[au] Narnia and the North

[the_seafarer]

There's a chill bite to the air, these days. The horses have been growing out their winter coats, and they look shaggy and plump as Caspian turns them out into the paddocks. Behind the stables, in the makeshift woodshop he'd cobbled together, the sleigh from his drawings is starting to come together. 

He hopes he'll have it finished by Christmas. With a little luck, and maybe some assistance, he thinks it should be possible. The tack, he's largely left up to Susan's devices, though he'd commission Gimli the dwarf for the various buckles and other metal pieces they'll need.

Once the horses are turned out, he gets to his other morning chores with a will, whistling cheerfully as he does. The stable stays strangely quiet around him. It takes him the better part of an hour to realize the strangeness is because he's become accustomed to Susan's cheerful presence working alongside him, talking or humming or simply working in companionable silence. 

Caspian pauses in his task – refilling the grain chest – and looks around. Susan's nowhere to be seen, and when he later wanders through the stables, checking each stall and outside, he can't find her there, either.

Comments

[the_seafarer]

"Narnia is still a young world, as these things go," he murmurs. "A little over two thousand years, by most historians' reckoning."

And still, he hopes it never grows as thin and faded as Mid-World had sounded, as the world around it and under it moved on.

He shifts to stand behind her, so he can wrap both arms around her and so she can leans back against him. "You were to go to Gilead?"

[sai_delgado]

She nods, relaxing into his embrace. "With Roland. And 'Bert and Alain, of course. After Farson's men were dealt with. Except ka wouldn't have it so. It has neither heart nor mind, thee ken."

[the_seafarer]

He rests his head against hers and nods. "Nay, it doesn't."

Soft, as he watches the sunset's light gleam over the calm, rolling waves. "I'm sorry you never had a chance to see Gilead in life, Su. Even with the world moving on, it sounded grand indeed."

[sai_delgado]

"It were, from what Alain showed me, and all the stories they told."

Until the end had come, anyway, and then nothing was, any longer.

(O Discordia)

She's relaxed and quiet in his arms, watching the light over the water.

"But thee knows I don't blame them. Any of them."

[the_seafarer]

"Of course."

No more than he blames the Pevensies, for not being able to stay. "What is it Alain says? There'll be water if God wills it."

And not otherwise. He knows that well enough, and she, too. "The Emperor-over-the-sea has his plans, and they don't take into account in the wants and hopes of us mortal men and women, that I've ever known."

[sai_delgado]

Susan laughs. "Alain's so quiet, but when he speaks, he says all that's needful in only a few words. Aye, thee've the right of it, Caspian."

[the_seafarer]

"A fine quality in a man," he chuckles, and leans his cheek against her soft hair. Above them, the sky purples with evening, as rich and clear as it had been blue in the day.

"But I, for one, am thankful those plans included a waystation at the end of the universe."

[sai_delgado]

"And I." As the reflected light fades from the water, she turns in the circle of his arms to wrap hers around him. "So very, very glad."

[the_seafarer]

He keeps his arms around her and lowers his head to kiss her, softly. Behind him, the last glow of the sunset fades along the horizon, and as it does, a clear note sounds, vibrating through the air before it falls into a rippling melody.

Caspian pulls back and smiles at her. "Hark at the pan-pipes – shall we go see?"

[sai_delgado]

She beams up at him, bright-eyed and brimming with anticipation. "I'd love to, if thee are sure they wouldn't mind it."

[the_seafarer]

"Never have I known them to mind," he laughs. "But keep that spring in mind, when you're thirsty and your feet ache from the dance."

He pulls back and takes her hand, then tugs her into a run, back over the green meadows to the hidden vale they'd found before. But now, in the evening's last glow, it's filled with the strangest sorts of people: dwarves, clustered around the edges, passing flagons of ale; a naiad kicking her feet in the spring; fauns dancing in a merry circle. Where their dainty cloven hooves step, some moss beneath them blooms into light, and with the moon rising high above and the glowing ground below, there's no call for a fire to light their way.

But, perhaps best of all, there is even a very small herd of three or four real centaurs, observing the dance with indulgent smiles. One is even tapping a front hoof in time with the merry music, his tail swishing back and forth as his companions converse.

[sai_delgado]

She draws to a stop with him at the edge of the vale, and catches her breath in sheer wonder at the cheerful company she sees. Susan squeezes Caspian's hand and gives him a look of sheer delight.

[the_seafarer]

A red-brown streak flashes near them and reveals itself as a Fox, who sits on his hind legs and barks a laugh. "Hail, King Caspian!" it says. "Hail, Daughter of Eve! Will you join the frolic?"

"With a good will, dear Fox," Caspian laughs. The smile he turns on Susan is bright and delighted and boyish and full of joy. "Come, Su, come along."

