Bound by Duty
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belong to the estate of C.S. Lewis. I own nothing but the plot and the original characters in this story.
Author's Notes: After much internal debate, I have decided to post this story. It is actually my first work in the Narnia fandom, having begun this a year and a half ago. I had never been too happy with the original drafts and spent all this time rewriting and revising the few chapters that were completed. Hopefully, this will turn out well.
Thank you to rthstewart and Lirenel for their encouraging comments about the initial chapters.
This story takes place at the start of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and then veers into AU.
Prologue:
The heat of high summer was spread across the whole of Narnia. While the southern lands were graced with wooded glades and the eastern shores felt the cooling breeze of ocean winds, it was scorching and desolate in the dry and harsh plains of much of the north. The marshes in the northeast were not subject to the same conditions, but they were the sole exception to the rule. While not as hot as the deserts of Calormen, the northern lands of Narnia were just as unbearable.
To the west of the marshes, a cluster of mountains and rocky hills marked the boundary between Narnia and the wild northern lands of the Giants. The lush and verdant forests found in the heart of the Lion's country did not reach this area, the woodlands having dwindled away several miles south from the border. The majority of the Narnians did not reside this close to the north, for the land was too rocky for farming and one could scarcely find enough wood and water to survive for too long in these parts.
And for those reasons, it was a good place to meet without interruption.
The silence in the air was broken by the sound of hooves striking the rocky ground. Along the lonely road that stretched northward, a horse galloped away from the shrubs and bushes that edged the forests of Narnia. The human that rode atop the horse's back nudged his mount toward a point near the base of the mountains along the border.
They had traveled nearly nonstop for two days from the south, stopping only when the horse needed rest and when it was too dark to continue further. As the rider spotted the old stone bridge that marked the end of Narnia and the entrance to Ettinsmoor, he tugged on the reins to slow his horse as they approached.
It was vastly quiet and desolate in these parts; there were no other living beings to be seen or heard. Even the Giants were not known to inhabit this particular stretch of the border; the Ettins lived further east near the marshlands where water could be found in a more abundant supply. Ahead of him was a sheer drop of a few hundred meters down the gorge that had long ago been a path for the Shribble. The river had once flowed through this area toward the Western Wild but over the centuries, the water trickled away to nothingness. The only markers of the Shribble's old route were the dry riverbed at the base of the gorge and the bridge that crossed above it, both remnants of the land's forgotten past.
At the foot of the bridge, the man dismounted from his horse and waited. Ten minutes scarcely passed before another rider appeared slowly from the north. From what he could see, the rider appeared not to be one of the Giants that lived across the border. As the distance closed between them, he could finally make out that it was a woman that approached. She sat upon a palfrey that was of similar size to the horses found in the lands south of Ettinsmoor, a beautiful and majestic creature as white as freshly fallen snow.
The lady that rode towards him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had a youthful face framed by long, golden locks that cascaded down her back. Her dress was a deep shade of green that he likened to the color of emeralds but her arms were left bare, pale but smooth and unblemished. A silver cloak was draped across her shoulders and it fluttered lightly behind her as her horse trotted slowly across the bridge, hooves clattering on the stone path.
The Lady's palfrey stopped as they reached the Narnian side of the bridge, halting a few steps from where the bridge met the rocky road. The woman did not dismount; her horse stood perfectly still where it was and made no sound, as if it were a statue and not a living creature.
"You have a message for me?" she addressed the man standing in front of her. Her voice was light and pleasant, each word spoken with a slight musical note. Despite her friendly disposition, the man knew better and stepped forward warily.
"My Lady," he bowed and handed her a scroll. "My master bids me tell you that King Caspian is set to leave tomorrow for the East."
She smiled as she ripped the seal and unfurled the scroll, her eyes scanning the message that awaited her. "Excellent." Things were turning out well so far. Unlike her previous dealings with the Southerners, her servant had kept to his word and carried out all of her instructions without complaint. It was probably time to reward him with a small token of her faith in him and their plans.
The woman reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a small box. "Give this to your master. Tell him he will know when to use this when the time comes." She extended her arm out towards him, the box resting in the palm of her hand.
The man stepped closer to her, gently pulling his own steed a few steps forward. His horse gave a little neigh and pawed uneasily at the ground. It could sense that there was something unusual about the other horse and rider. If his master felt the same way, it did not show; the man's face was unreadable as he approached the woman and the white horse. With one hand kept firmly on the reins, he took the box from her with his other hand and tucked it into an inside pocket of his jerkin.
"Take care not to lose it before you return to him," she warned as the friendly demeanor disappeared and a colder expression settled upon her face. "'Tis not something that can be replaced or remade easily. Should it break, I will know of it," there was a brief pause, "and I will be very displeased."
The man thought he felt a slight chill descend upon him as the Lady was speaking. Even without his master's own warnings to have a care around her, he would not have dared to displease her if at all possible.
He quickly nodded and bowed once more to her before returning to his own mount. He put his foot into the stirrups and quickly pulled himself up and into the saddle. Even without a command from his master, the horse backed up a few steps away from the bridge. Not only could the animal feel the trembling of the human on his back, but it could sense the unusual aura the woman projected from where she sat.
"My Lady," the man repeated once more in farewell. And without waiting for a further reply, he turned his horse around and sped off towards the south where his master was expecting his return.
She continued to gaze upon his retreating back as he grew smaller with the increasing distance between them. Shortly, the man and his horse appeared to be nothing but a dot on the horizon before disappearing altogether as they entered the woods of Narnia.
The woman lingered for a few more minutes before she flicked the reins in her hands. With that simple gesture, the white horse sprung to life once more. The palfrey tossed its head proudly before it turned around to face the road it had traveled from to reach this meeting place. At another silent command from its mistress, the horse stepped forward as it began to retrace its steps.
As horse and rider began to make their journey home, a smile spread across the woman's face. Everything was almost in place. With the news of the King's departure, the next part of her plan shall be set in motion soon and only one thought occupied her mind.
By the time Caspian returned to his kingdom, Narnia shall be hers.
Next: A Change in Course — In which old friends are re-united and a king has to decide on what's best for everyone.
