Sunny, sultry, and hot.
No wonder someone had felt the need to open some windows to let the gentle breeze coming from the Western Wood in. Similarly, no wonder a fly had entered almost casually, buzzing down the elegant, frescoed halls of Cair Paravel. It lingered only a few moments on a brass doorknob before heading towards the closest, well-lit chamber whose door was partially open.
It was only natural. Yet in Narnia, nothing happened by chance for the Great Lion watched over His children and knew exactly what they needed. And He knew a certain, newly crowned King was not doing as well as he should be.
'*-*-*-*'
Slowly, almost painstakingly, Rilian became aware of his surroundings once more. Living in a world where Animals could—and did!—talk had taught him to shut out each annoying sound when he had to focus on his work, but this one was too random and high-pitched for him to successfully ignore it for long time. Thinking of it, his brain had been sending him signs of it for a while now.
Something was buzzing.
Buzzing.
Thud.
Buzzing.
Thud.
Buzzing.
That evil, hateful, silver device buzzed with magic everytime he was bound to it. He could perceive its power tickling his skin and making its way to his bone. He felt it run through his veins as it seemed to replace even his own blood.
He had never been known to look or be frightened yet he was willing to admit he was scared.
Thud.
Rilian's glassy eyes slowly focalized once more as he tore himself from the awful memory.
When he looked around, it was easy for him to spot the fly that was constantly running into the glass trying to get free.
Each night he struggled. Helplessly. With all his might that always seemed so inadequate and not enough, as if it were not the strength he needed to get free. Yet, he fought back, stubbornly hitting his head against his failure each time.
He felt himself strangely sympathizing with the poor fly that was still trying to pass through the close window.
Each night, as if it were the first time, he would come to his senses and find himself trapped yet free at the same time. And that was the most frustrating thing that could happen to him. He could either have his physical freedom or his spiritual one, but it was like the two things were not meant to be at the same time.
Buzzing.
Thud.
Rilian—lost in his memory—slowly made his way towards the window where the tireless fly was struggling. He felt almost enchanted.
He felt tired—overworked—and his muscles hurt. He still could felt an intense power had been unleashed in that room and still lingered. The Chair was warm and crackling.
"My Prince, you're finally awake. I was in pain, but you're finally with me again," a lyrical voice reached him. It was refreshing and as sweet as honey, as fresh as water. "It seems it must have been worse than usual," she said. "You look weary. Come; I'll give you the rest you need."
He knew that promise and somehow remembered he could trust who pronounced it.
He trusted her.
He watched the insect buzzing and running into the window, and it was like looking in the mirror. Yet he felt like her too. She must have enjoyed seeing him struggling one moment and being meek and obedient the moment after that.
He just stood there, mesmerized by the sight until the sound ceased.
He got a grip on himself realizing it had been selfish of him to get so lost in his memories while he could have done something. It had just happened too soon; he had been King for less than a month, after all.
He got closer to the window, trying not to scare away the insect.
He may have been the fly in the past, but this time he was the one who could give it freedom, and he would do just that. And not just today but every day to come. He would make sure everyone would be well cared of and free.
Cautiously but resolutely, he set the curtain aside and opened the window.
The little, black figure of the fly stood out against the blue, cloudless sky, becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared, and its buzzing got lost in the air as a satisfied roar overwhelmed it, and a smell teased Rilian's nostrils: ocean air, and freedom.
He realized he had finally let go.
Now he was really worth of being called King Rilian, the Disenchanted.
Thank you, Aslan.
A/N Thank you for reading.
Laura Andrews' beautiful story about Rilian - and a fly - inspired this fic of mine, but I happen to be slightly obsessed with Caspian and Rilian. :)