Another Heart Calls
Chapter 4 – Always Running Out Of Time Together
Disclaimer; all characters here are copyright to C.S. Lewis.
AN/ Yessss! Been an impossibly long time, I know and I'm really sorry. So many things have sprung up recently, namely my exams, which are in three weeks, so very stressed out. I did this because I needed to relax and I'm making an Alice In Wonderland one shot and felt compelled to write about Narnia again.
Hope you like this chapter, it's nice and long and action packed and it even has some lovely-dovey moments—it truly has everything.
Enjoy and don't forget to REVIEW if you like it that is!!
"Are you comfortable enough, my lady?" Susan looked up, to see Caspian peering round the flap in her hastily made tent. It was a simple construction, made of sticks and swathed in heavy fabric, but it would do, granted that it didn't rain.
They'd stopped off for the night at the very start of a deep forest, which lay near one of the many Telamarine's camps. At first she'd been fearful that they may attack, but she'd assured herself that Caspian would probably die trying to protect her—she was inevitably safe.
"I am," Susan blushed, turning away from him. She was tired enough as it was already, having ridden for a while, head and heart heavy with thoughts and the her constant weighing up of emotions. All of her feelings were so complex. She longed for Caspian, more than anything else, and now she was back and everything was so complicated she didn't know what to do. Hera was such a complex issue, on one hand of course he was King, he needed a bride—and on the other, he'd barely waited. Susan couldn't help but feel stung by this.
"We shan't be staying here long," he continued, studying her carefully. She looked so beautiful, her long dark hair fanned out around her face, cerulean eyes glinting in the candlelight, her lips rosy and smile bright, sheathed in her moss green dress. "Tomorrow we travel the rest of the distance to Cair Paravel, where Aslan is."
"Thank you," she whispered, meaning it. She wished there was more to say, but there wasn't really. She didn't know what to say because the situation wasn't clear, she couldn't measure it with perfect clarity.
"If there's anything you need, I'll be . . ." he trailed away, awkwardly smiling. Caspian hated this. He didn't know how to act around her any more. Whereas once talking to her was as natural and easy as breathing, there conversations were now stilted, unvoiced questions hanging limply in the air.
"See you in the morning, Caspian," she nodded, cautiously. "If I need anything I'll come find you—don't worry."
He smiled, feeling like a fool, nodding, bowing, bumbling away. He always felt like a fool around her, as if her very prescense turned him into a silly puppy, always at her beck and call. He supposed it was the love. Love made everyone ridiculous, especially when it was so complicated as there's was.
He retreated to his tent, sinking into his simple bedding with a sigh. He had so many things to tell her and ask her, so many things he wanted to share, yet every time he tried to say them his mind called No, and his lips clamped themselves shut. Hera is your fiancée, his subconscious reminded him, thoughtfully. You can't do that to her. You said you loved her.
He did say that, but the more he thought abut it the less the words seemed true. When he thought of his love he saw Susan's beautiful face in his mind, precise as a picture. Hera didn't come anywhere close to what he felt for Susan, and he suppose that was love. Hera was merely a crush, but he had to cling onto her for now. He didn't know what Aslan would tell Susan, whether she'd be home tomorrow or the week after or in three months . . . or never.
He couldn't help feeling giddily happy at that notion. Susan staying forever was more dear perfection than he dared to wish before now, and now the thought that it could be reality seemed outlandish and crazy. He couldn't believe that Susan could be his, forever, his queen, his true love, staying in Narnia with him, forever. It was too perfect to cope with.
…
"Oh!" Hera gasped, wailing mournfully. How anyone could stand to travel by horse out of enjoyment was beyond her, yet she knew that her fiancée found the giddy, jolty riding fun. Fun?! She shrieked in her mind. What was fun about getting mud splattered up your dress, being jerked around so your hair was blow this way and that and getting bruises from the forceful cantering. What was fun about that exactly?!
