Lucy sat alone, her mind a million miles away. Or, she thought, perhaps just a thousand or so years.
Coming back to Narnia was all she'd wanted since the moment she'd accidentally led her family back through the wardrobe. She dreamt of her times stalking or dancing or wandering the village to speak with her people. She could still smell the food from Susan's twenty-fifth birthday feast and could still see the most beautiful sunrises over her Great Eastern Sea. She could feel the warm summer breeze and the cool tickle of the water as she played along the shore.
And now, as she sat on her own at the broken table in Aslan's Howe, she felt like she did when she was sent away from her home and to the house of the Professor. She was scared, her brothers and sister off planning for a war that she wouldn't be able to participate in.
And that was the root of her faraway thoughts. The last time she was in Narnia, she led the ground troops into war. She was a fighter, strong and agile, fearless and feared. Back in the Golden Age, as it was known now, she was a fierce warrior queen. Today, she was a Queen of Old, now just one year older than she'd been when she came through the wardrobe the first time. She felt more like the little girl who ran from Father Christmas than the Queen go could shoot, ride and command at the same time.
It was ridiculous, Lucy thought, to be so old and trapped in a child's body. She had chastised her brothers and sister for talking like grown-ups when all she wanted to do was speak the same. Trumpkin would have dismissed her, though. Perhaps he would have been right to do so as well, since her once-twenty-three now nearly-ten self looked like she did when she arrived at the tube station instead of when she rode off in search of the White Stag.
It's not fair, she griped internally. She was much older than she appeared. Older, stronger, wiser, more capable. But she was left behind, as she had been in the early days, because of her size and her assumed age. Or actual age. It was too confusing for her to try to figure out. When she was in England, she was a child; here in Narnia, she was in her twenties. She had fallen in and out of love, fought battles, ruled an entire kingdom.
Her eyes lifted to the carving of Aslan on the wall. It didn't fully show just how large he was, both in size and presence. Lucy stood, walking closer, her eyes narrowed and thoughtful. "Is there a reason?" she asked aloud. "Did you bring us back as children due to some plan? Are we young so the Telmarines underestimate us?" It was a good theory, one she was proud of, but no answer came so she huffed rather petulantly and returned to her seat.
For not the first time, Lucy considered inserting herself into the plans. Peter, back in England, had acted like the High King he'd been here in Narnia. Now that they were back, couldn't she assume the role she'd once had?
The answer came as soon as the thought left her head. Of course she couldn't. She was too small now. Lucy knew that if she tried to fight, if she grabbed a bow or wielded her dagger, she would be a liability to her family and new friends. The proof had been there when Nickabrick had easily disarmed her and twisted her into a vulnerable position. Had it not been for Trumpkin, the Black Dwarf could have killed her while her brothers were otherwise occupied.
"You look thoughtful."
Lucy raised her eyes to see Caspian before her. His eyes moved to the memorialization of Aslan before they returned to her. "Perhaps it's because I'm thinking," she said with a smile.
"You come back here a lot," he observed, moving closer and sitting beside her. "Instead of being out with the others."
"I feel closer to Aslan," she admitted. "And I think a lot."
"What are you thinking now?" he asked curiously. "If you don't mind saying, of course."
Lucy shifted so she could look at her companion. He was young, right around Peter's age, she figured, and he looked conflicted. He was strong and sad and scared and the dichotomy of all of those combined emotions fascinated her. Caspian tried to look tough in the same way that Peter did. It took a long while for her brother to learn how to rule with authority and she assumed the same would be for Caspian.
If they survived. And won the battle.
"Conflict," she answered vaguely, then sighed and continued, "my own conflict, I suppose." Caspian didn't speak, simply waited for her to continue on her own. "When we first met, you told Peter you assumed we would be older. Honestly, I think I thought when we came back we would be too. When we left, we were much older. Peter was nearly thirty when we went back to England. But when we got there, we were kids again. I just …" Lucy took a moment to compose herself and gather her thoughts, her brow scrunching in thought. "I think I assumed that time would stand still here, like it does back in England. I never thought that we would be children when we came back. Then again," she added with a course laugh, "I didn't think it would be thirteen hundred years later either."
"That's a lot of thought," the Telmarine prince responded after a pregnant pause. "I didn't think of how odd it would be for you. For all of you." He rubbed at his smooth chin and shifted to look at her more directly. "How do you handle it? The conflict within you?"
With a small smile, she shrugged one shoulder. "I come here. I talk to Aslan. Obviously I forgot before," she answered honestly. "But when things like that happen, I realize I'm not an adult anymore. Right now, my body is that of a child, untrained, weak, small. My hands remember the feel of a bow and arrow but they can no longer grip them tightly enough to be accurate." She reached up and brushed her hair from her face. "Right now, the only way I can be of any significance is my bond with Aslan. It's painful, for sure, but it's also … I don't know."
"Liberating?" Caspian asked with interest. "As if you know your place and you just need to wait for us to find ours?"
"I think you know your place," Lucy answered thoughtfully. "I think you might be afraid of what it means though. That's okay though," she added quickly. "It's okay to be afraid. I was, the first time I was called a Daughter of Eve and told I would be a queen. I was eight and in a foreign, magical land. I was terrified and I cried for my mother and father. But my brothers and sister, they were there for me. They helped me, as we will all help you." She pushed herself up and reached a hand out to him. "Come. We've much to prepare for before your uncle's army arrives."
Caspian took her hand and chuckled when she lost her balance when he tried to use her as leverage to stand. "Perhaps this would have worked better if our roles were reversed."
"I was stronger then," she said with a smile as he stood. "Sometimes I forget that."
"I think you're stronger now than you think," the prince said with a fond smile. "Let's go find the others. You're right; we have a lot to do before the Telmarines arrive."