The Golden Bond;
A Narnia Fan-Fiction featuring Queen Lucy the Valiant and King Caspian the Seafarer.
Preview: When Eustace, Edmund and Lucy returned to England at the end of the Dawntreader's journey, Caspian returned to his kingdom with his father's councilors. His return brought about a new great age of gold and prosperity, and the sons and daughters of man returned to their daily lives back in England. But before the Golden Age of King Caspian the Seafarer, came the Ice Wars and not all Wardrobians stayed beyond the Wardrobe for good. Some fates are intertwined, meant to cross time and time again, just as some are never crossed nor bound together.
This is the story of two fates, already having crossed twice, suddenly bound together.
1. – The First Storm
Lucy woke to the terrible roar of thunder and the storm that was raging outside. She sat up in her bed, her fingers clutching her sheets for just a second, before pushing her covers away to swing her legs out of bed. The floor was ice cold against her bare feet, but she stood up anyway.
Something had called her, someone – Aslan? – but it could not be. Not now, not after seven years. Not after having been told that she would never return to Narnia again in this life-time. It was simply impossible. It was foolish, really, for her to keep tying everything unusual and anything inexplicably to Narnia. Even something as ordinary as waking from a dream to the sound of thunder made her thoughts drift to the home she would never return to.
Silliness, Susan called it. To be so caught up in a child's game.
Sadness followed the thought as Lucy recalled Susan and her view of Narnia. She had all but forgotten it, insisting that it was not real, did not exist. Peter was much the same, although he remembered it better. As of late, even Edmund had begun to pull away from remembering, claiming that they had to live in the world that they would stay in. She could not talk to anybody about it and somehow that made her remember it all the clearer, sharper, more painfully than any nostalgic story would have. She might have spoken to Eustace of it, but he had been sent off to boarding school.
Lucy herself was at boarding school, to be fair. An all girls one in the north country, one famous for making even the most dimwitted of girls into proper women, capable of being pretty little housewives. Needless to say; Lucy hated it.
She had but one single friend, Anna Hivedale, and she missed her siblings whom she could only contact through letters. The school did not permit phone calls except in emergencies.
Anna Hivedale had transferred in the middle of the year as her parent had tired of having her unruly ways around their house. They had hoped that the Headmistress of Saint Magdalene's school of housekeeping could straighten her out and conform her to society. So far the Headmistress had had no such luck.
No, she had in fact failed miserably.
Anna remained every bit as bold, wild and fearless as the day she arrived. That was what Lucy liked about her and the reason why Lucy had been the only girl the dorm-keeper could persuaded to share a room with Anna. Not that she needed persuading.
Lucy had been daydreaming on one of the benches outside the dorms, imagining that the grey and dreary gardens came to life with nymphs and tree spirits as they would have in Narnia, when Anna had appeared out of nowhere, asking her which way to the dormitories. She had run away from the Headmistress when the tour of campus got too boring and too stiff, something that later resulted in quite a bit of punishment in form of kitchen-duty and the lasting friendship of the two girls.
Anna had a temper that alienated her from the rest of the girls. She never took any insult lying down, but fired back double what she got. Lucy, being much the same and lonely too, felt a kinship with the girl that rivalled the one she had with her siblings. Having been used to being treated with respect and friendship, unused to the cruelty of teenage girls, Lucy had developed a sharp tongue to defend herself. One that often got her in trouble with the other girls at the school, but in turn had won her a friend in Anna. The only thing that spoke against Anna was her unwillingness to listen to Lucy's tales of Narnia.
"A silly bit of fantasy." she would say, grinning. "Not for us proper housewives, is it dear?" she would continue, imitating the Headmistress' haughty tone.
Lucy did not argue. She did not have the energy to continue holding on to Narnia and it worried her that her grip on the world was loosening. Would she never see it again? All her friends and Aslan? Would she end up as unimaginative as Susan?
At eighteen she barely had a choice any more,- and if any it was to grow up.
