Caspian X (
the_seafarer) wrote2023-11-18 11:07 pm
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[ 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.
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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Susan looks up at him. “I could stitch it, but I’ve not a healer’s skill. Mayhap a good bandaging would be best for tonight.”
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"I wouldn't want you to have to re-do all your hard work."
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She runs her fingers lightly over his bruises and makes a soft ‘tsk’ sound. “While thee are soaking, I’ll make some poultices. Bruisebane, comfrey and milk-thistle’ll do the trick.”
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Letting go of her hand, he pushes himself carefully up and out of the chair. "I'll not be long."
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“Take all the time thee need.” Thinking to try to give him a reason to, she adds, “If thee are still in when the poultices are ready, I’ll come and wash yer back.”
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Not that he needs much of an excuse, once he's lowered himself into the steaming, scented water. It feels perfectly wonderful on his sore body, and he allows himself to put his head back, eyes closed, and tries his best not to think.
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It takes some minutes, but not all that many, for she’d had a good idea of what she’d need when she’d made the request of the bar, say true. Susan lays them out ready and makes her way into the bath, tapping quietly at the door as she enters so as not to startle him.
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Or had he started to doze off here in the bath? He feels tired right down to his bones.
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“Tip yer head back, and I’ll wash yer hair.”
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Susan sets the pitcher aside and begins to work shampoo into his hair, using the tips of her fingers to make gentle circles against his scalp.
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"But I have to admit, it feels wonderful."
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She's very thorough with her attentions, making her way across his head to massage his temples and then back again, taking care not to miss a single spot.
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Everything else can wait, can't it?
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The knowledge of his past wife, of his son, of the curse. She's weathered them all, smiling still, and he has no words for the gratitude he feels for it, for her.
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Mayhap it’s true, but if so he’s faced no less trouble for having her in the life they’ve found here. “Don’t ever think I do. Thee are a joy to me.”
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She'd never expected this, not any of this, from the waystation itself to the reunions and new connections she's found here, much less someone like him, and oh, but sometimes it frightens her with knowing just how easily it could all be snatched away again - but that's as it will be or won't, and she'll fight to hold to what they all have, say true.
"Thee has the right of it, I wot."
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"Back in the chair as before, an'ye would," she asks.
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