Disclaimer: I kneel at the shrine of C.S. Lewis and make no move to usurp him…
Summary: What if Lucy chose to follow Aslan the first time she saw him (even without the others…)? What would have happened? Lucian eventually. (Lucy/Caspian) Bookverse: Prince Caspian.
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A/N: I've switched around a few things. For instance:
Actual Ages In Book Prince Caspian:
Lucy 9
Edmund 11
Peter 14
Susan 12
Caspian 13
Note that I am increasing those ages by 3 years.
And, of course, I am making this a Lucy/Caspian. I realize that the two never even have a conversation in the book – but then, that didn't stop the producers/directors/script-writers from making Susan and Caspian an item in the movie (It's a conspiracy, I tell you!)… At least Lucy and Caspian have verbal exchanges and shared adventures (in The Voyage of the Dawn Threader)! In fact, you could say that I'm just paving the way for a more meaningful and romantic voyage in the next book…
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Story is based off of following conversation from the book Prince Caspian chapter 10:
"Yes, wasn't it a shame?" said Lucy. "I saw you all right. They wouldn't believe me. They're all so—"
From somewhere deep inside Aslan's body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.
"I'm sorry," said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. "I didn't mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn't my fault anyway, was it?"
The Lion looked straight into her eyes.
"Oh, Aslan," said Lucy. "You don't mean it was? How could I—I couldn't have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don't look at me like that… oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and it wouldn't have been alone, I know, not if I was with you. But what would have been the good?"
Aslan said nothing.
"You mean," said Lucy rather faintly, "that it would have turned out all right—somehow? But how? Please, Aslan? Am I not to know?"
"To know what would have happened, child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."
"Oh dear," said Lucy.
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Chapter 1, Part 1: First Sight (of the Lion)
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"You think we ought to go on?" said Lucy.
"I'm not sure the High King is lost," said Trumpkin. "What's to hinder this river being the Rush?"
Peter began to contradict the Red Dwarf, stating the reasons why it could not be so… and Lucy began to lose interest in the conversation. How could she listen to arguments when the sky was so blue? And the sun so pleasantly warm? And unlike Susan who was clearly discomfited by the denseness of the great, overgrown forest, Lucy reveled in it its presence. Just think! If the dryads and the hamadryads and the sylvans were all awakened… Why, there would be so many more allies for Caspian and even more Narnians to meet and befriend!
Quickly, Lucy began to lose herself in reveries of her lost years as queen when she would spend nights in the forest with the fauns and the dryads, dancing until dawn and welcoming the sun as it rose over the sea. The sun… fierce and brave but tender and kind… and as golden as Aslan's mane. Aslan's mane…?
The youngest Pevensie's eye had caught on something. A sight she had longed for, ever since she first breathed the name. Aslan…
"Look! Look! Look!" cried Lucy, pointing towards the lion.
"Where? What?" everyone else asked, puzzled by the youngest's haphazard re-entry into the conversation.
"The Lion," said Lucy, awestruck and delighted. "Aslan himself. Didn't you see?" she asked, turning to her siblings and the Dwarf with her face beaming and her eyes aglow. Her face suddenly appeared older in their eyes, an aura as of her years as queen so evident that even Trumpkin was struck dumb by the sight of the radiant and mirthful Valiant Queen.
Peter, his mouth slightly agape, asked in a voice laced with longing, "Do you really mean—?
Before Lucy could answer him, Susan spoke up. In a voice laden with the same condescension as an adult speaking to a small child, the Gentle Queen asked, "Where did you think you saw him?"
For a moment, utter disbelief at her sister's callousness raged behind Lucy's eyes before it was replaced with a flicker of fury. "Don't talk like a grown-up," she bit back with a small stamp of her foot as emphasis. "I didn't think I saw him. I saw him."
Hadn't they all grown up together? Been crowned together? Reigned together? Fought battles and wars together? And now, during the course of what is sure to be one of their greatest adventures, Susan doubts her? The sting of hurt and betrayal pricked Lucy's chest and faintly (so faintly that none but herself would know), her eyes began to water.
"Where, Lu?" Peter asked, searching the scenery with his eyes as though Aslan might hop out of a bush. Lucy inwardly shook her head at his behavior. Where had Peter the High King gone? Grown-up Peter – Narnian Peter – knew as well as anyone that Aslan was not a tame lion… Was she the only one who truly remembered?