[sai_delgado]

She couldn't resist that smile if she tried, and she doesn't wish to, say true. "Aye, and gladly," she laughs.

Susan drops a curtsey to the Fox and lets herself be drawn into the merry whirl.

[the_seafarer]

The fauns welcome them to the dance with a joyful cry, and in a moment they've been separated. Caspian finds his hands held by a faun and a naiad, and when he looks, he sees Susan across the circle with two fauns whirling her along. Her hair flutters out in the breeze like a golden banner, and Caspian allows himself to set aside his worries for the moment, flinging himself whole-heartedly into the dance.

When he has to catch his breath, he finds himself with the centaurs and a few Badgers who have joined them, all of whom are curious and courteous, offering him wine and drinking his health. He keeps one eye on Susan, always, and does his best to introduce her to the Narnians, all of whom cluster about her with great interest.

[sai_delgado]

She answers what questions she's asked as best she can (--"of Hambry in Mejis" -- "a far-off land across worlds, met in a place His Majesty discovered on his travels" -- "he's a very dear friend, say true" --), joins in the laughter and the merriment, and spins through dance after dance.

After the latest of these, she flashes a warm smile to Caspian before making her way toward the spring for a moment's rest and respite.

[the_seafarer]

Night has well and truly fallen: a velvety black sky so thick with stars one hardly needs a lamp or torch to light their way. The moon casts its milky light over all as it rises, but this late in the night, it's the stars' light that casts the vale and the meadows beyond into gentle, silvered relief.

And it's on this grass, when Susan comes to the spring, a girl stands. Dressed in white she is, with pale golden hair spilling down her back to her hips in rippling waves. Some soft, silvery light seems to catch on her skin, her hair, her simple white gown, but despite the glow, the smile on her fair face is clear, as is the warmth in her eyes when her glance falls on Susan.

[sai_delgado]

She catches her breath in wonder at the ethereal beauty of the other woman, but smiles unhesitatingly back at her.

"Cry yer pardon, lady-sai," Susan says. "I'd not meant to disturb ye."

[the_seafarer]

"You haven't," the girl says, and her voice is low and merry and sweet. For a moment, her smile turns impish and little more human, and she gestures at the spring. "Drink, Daughter of Eve, if you thirst."

[sai_delgado]

"It's what I came over for, say true," she laughs. "A moment amid the revelry, do'ee ken? Well then, if ye'd excuse me a breath--"

Susan crouches down on her heels in a thoughtlessly easy motion to scoop up a couple of handfuls of water before she stands again. "We're well-met, I'd hope," she adds, with a bright smile. "I'm Susan Delgado, late of Hambry in Mejis."

[the_seafarer]

The girl's smile warms, and her eyes crinkle with it. "The fauns never seem to grow parched," she says, a laugh running like rippling water beneath her words. "At times they forget others need more than wine and music and merriment."

In answer, she steps forward and reaches her hands to take Susan's. Despite the light clinging to her skin, her fingers are warm, and so are her lips as she leans forward to press a light kiss first on one of Susan's cheeks, then the other. Her hair smells of starlight and soft night breezes. "Well-met," she agrees, leaning back again. "Susan, Daughter of Eve. Liliandil is the name they called me, here in these lands."

[sai_delgado]

"Lady Liliandil," she repeats, fog-gray gaze wide and startled. The lady gleams under the starlight, gleams with the starlight, and as she notices it in truth, realization sinks in.

(daughter of the stars)

Susan grows snow-pale all in an instant, save for two spots of color high on her cheeks.

"Lady Queen." Barely a whisper, but it hangs clear on the night air between them.

[the_seafarer]

The girl beams at her. "I loved a mortal man, a King of Narnia," she agrees. "When we wed, they called me Queen."

There's something sympathetic in the kind curve of her smile. "Have no fear, Susan. Come."

She offers one white hand to the other girl. "These stars are my kin, as was the sun which shone on you earlier. No harm will befall you here, Daughter of Eve. You are welcome."

[sai_delgado]

"He's here." She could no more refuse the gesture than she could lie, and reaches to take the star-queen's hand. Something about the light touch reminds her of the feel of Detta's hands and the gleam of moonlight.

(you were fearless once - take back your birthright)

"Yer husband. King Caspian. I can lead ye to him, an'ye like." After a second, she adds, "I'm not afraid of aught that's here in this land."

Welcome's a much more difficult matter, especially now.

[the_seafarer]

"I know," the star's daughter says, gently. There's some soft, sweet wistfulness in her gaze, but she keeps it steadily on Susan. "I thank you. But tonight, I am here for you."

She curls her fingers around Susan's and tips her head toward the rise that looks over the vale, then steps in that direction. Beneath her long white gown, her feet are bare against the soft grass. "You are brave, Susan of Mejis."

She sounds admiring, encouraging. "And right, not to fear this place."