Another roll of thunder passed over her head, bringing her back to the now. She counted slowly to twenty before lightning flashed outside her window. For a second it seemed to illuminate a face in the clouds. A woman's face, somehow familiar.
Feeling uncertain as she stood beside her bed, and unwilling to wake Anna, she walked to the window and looked outside it. Everything was black.
One, two, three – The thunder roared again, not far away she reckoned. She stared at the trees outside, their branches black against the sky, swaying in the stormy winds. Rain was falling too, making everything a greyish blur.
A new lightning flashed and now she saw something move in the gardens beneath her window. She was certain of it!
One, two – Thunder and the strange sense that somebody was calling her again.
Had it been a large dog or something? It had looked like that. Her heart skipped. It could not be...?
Suddenly she was in a hurry, pulling socks and boots on beneath her nightgown as she tiptoed down the hall. She was careful not to make any noise that would wake up the dorm-keeper, Mrs. Jenkins, or she would have another round of toilet-duty – kitchen-duty was reserved for minor offences and new girls who had had no chance to learn the rules yet. Making it all the way to the front-hall without being found out, Lucy hurried for the window by the couches. The front-door would be locked, but it was an open secret between the girls that the lock on this particular window was broken.
It was little trouble for Lucy, former head-huntress of the kings and queens of old, and renowned troublemaker, to get it open with almost no noise to speak of and then lift herself out of it and into the storm.
The rain hit her like a bucket of ice-cold water, – it might as well have been, since she was drenched in a matter of seconds – as the wind fought to push her back inside. Still her boots hit the muddy ground beneath the window as she wished, with a shiver, that she had thought to bring her jacket. She looked around the dark abandoned dormitory-garden as she walked towards where she had seen the large shadow.
She reached the old and leafless tree where she had seen the creature, placing a hand against it as lightning flashed. One – a thunderous roar filled the air around her as she saw the outline of him a few feet in front of her.
"Aslan!" she yelled, joy and confusion in her voice as her teeth chattered from the cold. She started talking as she took a step away from the old apple-tree. "I knew-" but what she knew remained unspoken as a yet another lightning struck, hitting the tree above her and engulfing everything in whiteness before fading to black. She thought she heard the sad rumble that Aslan used to make deep in his chest whenever he told her goodbye.
.o.O.o.
In the darkness of the castle halls, nobody noticed the shadow of a man when he made his way past the hallways and to the battlements beyond the watchtower. The guards, of course, noticed him when he reached them, but except for polite nods and murmured greetings, they let him be.
They all knew that something plagued the young king as he made his way to an – at present – deserted piece of the bastions. There he stood, drawing a deep breath of night-air into his lungs, as he regarded the horizon.
Caspian knew, as well as any Narnian outside this night, that a storm was coming. It had been on its way for quite some time already, collecting itself as grey and blackened clouds above the distant mountains.
It had been little less than two years since the Dawntreader had returned to Narnia together with its crew, King Caspian and the surviving of his father's – now his – advisers. It had been years full of celebrations and peace, but as of late there had been trouble brewing. Rumours spread from the north, that dark creatures had been massing in the shadows of the mountains and the snow had fallen early, bringing whisperings of a long and dark winter with it. Cats had been, and still were, turning up dead on the hills, all with their heads shaved completely bare, as if to bring insult to Aslan and his sacrifice 1300 years ago.
Caspian had sent spies to the north to find out the truth, but they had not yet returned nor sent word of their findings. He worried that they might never be heard from again. That he had sent them to their death.
He took a tight hold of the stonewall in front of him, looking towards the north and the lightning that raged between its clouds. Would there ever truly be peace in Narnia? Like there had not been since the time of the two kings and queens?
He remembered how young, younger than he was himself, they had seemed when they arrived. He remembered how they had quarrelled like the kids they looked to be one moment, only to turn serious and way too mature for their years the next. How had they managed to keep peace? He recalled their personalities and their actions. Peter, ever the brave and wise, keeping track of everything and making sure that nothing got out of hand. Susan, beautiful and strong, always the first to see the faults of a plan and point out how to correct it. Edmund, the fiercest and best warrior Caspian had ever seen, always there to back up his brother and sisters, loyal almost to a fault. And Lucy. Tiny, charming, kind and diplomatic Lucy, never one word out of place and never putting anybody off.
