Title: It's Been So Long

Author: raindropp

Book: Prince Caspian

Characters: Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Trumpkin, Caspian, and Aslan

Rating: PG for Themes

Summary: Lucy sees Aslan, but no one believes her. Based on one of my favorite parts of the book.

Disclaimer: These characters and story belong to C.S. Lewis. All allusions to the movie and certain lines belong to Andrew Adamson. Kudos also to Tenth Avenue North for inspiration and their song "Times."

A/N: I started this story because I was just a little disappointed in how the movie portrayed Lucy's first sighting of Aslan. I really liked how in the book the other children eventually do see Aslan, and he joins them before they meet up with Caspian.

Having said that, as I started writing this, I became fascinated with the character of Peter, and how Andrew Adamson and William Moseley embellished him. I

I stuck close to the book, but was influenced by the movie. Most of the dialogue is C.S. Lewis' or paraphrased. Some is my own, and then there are a few lines from the movie that made it in here, mostly because I liked them.

A/N (August 11, 2008): I recently began editing the companion pieces that I had mentioned before, and in doing so, I thought it best that I remove my previous stories and re-post them together as one. This story is now complete.


...I love to see you, and its been so long
I long to feel you
I feel this need for you'
And i need to hear you
Is that so wrong?

("Times," Tenth Avenue North)


"Would you please stop talking to me like grown-ups?" Lucy said desperately. "I didn't think I saw him. I know I saw him."

Her words hung in the air, and they immobilized the others. Everything hinged on what happened next, on what the children and the Dwarf decided. Somewhere deep inside the children they knew that Lucy was right, and they longed for nothing more than to do Aslan's bidding. Just the thought of the Great Lion sent their noble blood flowing more steadily through their veins than it had ever had in England. His very memory in their hearts was life to their tired spirits and aching feet.

Nevertheless, gnawing at this hope was one doubt: Why had only Lucy seen Aslan? And the question swept through their pounding hearts and left them chilled and disenchanted.

Trumpkin spoke first. "Perhaps your majesty did see a lion," he spoke assuredly, but his eyes pierced Lucy with their doubt and arrogance. "But why should it have been a Talking Lion? Could it not have been just as wild and dumb as the bear on the beach?"

The Dwarf saw her as a child, befuddled by the heat of the day and an empty stomach, desperately seeking comfort in fairytales. Lucy wanted to scream with anguish and frustration. She suddenly wanted to slug him as Peter had done to the boys at the train station. She was not a child! Not here in Narnia, at least…

"Stupid," she snapped. She really could not help herself, and no one, not even Trumpkin, seemed startled by her harsh tone. "I know Aslan when I see him."

Trumpkin had never put much stock in Aslan and the old stories, though Trufflehunter had annoyed him incessantly with his endless prattle about prophecies and other worlds. However, Trumpkin could not deny that these children—ancient rulers as they may claim to be—had an air about them of something he could only assume to be Magic that fit with the Badger's worn-out stories. Neither could he deny that Lucy's claim had excited him. A hope he had not known he possessed had sank deep within him when he looked to where the littlest queen had pointed and only saw more trees and shadows.

There was no Aslan, he convinced himself.

Aloud, the dwarf said, "And if it was the Lion you children knew before, wouldn't he be rather old by now? 1300 years is an awful long time."

And deep within himself, Trumpkin crushed the nagging voice—which sounded an awful lot like a badger—that continued to pester him. He pushed it so far down that it became a hard and little stone in his heart, cold as ice. It ached deeply, but the Dwarf had made up his mind.

At the name of Aslan, pure joy had bubbled up inside of Peter Pevensie, like champagne being set free. It exploded across his face in a wide smile. But try as he might, no matter how hard or long the ancient king stared, he could not see Aslan or any evidence that the Lion had been present. He felt—why, he felt downright humiliated. Yes, humiliated, and not by Lucy but by Aslan himself. How dare He—

But what Peter was truly angry about, even he could not put into words. His head was pounding, his heart was low, and his soul was sick with fear, worry, and shaky confidence in his ability to be king. In England he had felt confined and denied, but here in Narnia, in a place that he recognized he would be called upon to prove himself, Peter felt empty and very, very young.

Peter could not imagine a Narnia without Aslan, nor could he reason that it had been merely Susan's Horn that had brought him and his siblings out of England. But if it had been Aslan, and if Aslan was there with them, why should He hide himself from the man—er, boy—that He had once crowned High King? Had Peter done something to displease his greatest Friend? Did Aslan regret His choice in crowning Peter High King? Would Edmund or Susan or Lucy or someone entirely different been a better choice?