Instead, biting back her disappointment towards her favorite brother, she replied, "Right up there between those mountain ashes." A brief flicker of what the trees would look like in human form glimmered forth from her memories… And pulling herself back to the present, Lucy added, "No, this side of the gorge. And up, not down. Just the opposite of the way you want to go." She paused a moment in thought before continuing with certainty, "And he wanted us to go where he was—up there."
Lucy could tell in a moment that Edmund was going to say something; he always got this odd sort of look on his face while he was trying to work out what to say. Edmund had never had that expression before the White Witch. His betrayal had taught him caution and thoughtfulness that had served him well during his time as king. In England, he never had much need for that meditative, brow-furrowing appearance… To see it return to his face brought a sense of warm satisfaction to his younger sister.
"How do you know that was what he wanted?" Edmund asked, trying to assemble all of the facts in his mind. Lucy was neither surprised nor disappointed by his response. She knew that he did not mean it unkindly, for even as Edmund the Just, some questions needed to be asked, and Edmund was the one to do it so that he could unearth the truth and make a well-informed decision. Though one of the most skilled warriors in the realm, it was he that delved deepest into the realms of thought… His constant adages when making choices were, 'What was the root of the trouble?' and 'What would be the consequences of action?'
With a twinge of guilt, Lucy speculated that they all had been acting more like their royal persons from the Golden Age.
Peter was a man of action. He was a strong warrior, protective of his own and steady and firm in morals, opinions, and actions. Merely show him a problem, an enemy, a friend, and all could be sorted out with ease… He was the Magnificent; he could handle anything. But Peter was unused to having his difficulties evade him or his own usefulness put into question. The once-High King of Narnia doubted his current abilities… Because of his body's present age? Because he thought he had lost the way? Lucy didn't know.
Susan, on the other hand, was a maternal creature by nature. In her child's body, her words come out patronizing and were perhaps sharpened by her fear of the woods. It was startling to think that as grown-up queens, the two sisters were the best of friends. Even though their personalities differed so greatly and their time had been spent in different employment, Queen Lucy had still sought out her gentle sister to be comforted or to confide in. Susan, in comparison, came to her valiant young sister for empathy and mirth. Such was the nature of their relationship – loving and compassionate but self-sufficient of the other.
Her musings on her siblings had taken but seconds to flit through her mind, the depth of them nearly startling her (even her thoughts were more grown-up in Narnia). Floundering to answer her brother's question, Lucy said, "He—I—I just know… by his face."
The others glanced at each other with quizzical looks – especially Trumpkin who did not believe in Aslan any more than he had believed in the four Pevensies but a few days ago.
"Her Majesty may well have seen a lion," put in Trumpkin. Though he was inclined to believe that the little girl had gotten too hot from their travels and was perhaps seeing a mirage or such, the Red Dwarf was kind enough to add, "There are lions in these woods, I've been told. But it needn't have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear was a friendly and talking bear."
All the Pevensies were briefly reminded of the bear that had attacked them earlier – and of the squishy packets of meat that still remained in their pockets… Not such pleasant thoughts.
Lucy could see that her arguments were losing weight in the eyes of her companions. With an uncharacteristic rush of impulsive anger, Lucy said, "Oh, don't be so stupid! Do you think I don't know Aslan when I see him?"
"He'd be a pretty elderly lion by now if he's the one you knew when you were here before!" said Trumpkin, unknowingly digging the knife further. "And if it could be the same one, what's to prevent him having gone wild and witless like so many others?"
Lucy's eyes widened at the Dwarf's statements and her face turned crimson. She knew that Trumpkin knew not what he spoke, but still, Aslan be elderly? That in itself might have been humorous if it hadn't been followed by his final sentence. It cannot be denied that the Great Lion was wild – he is not a tame lion, after all… But, Aslan witless? Never! Such a thing was a foreign concept to the girl – a rude, horrid, impossible thought. The notion of it was enough to make Lucy move towards Trumpkin as if to slap him…
…if Peter had not laid his hand on her arm. "The D.L.F. doesn't understand. How could he?" Then, releasing her, Peter turned to the Dwarf. "You must just take it, Trumpkin, that we really do know about Aslan; a little bit about him, I mean. And you musn't talk about him like that again. It isn't lucky for one thing: an it's all nonsense for another."
Having set that matter to rest, Peter stood up straighter and something of his appearance as King Peter returned to him now that he had managed to straighten out a tangle. He was never quite comfortable unless he was actively doing something, and even moderating arguments was a relief.