"Something wrong, Herry?" Saoirse wondered, calmly trotting along on her grey horse. It was a beautiful specimen, with dark coal hair and a calm, peaceful air about it. She loved riding. It was always so content to her, just strolling along on the horse, the sun smiling down on everything, the air clear, being out in the country, smelling the flowers and rich, woody scents. She loved it more than anything, it was the time when she felt she was at her best. Her most relaxed, her happiest, her most able to tolerate Hera . . .
"Yes!" Hera hissed, steadying herself with her hand, trying to pull her horse back. "This beast isn't behaving! Oh—oh—oh, OW!"
"Just hush up and he'll be still," Saoirse whispered, but her friend was not listening.
"How far is it?" Hera cried, just about falling off her steed when he cantered over a bumpy patch. "Evie? Do you have the map?"
"Aye," Evelyn said, laughing jauntily. "But I'm not sure. Depends which route they're taking . . . still if you want to just head for Cair Paravel we'd be best cutting through the forest beside one of those camps."
"What camps?" Hera huffed, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Telamarine or something," Evelyn shrugged. "Any idea what a Telamarine is?"
Saoirse shook her head, so her glossy amber-coloured hair fell over one shoulder. "Herry?"
"Caspian mentioned them once," she said vaguely. "Not sure what they are though. Probably just people or some animals or something," she shrugged her shoulders huffily. "I'm sure they won't be any harm. That boy would have warned us if they were."
Evelyn nodded, studying the map seriously. "Well, it's a couple of miles to a forest right next to one of their camps. If we cut through it, camp out there perhaps, it's only another days riding or so."
"Another day?" Hera almost screamed, but she composed herself at the last moment so it was more like a defeated wail. "Wonderful."
"I'll swap horses with you if you wish," Saoirse offered, generously. She didn't particularly want the wild, untameable horse that Hera had, but she had attendancy to be good with animals—and she'd do anything to stop Hera's horrible screaming.
"Yes!" Hera grinned at her friend, calmly regaining some composure at the prospect. Saoirse's horrible beast seemed marginally better than hers, it wasn't jerking her around quite so much. "I'm about to jump off, be ready, all right?"
Saoirse nodded, watching as Hera tried to move her leg over the horses slender, elegant neck. Her foot was caught in the stirrup however, and in her haste to get off the horse—she fell right off, with a horrible shriek. Saoirse stopped, leaping off her own horse, and grabbing the reign of Hera's.
"Evie!" Saoirse hissed, motioning to Hera, who was lying on the ground, curled up in a ball, mud splattered all over her. It was at that point that Saoirse realised that she'd fallen into a deep vat of mud, Hera's hair drenched in soggy clumps of mud, her beautiful orange cerise gown turned a nasty shade of brown.
Saoirse hoped she hadn't noticed.
Evelyn carefully jumped off her own horse, gracefully landing beside her friend. "Oh Herry," she chuckled at her sodden mess of a friend. "Look at you!"
Hera made a disgruntled moaning sound, before sitting up, gingerly pushing her soggy hair back from her face. "Look at me? Look at me? I'm covered in mud! Evie, stop laughing RIGHT NOW!"
Evelyn just laughed even more, whilst Hera stared coldly at her, growing more and more restless, covered in clumps of mud and grass. "Saoirse! Help me! I'M COVERED IN MUD!"
Saoirse just looked at her, not knowing what to do. She couldn't help with help her up, letting go of the horses reigns and leaning down to help her up. She mumbled something about having packed spare gowns and wash cloths, and then adding that she'd heard running water a little while back. There was bound to be river nearby.
"There must be!" Hera snapped, on the brink of tears, hysterically wailing. "I'm covered in mud Saoirse! I need to be clean! Oh, help, help, help, help, help . . . why am I always the victim? Why does everything bad happen to ME?!"
Evelyn rolled her eyes at Saoirse, snapping at Hera to shut up.
