On to the next chapter! This was, oddly, one of the more difficult ones to edit. It just didn't seem to come out quite right, so hopefully it's better now!
Thank you to sarahwood for reviewing!
Chapter 3
She's not that surprised when she can't nod off for the life of her. Trufflehunter's soft snores echo from across the room, so she sits up and stretches. She can't sneak out because the door is creaky and there was a moon up so the light would spill in and probably wake that badger, but she can get up and move around, can't she?
She opts to explore the little house. She won't be here after tomorrow, but for tonight it'll ease her mind to know her surroundings, maybe enough that she'll be able to get some rest.
It's dark, but her vision adjusted almost as soon as she couldn't sleep and just stared at the ceiling. She purposely avoids the creaky floorboard in the doorway as she slips into the kitchen. Pots, pans, wooden bowls, a bin with vegetables. Nothing that surprises her about a kitchen. The familiarity relaxes her.
She runs her hands over the smooth countertop, also made of wood. It must be old or sanded down a thousand times, to be this smooth. She's fairly sure they don't have things like wood finishing in Narnia.
She braces both hands on the counter and uses the odd position to stretch her back. A bad idea.
A gust of hot, smelly breath hits the back of her neck as a ghostly hand grips her hip.
She spins away from the feeling as a picture of a man with blonde curls and a cruel smile flashes in her mind's eye. Spinning around shows her that no, he's not in here with her, but she can't stop spinning because she's sure he is. Who is he? She doesn't know, and she doesn't want to know, and she has to know.
"Flashbacks?" she whispers to herself. That's what the nice lady on the phone called them, wasn't it?
Something happened, but she isn't sure what, and she hopes she never remembers and that she could stop remembering because it must not have been good and if she forgets, she can be normal, right?
She sinks to the floor and puts her head in between her knees. She just wants to go home. Yes, that's it. She wants to go home, and she's confused because this dream is going on forever. A small whisper of a sound interrupts her thoughts. Springing up, she pads on silent feet to the doorway of the kitchen.
Prince Caspian, putting his armor on as quietly as he can. She's not surprised. She's also spectacularly annoyed. Does he have a death wish?
More importantly, why does she care?
In spite of herself, she tiptoes out of the kitchen and perches on the table, silent as a cat, making sure his back is to her the whole time.
He finishes with the chest thing that looks like a vest and starts to buckle on his sword. She waits patiently. Sword buckled, he turns to grab the cloak. He's sideways to her now, and still hasn't noticed her silently critical form scrutinizing him from the table.
He throws the cloak around his shoulders, turns just enough. She fights a triumphant guffaw as he starts and stumbles backward off the two steps just behind him. The clatter of his sword as it hits the ground at the same time as his backside should wake Trufflehunter.
It may be dark, but she can see his glare at plain as day as Trufflehunter snorts, mumbles, and moves in his sleep. And now she really is annoyed. How did the commotion not wake the perceptive badger? Strictly speaking, she could wake him herself, but having this prince do it on accident would have been so much more amusing.
Prince Caspian gets to his feet and brushes the dust from his rear, alternating between staring at his shoes and glaring at her.
"You missed a spot," she says as he stills.
"And you should not be up at this hour."
"Yes Daddy." She smirks a little at the annoyance on his face. "And on the same note, neither should you."
"I can't stay here-"
"But you can at least wait until morning and give Trufflehunter the courtesy of a goodbye and a thank you for his hospitality. Oh, and maybe a thank you for saving your life somewhere in there too."
She knows she's won before he even says anything; she can see the spark of guilt hiding in his eye. Her arms cross as she basks in her victory. A prince, listening to her? It's a nice pat to her ego.
"I…"
"-can wait," she finishes for him, trying her very best to keep the smugness from her voice. She doesn't need to rub it in, after all.
She glances over at Trufflehunter, now tossing and turning in his sleep.
"And if I were you, I'd put all that stuff back before Trufflehunter wakes up and roasts you worse than I will."
"I can't stay here and do nothing," he tries to protest.
A part of her understands. The rest is still annoyed that he (unwittingly, but still) interrupted her thoughts, troubled as they were.
"I think you can understand," he continues to appeal in whispers she can barely hear.
"I can, and I do. But I still can't let you leave. It's bad manners."
