Author's Note: I own nothing you recognize. I always thought it a pity Edmund and Lucy didn't get to take Eustace back to Narnia. Following Vignettes from a Voyage, this is my strictly AU take on the Dawn Treader's homeward trip.

SCENES FROM A HOMEWARD JOURNEY

WESTWARD, HO!

That ceremonial solemnity which had attended the departure of Reepicheep could not, Lucy admitted to herself, have been long maintained. It had lingered beyond her party's returning; beyond the Mouse's disappearance, from the crest of a wave into nothingness. Then a great sigh, seeming to begin in the timbers of the Dawn Treader herself, had rippled around.

The merest flicker of a glance had been exchanged between the two young men on the poop; only Lucy had noticed the tiny nod from Caspian in the instant before Drinian had begun bellowing the orders that would heel his ship around, turn her prow into the setting sun, so that for the first time in half a year the painted eyes of the dragon would stare west. Toward Narnia. Toward home.

As the men had leapt to their commander's instruction, Lucy had felt her heart lift, her spirits soaring to the masthead for joy - and gratitude for Aslan's unexpected response to her plea. Let us see Narnia again, Aslan! Please!

Now, darkness had descended. The Dawn Treader lay becalmed beneath a black velvet mantle spangled with silver sparkles; stars so bright one felt one might easily reach up and seize one. The crew were gathered on the main deck to sing, dance and make merry in celebration of journey's end. Leaning against the poop rail, with Edmund, Caspian and Eustace around her, Lucy could only ponder whether she had ever been so happy before in all her life.

Through the evening she had watched the ship's company sauntering about its business with a new vigour. Men had hummed through the most tedious of tasks; snatches of song had caught and hung in the air. The raucous laughter of Rhince had carried from stem to stern. Even Drinian, swaggering about the decks with a constant smile, appeared to have cast off his responsibilities, and have not a care in the world.

Only one person, it seemed to Lucy, had any regrets about their turning back the way they had come.

Caspian.

"It's done now, you know," she said firmly, plucking his sleeve. "And you'll be depressing the rest of us when we're all so happy. Stop it! Going to the World's End might have been an adventure, but as Aslan told you - surely you'll listen to him, even if not us - you're needed in Narnia."

"A king is needed in Narnia," he answered sourly. "There is no overwhelming imperative that the king's name be Caspian."

"No, except that the chap who swore a coronation oath four years ago happened to be called that," said Edmund crossly. "Snap out of this mood, for goodness sake! It's only a few weeks ago you were moping about with a bad case of homesickness, and now you're acting as though you'd rather not get back to Cair Paravel and all your friends!"

"Friends?" Caspian tried the word. "Nay; a king has subjects; councillors and servants. He may have a faithful and obedient people. But - friends?"

"I can see at least one person who'd be hurt to hear you say that," murmured Lucy.

They all followed her gaze to where Drinian sat, perched on an upturned wine cask on the main deck, lustily joining the singing of a shanty Edmund recalled from the days of the Four Sovereigns' galleon, Splendour Hyaline. Caspian's petulant expression softened.

"Aye, there's one I know would be no less true were I mere Caspian the cottager. Still, even that friendship must change. Drinian has his enchanting Daniela ashore. When he's wed, what time will there be for an old ally?"

"You don't believe that!" cried Eustace.

"It must be so, Eustace. I shall be more alone than ever."

"Not while we're still here."

"And how long has Aslan granted you? Time to see Narnia. Nay, you'll return to your own world, Lucy. None would have mourned me so greatly, had I gone with Reepicheep."

"You're just not going to be jollied out of this, are you?" Edmund refused to credit that a Sovereign of Narnia could behave so selfishly. "What about Trumpkin, or Cornelius? Or Trufflehunter? D'you think Drinian would ever forgive himself if you'd swanned off into the great unknown from his ship? Or that we - or the crew - could say, oh, yes, I remember Caspian, vaguely?"

"Right!" Eustace thumped the poop rail in his enthusiasm, then wrung his stinging hand in dismay. "Ouch! Anyway, Caspian, you'd better pull yourself together, because you're going back to Narnia now; unless you'd prefer to stay sulking on one of the islands; with the Dufflepuds, perhaps?"

"There is no cause for taking so high a tone to Us, Master Eustace."

"There's every cause; we're not your subjects, and we'll speak to you as we jolly well like!"

"Ed!"

"Hush, Lu, it's got to be said, and who better to say it than one of the Ancient Sovereigns of Narnia? Drinian knows, doesn't he? That you're sulking, I mean? That's why he's down there amongst the crew, not watching the fun from up here as he usually would."

"I - perhaps. I dare swear he finds my determination to desert this afternoon impossible to forgive."

"He'd never have done it, would he? No matter how great the adventure."

"No, Lucy." Caspian knew his bottom lip was beginning to wobble: another unkingly act on a day of unkingly behaviour, he thought miserably. "Drinian would not leave a duty half done; you noticed how quickly he supported Rynelf's contention, that my intention was the abandonment of my fellows? And in my heart, I know - knew, even then - that he was right.