"SHUT UP?! Evelyn, look at me." She narrowed her eyes, anger stirring in her stomach. For a moment she forgot that she was covered in stinking, dirty mud, and fixed all of her thoughts on Evelyn. Who did she think she was? She couldn't speak her like that!
"So? It's funny—and it was your fault anyway," Evelyn pointed out, growing tired of her friend. She was such a drama queen. A little mud could be cleaned up, sure her dress might be ruined, but it wasn't the end of the world. She had to learn to see the humour in things.
"Guys, come on, don't fight now . . ." Saoirse shook her head, closing her eyes. "Lets just find that river and then we can keep riding."
"Keep riding? On what?" Evelyn giggled, cryptically.
"What do you mean?" Hera hissed, narrowing her eyes even further at Evelyn so they turned into tiny slits, glinting with colour. "We have horses!"
"Correction, we did have horse."
"What do you mean-" it was at that point that Hera peered around, noticing with a jolt that the horses were no longer beside them. She checked right and left, behind her, forwards, to the side, this way and that and she couldn't see them.
"Where are the horses?" Saoirse gasped, wondering how she wouldn't notice them trotting away,
"They were grazing over there," Evelyn motioned at a patch of grass. "After we'd got Hera up, I looked back and they weren't there."
"And you didn't think to mention it?" Hera was trying very hard to control her flaring temper. She didn't want to hit Evelyn, because she needed her. She was one more pawn in her artfully mastered game of chess.
"No," Evelyn shook her head, laughing. "I didn't think they'd go far, except they appear to have gone." She burst into laughter, whilst Saoirse sighed and Hera wailed.
"Well that's just great!" Hera smiled sarcastically. "No horses, me covered in mud, Caspian off cantering with that tart Susan . . . my life is going perfectly."
Saoirse didn't know what to say, on one hand she did find it quite comical, but she couldn't help thinking of all those miles walking (there was no way Hera would head back), and the anger Hera would surely explode with all over her. Evelyn didn't care and was too much of a strong character, that Hera wouldn't get angry at her. However, she had no qualms in getting mad at her. In fact, it was one of Hera's favourite hobbies.
She better get Caspian after all this, Saoirse sighed. Otherwise she'll be unbearable forever.
Only by that point Saoirse hoped to be free of her clutches. Spending forever with Hera would surely lead one to commit suicide, either that or smother the witch herself.
…
"Had any more dreams, Luce?" Peter wondered, snapping his book closed as she came into his room. "Any news of Sue?"
Lucy shook her head, biting her lip and sitting down beside him on his bed. "Well, not exactly." She'd just been having a nap in her room when she'd heard something, in her subconscious dream-like state, and felt compelled to tell her brothers, however difficult it was to handle.
"What do you mean by that?" Edmund asked, following Lucy into the room. He sank down into an armchair by Peter's bed, propping his feet up on Peter's bed.
"I didn't see anything," she hesitated, broaching the subject delicately. "Only heard Caspian calling out her name, and Susan crying his, then she screamed." Lucy shivered, remembering the blood-curdling scream she'd heard moments earlier. "It was horrible," she added flatly. "I hated it."
"Did you not hear or see anything else?" Peter immediately asked, chewing his lip thoroughly.
Lucy shook her head. "Only that. What do you think it means?"
"Well, obviously, she's in trouble," Edmund stated matter-of-factly. "You don't shout someone's name and then scream horribly for no reason. She must be-"
"Ed," Peter gestured calmly to a weak-looking Lucy. He feared she couldn't handle the idea of Susan being in danger.
"Sorry," Edmund recoiled his words, grinning sheepishly. "Or nothing could be wrong, nothing at all. Sue isn't weak and wispy Luce, she's bound to be all right."