"And you're so concerned with manners?"
She frowns to show her annoyance. "You don't get to question me, royal blood or not."
To his credit, Prince Caspian looks penitent. But he's still determined. Studying her, trying to find a weakness, something he can exploit to get her to let him go. She can feel it in the way he looks at her. And she knows she's right with how he steps toward her: purposeful. Not the walk of a surrendering boy.
It sparks another memory. And it's at the worst possible time.
She grits her teeth against the panic setting in as her mind makes her see the prince's hair changing from black to blond, from long and slightly wavy to long and quite curly. His eyes, from dark brown orbs that are innocent enough to ones of piercing blue that promises all the ways he can hurt her. Her heart threatens to burst from her chest as she fights the instinct to lash out and run away.
'He's just a lost prince,' she reminds herself, so she won't take her nails and rake them down his face that's constantly inching closer to hers, or so it seems.
'That doesn't make him safe,' her mind whispers back.
She's shaking before she even realizes she feels cold.
Her gaze drops to the table, because she's afraid he'll read the turmoil in her eyes, see what she sees and take advantage of her weakness in the moment.
"Are you alright?"
For a second, the question brings her back to the present. She risks a glance up to see that he's stopped his advance and is now regarding her cautiously.
"I'm fine," she rasps out. She's not sure whether she hates him for noticing something was wrong or hates herself for thinking he was someone else.
He squints a little as he continues to stare at her. It reminds her of another time someone squinted at her, when the blond-haired demon looked like a snake before he pounced.
A warm hand touches her shoulder, soft as a feather, but she doesn't realize it's his hand before she's clawed at it and scrambled away.
The wood of the table is rough under her hands. Is that a splinter in her palm? She fiercely reminds herself that it doesn't matter. She doesn't know if it's Prince Caspian there across the room or the person she's been seeing for the past few days.
Her body is coiled, fiercely wound and ready to fight or flee or both, as she looks up at him and tries to apologize. The words won't come, and she's stuck staring at him and trying not to bolt out the door.
"You're not alright, Miranda."
No, she's not. But she can still hate him for saying it out loud, can't she?
"Go to bed," is her reply. It comes out fragile, hanging in the air like glass waiting to be broken.
"I can't stay here," he repeats from before. He stays where he is, but his body leans forward a little, asking her to please understand and keep quiet and let him leave without waking Trufflehunter.
"Wake Trufflehunter and ask him."
She scoots off the table then, to the side away from him. The distance comforts her, even though a flash of pain and screaming unsettles her as her feet land on the floor.
"I can't stop you if you want to leave." With that, she returns to her pile of blankets and burrows deep. It feels like if she burrows under enough layers, it'll erase everything her mind is trying to show her.
She listens for the footsteps that will go by her and cross to the door. She waits and waits until she actually gets sleepy. As she finally nods off, she hears the steps she was waiting for. But they move away from her, back toward stairs.
A low beeping registers in her ears as she slowly opens her eyes. She starts to move her hand to rub her eyes, but a painful tug sharpens her awareness. Glancing down, she sees a needle there, hooked up to several IV drips.
"Hi honey."
Miranda blinks the rest of the sleep from her eyes as the face of her mother comes into focus.
"Mom?"
Her mother smoothes her hair from her forehead and smiles a watery smile with red eyes that suggest she's been crying recently.
"You're okay, Shells. They just had to put you on some pain medication."
"What happened?"
"You were in a car accident. What were you doing on that side of town after school?"
"I had an errand I wanted to run," Miranda says. She knows she'll be in trouble, but she isn't ready to tell them the exact errand it was.
"What kind of errand, honey?" The disapproval is evident in her mother's voice.
She lies, because she doesn't think she can tell the truth this time.
"Dad's birthday is soon, isn't it? I just saw something online and thought I could just pick it up in store and save on shipping."
Her mother sighs as she pats Miranda's arm.
"Next time we can go together, alright?"
Miranda agrees happily, though it does occur to her that getting to the therapist's will be a bit more difficult for a while.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she says to pacify her.
"You just worry about getting better."
