the_seafarer | [au] Narnia and the North

[au] Narnia and the North

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"They certainly seemed to be having a wonderful time," Caspian agrees. "I'll have to keep an eye out for this Jah-Lila – it's always worthwhile, meeting a unicorn."

"Mayhap she'll come in again soon." Something shivers in her voice, just for a moment, before she braces it. "She were cold, last I saw her, and - and trying to start a - trying to get warm. But she let me groom her, a bit, and I showed her a paddock-shelter, so mayhap it'll help."

"I'm sure it will," he says, gently. "And if she doesn't mind the company of the normal sort of horses, it's lovely and warm in the stables themselves. Or perhaps she'd like a blanket."

"We'll keep a watch," Alain affirms, quiet and steady. They're all being so kind, Susan thinks, and as she does she has to fight back exhausted tears, for oh, she kens why, and she can't bear to see what their concern for her is doing to them.

"Aye," she says, after a second to gather herself. Help me, da', to be as strong as needs must. Susan looks around at them, her smile carefully fixed. "Ye will, I kennit."

She starts to sit up, bracing herself with her hand against the couch. "My wits have gone wandering, and mayhap I'd best follow them," she says, trying to make light of it. "I'll give ye good-even, and wish ye long days and pleasant nights."

Instantly, Reepicheep runs to the floor. "Shall I escort you back to your rooms, Daughter of Eve?" he asks, politely.

Caspian leans forward to set his empty teacup down. "No need, Reep," he says, as lightly as he can. "I'll see her safely back."

"Thankee-sai, all the same," she manages, finding a warm smile for the Mouse.

Cuthbert stands up and takes her hand to draw her the rest of the way to her feet, then wraps her in a tight embrace. "We'll see thee in the morning," he murmurs. "And if there's aught thee need, I'm right down the hall."

"I kennit," she whispers, and finds a smile for him and for Alain too as he loosens his hold and looks down at her. "All's well enough, don't either of thee worry."

They all of them must know how impossible it will be for any of the men presently standing here – any of the knights, truly, including Reepicheep – not to worry, but not a one of them is apt to contradict her in any way.

Caspian stands, stepping back so she has room to embrace the gunslingers. "'Til the morning," he says, by way of farewell. "Goodnight."

Susan waits only for the others to bid Caspian farewell before she starts across the floor to the staff hallway, making her way with sheer determination. Each breath is shallow and far too rapid, and she struggles to try to control it.

He comes swiftly to her side and puts an arm about her to support her. Each light and ragged breath hurts his own chest, as though he's the one feeling the desperation, the panic. "Come now, my darling," he murmurs to her, voice low and steady and calm.

"Slowly, Su. I'm here."

"Sorry -- say sorry," she gasps, even as she leans into the curve of his arm.

"I don't want them to see--"

"We're nearly to the hall," he promises. "You're doing brilliantly, Su. My brave dear. Just a little further."

From behind, it ought to look just as though she's cuddling into his side. No one need know how much he's supporting her.

She gives herself up to his guidance, trusting blindly in him to lead her into the staff hallway and out of the main bar. But oh, as they draw closer to her quarters, she begins to tremble near-violently.

He glances behind and ahead, but all he can see is the door leading to her own rooms.

The same rooms she'd fled in a blind panic, after waking from the Lion knows what visions and nightmares. Caspian tucks his arm about her more firmly, keeps his voice low and cheerful. "Well, Su, what do you say to staying in my rooms tonight? A little change of scenery might do you good."

She stops walking and turns into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his shoulder.

Muffled --

"Thee very dear."

He puts his arms around her and strokes his hand over her hair, gentle, before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Stay with me," he murmurs, and hardly thinks about the way he might mean anything other than just for this night.

She nods against his shoulder, then tips her head back to look up at him. Susan shifts just enough so that she can raise her hand to his cheek for a moment, brushing her fingertips lightly over his skin.

He tips his head into her touch, then leans down to kiss her, very gently. "Come," he murmurs. "You can borrow something to wear, if you like."

She can wrap herself in one of his shirts, and curl into him, and if she wakes from a nightmare, he'll be there. He wishes he had been, this morning. "Are you tired, dear one?"

"I shouldn't be, and well I kennit." Her admission is soft and sorrowful as she turns to walk with him. "Mayhap it'll pass."

"It was a hard morning," he points out. "And a busy day after. And I know it's been harder and harder for you, these last weeks. I have to hope it will pass, and so I believe it will."

He can believe it easily enough for the both of them. She'll need all her energy and fortitude just to get through the next day.

She nods, and stays silent for a few seconds, keeping pace by his side.

"I'm scared, Caspian." Barely a breath, barely a whisper, easy to miss or overlook. "I'd thought I were braver, but I'm scared."

His arm tightens around her, and he can't keep from pressing his mouth to her hair. "My darling, you have been as brave as any knight, any king, any soldier I have ever known," he tells her, low but firm. "And braver than most. And they were all scared, too, I swear it. I know, you see, because I've so often been scared nearly witless, myself."

He's right, and well she kens it, but still feels somehow that she should be able to do more.

"It's like the cold, I wot," she says, after a moment, thinking of Susannah.

(Empathica)

"It wears at ye."

"Yes," he agrees, shepherding her gently toward the hall where his own rooms lie. "I suppose it does."

What comes to him is a memory of those long weeks in the doldrums, on the Treader when they'd had to ration the water and Eustace had at last snapped straight through.

She sighs, soft and slow. "It'll be over soon enough."

One way or another, and oh, she's desperately afraid of what happens if she's not strong enough. She has to be, she has to.

"Thee are worried, I kennit."

He doesn't try to dissuade her. "I am," he murmurs.

They draw level with his door; he doesn't let go of her, only searches out his key with a quick feel at his pocket and opens the door onto his own comfortably furnished quarters. "I'd begun to think – maybe it would be better simply to bring you and Alain and Cuthbert with me to Aslan's Country. Where it would be easier for you, at least."'

He ushers her inside, and closes and locks the door behind them, then sighs. "But I don't know that it wouldn't make things harder, in the end."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject