the_seafarer | [ AU ] to break a curse

[ AU ] to break a curse

Reap is past, and Susan is looking brighter and happier by the day, and now true winter is beginning to settle over this strange bar at the end of the universe. Caspian hauls the Hope up into the stables to be wintered and works long hours at the sleigh he'd designed, losing himself in the simple pleasures of working with the wood, sanding and carving in turn.

It's after one such day spent in labor that he comes to the bar proper, freshly showered and comfortably attired in a loose linen shirt and breeches, to join Susan by her spot at the fireside. He's chatting amiably with her about the horses, about how Corella is coming with her harness-training, and has just begun pouring her a glass of wine with the door opens and Caspian freezes. In the next moment, the glass overflows with the rich red liquid, but he doesn't notice; his eyes are locked on the tall, fair young man who has come in, dressed all in black.

Even to those who have never seen him, there may be something familiarly of Caspian about his face... but Susan has seen him, and she'll know as soon as she looks that Rilian, Prince of Narnia and Caspian's son, has returned.

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Cuthbert's room is the closer, and so Susan goes there first. She knocks with one hand even as she tries the door with the other. On finding it unlocked, she opens it without waiting for him to answer.

Alain's there as well, she sees, companionably smoking in an armchair across from Bert, who's already on his feet as she pushes the door wide. "Susan, what's wrong?" Bert crosses the room in long steps to take her by the arms, hands gentle as he searches her face. "What has thee so upset?"

"Oh, please come," she gasps. "Both of ye, come quickly, do. It's Rilian, Rilian's here, Caspian's son - he said he told thee, Bert, ye kennit -- he doesn't ken him, he's witched and needs help."

Alain's discarded his cigarette and come to join them by the time she finishes her incoherent explanation. "Lead the way, Sue," he says, his voice calm and steady but his gunslinger's gaze keen and sharp, as is Cuthbert's. "We're with thee."

Rilian is taller than he. It's been so long he'd almost forgotten that, how his son had inherited the height and beauty of his mother the Star. Still, Caspian looks up at him with dismissiveness bordering on contempt. "Should I fear you, good sir knight, who hides behind a woman's skirts and fears his own freedom?"

The Knight's face pales to the lips, and his eyes grow cold. With a cool, slithering sound, he draws his blade, the metal gleaming under the friendly lights of the Bar. A waitrat that had been coming near to take their order squeaks and scurries away.

"Rescind your words, boy, or draw your sword and face me."

They walk with Susan into the main bar, where she freezes in her tracks with a sharp gasp. Cuthbert's glance follows hers across the room, and in the next instant he's moving with all speed. He doesn't even have to look to know that Alain's moving as well, off to the side, keeping canda so that they can't be taken down with a single strike.

"You're going to want to sheathe that blade," he warns as he reaches them, light and easy. "You're breaking the rules, and that kind of thing gets frowned on around here."

They are not the only ones moving at the sound of a sword being drawn.

Peter Pevensie, who had only just stepped out of the House of Arch in search of a nice cuppa, is in the next moment striding forth to stand at Caspian's shoulder. He gives the two gunslingers – his comrades on Security – a nod, then speaks, firm and without room for argument. "Those who bear a naked blade in this place oft regret it," he says, stern. "What's all this, then?"

"This child," the Knight says, livid, "has besmirched my Lady's name, honor, and insulted her very self. I'll not stand for it; damn your rules!"

Edited 2023-12-01 02:41 (UTC)

Susan may not be as fast as a gunslinger, but she arrives hard on their heels all the same. She's careful to stop to the side, out of the line of fire or reach of sword, even as she searches Caspian's expression.

Whatever he's thinking and feeling's pressed deep down and hidden, but he's too still and too calm, mayhap unnaturally so. And yet, there's naught of surprise on his features, she realizes. Susan whirls back to Rilian with a flash in her eyes and furious worry for father and son both driving her.

"For shame, sai," she chides. "He seeks to help ye, and ye'd act so?"