How could he live up to all their strength and wisdom? It had taken four rulers to bring about the golden age, so how could he, alone, do the same?
As soon as the thought caught words, he pushed it aside. It did no good to dwell on the past, neither on Susan, whom he had fallen in love with, or the other siblings whom had become his friends. Neither did self-doubt and weakness.
Taking another deep breath he left the battlements to return to his chambers for as long a sleep as he could catch before he would be woken by his councillors for another taxing meeting concerning the future of Narnia and the disturbing happenings of the north.
On the way to those chambers, he met with Trumpkin in the hallways, the dwarf hastening towards him.
"A messenger arrived, Caspian." he said. "Another cat was found at the northern hills, laid upon a great stone."
"Like Aslan on the table?" Caspian asked, his voice weary. He already knew the answer before Trumpkin nodded.
"Exactly like the five others." he confirmed. "Tied up and stabbed through the heart. No witnesses have come forth, and the messenger saw nothing that could lead to the perpetrators, though..." he hesitated.
"Though?" Caspian prodded.
"Frost had fallen around the poor creature, preserving it." the dwarf told him. "Ice-taps have been growing on the trees to the north, but the leaves have yet to fall."
"And people fear the return of the White Witch and the eternal winter." Caspian sighed, remembering the stories well from when he was little and then shivering as he remembered the cave, remembered her voice as she spoke to him from beyond the ice. "I have heard the rumours, as well as the one about the dark creatures flocking together."
Trumpkin waited for him to finish speaking, knowing that the young king had need of it.
"...I don't know what to do." Caspian admitted, leaning against the wall. "My scouts do not return, the messengers bring no news or leads about the cats. Fear is growing in my kingdom, but I have no solution." Sorrow and sadness filled his gaze, together with self-doubt. "How am I to protect my people?"
Trumpkin shrugged.
"You do what you find best, pray to Aslan and hope." he said. "That is all any of us can do."
Caspian looked at him.
"I suppose." he answered.
Trumpkin grunted at him.
"Hmpf!" he said. "Suppose right! Go to bed your majesty – before you lose your wit for lack of sleep."
Caspian chuckled, knowing that the conversation had gotten too personal for the dwarf, and resulted in him lashing out.
"Goodnight, Trumpkin." he said, before continuing to his chambers and his bed.
.o.O.o.
Sunlight kissed her cheeks and danced upon her eyelids as she stretched, barely awake, to find that she was laid upon grass. It was soft and thick beneath her fingers, the smell of it filing her nostrils as she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Above her was nothing but the blue, blue sky and the green leaves perched upon the branches of a tree.
She swallowed, noting that her throat and mouth was dry, before sitting up. Her body felt worn, like after a long days work and a heavy sleep, and her hair was stiff from having been slept upon while wet. Something tasted and smelled weirdly burned, something she had not noticed at first because of the strong smell of the plants around her and the clean air. The clean and all too familiar air.
She closed her eyes and let herself fall back onto the bed of grass, fighting back tears of overflowing emotion.
Narnia.
She was home.
The tears came anyway, flowing joyously from her eyes and down her cheeks as she swallowed the knot in her throat. She opened her eyes again, taking in the branches of the tree above her again. An old apple-tree, alive but past the fruit bearing years. Like the dead one back by the dormitory, almost the exact same shape and size, except – this one had blue and silver leaves, and the one back by the dormitories could not be there any more. It must have been destroyed by the lightning, the one that sent her back to Narnia. But why had it been done in such a manner?
The first time had been through the wardrobe, then it had been by the blowing of Susan's horn and last time had been through the painting of the Dawntreader. What had been the connection? The wardrobe had been made of tree, and so had the frame of the painting, the shame shade and texture as she recalled. Apple-tree perhaps? Was fruit-trees used for the crafting of furniture? But then what about the calling of the horn? Had that simply been a whim of Aslan, the promise of help to whomever should decide to blow it? A bit of Christmas magic?