"I cannot abandon my coronation vows: however onerous my duties may be, I am bound by my honour to fulfil them. And yes, I do have true friends that would miss me. Forgive me! I find myself dreading a return to the stern formalities of kingship, that's all! Aboard ship, I have lived as one of a community; still distanced by my crown, perhaps, but with a freedom no King of Narnia has enjoyed before me. With this company I have experienced such wonders, and now…"

"The memories will remain to bind us, Sire." The deep, concerned voice made them all start. Eustace squeaked. Edmund jumped. Lucy's hands flew to her throat, to stop a shriek escaping.

"Goodness, Drinian, must you creep about so?" she cried. "I didn't even realise you'd moved."

"My apologies, Ma'am. I happened to notice Your Highnesses in conclave." He had felt their eyes on him; felt the hairs at the back of his neck begin to prickle with the alarming realisation that his master's sullen humour had refused to lift. "Your Majesty…"

"No, Drinian. 'Tis Caspian amongst friends, remember that."

"Aye. Caspian."

The younger man choked back a sob. "You cannot forgive me, can you?" he wailed, visibly steeling himself for affirmation.

Drinian sighed, one hand thrust back through his hair. "Hardly a question of forgiveness, as you put it: but yes, I can. I merely - confound it, Caspian! Tell me: do you think so poorly of your own, that you could leave us all so lightly? Do we - your friends - mean so little to you?"

There was such hurt in the usually confident voice that it brought tears into Lucy's eyes. "By the Lion, no!" cried Caspian, horrified. "I spoke without thought, Aslan made me see…"

"Did you remain because he instructed it, or because you accepted the wisdom of what he said? For I'll tell you plainly, as one that was your friend long before he became your subject: a reluctant king will be no true king at all for Narnia."

Edmund nodded vigorously. Eustace, uneasy with emotional discourse, shuffled and looked away. Lucy almost wished she could do the same.

"None of our appeals to duty moved you," Drinian continued softly. "Why, until Lucy spoke of the lady, the Star's Daughter, naught could persuade you to abandon your scheme."

Caspian opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. "He wasn't thinking properly," Eustace offered awkwardly. Caspian shot him a grateful look.

"Indeed I was not; but that is my folly. I heard Aslan's strictures, Drinian, and in them I recognised the truth of all you, Edmund, Reep, Lucy - even Rynelf, who must be rewarded when the time comes for his boldness - had said before. I am sorry, old friend - all of you. For weeks I've dreamed of turning west; now we have done so, and I dread the day I must return to ruling a realm. I've had no burdens aboard, and that has spoiled me."

"You may assume mine, should you require practise in bearing 'em," Drinian quipped, much relieved by the laughter in which Caspian heartily joined. "You never regarded your duties in this light before; or if you did, none of us - the Council - ever guessed it!"

"No more did I, my Lord, until I experienced the liberation of this journey." Caspian smiled fondly at his friend's snort, before a thought that had been floating about the back of his mind since he had heard words of unofficial abdication coming from his own mouth came to the fore. "Ahem! You recall what I said, about the Inner Council selecting a new sovereign, had I not returned from the East… well, one name would most assuredly have occurred to Cornelius, Trumpkin and the Badger: you are aware of it?."

"The name of one that could never have comfortably worn your crown, King Caspian," came the short reply. "Hmm, I fancy the breeze begins to stir. Hi, Rhince! Topmen, aloft! Excuse me, Your Majesties, if there's the smallest chance o' the wind getting up, we'd best be prepared for it. Stand ready at the helm, Erlian!"

"He's off jolly sharpish," commented Eustace as his three companions burst into laughter. "What - oh, I see! You were talking about him, weren't you, Caspian? They would have considered Drinian for the throne, wouldn't they?"

"The greatest nobleman in Narnia; scion of a line as ancient as the House of Telmar: a man practised and proven in diplomacy, governance and battle. True, there's no blood connection to the old ruling House; but the only relations I have are the royal family of Archenland - out of the question - and a distant cousin, Isabella, who is Duchess of Beruna. Nay, Lucy; the prospect of a Queen ruling would not be repugnant to our good people, but Isabella… she's wed to an Archenlander, you know, and is by temper a retiring soul. Scarcely a creature in Narnia knows her mettle; a nobleman of proven abilities would be the better choice, should the Telmar line fail. Yes, Eustace; the instinctive response of the Narnian Council would have been to present the throne to my Lord of Etinsmere."

"He would have hated it," said Lucy with certainty. Edmund nodded.

"I'll say! Confined to the land, and always feeling your shadow over him… he'd have been miserable, and I suppose, being the decent chap he is, he might have felt compelled to accept."

Caspian nodded slowly. "Indeed. Aslan reminded me that to quit my kingdom was to impose an unreasonable burden upon one especially dear to me; he could only have meant my oldest friend. Now, I wonder if Rynelf can be spared to continue playing for us? My Lord Drinian! If it be permissible, might we not have music from our shipmate's accordion as we sail? I should like, I think, to hear a song of home… the Ballad of Beaversdam, perhaps. Excellent! Come along, Lucy - Edmund - you must recall it, sing with the rest of us, it will make the hours pass more quickly. At your pleasure, Rynelf!"