I need to get back on the writing train, and for some reason this sad little alternate Morelia one-shot wouldn't leave me alone. So now you get to enjoy these angsty feels with me! Carry on.
The king's ship awaits.
Rose stands at his side, supporting his weight as he leans against her strength, his own sapped from his brief address to his court. Caspian was once a young king who stood with a straight back and a humble visage, but now he is bent and frail with a decade of sorrow. Even a man such as Caspian has only so much strength to keep his head tall.
Caspian stumbles slightly, his hand almost slipping from Rose's arm and it is only by the grace of Aslan that she steadies him on his weary feet. Murmurs rise, concern rippling through the small crowd gathered to see their king off onto his voyage. Caspian holds his head high, but tremors shake his frame as it clings to Rose's.
"Almost there," Rose whispers. It's utterly unfair how little her age shows in comparison to his. He struggles to hold himself up, and yet she stands with the grace she wishes she could give to him. She doesn't need it as badly as he does. Her people don't care, or they wouldn't, were she bent in half with age and grief. But in Narnia, a royal should stand tall for his people, drawing on strength and comfort from Aslan. Caspian has tried, but the grief has overcome him more times than he will ever admit.
At last, the gangway. Rose tightens her grip on Caspian's thin arm, his wispy beard tickling the back of her hand. He falters at the incline, stiffening. His face twists as one of his spasms rocks through him, his muscles cramping under the thin chainmail. She takes on more of his weight, wrapping an arm around his back and holding him upright.
A moment later, it passes and Caspian sags again. He begins to walk, his back straining to restore a hint of youth to his steps. Throat tight with her own sorrow, Rose takes her hand from his back and escorts him the rest of the way onto the ship. The Dawn Treader is far from Narnia's mightiest vessel, but Caspian insisted. Perhaps the memory of his first trip East is the salve his soul needs.
Rose breathes out relief when their feet touch the ship's deck. Caspian relaxes into her, now that the distance between him and the crowd will help hide his sagging posture.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Rose lays her wrinkled hand over his bony one as it grips her upper arm for support. "Surely Aslan can find you here if he has an heir in mind."
Stubbornness sets Caspian's jaw firm. "Sometimes we must do the finding." Though his determination gives him strength, the uncertainty of Narnia's future saps it away just as quickly.
Why has Aslan waited so long? Doesn't he know how little time Caspian has left?
Rose bites her tongue against her frustrations, choosing instead to wish Caspian well. "Then find him you will. Him and the certainty you need."
Caspian smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "That Narnia needs."
Ever the responsible ruler, even after such costs he has paid for it. A lost son, a failed journey to find him. Caspian hasn't been the same since the snake took Lilliandil, but losing his son broke a piece of him that still throbs raw no matter how he tries to push it away for the sake of his people. Not for the first time, Rose wishes she had not asked for his help so many decades ago. It would have spared him this, perhaps.
"I can go with you," Rose offers, the guilt thick in her throat. "Trumpkin said he can spare me."
Caspian shakes his head, shifting to peer at her with dark brown eyes that yet retain a tiny spark of the hope – perhaps a fool's hope – that always made him seem so young. "But your people cannot. Drinian will look after me." A cough rattles past his chapped lips as he turns to wave adieu to his teary-eyed court. "All the same, I'll miss your company."
Rose presses her lips into a smile, breathing through the tendrils of despair snaking in her chest. "And I yours. Don't make this trip like the last one."
Caspian furrows his brow. "What dangers of the sea could assail me now?"
"Don't take a year in coming back." Rose smiles wider, her forehead almost touching his before she pulls back.
Lord Drinian appears at Caspian's side as the king turns away from his people. "It's time to depart, my lady. Best go if you still intend to stay in Narnia."
Rose eases her arm from Caspian's hold, squeezing his hand just a moment before stepping away. "It's just Rose, Lord Drinian. Must I always remind you?" Her smile comes a little easier now, with her focus temporarily distracted from Caspian's visible aging.
"Caspian insists you have noble blood."
The king in question straightens visibly, his eyes brightening. "Of course she does, my good captain. She's simply loathe to admit it."
Rose flicks her eyes away, shaking her head. "I've nothing of the sort, not in the titled way at least. That's all your imagination."
"What have we, if not imagination?" Caspian smiles his first real smile of the day, and for a moment it's easy to forget that he's in his seventies.
Rose's eyes water. "Not very much, I suppose." She touches his shoulder gently in parting, eyeing the crew patiently awaiting Lord Drinian's order to cast off. "Stay safe, Caspian." And please come back, her heart whispers.
Unwilling to delay the departure any more, Rose descends the gangway quickly and joins the crowd still waving their goodbyes. Worry lines many a face, and understandably so; Caspian must look close to death. But Aslan summoned him, or at least that's the theory, and so Rose chooses to believe he will return alive and soon. The hope, perhaps naïve, warms the chill of fear burrowed in her mind. She'll see him again. He has to live to deliver his plan for the line of succession. He has to.
Rose clings to her hope as the Dawn Treader casts off and sets its purple sails into the wind, gliding away from harbor and home. Hope is all Narnia has left.