It seemed that she was in a fruit-garden of sorts. All around her grew different trees, all hung low with ripe apples, oranges, plums and pears. All had they not only green, but also blue and silver leaves. But although it was undeniably a Narnian orchard, it was not one Lucy remembered ever seeing. Then again, time between her world and Narnia was strange, and it could very well be several hundred years since her last visit. She simply had no way of knowing, before finding somebody to ask.
So with all the same boldness and adventurous spirit that had led her to Narnia the first time, she got to her feet and started walking among the trees, to see if she could find signs of humans around. Well, not humans as such, but Narnians. Which could really be most of anything. In fact, it was one of her fondest longings that a sprite should choose to appear from one of the fruit trees, seeing as the nymphs were one of all the things she had missed most.
"Hello?" she called, gently. "You can come out. I'm not dangerous and I would so like somebody to talk to." she told the trees as she walked. From her last couple of visits to Narnia, she knew that the nymphs slept deeper and longer than they had when she and her siblings had defeated the White Witch. But perhaps one would choose to favour her with an appearance.
Nobody did though, and Lucy could now see a wall beyond the trees. She had reached the end of the orchard. The wall was well kept, though, and well build. It was large and greenish, and on top of it an intricate pattern of flying horses and lions and dancing women decorated it, seemingly carved out of the wall. The wall itself could have sprouted from the ground all on its own, as far as Lucy could see. It seemed to be all in one piece.
She decided to follow it round to find the exit leading out of the garden. She looked at the fruits around her, but something told her that eating them would be wrong when she did not know who they belonged to. Despite having recently turned eighteen, she was still very much like a child. She had wanted to grow up, she remembered, back when she had last been in Narnia. She had wanted to be seen, liked, like Susan. She had wanted to be beautiful, but she soon found out how foolish her way of thinking had been. Aslan had helped show her.
A deep sigh left her at the thought. She really had been a fool back then.
Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she could see that although she was not nearly as beautiful as Susan, she still had her own sort of prettiness. Her curious blue eyes were large and surrounded by doe-like lashes. Her freckles had lessened as she grew older, leaving her skin smooth and clear, and her hair had gained a coppery glow as she grew it out. Now, she did not have the gentle curls that fell so naturally from Susan's head, but her own thick locks had their own kind of waviness to them. She was still small of stature, but where she once had been stocky, the time at St. Magdalene's had made her lean. Her hips and chest were more subtle than Susan's, which she at times regretted a bit, but they were there and that was well enough for her most of the time.
She looked down herself, giggling at the sight of her nightgown. Having been soaked in the storm, then dried somewhat in the sun and having been laid in on top of grass, had left it curled, spotted with green and simply not something you would expect a former Queen of Narnia to wear. Or as the headmistress would have said and Anna quoted; "Not for us proper housewives, is it dear?"
She continued following the wall, certain that she would reach a port or and opening at some point. The sun was still high, so she had plenty of time before nightfall.
She thought briefly of singing, or something, so that anybody near would be able to hear her and so that she could gain some help that way. In the end she decided against it. From the time where she and her siblings had been called to Narnia in the middle of Caspian's rebellion, she thought it wise not to make too much of a fuss until she knew what was happening. Another deep sigh left her. It seemed that travelling between the worlds were only ever possible when there was trouble in Narnia. She wondered briefly if she should be worried as to why she had been returned there, but then she pushed the thought away. She was simply too happy to be back to worry right now.
But suddenly she did.
Once, they had returned to Narnia, finding that everybody they had known there had been dead for hundreds of years. Now, when seven years had passed in England, how many had then passed in Narnia? How many of her friends remained? Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought and she took a deep breath to calm herself.
Running now, she hurried along the wall. The sun shone hot on her skin tiring her faster than she liked, but soon she could see what she searched for.
