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He appeared as if by magic in the fourth year of their reign – sent by Aslan's will, or so the stories go. Caspian, he introduced himself as. Just Caspian. With wide-eyes and an uneasy smile, he offered up his allegiance in the Lion's name with all due solemnity and, High King Peter, both amused and intrigued by this mysterious stranger embraced him in welcome. “Peace, friend,” he said, “my home is your home, for so long as you so desire. Narnia receives you gladly.”
And so began an unlikely friendship.
There were those who resented Caspian's presence at court – fearing his foreign influence, his unknown motives – but these were dispelled by the youth's own charms soon enough. Of course, as old fears died, new ones were quick to take their place. As days passed into weeks and weeks into months, it soon became impossible to ignore the exorbitant amount of time the High King spent with the stranger – nor the way their curious glances gradually softened into something deeper, more dangerous.
Rumor became fact when King Edmund, suffering from a bit of insomnia, descended upon the castle gardens for a relaxing walk only to stumble upon what was unmistakably a late-night rendezvous between lovers – between his brother, and Caspian. With a sense of foreboding, Edmund silently stole away, speaking of his discovery only once, in warning to a boy he had come to know as a friend: “If you break his heart, I'll kill you.”
“If I break his heart,” Caspian vowed lowly, “you won't have to.”
But love is blind.
One day, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the stranger was gone – and with him, Peter's heart.
The High King never loved again.
And when, centuries later, he was called forth from his world to save Narnia once more, this time to put a strange boy with a familiar name and a familiar face on the throne, memories of his lost love savaged his mind and – choked by bitterness – he cursed Aslan for his callousness.
Thirteen hundred years was a long time to wait.