"She is all right," Peter nodded, fiddling with the edge of a page of his book. "Aslan would tell us if she isn't. I'm sure what you heard was either nothing—or if it was something, it's been taken cared of. Caspian wouldn't let anything to happen to her, not when he's got her back." Yet again, Peter hated the idea of Susan being alone with him, however much they loved each other, Peter would always feel protective towards his sister. He hoped she was making good choices.
"I suppose so," Lucy didn't stop biting her lip, so much that it bled, crimson blood leaking from the wound. "Only I can't help being worried. I miss her terribly."
"We all do," Edmund piped up. "Only I think we'll see her again soon. Aslan probably planning for us to all go back, eventually. Anyway, I'm sure there'll be answers soon. I bet the next time you fall asleep Aslan's there, answering questions."
"You do?" Lucy wondered, breaking out into a grin.
"Yes," Edmund nodded seriously. "He wouldn't just leave us hanging. Especially not you, Luce. You were always his favourite."
"No," Lucy shook his head, and both her brothers expected her to say they all were his favourites, only instead she said something else. "Susan must be. He let her stay in Narnia forever. Each of us would love that, but he let Susan stay, why?"
Peter wondered for the first time if the upset was due to jealousy. Lucy clearly yearned to return to Narnia, permanently.
"I don't know," he shrugged, understanding what Lucy meant. "But I'm sure we'll find out. Aslan always has a reason for what he does."
Lucy shrugged, chewing on her lips once more. "I hope he answers my questions soon, I can't wait much longer. I have to now."
"I know," Edmund agreed morosely. "We all need them answered, as soon as a possible. We're going crazy not knowing."
…
It was the dead of night, when Susan heard it. It was a simple rustle of the trees, rapping branches against her tent, nothing more than the wind, but it awoke her with a jolt. Fear hit her like a bullet, eyes scanning the tiny tent, for anything she could use in protection. She knew she was being ridiculous, that the wind was playing games on her and she was falling in to it's trap, but she couldn't help it.
There was a rap again, making her jump. Then she heard something that appeared a lot less innocent and a lot more sinister: the clanging of a sword. She gasped, feeling tiny and terrified. Fierce Warrior Susan melted behind the night's heavy cloak, and what she didn't know scared her to the core. She shook with fright, wishing defiantly that she was brave, but knowing that at this moment, she was anything but.
She squeezed her eyes shut, indistinctly, curling up into the corner as she heard a ripping sound, a sword slicing through the thin covering of her tent.
"Look who we have here," a gruff voice, stage whispered. Susan could already guess his surveying smile, the lingering look, the chuckle from his friends. She guessed he was a Telamarine. "Shy are we, lovely?" The man grunted, a heavy shadow falling over her as he stepped into the tent. "No need to be around us, we'll take good care of you. A pretty thing like you," she felt his fingers on her chin, jerking her face forward so her eyes sprung open.
He was a big, burly man, only about twenty or so, with a tangle of dark curls, emotionless, flat brown eyes, a cruel grin scrawled across his face.
"Mm, you are pretty, aren't you?" He studied her, lips curling upwards in amusement. "Here, look at this!" He ushered to a man behind him. He leaned forward, looking much like the man who was touching her, only fatter and shorted, disinterested in her.
"She's just a girl—she isn't what we're here for."
"No, she isn't," the man smiled at her. "But she's mighty pretty. Might as well-?"
"Do what you like, but we must find Caspian. That's who we're here for." Susan didn't say anything, as she studied the man in front of her, who was tenderly holding onto her arm, eyebrows raised suggestively, his companion already standing out of the tent. Susan knew they were definitely Telamarine's if they were after Caspian. She wanted to scream and shout and warn him, but she was terrified of the gleaming sword in the man's holder.
"Coming with me lovely?" The man yanked her upwards, still holding onto her arm. "You really are very pretty," he leaned into her. "You'll be a prize. They'll be so jealous. Especially if you're Caspian's . . . Are you Caspian's? Are you his new bride, Lady Hera?" Susan didn't say anything, firmly keeping her mouth closed. "You must be. Ah, yes, this will be fun."