A port, shaped like two prancing horses with giant wings, shone like red copper in the sunlight. Golden bars made the doors between the statues, a giant lock put about the middle ones. It seemed to be such that you would need a key to open it.
Lucy ran to it, and pulled, hoping that it had been left unlocked. She had no such luck. The golden doors remained shut.
A frustrated cry left her lips as she stepped back away from it, stumbling. The gate seemed too tall for her to climb it. Could Aslan really had dropped her off somewhere where she would be locked in? Truly he would not! Or at least so she hoped, but despite the fact that she was the one who knew him best, she did not always understand his actions.
At least now that she had found the gate, she had also found the path leading through the orchard. Deciding that if she could not leave, she would follow that path, she started walking again. Perhaps Aslan wanted her to find something within this garden.
Moving through the trees, she reached what seemed to be the middle of the garden. A fountain sang quietly as the water rippled from its top to its lower basin, and she hurried to drink from it, suddenly realising how parched she had become. The water was clean and sweet and cool and left her feeling completely full, as if she had just been feasting on the most delicious of dinners. Only then did she see the inscription on the upper ring of the fountain.
.
~ Let only those who wish for nothing but a cool fresh spring, drink from my waters and be sated. ~
.
That was surely a strange thing to write on a fountain, Lucy thought, pulling back. Why would anybody drink from the fountain if they did not wish for something cool to drink? She shook her head, smiling. It must be a magical fountain, and it had certainly sated her for she no longer felt the least bit of hunger nor thirst, despite the small amount of water she had drunk.
Standing she looked around the centre of the garden, noticing only now that a large apple tree grew only a short distance from where she sat beside the fountain. She gasped at the sight of it, for it was no ordinary apple tree, like the others that she had passed. This one was large and on its branches hang only silver fruit, and suddenly Lucy felt a ravenous hunger grow at the sight of it. Everything within her screamed that she had to eat one of those apples, just one, a tiny bite. What could it hurt?
But Lucy remembered how magic worked in Narnia, and she stood fast, refusing to give into her hunger. She thought that surely, had she not still felt the after effects of the water, she would have run to gorge herself with the fruits.
"Aslan-" she called softly, her eyes fixed on the silver apples. "What are you thinking?"
If he heard her, he gave her no sign of it.
Hesitantly, she walked closer to the apple tree and its ripe fruits. Glancing up between its branches, she now saw a wondrous bird and a gasp of happiness left her.
"A sunset bird!" she said, smiling up at the pretty bird, the apples momentarily forgotten. The sunset birds had been one of her favourite things, back when she had reigned over Narnia with her siblings by her side. The beautiful dance they made in the sky when the sun set was one of the most amazing memories from that time, their feathers shining golden, then red, blue and all the colours of the world.
The bird rustled its feathers, opening an eye to look down on her.
"A human." it said in a dry voice.
"Oh I'm sorry." Lucy hurried to say. "That was terribly impolite of me."
"It was." the bird agreed.
"My name is Lucy Pevensie." she presented herself, dipping into a small curtsy.
The bird blinked at her, apparently uninterested in her name.
She hesitated a second.
"I'm afraid I don't know where I am." Lucy confessed, deciding not to press the bird for an introduction. "Aslan seems to have left me here, and I do not know why."
The bird cocked its head at her.
"You are in the first garden." it told her. "And I am the first of my kind, the one they call the Phoenix. And this-" it motioned to the tree upon which branches it was sitting. "-is the tree that gave seed to protect all of Narnia."
Lucy blinked, suddenly being reminded of how much she wanted to taste the apples. Then she forced her attention back to the bird.
"Then this is truly within Narnia?" she asked.
The bird gave half of a nod.
"At its borders." it told her. "But I'd wager that Aslan sent you here for a reason."
"He does seem to do that." she agreed.
"Then take an apple from my tree." the sunset bird allowed her. "Do with it what you will, but know this; A single bite can cure any ills, and if you eat all of one you shall live forever."