"I've no quarrel with you, miss," the Knight says, his jaw tight and his gaze locked on Caspian's face. "But if this churl will not grant me an honorable duel in which to better teach him his manners – "

"Speak softly, sir Knight," Caspian says, dry. He's pushing, pushing – the clock is ticking ever closer to that fatal hour. But it isn't close enough, not yet. "Ere you dishonor your Lady further by seeing yourself thrown into yet another prison, one without her sweet presence. But by what right must I defend myself to you? You, who have even forgotten the face of your father?"

Beside him, Peter stiffens, but Caspian continues, lost now in his grief and rage. "But as you will. Step outside with me, sir, and I will happily prove my honor in clean battle."

Susan goes absolutely still and as pale as snowfall, and Cuthbert lets out a low whistle, studying the two of them. Alain gives Caspian a sharp, searching look. He can't think of a single time when he's seen the other man pick a fight like this. Either he's lost himself under the weight of what he's facing, or there's something the rest of them don't know, and Alain's betting it's the latter.

So's Bert, apparently. "Caspian's got the right of it," 'Bert says. "Take another step, make another move in here, and I'll put you in the cells myself. If you're smart, you'll sheathe. Now. Outside's different."

"As you will," the Knight mutters, and sullenly slides his sword home into its scabbard. Beside Caspian, Peter relaxes only fractionally. "I caution you to reconsider this folly," he warns. "Caspian is a practised swordsman. What would your lady think if you were injured here - or worse, killed?"

"I will not stand meekly by and allow this boy to insult my lady and my honour," the Knight says, stubborn, and Caspian turns, takes Peter by the arm.

"This is not your fight, High King," he murmurs. "And not one you can relieve me of, not this time. But as you love me, allow me to do this. Trust me, Peter, in his name."

"He's neither child nor churl, sai." Pale she is still, save for the two spots of color riding high on her cheeks, but oh, her voice is clear and carrying, even as her glance lingers for an instant on how Caspian grips Peter's arm and murmurs something urgent to him, before she looks back at Rilian.

"And I tell ye that if ye'll not be turned aside from this path, ye'll come to regret it dearly, say true." One hand is clenched tightly in her skirts, and the other clutched in a loose knot at the center of her chest as she sways a step forward.

Peter searches his face, but nods, and Caspian nods in return before moving past him, heading towards the lake door. He stops first by Susan, taking her hands in his and speaking gently, his eyes softening. "Thank you, dear one."

The Knight pushes past Peter, making his way to the door, and looks over, still furious. "Speak better sense to your companion," he spits. "Ere you lose him at the edge of my blade."

"Temper, temper," Cuthbert cautions, lazily, but there's nothing lazy about the hard, sharp look in his eyes as he watches the Knight. "Mind your manners. Susan's done nothing but try to help you, more than you realize. Alain, I don't suppose you could...?"

The sudden surge of hope that rushes through her dies as Alain shakes his head. "Not with him as he is, more's the pity. Walls are up. It'd be a different kind of fight, one that might cause more harm than good."

Susan takes a deep breath and squeezes Caspian's fingers as she looks up at him, her fog-gray gaze meeting his sea-colored one. "Don't let him hurt thee," she says, soft. "For his sake, and mine, and all who love thee."

"I'll do what I can," he murmurs in return. "But I can't hurt him, Su. All I can do is try to keep him here, distracted, as long as I can."

He lifts her hands and presses a kiss to her fingers. "I won't tell you to look away, dear, but it might be easier for you if you did."

"I'll not leave thee to face this alone, and I'll not turn away from what's to come, either."

Soft it may be, but it's fierce with determination. She cups his face in her hands for a moment. "Come whatever storms."

He smiles at her, then gently lifts her hands from his cheeks and squeezes them before letting go and following the Knight to the door, where he waits impatiently.