Susan couldn't help making a horribly pathetic squeaking sound as his hot, sticky hand touched her waist, a grin spreading across his face at her obvious discomfort.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, smiling lightly. "Not one bit."
It was then that Susan felt his hand touch her breast, only for a moment, but it was at that point that she felt a fire burning within her—ripping through her. As the man leaned into her, she jerked her knee upwards, aiming directly where she knew it would hurt most. He recoiled instantly, crying out in pain and collapsing to the floor. Susan sprung away, reaching for the dagger in her belt loop, pulling it out so it caught the dim light of the moon.
"Touch me again and I will kill you," she announced, turning away from him to collect her bundle of arrows and bows from the holder leaning against the tent wall. She didn't know how many of them there was—and she didn't know if they'd found Caspian yet. She had to be ready.
She quickly skulked round the side of the tent, scanning for any signs of movement, she saw none, so she continued onwards, knowing that Caspian's tent was a couple of metres from her own.
There was no one around when she pushed her head through the flap, quickly spying Caspian lying there, shirtless and fast asleep. That made her wonder where the Telamarine soldier had gone . . . Had he simply given up or was he waiting?
"Caspian," Susan hissed, kneeling down and tenderly touching his naked shoulder. "Caspian, you have to wake up right now."
He made a moaning sound, turning over, away from her. Susan persisted, touching his should again. "Wake up, now, please . . . Caspian there's Telamarine's-"
"Tela-whos?" A snarl ripped through, causing Susan to gasp and clutch her dagger tighter. She turned around, spying both of the soldiers, who were standing in the doorway, smiling cruelly. "Thought you'd tell old Caspian did you? Thought we wouldn't notice? Silly girl," the other soldiers said, not the one who'd assaulted her, but the other one. The meaner looking one.
"Susan?" Caspian sounded shocked, and he probably was. Imagine waking up to find Susan crouching over you with two scary-looking, strange men glowering at her. Not the best thing to wake up to.
"Susan?" Both of the Telamarine's studied her carefully.
"Wasn't there one of those Queens that was called Susan? Queen's of the Old?" The one who'd assaulted her asked, gaze lustful. "Would she be the same one?"
"Perhaps," his companion replied, too studying Susan, but not with lust. With a burning hatred that forced her to glance away.
"Caspian, they're Telamarine's," Susan lowered her voice so she hoped they couldn't hear. "They've come to capture you—and me."
Caspian studied her terrified gaze for a fraction of a second before leaping into acting. He stood up, dragging her with him. "Stay behind me," he lowered his voice. "If it looks like it's going to end badly I packed the horn, it's in Trumpkin's bags."
"I'm not leaving you-" her voice sounded horribly tiny and puny, her fingernails digging groves in his hand as she clutched it tightly.
"You will," he told her, forcing her behind him. "You will."
"Men," Caspian veered forwards, drawing a sword from his holder. Susan supposed he had to sleep with it whilst outside, in case of situations like this. "I think it would be best if we took his outside, don't you?"
Susan cowered at the back as she watched them go out from the tiny tent, the echo of clanging swords beginning immediately. She didn't know what to do, run, stay, fight—she had no idea.
"Susan, Susan," a voice hissed behind her. She turned around, startled to see Trumpkin standing there, a fierce look in his eyes. He'd obviously slipped through a rather large rip in the tent. "Queen Susan, we must hurry."
"Hurry, where? Caspian-"
"Caspian can handle this. You must come to safety."
Susan shook her head firmly. "I'm no damsel in distress Trumpkin. I can handle this—I don't need to be protected. I'm going to help Caspian."
"But-"
"And you're coming with me." She raised her eyebrow smirking. "Come on, three will surely defeat two . . . but one . . ." she shook her head, the thought of losing Caspian was too enormous to attempt to confront. "Trumpkin, come on, help me."
