The Daughter of the Star
by Sammie

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

RATING: K+ (I'm so bad at this)

SUMMARY: Caspian and his bride, the queen with the blood of the stars flowing in her veins, from the perspectives of those around them. From "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" and "The Silver Chair".

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
- I never thought terribly much about Ramandu's Daughter until that sub-plotline in "PC" - yes, the non-canon one even Popplewell and Barnes admitted to doubting. (And even more oddly, by the account of a viewer who had not read the books but saw an early preview of the film, "VDT" doesn't deal with Caspian's marriage at all - even though it's canon! ? )

So that got me thinking: why does Caspian fall for RD? Lewis leaves us just enough tantalizing clues about her personality and what attracts Caspian to her, and there are interesting ways he hints at timelines in their story. And so while everything in between I've clearly made up, I'm trying to stick as firmly as I can to canon.

And no, Caspian could not have married Ramandu's daughter out of loveless duty; her very nature and upbringing cause serious problems for a "duty" argument.

- unbeta-ed

- lots of beautiful lines, etc. from other stuff I've read

- not a purist, but definitely in favor of CANON

- I don't even pretend to be able to write 1950s, Oxbridge-style English dialogue. Sorry.

- There's a rather overwhelming number of male POVs...but then Lewis doesn't really give us many Narnian women which haven't come over from our world!

LUCY

She had not understood what beauty was until she saw her.

Beauty, Lucy suddenly realized in that moment, wasn't even the beauty spell in Coriakin's book. Susan was beautiful, and the spell would have made her, Lucy, beautiful, but, Lucy marveled, now she understood what ASLAN meant by beauty.

The girl before her was what Lucy had always imagined a true lady should look like. Of course, having been a queen, Lucy the Valiant knew that the nobility come in all different shapes, sizes, and personalities, but there was something intangible about this one standing before them - and she inspired just a little awe. She was a great lady; Lucy knew this, as the young queen had met enough noblemen and noblewomen in her life to know who was truly worth knowing and who was not.

It did not matter that this lady before them was not done up like all the courtly women. She wore a simple blue frock, gathered right under her breasts and flowing down in a long skirt to her ankles. It had no lace, no embellishment. Her hair flowed freely down her back, pulled back only slightly by a blue ribbon and nothing else. She was barefoot. In dress, she looked like a common villager.

She moved like a queen, however; she possessed a grace and an aura of gentle authority that belied her youth. Her eyes seemed both innocently young and old with experience at the same time, her face open and kind. Lucy felt rather conflicted: the lady seemed so otherworldly but, at the same time, somebody with whom she could chat for hours over tea. Still, Lucy could not pinpoint what it was exactly about this girl that so astonished her. There was an intangible, almost indescribable quality about her - both otherworldly but incredibly earthbound as well.

Lucy turned to look at the others; she could see Reepicheep, cautious but welcoming; Edmund, cautious and wary - fool him once, shame on the one who fooled him, but he would not be fooled twice; Eustace, who looked a little dumbstruck and unsure of himself. They were all standing; they knew greatness when they saw it.

Caspian stared at her like a man out of his wits.

She hospitably asked why they had not eaten, and when asked, explained about the sleepers. Lucy suddenly recognized the knife, and the lady confirmed her thoughts, giving her a small smile, the type shared by two who share an understanding.

The knife was to be held here in honor while the world lasted. On this island, Aslan kept something so precious, something which had been used in the worst possible way for the best possible purpose. And this girl played a part in guarding it. Aslan had entrusted this to her care.

The intended victim of that knife - Lucy marveled at how greatly Edmund changed since his betrayal - looked wary. "'...When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what might happen with a witch too.'" Lucy had never been prouder of her brother; he had learned so much since his encounter with the White Witch and knew enough of magic to be cautious. "'How are we to know you're a friend?'"

There was no offense given and none taken. The girl merely smiled her gentle smile, her face still as open and honest - and thus, beautiful - as it ever was. "'You can't know. You can only believe - or not.'" There was no malice, no defenseness; it was a simple statement of fact, much like anybody might say the water looked blue or the Dawn Treader's sail was purple. She did not apologize for who she was, but nor was there any arrogance about it. Here she was, and this was the way it was; they could take it or leave it.

Lucy pondered the lady's response to Edmund. They could not know about her; they could only believe her or not. A witch would certainly have simply reassured them and then entrapped them; conversely, this lady did not seem to wish to force their decision either way. Her words had a recognizable feel to them - for some odd reason, there was an air of some odd familiarity about her, although Lucy could never have thought of where she had heard these words before or met her before.

