[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

[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."

[sai_delgado]

Her gaze is wide and startled once more. "For me? Why?"

The grass of the hillside is silvered with the sheen of starlight, glimmering around them as they pass. Behind them, the sounds of celebration fade, becoming softer with distance or mayhap a trick of the air.

"I couldn't ever fear this place, lady-- yer Majesty," she corrects herself. "It's different here."

She doesn't feel especially brave, though, not right now. Susan bites her lip, and tries not to think of Olive Thorin.

[the_seafarer]

"Because you were in pain when you came through the Door."

She leads them to a soft patch of grass, then lets go Susan's hand and sinks gracefully down to sit, patting the space near her with an inviting hand. "Because you are beloved by one who is dear to me. Because the stars over the place between places wept for your fear when you ran beneath them, seeking you knew not what. Because the great Song has been strengthened by the actions of you and your friends."

The girl smiles at her, warm and kind. "For all these reasons and more, I would speak with you."

[sai_delgado]

She lowers herself to the ground beside the star-queen, Lady Liliandil, and draws her knees up so that she can wrap her arms loosely around them. But oh, that feels too much like hiding, and in the next moment she shifts to sit cross-legged instead, her hands at her sides and light on the soft grass.

"I'll cry their pardon, then, for distressing them," she says, even as she struggles with the thought of stars weeping. "And yers, Lady Queen, if I've -- if I've offended ye or caused ye upset in any way. Any way at all."

[the_seafarer]

"You have not," the star's daughter tells her. "In any way."

She lifts her face to the night sky, the gleam of starlight on her skin and caught in the net of her hair like diamonds. "I loved my mortal life, Daughter of Eve. I loved my husband; I loved my son. I loved my subjects. But there – "

She gazes toward the firmament, then looks back at Susan. "– Is where I belong. Watching over all. A few more closely than others, perhaps," she adds, with a glint of humor.

[sai_delgado]

That hint of amusement startles a soft breath of laughter from her. "Aye, and of course ye would."

As quickly as it comes, though, the laughter bends under another thought, and Susan leans impulsively forward in her sudden concern. "But -- ye're not -- if ye're lonely, there must be some way--"

[the_seafarer]

The girl smiles at her, eyes warm and the curve of her lips gentle. "How could I be lonely?" she asks, and sweeps her hand to gesture at the skies, where the stars collect so thickly it looks as though they'd been spilled from a cup. "I have my kin. My friends here in this land. And all the many worlds to watch over."

Her gaze, as it falls back on Susan, is sweetly pleased by her concern, though she's swift to soothe it. "Do not worry for me, Daughter of Eve. I am content."

[sai_delgado]

"Other worlds than these," Susan murmurs. "Aye, then, an'ye'd have it so. But ye should kennit, that ye're well-loved."

[the_seafarer]

"I do."

She brushes her palm over the grass as if marveling at the sensation, and meets Susan's gaze. A breeze picks up and plucks at her hair, sending golden strands drifting. "To love, and to love well; to hold onto one another; to offer and receive companionship – these things are a joy. And the hearts of the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve are well-suited to such. It is to be cherished."

[sai_delgado]

(careless love - o careless love)

"Ye say true, and I say thankya," Susan says, soft and clear.

(I'll live and die for the sake of love and never count the cost)

"More than almost anything else, I wot."

(bird and bear and hare and fish)