"Anything for you, your majesty," he instantly said, thinking of her as foolish, but admiring her courage and devotion all the same. She clearly couldn't bear to lose Caspian—or to see him injured.
Susan poked her head out the side of the tent, watching as Caspian fended off the two men, who despite being burlier and stronger, clearly lacked skill. Caspian was coping, but he wasn't winning.
"On the count of three, I fire, you attack," Susan whispered, motioning for Trumpkin to stand beside her. She gently pulled a single arrow out of the holder, readying it in the slender neck of the bow, and lifting both up, preparing herself. "One, two, three," she whispered, letting the string skilfully go as she hit three. Immediately the arrow plunged into the Telamarine who had assaulted her's neck, crimson blood staining his skin. Susan allowed herself to smile, as Trumpkin ran at him, an axe in his hand. The Telamarine looked alarmed, glaring at Susan, whilst trying to fend off Trumpkin. Yet again she lifted the bow to her arms, firing an arrow directly at him. It was easy really. Defeating enemies perfectly from a far—something Susan could do with absolute ease.
Caspian glanced at her, emerging from the shadows, coolly holding an arrow between her thumb and forefinger before firing it directly at one of the Telamarine's. She'd never looked so beautiful. He'd never liked girls who played the damsel in distress, and Susan never did. Even though he could tell that she was scared, she didn't show it, she just fired her arrows, fending off the Telamarine's like it was something she did everyday. She was truly admirable.
"Little girlfriend saving you?" The hideous brute who was currently aiming for Caspian's jugular spat, being fended off by Caspian's own sword. "How cute."
Caspian ignored him, trying to make him fall, to get that damn sword out of his hand, to win. Only this one was far more skilful than the other, he had precise, defined movements, cleverly mapping out each area he aimed for. Caspian was struggling—he knew it.
"You know your girlfriend's very beautiful," the man whispered, smiling cruelly. "My friend there wanted her, so of course I said he could but I doubt he'll be wanting anything for a while . . . and when I kill you and drag your sorry body back, I might just have her for myself. It's not like you will be needing her then, will you?"
Something in Caspian twisted at this. He hated hearing anyone talk of Susan like that, like she was a piece of meat, something to be passed around, borrowed and claimed. Susan was a beautiful, free-spirited, passionate, clever, feisty woman. She was not an object.
"Stay. Away. From. Her." Caspian spat through clenched teeth, twisting his sword around, pushing it against the man, aiming for his gut, and then jerking slightly and crazing the side of his arm. Blood oozed from the open wound and the man looked at it, surprised.
"I will, but my friend's already . . . shall we say, been there, done that . . .?" The fury Caspian felt next was impossible to control, and it took all of his might to cry out as he hurtled his sword into the man's hand, causing his own sword to fly out.
Susan leapt at this, watching the sword land beside her. She picked it up, studying the scenes playing out beside her. The first man was lying on the ground, grunting softly, scarlett blood around him. Trumpkin was now watching Caspian and the other, with amusement.
"I have a right mind to kill you," Caspian said, narrowing his eyes, the very point of his blade pressed against the man's neck. "Only instead I'm going to impose a warning. Take him away, and tell whoever sent you that we will not go down without a fight. Narnia is mine, and it's going to stay that way."
The man laughed, causing Caspian to run the cool, sharp blade across his taut, fragile skin, grazing it slightly. He sliced the man's cheek, blood trailing wherever his blade touched. The man didn't even react, just smirking at Caspian.
"Now go, and don't come back," Caspian said threateningly, turning away from the man in disgust. He expected him to go, which is why he turned to Trumpkin, to thank him, when he heard Susan call out his name.
"CASPIAN!" Susan shrieked, sounding panicked. He turned around in time to see the man pressing a dagger against Susan's chest, underneath her breast, a smile on his lips, his arms tight around her waist in an almost loving pose.