Returning to the subject they were all most curious about, Peter stated, "The only question is whether Aslan was really there."
Another shot of incredulity overwhelmed Lucy. Feeding her outrage in order to stave off her tears, Lucy declared, "But I know he was."
Peter's eyes softened with the same look that he always had (in England and Narnia, alike) for his favorite sister. He had a similar expression during Lucy's coming of age ceremony in Narnia – only tinged with pride, then. Much the same as the glance he had shared with her while talking over Susan's suitors – only mirth had characterized that look, then. His current expression conveyed sympathy, but it did little to condole the girl.
"Yes, Lu, but we don't, you see," he said, trying to break it to her as gently as possible.
Edmund watched the proceedings gravely. At last, he spoke. "There's nothing for it but a vote."
Peter nodded smartly. "All right." Nodding to Trumpkin, he addressed him, saying, "You're the eldest D.L.F. What do you vote for? Up or down?"
With barely a moments thought, the Dwarf said, "Down. I know nothing about Aslan. But I do know that if we turn left and follow the gorge up, it might lead us all day before we found a place where we could cross it. Whereas if we turn right and go down, we're bound to reach the Great River in about a couple of hours. And if there are any real lions about, we want to go away from them, not towards them."
Disappointment sank in Lucy's belly like a stone. Did these Narnians have so little faith?
"What do you say, Susan?"
Susan glanced towards her sister out of guilt. "Don't be angry, Lu…" said Susan, nervously tucking her long dark hair behind her ear, "but I do think we should go down."
Though Lucy had expected that response from the Dwarf, it hurt to hear her own sister choosing the same. Never since the time she had first entered the wardrobe in the spare room had her any of her siblings doubted her so…
"I'm dead tired," the dark-haired queen continued. Sending nervous glances around her at the congested wood, she pleaded, "Do let's get out of this wretched wood into the open as quick as we can." Seeing the others' gazes scrutinizing her, she shifted to look at Lucy and sharply concluded, "And none of us except you saw anything."
Edmund's face grew stern and grim, his entire body tightening and tensing at Susan's words. In his expression, there could be seen one of the famous moods of King Edmund the Just – he whose true state of mind could be deciphered by few. But with barely a glimpse, Lucy could tell by the stiffness of his jaw and the downturn of his mouth that he was gloomy and dismayed…
In the Golden Age, Lucy had made an entire list of her royal brother's moods… And his current expression was just a brow furrow and nostril flare away from Edmund's 'thunderous mien:' The same look that had caused his enemies to flee and his acquaintances to shy away.
Peter, though perhaps saddened by his sister's choice, nodded and asked, "Edmund?"
"Well, there's just this," the Just King said, speaking rather quickly and turning a soft red. Scratching the back of his head, edgy, he proceeded, "When we first discovered Narnia a year ago—or a thousand years ago, whichever it is—it was Lucy who discovered it first and none of us would believe her." For a moment, his dark head hung in shame.
Raising his eyes to look at Lucy, Edmund stated, "I was the worst of the lot, I know. Yet she was right after all. Wouldn't it be fair to believe her this time? I vote for going up."
Joy rocketed through her, and for a moment, Lucy was certain that could dance to the moon with how light her feet felt then. "Oh, Ed!" Lucy cried gaily, seizing his hand in her euphoria. A shot of sunlight hit the yellow-gold of her hair, seeming to almost light it afire for all it glowed, and again, all present could see the face of Queen Lucy the Valiant in the merry girl before them.
With the branches of the tree above her casting cool shadows across her face and hair, Susan crossed her arms, saying, "And now it's your turn, Peter, and I do hope—"
"Oh, shut up, shut up and let a chap think," Peter interrupted, irritated. He knew well enough that a choice must be made, but… The boy stalled, "I'd much rather not have to vote."
"You're the High King," said Trumpkin sternly, reminding the boy of his duty.
Peter inclined his head, accepting the burden, whether he liked it or not. Inhaling deeply, he said, "Down."
Lucy's eyes widened and her disappointment mounted ever higher. Her jaw was slack, though whatever words she might have said got choked up before they could be released.
After a long pause, the High King said, "I know Lucy may be right after all, but I can't help it. We must do one or the other."
Ever aware of the conspicuous moistness of her eyes, Lucy wiped them quickly before she stepped forward to address the party at large.
"Then I must part with you here and go to him alone," she declared bravely, ceremoniously gathering up her things.
"What? Lucy! Why?" they all cried out.