Caspian strides past him, into the dark, and unsheathes his own blade in a ringing sound of metal on leather as Peter takes up a position at the corner of the makeshift dueling field, his expression grim. Tossing his scabbard aside, he holds the sword loosely at his side, standing straight and tall. There is nothing of the boy Caspian about him now - only the king, older than Peter, and as stern. "Now, come, if you will," he calls.

"As you say, sir." The Knight draws his sword and salutes, expression calm and cold, and then moves.

Susan follows them out into the cold night and stands to the side, watching as she'd promised. Cuthbert looks at her, then trades a swift look with Alain, receiving a nod in answer before he goes to stand on the other side of the field, across from Peter, ready to guard or interfere as needed.

For his part, Alain takes up a post beside Susan. "He's planning something, I wot," he murmurs, for her ears alone.

Susan nods, her gaze not leaving the two of them for an instant. "He's trying to - to distract him. To delay him. As long as he can. But he'll not hurt him, Alain, nor try, and Rilian - he doesn't ken him."

Alain lets out a harsh breath. "Then we'd all best hope he's as good a swordsman as he and yon Peter both think he is."

Steel rings as the younger man strikes out, and Susan clasps her hands tight in front of her.

Edited 2023-12-03 03:22 (UTC)

Caspian parries, the ring of steel on steel shocking through to his hands, and steps away again, breathing a silent thanks to the dwarf who'd made this blade, before moving in again, stepping in close. Parry, riposte, swing back out of reach; as they circle one another and their blades flash, two things become immediately clear:

First, Caspian is the better fighter. His technique has all the polish and economy of movement of someone who has spent decades learning the blade and perfecting his use of it. But he is fighting only to defend; even when he presses the attack, he leaves off before actually inflicting a wound.

And so the second clear fact is that Rilian, taller and stronger though the less practiced swordsman, may still defeat him anyway. And so, after he's harried the Knight with a rapid series of thrusts and cuts, the inevitable happens: The Knight slips under Caspian's guard and strikes.

The blow could be avoided. Easily, even – but in such close quarters, Caspian could not simply slip out of reach. He hesitates, not wanting to hurt his son, and the sword lands, only partially blocked by Caspian's quick slip to the side. He is not wearing armor, and it is a heavy sword, and sharp as a razor. He feels the weight of it and knows he'll feel the cut later; for now, all he feels is a dampness on his side as blood dribbles down beneath his surcoat.

Steel flashes under the night sky, and she prays to her father that the lady-star isn't watching this night. For herself, she'd never seen one of Anthy's duels, for all that she kens of them. She'd not pressed the purple-haired girl for aught of detail that she'd feared it'd hurt her to give, but Meg'd held many thoughts on the matter and shared them freely. And swords hadn't come into part of the show of skill that'd been shared when those of Serenity and the Ka-Tet of Nine had come together here, either.

In fact, she's only witnessed such a fight once in her life or after, here outside near the lake, between Roland and the angel Aziraphael. A sparring-fight, that had been, with naught of harm and even much of a strange, wondrous joy in it, almost like a dance.

This is nothing like, for all that she can see how skilled Caspian is - there's naught of joy in this, only Rilian's - the Knight's - anger and coldness and his father's pain and quiet, grim determination.

The Knight's sword slashes through the air and she can see the dark stain of blood beginning to paint Caspian's clothing at the edge of the leather, and she could no more stop herself from crying out than she could stop breathing.

"Enough! Is it not enough?" she pleads - appealing to Rilian. Even knowing what Caspian's trying to do, she can't help it. Surely there's some other way to distract him, to prevent him from leaving, to hold him here, there must be.

Edited 2023-12-03 04:02 (UTC)

Susan's cry distracts the Knight, and Caspian takes his chance, shouldering roughly at him. He takes the Knight between shoulder and stomach, and Rilian stumbles back – then stumbles for another reason entirely, going deathly pale. "– No –"

The Knight drops his sword and spins, seeking the door with frantic need. In the next moment, Caspian has dropped his own weapon and run to hold his son back, wrestling him as well as he can. "Now is the hour – Peter, 'Bert – " he calls, despairing, as Rilian snarls and thrashes in his grip, hitting out blindly. "Help me, we can't let him get to the door – "

"Bar the passage!" Cuthbert yells to Alain, even as he himself springs to the fight. His son's desperate now, fighting with a wild, madness-driven strength, and he catches a glimpse of Peter coming to Caspian's aid on the far side.