"SUSAN!" Caspian couldn't help crying, unsure of what to do. He had to stop that bloody bastard, Susan couldn't . . . but it was too late. There was a blood-curdling scream, the clang for a sword, and a man crying out—it took Caspian several moments to realise that that someone was him.
...
"Caspian," Susan grunted, feeling dizzy, disorientated and violently sick.
"Shush," Caspian whispered, a finger to his lips. Susan's eyelids stirred, attempting to open them and sit up, but Caspian pushed her back down. "Your bleeding quite badly. We have to . . . Oh, Susan."
"Wha-? What happened . . .?"
"You were cut . . . badly, by that Telamarine." Caspian sounded bitter and terrified. "But I killed him, he cannot hurt you any more."
"Good," Susan murmured, wishing the stinging pain underneath her breast on her left side would stop. That was all she felt—aside from that she felt so terribly numb. She couldn't feel anything at all, apart from the horrible overwhelming pain.
"Susan . . . we're going to get you help, just stay down," Caspian murmured, when she tried to sit up.
"Not needed," she murmured, trying to sit up again. "V-v-vial . . ." she tried to whisper through clenched teeth. "Vial in . . . in . . . bag!"
"Vial?" Caspian asked, forehead contorting as he tried to work out what she was talking about.
"Perhaps she means Lucy's vial, sire?" Trumpkin probed gently, standing beside him.
"Of course!" Caspian cried, gleefully. Lucy's vial that could save anyone from death. Of course, why did he not think of it before? "Trumpkin-?"
But he was already off, searching for the vial in Susan's bags, before finding the tiny bottle filled with purple liquid, and bringing it to Caspian. Caspian lifted the bottle to Susan's lips, spilling a single drop into her gaping mouth.
It only took a second before Susan sat up, dazed and confused, but alive, thank god. And when Caspian felt the crimson stain on her beautiful gown, no fresh blood was spilling freely from it. The wound had healed already, just like that.
"Thank you, Caspian," Susan's beautiful eyes were all he could see as he helped her up, arm tight around her waist. "I'd be dead if you weren't here."
"Don't be silly," Caspian murmured, relieved to have her in his arms. "You can take care of yourself—I mean, I probably made it worse-"
"No, you were there when I needed you, thank you."
"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" He couldn't help teasing her, although there was some truth in his question. All right, a lot of truth in his question.
"Of course. I could never stay mad," Susan whispered, smiling at him. "You know, I meant it when I said it. I love you, and even though I was hurt, I think I can get over it—for you." She smiled sadly at him. "I just wish I knew what was going to happen, whether I'm staying or not, how much time we have, how much we can . . ." but he silenced her ramblings, by cupping her chin in his warm hands, and descending his lips on hers.
The kiss was the sort that makes every single part of you stand on end, with shivers and thrills and goosebumps quaking through you, everything feeling like it was hay wired to an electric socket, a intense electrified excitement whipping through you. Susan would never get used to kissing Caspian, never feel anything but insane love when his tongue danced with hers, when his arms were around her, when his hands went into her hair and everything spun away.
Oh, no. She'd never get over it, ever.
But some people, like to spoil things that other's would wish to keep untainted and perfect, particularly loving moments.
Some people, like Hera.
"Caspian?" Susan heard it before he did, and it took a large amount of strength to stop kissing him and turn around, spying Hera, flanked by her two cronies, instantly.
"Oh my . . ." she whispered, forcing Caspian to turn around too, recoiling when he spied Hera. Oh no . . . someone is not going to be happy.
"Caspian? What are you doing with her? Caspian?!"
Whooooo. I got a chapter out.
Whooooo. It's eleven pm on a Friday night.
Whooooo. I'm about to watch Supernatural and go to sleep.
Whooooo. I hope you like this.
Whooooo. I'm not sure if I do.
Whooooo. Care to review?
Love, always. xxx