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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

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.”

"Yes," Caspian agrees. "Come, Rilian. Does a prince of Narnia stay on his knees? Stand up; we have much to talk about."

He gets to his feet and helps Rilian to his, then looks around at the other faces around him with gratitude in his eyes. "I thank you; all of you. Peter – "

The other man lifts a hand. "Don't waste time now, old fellow. Go on; we'll speak later."

Cuthbert gives Susan a hand up while Caspian assists Rilian. Alain nods agreement with Peter's observation.

"We'll bide," he says, simply. "Hard by, in the bar, until the quarter-hour." Seeing Susan start to open her mouth and the way her worried gaze goes to Caspian's side, he adds, "Best quick-bind that wound for the meantime, if you're planning to wait for aught else until after."

"Thank you," Caspian says again, soft, and glances at Susan before putting his arm around Rilian and following Peter back into the bar, toward the direction of the cells. His heart hurts keenly at the very idea of locking up his son, but what else can they do?

The hour passes all too swiftly, and when Caspian emerges from the cells, he looks wholly drained, as though something vital has been drained from him. Glancing around the room, he's unsurprised to find Alain, Cuthbert, and Susan all clustered by the fireplace, speaking low.

He takes a breath, taking a moment to settle himself, then comes over to them. "Rilian is safely tucked away in the cells," he reports, his voice steady. "His curse has come upon him again."

“An hour a day clear, aye?” Alain asks. “Sue thought that’s what it was, but wasn’t sure of the why of it.”

She’s already moving as Alain speaks, uncoiling herself from the couch corner across from Bert to rise and cross to Caspian. Susan reaches to take his hand.

"I've no idea of the why," he says, weary, even as he takes her hand and squeezes her fingers gently. Slowly, he leads her back to the couch, then takes a seat beside her, scrubbing at his face with his free hand.

"Perhaps it needs to reset itself each night, so as to maintain its strength. But he's been under it for years; the damn thing is probably sunk so far into him nothing but killing the witch will remove it."

“As likely a reason as any,” Cuthbert agrees. “Or for the pure meanness of it. But I have to say I agree with you there - ending the witch to end the curse and the greater trouble seems the clearest path.”

“Which isn’t to say I’m not willing to try, if you’d have it so,” Alain puts in, quietly. Susan stays silent for now, holding on to Caspian’s hand as she listens. “But it’s more hope than certainty, I reckon.”

"I give you my leave if Rilian gives his," Caspian says. He feels tired to his very core, but he can't imagine sleeping this night.

"There's no doubt now in my mind that the serpent that killed my queen and this Lady of the Green Kirtle are one and the same; she's been conspiring to conquer Narnia these past ten years, at least."

“They lay their plans long,” Cuthbert murmurs, trading a grim look with Alain. He knows, as clear as if shared an-tet, that they’re both remembering Marten Broadcloak’s poisonous workings. “And like nothing more than to see the White brought low.”

“She’ll not have it so in the end, but that doesn’t make yer pain any less,” Susan says, soft. “Or his, or any of ye who suffered with her cruelty.”

"And yet we have to let her attempt it."

He wishes for wine; he wishes for another fight; anything but to say the words he has to say. "Rilian is saved; but not by us, here. We must let his story run its course, else who knows what might happen?"

She catches her breath in a sharp gasp as her fingers tighten on his, but oh, she can't deny it - none of them can.

(Roland had to forget)

"Happens as we have some idea." Cuthbert's gaze is steady and serious. "It could split his mind. Drive him to madness and death."

"Something we'd all like to avoid, I think," Caspian says, dry. "But he can spend a few days here before he goes back. I expect time is not passing in the Underworld whence he came, though the curse keeps pace with him here."

It could also split Caspian's mind, she knows, from everything Eddie had told them about what happened to Roland when he saved Jake. Susan hopes that won't be so, and comforts herself with the thought that

(time is a face on the water)

no matter what Caspian learns and does now, what ease it gives Rilian here or back in Narnia, it's not like to be the same as he's not living through it in different ways.

"A few days at least, aye," she says. "Mayhap more. Mayhap there's something we can do for him here that'll be of help and comfort to him there when the time comes, too."

She'd do much indeed, say true, to give the two of them all the time possible.

He gives her a small smile, and nods. It's difficult to find any sense of hope or optimism inside himself just now; he'd offered everything he could to Rilian, and now he feels hollowed out and weary.

Perhaps he can borrow a little of her optimism, just for a little while, and let them talk amongst themselves about what might or might not be done here. He waves a hand for a waitrat, and when one comes, gives it a crooked, tiny smile. "I apologize for the trouble earlier," he tells it. "You have my word that it has been dealt with. And now, perhaps, a little wine wouldn't go amiss."

She bites back on her first impulse, for if he's wanting to behave as though it's any other evening she can let it pass for now - but she means to see to his wound later, oh aye.

The waitrat makes a resigned sort of sound and shrugs, then nods to Caspian and looks around at the rest of them with an inquiring squeak. Cuthbert trades a look with Alain before he nods. "A round for all," he suggests. They could probably use it.

The waitrat runs off and he settles back against the couch with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "Peter's seen him settled," he makes himself say.

"I imagine he'll make some kind of communication to the two of you and the rest of Security, Alain, Cuthbert."

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