Blonde hair flashes in the corner of his vision, and at first he thinks it's Alain coming back - but in the next second he realizes that it's Susan, moving forward to stand at Caspian's shoulder, placing herself in the Knight's view.

"Rilian," she calls, in a soothing tone, and he thinks he can see both grief and a deep, bitter understanding in her eyes. "Rilian, I kennit, but it's all right. Be easy, be easy, it'll pass in but a moment--"

Edited 2023-12-03 04:37 (UTC)

The younger man wails in fury and desperation, and Caspian grips him tighter, despite the Knight's unearthly strength. It takes all three of them to hold him back, and even still the Knight nearly manages to break away before he goes suddenly limp in their arms.

"Softly, softly," cries Caspian, kneeling in front of his son. "Rilian, say you know me, in Aslan's name."

The younger man shudders, then looks up, pale and horrified, trembling. "...Father. Father, forgive me."

The shock and horror on Rilian's face nearly breaks her heart. Susan moves a little closer so that she can rest a hand on Caspian's shoulder in a silent promise of support.

Behind her, she hears the rustle as Alain leaves his post by the door and comes to join them, circling around to stand near 'Bert. Both the gunslingers are still wary, she sees, and she can't say they're not right to be.

"I fought you," Rilian stutters, horrified. "I wounded you – "

"I made you fight," Caspian tells him, firmly. "There is no dishonor."

Peter has stepped back a little, and now he looks with some concern at the door back into the bar. "Loathe though I am to interrupt this reunion," he says, low, "we ought to decide what's best to be done with him. Once the hour's up, the spell will lower again, and he'll likely try to kill you, Caspian."

Rilian moans, shakes his head. "Bind me," he begs. "You cannot let me go back there. She is plotting against Narnia, every day I am with her is another day closer to her scheme being fulfilled. I beg you, do not allow me to continue working against all I love."

"So that's the Overworld-land ye spoke of," she breathes, going pale again and then flushing bright with temper in her helpless fury at the willful maliciousness of it. "Oh, she's a hateful cruel thing, she is."

"There's the cells," Bert puts in, focusing on the practical. "No one gets out of those without we allow it. Or a room, as we did with Jake, but he wasn't trying to escape - and I think you will be, say sorry."

"We can't keep him a prisoner," Susan protests, her hand tightening a little on Caspian's shoulder. "Alain, thee can help him, aye? Thee freed me of Rhea's glam--"

"I can but try." Quiet and calm. "But it's not like to be easy, as long as he's been held, and we'd best be sure and secure him, any road."

Edited 2023-12-03 20:19 (UTC)

"Put me in the cell," Rilian says, hanging his head. "'Tis what I deserve. Whatever the discomfort, being kept here will be an improvement on my lot. And it will keep me from taking part in the downfall of the land I love."

He puts his cold, pale hand over Caspian's on his shoulder and steels himself, then looks up at Susan. "Sweet lady, worry not."

“They’re surprisingly comfortable cells, all things considered,” Cuthbert drawls. “For what it’s worth.” Alain gives him a speaking look, but holds his peace and his counsel for the moment.

Susan ignores all this in favor of going to her knees at Caspian’s side, heedless of grass and dirt and damp, so that Rilian doesn’t have to look up at her. Mindful of Caspian’s wound and the surprise and speculation she’d seen in Drinian’s eyes the day they met, she holds back from slipping an arm around his waist, for now.

“Say not so,” she entreats him, gently. “Ye’ll find we’re all too familiar with the cruel ways of witches’ tricks, and we’ll not blame ye for what ye were forced to under such an evil spell. For now, won’t ye come in? Both of ye. There’s time yet, and ye should spend it together.”

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