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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"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."

"It's the usual way of it," Cuthbert agrees, while Alain just nods. "I'll check in with him, you needn't worry about that. We'll make certain Rilian's well-treated."

Susan shifts a little closer and rests her hand gently on Caspian's shoulder, trying to soothe through her presence. "Would'ee want -- I could see him, during the days," she offers. "In case there's aught he needs."

"Thank you. I'm sure he's in the best of hands."

Susan's offer is a little more difficult to consider; he's grateful for the waitrat returning with a flagon of strong red wine, and takes a glass to sip at, giving himself a moment to think. "He might not appreciate it," he says, finally. "All he remembers now is the insult I gave him, and the three of you taking my side. If you do go to see him, don't do it alone, Su, I beg."

"I'll ask Faith to help," she says, practically, while Alain pours out another glass. "He'll not ken her, and that way we can see if he's willing to speak with me."

"I'll not speak you nay, if you wish to do so," Caspian tells her, lifting his wine for another deep swallow. "Only don't expect too much, Su. That curse has bound him tighter than any chains."

Alain passes the flagon to Cuthbert, who pours his own glass, then leans over to refill Caspian's before pouring one for Susan.

She cradles it in her fingers. "I kennit," she says, softly. "But I'll check on him, all the same."

Caspian nods, then takes another long swallow of his refilled wine. It's not as strong as the Archenland reds he remembers, but perhaps it will do a little to dull this ache in his chest.

"Rilian asked me to pass along a preemptive apology to you fellows," he tells Alain and Cuthbert. "It's unlikely he'll be very polite to either of you."

"Not to worry," Cuthbert says, leaning back against the couch. "Wouldn't be the first time, or even close."

Alain nods.

"Be that as it may." It's not the point, but both of the other men know it as well as he does. "And you'll let me know, won't you, if anything changes or happens?"

"Yar," Alain confirms. "You'll be the first. I can speak with him tomorrow eve, also."

Susan glances back and forth at them. "Mayhap Nymphadora would ken something," she suggests. "Or sai Tom, or - or the Lady Moiraine?"

"Tom may well be able to help in some ways," Caspian murmurs. Though perhaps not quite in the way Susan is thinking. He knows the Lord of the House of Arch has his own guilts and regrets with which he's spent years coming to terms.

"Perhaps the others. I don't know them well." Or at all, in some cases.

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