Lucy blinked at that, the possibilities of the apples almost making her dizzy.
"Live forever?" she gasped. "But surely, that is impossible! Only Aslan and the White Witch-" she stopped suddenly, the bird nodding.
"The White Witch once stole from my tree." it told her. "Those who eat the apples with a selfish heart will find it a sour fruit."
"So if I pluck it, I must not eat it?" Lucy asked, already her insides was hurting. To hold that fruit and carry it with her, without eating it, it would be terribly hard and painful she felt.
"You may, if you wish so." the bird said, shrugging. "I am neither judge nor guard. I sleep here, because I find it peaceful."
Lucy swallowed, trying to decide.
She no longer had the bottle with the cordial made from the juice of fire flowers and as such she could no longer heal anyone, should there be need of it. One bite of these apples however might have the same effect. Perhaps this was why Aslan had sent her here.
"If I should grate and boil one of these apples to make apple syrup-" she pondered. "Would that then have the same effect as the juice of a fire flower?"
The bird rustled its feathers as if it had been insulted.
"The same?" it mocked. "It would be ten, a hundred, a thousand times stronger! Where you would use a drop from the fire flowers, you should use only a needlepoint's worth of the apple juice!"
Lucy nodded to herself.
"So perhaps this is a test from Aslan." she said with a wry smile. She was beginning to feel like she had found the great lion's purpose for returning her. "If there is trouble in Narnia and Aslan has put me here, it must be because somebody will need healing." she reasoned. "And if I cannot carry one of these apples back to Narnia, then I will have failed him." she thought out loud, remembering how powerless she had felt whenever war came crushing down on Narnia, leaving her with only the small comfort of being able to soothe and heal the survivors.
The bird nodded towards one of the apples.
"Then take one and be on your way, so I can have my peace again. The gate should open for you now." and with that, it hid its head beneath its wing and seemed to go to sleep.
Lucy looked at the apple the bird had nodded at, and slowly, she reached out and plucked it. Having it in her hand made her so much hungrier and so much thirstier and she was horribly tempted to take a bite. But she bit her lip and turned to leave the garden instead. Despite it being such a simple action, it ate at her self restraint quicker than she cared to admit.
She started running to occupy her thoughts with something else and when she reached the gate, she saw that the lock was gone. Simply laying her hand against it, giving the gold a gentle touch, made the doors slide open and she stepped from the garden and out into a world that was somehow more real than the one within the walls.
The outside was colder and somewhat less colourful and light, despite the sun shining just as bright.
.o.O.o.
A/N;
Greetings Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam, Narnians and Wardrobians alike!
Some stuff, nothing important - skip it if you want to.
Editing;
I will be correcting mistakes and editing chapters runningly, as I have no Beta and often have typos, mistakes and written pasages that don't feel quite right to me. Don't be alarmed though! The changes will be small and won't change anything much, so you don't have to go back and re-read everything all the time. Instead, please review if I have made a mistake or a typo that I haven't noticed or corrected yet.
For those who haven't read the books;
The Garden of Youth is an actual cannon place in Narnia, allthough it is only featured in the first of the novels; The Magician's Nephew.
In this book, a young boy named Digory (Professor Kirke - from the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) is asked by Aslan to go and bring him an apple from the tree planted in the garden of youth. After a bunch of trials and temptations (some of wich involved the White Witch - who had yet to turn white at that point, but did so after eating a stolen apple) he brings back the apple to Aslan. Aslan asks him to throw it, so that its seeds can become the tree to protect Narnia. A tree grows where it lands and sprouts apples of its own. Digory gets to bring one of these apples back to England, and his mother eats it and becomes healthy even though she was in the process of dying. Afterwards they plant the apple's seeds in the backyard, growing a tree.
The tree in Narnia stands in Cair Paravel and is shown in the second movie, where Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy pass through it to get back home.
The tree in England is later felled and made into a Wardrobe and a Frame for a painting amonst other things,- creating portals and ways to enter Narnia from our world.
Thanks for reading! Please Review, Fave or Follow!