What had he done that made Peter so undeserving of even one small glimpse of the Lion?

Peter would not—indeed, he could not—look at little Lucy. He felt judged and wronged, and it crept over him like a killing frost.

"I guess the only issue at hand," Peter mused, almost afraid to say the words, "is whether or not Aslan was there."

Lucy felt as if she were falling. She stared at Peter as if she did not recognize him, and as her eyes filled with tears, she rasped out, "But I saw him. I know it was him!"

"Yes, yes, Lucy," her dear brother said in a hard voice, "but we can't be certain."

The very trees seemed for a minute to swell with the tension between the five. Cautiously, Edmund said, "Let's take a vote."

Susan absentmindedly played with one of her arrows. The feel of the smooth shaft and the firm fletching reassured her that she was really there and that this was not a dream like the ones she had experienced so many times in the past year. But this realization did not comfort her; it shook her deep into the very core of her being. Whether it had been one year or a thousand, Susan was not the queen she had once been, and she was unsure that she could become that Gentle Lady again.

She saw the confusion in Peter's eyes and heard the disappointment in Trumpkin's voice, and Susan clenched the arrow in her hand as an angry thought shouted within the confines of her mind, "I will NOT be made a fool!"

She worried, she fretted, she prayed—yet she felt no peace. It was as if she stood alone on the edge of the ravine, abandoned and uncertain. She tried to remember Aslan—

And what she could remember was too frightening, too real for Something now intangible.

Susan knew that she must follow Lucy. The words "leap of faith" rose unbidden in her consciousness, but though she could feel the power and presence of Aslan pressing down on her, Susan could not see him.

She was a coward, and it shamed her.

The voting began. Lucy did not speak as first Trumpkin and then Susan voted to travel down the gorge instead of up as Lucy insisted Aslan wished.

"Well, you were the only one who saw anything, Lucy," Susan said, knowing it was a lame defense.

"Well, Edmund?" Peter asked, and he felt nervous because he knew that if anyone would dare stand up to Peter the Magnificent and Susan the Gentle, it would be Edmund the Just.

Edmund's face was blank. He masked his tumbling feelings and tortured thoughts beneath a calm exterior. He would not look at Peter, Susan, or the DLF. He would not allow himself to be influenced by their decisions and sly glances.

And the young king remembered the look on Aslan's face and the words he spoke that day the traitor-child was rescued from evil, rescued by the very people he had been willing to betray. He had felt so dejected as he waited for the Lion's judgment that when he realized that Aslan meant to forgive him, Edmund could scarcely believe it.

He was a nobody, undeserving and a proven traitor, and yet Aslan had shown him mercy.

And then, wonder of wonders, Aslan had made him a king.

Edmund did not know if the others saw their royal roles as he did, nor did he judge them if they did not. But for Edmund, he understood that being a King of Narnia was a privilege and a testimony to the power and sacrifice of Aslan.

Now, this Son of Adam realized, to disbelieve Lucy was far too great of a risk. It would dishonor Aslan.

He had not seen the Great Lion, but Edmund knew better than to simply disregard Lucy's claim as the fantasies of a child. It seemed far more logical to Edmund for Aslan to appear to a child than to a group of teenagers playacting at being adults.

He paused and then said it, "The last time, it was Lucy who discovered Narnia, and no one believed her then. And if you remember correctly, we all looked extremely stupid when we realized she had been right. Even the professor believed Lucy. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I vote for 'Up' and for Lucy."

Edmund gave his brother a stern look before adding, "For Lucy and Aslan."

Peter's face was stony, while Susan rolled her eyes and made a big show of how unreasonable her younger siblings were acting. The Dwarf said nothing but kept his eyes on the High King, and although Lucy longed to give Edmund the biggest hug in thanks for sticking with her, even she recognized that they were not out of the woods yet, and that Peter had to make the final decision. She compensated herself by reaching for Edmund's hand and giving it a slight squeeze. He returned the favor, and the youngest king and queen faced their elder brother holding hands.

Impatiently and unnecessarily, Susan said, "Come on, Peter. It's your turn."

Peter's eyes locked on Edmund and Lucy's hands clasped together. His heart hardened at the sight, and his voice was cold and cruel as he passed judgment. "Down," he said.

Lucy stared at him, and he had to look away before his defenses broke under her gaze. Peter turned away and led the party down the gorge, with Trumpkin and then Susan following eagerly. Edmund gently led his sister by the hand after them. Lucy reluctantly allowed him to do so, but she could not hold back her tears as she followed the others.