Miranda takes stock of herself. Her middle hurts a lot, and so does her leg. A glance shows her that her entire torso, from under her shoulders to her hips, is wrapped in gauze, and her leg is up in a fancy cast. Her right wrist is in a splint too, but she's guessing that the pain meds are pretty powerful so she won't be feeling that injury for a while yet.
"I'm a mess," she observes uselessly, feeling a little silly for the whole thing. She wets her chapped lips and asks where her dad is.
"He's back at the house getting some sleep. He was here all last night."
"How long have I been out?"
"A day or so. We've been taking turns watching over you."
"But you both have jobs and-"
"We have leave," her mother answers firmly.
Miranda leans into her hand as it continues smoothing her hair, playing with the unruly strands.
"Oh, and mom? Can you ask the doctor about dream patterns for whatever meds I'm on?"
"She said you can expect some vivid dreams while the medications last, but they want to switch you to a different one in a few days, once the surgery cuts heal up."
"Surgery, huh?" Miranda can't help but grin. She'd always boasted about how she'd never broken a bone or had any surgery.
"Sorry, honey," laughs her mother, ruffling her hair and consequently putting more tangles in it that she proceeds to work out with patient fingers.
Miranda relaxes into the bed and doesn't fight the drowsiness as it washes over her, even though she just woke up and it's so good to see her mom. She'll still be there when she wakes up.
A gentle paw tugging the blankets back wakes her. She bolts upright, breathing heavily from the surprise, before she recognizes Trufflehunter and relaxes. Well, until she realizes that she's back in dreamland Narnia.
"We should be going soon," he says.
Miranda nods and stretches the kinks from her back left from sleeping curled into as little a ball as she could manage. It feels real, right now. But what use is there in wondering, really? After a few days, she'll be off the meds and Narnia will be little more than a memory. That surely doesn't bother her, does it? She quickly decides to think on that later as a certain dwarf shuffles out of the room over.
"Where's that Telmarine prince?" grumbles a bleary-eyed Nikabrik.
"Still sleeping, I assume. He had quite the night."
'Oh he did,' Miranda thinks. Much more than he bargained for, she's sure.
Trufflehunter bustles and gets breakfast on the table, a simple affair of fruit that is just a little past ripe and bread that's stale but stomachable.
"Miranda, would you get the prince up while I finish?" Trufflehunter asks.
She gets the evil idea to ask for pot lids, but the ones she saw aren't metal and hence won't make enough noise to scare him like she wants to, so she pads obediently into the room.
Her annoyance when she's greeted with a perfectly made bed knows no bounds.
'Ungrateful son of a…' she lets her thoughts trail off because his mother probably isn't so bad.
She walks back out to the eating area with a scowl on her face.
"He flew the coop."
The badger tips his head in confusion, so she rephrases with an impatient wave of her hand.
"He left already."
"Perfect, he's no longer our problem!" Nikabrik's grin looks like it could split his face in two, and it makes Miranda want to throw a piece of the fruit at him. The prince is still a human being, a seemingly decent one at that.
"Unfortunately for you, Nikabrik, this means breakfast will be on the road. Get your things together, everyone."
"How far is it to the Narnians?" Miranda asks over the quiet din of the badger clearing dishes and tossing a piece of fruit and bread to each of them.
"Less than a full day's walk, quite close."
"Here, let me help."
The badger has her put away the unnecessary food while he puts the dishes away.
"Come now, Nikabrik! He has a head start!"
The dwarf grumbles some sarcastic reply, but does as his friend says.
The three of them are out the door inside five minutes.
"He can't have gone far," Trufflehunter reasons as he hurries them along.
They rush along until they can hear twigs crunching ahead.
Trufflehunter puts a paw to his lips, telling them to be quiet. They tiptoe carefully, staying hidden in bushes and behind trees. Miranda almost tells him that they're all doing a terrible job of being quiet in this underbrush and the whole idea is silly, but she holds her tongue out of respect and nothing more.
The prince's dark cloak comes into view as he walks along, casual as he pleases.
Trufflehunter and Nikabrik inch closer, hiding behind tree trunks rather close to him. Prince Caspian stops, and this is when the two choose to move closer.
A grin tugs at Miranda's mouth as Prince Caspian turns around with a dry "I can hear you."
She, for one, walks up to the tree closest to him and leans against it nonchalantly. Trufflehunter and Nikabrik, on the other hand, peek out from their hiding places guiltily before stepping out.
