decided to give in. Sitting up, he reached for the sword beside him, but hesitated. The battle was over, he reminded himself. He was going to have to get used to going without it and he might as well start now. Grabbing his cloak and his boots instead, he got up.
"You should really try to get some rest."
Caspian jumped reaching for his absent sword before he realized it was Peter who had spoken. He let out a sigh. "If only that were possible."
"You should still try to get as much as you can. There's a lot to do tomorrow."
"I know," Caspian replied tersely and turned to leave.
The high king sat up examining Caspian in the dim light. "Are you alright?"
The Telmarine Prince looked back. He opened his mouth then closed it again and shook his head. "I'm fine. I just need some fresh air." And he swiftly excused himself.
Frowning, Peter watched as Caspian's silhouette disappeared into the darkness.