Reality Check

Summary: Caspian has to deal with his thoughts and emotions after the dream; sequel to Dream Spell and second in the Mindscape series.

Disclaimer: CS Lewis owns the Chronicles of Narnia; I'm just borrowing.

AN: This is the second story in my Mindscape series and if you want more details on it then please check out my profile page. Any thoughts on this story or the overall series would be greatly welcomed.

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His eyes shot open, staring blankly at the ceiling of his bed above him. He wanted to leap from his bed and do something, anything. There was a vicious pounding throughout his entire body; too much energy pent up without release. But he could not move. The only thing he could do was stare in panic as emotion ripped through him.

What had just happened?

He had been here, in bed, after an exhausting but dull day of castle politics. He'd retired earlier than usual hoping that sleep would take him quickly, help him escape his troublesome thoughts and let his body receive the respite it so desperately needed. Slumber hadn't claimed him straight away though and so he'd let his mind wander. And not so typically his mind had wandered to the Kings and Queens of Old, one Queen in particular. He had spent many nights lost to the realm of dreams in the company of her and her siblings, but never before like last night.

It had felt so real.

And it was so different to his usual dreams. They hadn't delighted in his company, longed to see more of Narnia, offered advice on all his problems, challenged him to be more; all the things that usually happened when he dreamt of them. He would be lying if he said he had never dreamed of Queen Susan that way but he had never got the details right before. His mind just couldn't conjure up her beauty and soul into a dream. It was as if last night had been really her.

But that wasn't possible, and Caspian would only end up more hurt and disappointed than last time when the truth came crashing down on him if he believed it. She and her siblings were meant to be in their own world, not his. Caspian had comforted himself with the thought that at least he would get to see Lucy and Edmund again; that and his dream time with them.

The dream had started so strangely as well, not like usual. Instead of feeling consciousness slip from around him and becoming vaguely aware of being somewhere, he had known instantly that he was in a dream and was waiting for something. The fact that Caspian could remember all of this scared him slightly as his dreams were normally only vague recollections to him. He could only remember a moment of them or a setting; not the whole thing, in vivid detail.

He'd been standing off of the main entrance in the How, looking at all the restoration work that had been accomplished. Narnians were walking past him, intent on their work, but also acting as if he wasn't there. He wanted to reach out to them, ask them something but he couldn't make his body move. He watched them for what felt like hours, just staring as his mind finally came up with a reason for his lack of progress.

He was waiting for something, someone.

Just as the thought that this wasn't normal started to form in his mind, Caspian felt a tugging sensation and he turned to face outside, where it felt like the wind was pushing him to go. The gentle breeze enveloped him and although it didn't push him, it exerted enough pressure around him to make him want to move. Deciding that he wanted to see what this dream was about, Caspian started moving, the air around him directing him where to go.

He was walking across the land in front of the How, towards the surrounding forest. He didn't know what the reason for coming here was as he had never been in this exact part of Narnia before. Maybe that was it though; were the tree spirits telling him off for not paying more attention to his land? He'd never heard of it before but he was quickly learning that in Narnia, anything was possible. The sudden disappearance of the wind surprised him and Caspian stumbled the last few steps through the thick forest. The trees gave way suddenly and he found himself in a beautiful clearing.

The land however, did not keep his attention; as his eyes swept the clearing they landed on her.

Caspian sucked in a deep breath and just stared at the sight before him. Queen Susan was sitting right next to the pool of water, her feet dangling into its sparkling depths as she stared off into the distance. She wasn't wearing what she usually wore when he dreamt of her; in place of her regal robes was a white dress, light and airy that seemed to make her skin glow.

Caspian knew that this was where he was meant to be, that this was who he had been waiting for. Walking forwards quietly he reached out with a hand that was almost shaking and brushed his fingertips along her shoulder. She leaned back into his touch and Caspian felt every cell in his body jump to life.

Having no idea what to say, just that he needed to say something, Caspian opened his mouth and let words fall out, not knowing what they meant but that they needed to be said.

"You're late." he whispered, his voice husky.

"How can I be late to my own dreams?" She replied as he moved his other hand to sweep its way down her arm.

"You're late to mine." He murmured.

Everything from then on was pure joy as he revelled in the feel of her skin, her touch on him and how they moved together.

But now, in the confines of his room, back in reality he could let the doubt and fear plague him. What was that? How had it happened? Would it ever happen again?

Caspian finally moved his body, the energy seeping out of him like a deflating airbag, and he curled up into his pillows. The dream had seemed so real. He knew he couldn't have thought of the exact way she looked and acted; as much as he felt drawn to her and that he knew her, Caspian really had little memories of her that would help him imagine this. But what could that mean?

As his mind pondered this, another part of him reflected back on her words, turning them over and over in his head, searching for meaning.

How can I be late to my own dreams?

Late to my own dreams?

My own dreams?

Her own dreams? What did she mean? It was his dream, his perfect fantasy.

Caspian closed his heavy eyes, needing sleep now more than ever as he tried to escape his thoughts. As much as he'd like to spend the rest of his days dwelling on her, on them together, it would not be good for his state of mind, or his kingdom; their kingdom.

Escaping the realms of consciousness once more that night Caspian failed to notice his ripped nightshirt, hanging around his chest loosely. Just as it had in his dream.

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