"'Course he isn't safe. He's not a tame lion. But he's good."

The voice was as clear as a bell, and Lucy brought her head up instantly, looking about. The others had not noticed her startle; they stood with their backs to her. Only the girl, who was directly facing her, noticed; there was no perceptible reaction except the mixture of concern and kindness on her face, directed at the young queen.

Lucy stopped short. This other girl was not Aslan; most certainly not. But she was one of his creatures, one who believed, one who lived so close to his land and who had the care of that knife. She had, in come ways, become Aslan-like, reflected him - the goal of all Aslan's creatures. She made no apology for who she was as his creature; they could believe her, or not.

Aslan was incomparably good, but he could not be controlled by anybody else. As Aslan's creature, and a steward of the knife, this lady was good - but she was not tame. She was not obliged to answer to anybody - even to Edmund the Just, King of Narnia - except Aslan himself.

Lucy suddenly understood her tiny sense of deja vu. The lady's entire countenance seemed to reflect Aslan's own. She was not Aslan - most certainly not! - but she reflected him in tiny, odd ways. It was just like how Reepicheep and Glenstorm, for example, reflected all Lucy found of Aslan's courage and goodness and wisdom, whatever faults they had. This lady, too, as a creature of Aslan ought, reflected in some small amount what Lucy adored so very much in the great Lion.

Well, they were near the end of the world, near His country.

It made sense that Reepicheep would recognize her greatness. Dear Reep, so brave and a little vain when they first met, but now just so brave. He had, Lucy felt, become even more Aslan-like in his qualities in the intervening three years: brave and fearless, though he had dropped some of his vanity. He certainly was not the Lion; there was only one. But he was dropping those un-Aslan-like qualities. Of course Reepicheep would realize greatness when he saw it.

In Lucy's own spirit, too, she felt at rest. She sometimes felt uncertain in anticipation of the future; going to the the Dark Island, she felt dread; but here at Ramandu's Island, she felt a joyful eagerness. She hoped her spirit had become keen enough to begin to sense good and evil when she saw it, and right now she felt the same uncertainty but peace she felt so many, many years ago - in Narnian time! - when they first met Father Christmas, or even better - in that dam when the Beavers described the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea.

The travelers stared at her longer, deciding whether or not to trust her. There was hesitation, and Reepicheep drank to her. Caspian paused in his staring only long enough to fill the Mouse's cup.

Hungry, they fell to the food on the table. Lucy wondered about it being ASLAN'S table. So whoever was here guarded not only the Stone Knife but Aslan's own table, which Aslan himself set for travelers. Lucy had never felt more envious of a mere gatekeeper, because gatekeeper - steward - was essentially what the girl was.

She was, Lucy thought, what humble service was - she already understood what Lune had said so many, many centuries ago in Narnian time about being a ruler. She awoke the day in song, watched over Aslan's table and the Stone Knife with faithfulness, and had tended to the Sleepers with great patience. There was no bitterness in her about her lot. Perhaps it was this sweet humility and service to Aslan which was her stunning beauty.

"'In the world from which my friends come,'" Caspian was saying now, "'they have a story of a prince or a king coming to a castle where all the people lay in an enchanted sleep.'" He looked very earnestly at the girl, his eyes shining. "'In that story he could not dissolve the enchantment until he had kissed the Princess.'"

Lucy nearly choked on her food, swallowing hard as her eyes watered; next to her, Eustace nearly spit out his wine and started hacking. Edmund tried unsuccessfully not to snort in laughter, then hastily tried to cover it with faked coughing.

Caspian had not yet taken his eyes off their hostess.

Eustace looked like he was about to whisper about the rudeness of staring. Ed was looking rather amused. "He could not be more clear about his desire to kiss her, you know," he whispered out of earshot.

Lucy just smiled. "I think he's rather adorable in his bumbling attempt to court her."

"He's most likely never had to court a woman. They most likely throw themselves at him, like S - "

"Don't remind me." Lucy groaned. "I don't want to understand."

Caspian looked earnestly at the lady, already unconsciously leaning towards her. She only smiled. "'But here, it is different,'" she replied gently. "'Here, he'" - reigning king of Narnia or not! - "'cannot kiss the Princess till he has dissolved the enchantment.'"

