Meeting the Legends

by BrokenKestral

"[Caspian] was liking Peter very much, but was rather tongue-tied. It was much stranger for him to meet the great Kings out of the old stories than it was for them to meet him." A collection of the stories the nurse told Caspian, and (eventually) how he felt when he met the legends, and became a legend himself.

1. Prologue

For the Blond Caspian Rebellion, if they'll accept it. One of the members told me about the challenge to write stories about the book-verse Caspian-and this is what sprang to mind.

Disclaimer: Narnia, Caspian, and the legends that remain untold are not mine, and perhaps not even mine to tell, but I hope that someone who loved stories as much as Lewis did would not mind me spinning my own.

OOOOO

"Much of their time together, Morgan simply told stories. She told of faeries and spells, of strange creatures, of men and women who travel easily between worlds and were consequently considered wizards and magicians. 'Remember that, Lynet,' Morgan said. 'What is called magic in the World of Men is called that only because it does not belong there.' [...] Gradually Lynet came to realize that Morgan's stories all had their reasons, though she was not able to put every story's lesson into words. She said as much to Morgan, and the enchantress nodded briefly. 'In this world, almost everything is taught with stories.'"

-Gerald Morris, The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf

OOOOO

Caspian was a few minutes old when he heard Narnia for the first time; his panting mother laid her head against his invisible blond hair and whispered to him, Welcome, my next king of Narnia. And he cried in response, for he was a child, and had just left his mother's womb for a world he felt was cold and bright and overwhelming. And his mother held and hushed him, whispering to him of his father, his family, and Narnia.

Narnia.

His father died when he was still a child, and his mother withdrew. He cried and cried for her, the one who whispered to him of Narnia and love and family, and he would not stop. At last his aunt, lips pursed disapprovingly, told the servants to get him a nurse and stop his unkingly crying.

The nurse was short, extremely old in the three-year-old's eyes, and had kind eyes and wrinkly, kind hands that picked up Caspian without hesitation and tried to hush his crying. She patted his back, stroked his hair, and picked up his toys to show him. He liked her-but not enough to stop crying.

Not until she told him stories.

She carried him to the closest chair, sat him against her, and lowered her voice. "Once upon a time," she began…