Ed's eyes nearly fall from his sockets. "Good night," he whispered. "She's turned down a king!"

"'And now for the Lord Rhoop.'" Caspian, having spoken, turned to the head of the table.

Lucy was startled when she noticed the star's daughter again, standing there behind the haggard lord. The lady had, seemingly, faded away, her task done, having greeted the visitors and introduced her father and welcomed the morning (and what a welcome). She had seemed to disappear into the background when her father spoke, and while it was clear that Drinian and the crew had seen her when they arrived, having uncovered their heads, she had said nothing as the crew discussed sailing to the World's End.

She was not an attention-grabber, Lucy thought, and felt rather rueful again about the spell to become beautiful. She had to admit to reveling in the idea that suitors would want to come to see her, as the center of attention, but it was nothing, nothing, nothing like having heard Ramandu and his daughter sing as the morning came. It was so wildly beautiful, and yet they were the only ones who had heard it, and the lack of a wide audience didn't seem to matter to either Ramandu or his daughter.

Rhoop had silently come from the ship, entirely unnoticed. The exhausted lord now sat in a chair; Ramandu's daughter stood next to him, her hand still on his chair, as if she had just helped him into it. She touched his shoulder gently as her father approached noiselessly, and Rhoop seemed to relax.

Lucy had never felt more comfort and happiness. Lord Rhoop, rescued by his friend's son and now king, would have a dreamless, restful sleep here - here with his friends, at Aslan's own table, and with the very ones to whom Aslan had entrusted so much.

The star placed his hands on Rhoop; the beleaguered lord reached out one hand to Lucy and one to Caspian, and then feel asleep.

"'Poor Rhoop,'" Lucy said softly. She felt somebody watching her and looked up to see Ramandu's daughter smiling, and Lucy felt herself smile too.

Lucy could not help but feel some sympathy for Caspian as he insisted on his going to the World's End, with Reepicheep. Who would not wish to see Aslan's country? Yet she could not excuse the kind of behavior he was exhibiting. She was a ruler of Narnia: that meant putting the country before herself. It was the same for any other ruler. How could Caspian not understand this?

"'You are the King of Narnia,'" Reepicheep said, both firmly but reverently - Caspian was his king, after all. "'You break faith with all of your subjects...if you do not return. You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person.'"

Quite right, Lucy nodded; Reepicheep, of anybody, would understand duty. And not only that, Caspian would break faith with Ramandu's daughter, having nearly promised her to return. Lucy hoped she would not have to resort to that type of emotional blackmail in order to make him realize his duty, but if Caspian continued to be bullheaded, she just might.

Caspian went for his sword.

Right. "'And,'" she reminded him, "'you've almost promised Ramandu's daughter to go back.'"

It had, if not the entirely desired effect, a somewhat beneficial one, as Caspian stopped. Apparently his desire to be with the star's daughter was still potent enough to make him hesitate.

But it was more than that, Lucy wanted to add. Wasn't the lady everything that Caspian should have listened to? He could not please himself with random adventures, as Reepicheep had said: Ramandu's daughter had pointed out, so very gently, that he ought not go around kissing women, even if they had the honor of watching over Aslan's table and the Stone Knife, before he had finished his quest and his duty to Aslan. Honor and faithful duty to Aslan came first; Ramandu's daughter had already pointed this out to him on her father's island, and Caspian was forgetting again.

She would be good for him, Lucy thought.

Many days later, they stood by on the deck of the Dawn Treader. Their rowboat was ready, Reepicheep's coracle inside. She suddenly stepped away from the others, who were speaking to Caspian, and hurried to Drinian.

The captain bowed. "Your Majesty."

"Do take Caspian back to Ramandu's daughter."

Drinian looked surprised. "Well, should his Majesty decide so, but - "

Lucy crossed her arms. "I suppose I cannot make you do anything when I am gone," she replied, a little more tartly than she meant to do, "but I am asking you."

"Yes, ma'am." Drinian drew himself up.

"He will feel better when he gets back to Ramandu's Island," Lucy assured the captain as she had earlier with Caspian. "And she will do him a world of good."

As she turned to go, Drinian suddenly said, "Reepicheep asked the same."

"Reepicheep!" Lucy turned in surprise back to the captain.

Drinian looked serious, his eyes on his king, and then moving between the Mouse and the young queen regnant. "Is seeing her again so important?"

"Only if Caspian has got any sense in his head at all," Lucy replied.