"I just think we should wait for the King and Queens," Trufflehunter says.
Prince Caspian stares at the three of them for a moment before turning back around and continuing as if nothing happened.
"Fine, go then! See if the others will be as understanding!" shouts the agitated badger. Miranda doesn't blame him; if she saved someone's life and they left without so much as a goodbye or thank you, she'd be a little testy too. She refrains from chiming in her support of the badger's idea as Nikabrik walks toward the stubborn prince.
"Well maybe I'll go with you," he says. "I'd like to see you explain things to the minotaurs."
"Minotaurs?" the prince says exactly as Miranda thinks the word. "They're real?"
"And very bed-tempered," chimes in Trufflehunter, who has apparently regained his cool.
"Not to mention big," continues Nikabrik.
"Huge," amends Trufflehunter.
Miranda bites her lip on a chuckle. Their attempts at intimidating Prince Caspian don't seem to be working; he looks more curious than scared.
"What about centaurs? Do they still exist?" asks the prince as he falls into step behind Trufflehunter and Nikabrik.
Miranda trails along behind the three of them, wondering if she could slip away somehow to explore this world her mind has dreamed up. It is quite a vivid dream, after all.
"Well the centaurs will probably fight on your side. But there's no telling what the others will do," answers Trufflehunter with a wag of his finger.
"What about Aslan?"
Trufflehunter and Nikabrik stop in their tracks at that. Miranda refrains from asking who Aslan is, though curiosity tugs at her.
"How do you know so much about us?" Nikabrik asks none too kindly.
"Stories." Prince Caspian shrugs as if it's not a big deal, but anyone can see that to the two Narnians in front of him, it is.
"Wait a minute, your father told you stories about Narnia?" Trufflehunter sounds perplexed, and Miranda is reminded once again how badly she needs a history lesson of Narnia.
"No, my professor."
Miranda looks at the prince as his voice shakes, taking on the same heaviness it had when he told them about his uncle last night. She's trying to think of something to say to diffuse the tension when the prince hardens and walks past the two creatures staring at him.
"Listen I am sorry. These are not the kinds of questions you should be asking," he says as he all but stomps past.
Miranda makes a mental note of this sore spot as a subject to avoid at all costs.
Trufflehunter has an entirely different reaction; he starts sniffing the air rather loudly.
"What is it?" asks Nikabrik, looking the most sincere Miranda's seen him yet. Is that worry lining his brow?
"Does His Highness need a bath so badly?" she mutters without thinking.
"Probably." Her and the dwarf share the first amused smile of the morning.
"Human," Trufflehunter says.
"Him?" Nikabrik gestures to Prince Caspian with a smirk.
"No, them."
Just then, shouting sounds from the direction they came from. The four of them look back to see a horde of soldiers advancing, crossbows at the ready.
"There they are!" one of them shouts, spurring the entire group to run at them.
"Run!"
They follow Prince Caspian's command without a second thought.
'There you are.'
No, not now, not now. Miranda shakes her head as she runs, trying to ignore the voice in her ear, the whisper of stale breath against the shell of it.
She has to run.
The thought surges through her and has her bolting faster than she ever thought possible. She can hear him behind her, even as the thuds of arrows burying themselves into tree trunks by her head make her want to swerve away. But if she swerves, she'll give up speed, and she has to get away.
The feeling is all too familiar. She remembers this, running so fast her head swims and her lungs scream for air and her heart drowns out everything else.
A cry of pain jolts her from her frenzy, and she skids to a stop, whirling around to see Trufflehunter down with an arrow buried in his leg.
She's turned on a dime and sprinting toward him before Prince Caspian even finishes whatever he's saying.
"Go, I'll take him!" he shouts to her as he comes up beside her.
"Like hell!" She keeps up with him the few strides it takes to get to the wounded badger, who presses Queen Susan's horn into his hands and tells him to take it and go.
"You take the damn horn, I'll take the badger!" Miranda hollers as Trufflehunter presses the white thing into the prince's hands. No sooner is it transferred than Miranda scoops up the badger as carefully as she can, and even then he can't help a yelp of pain.
"I had it!" Prince Caspian yells as he comes up next to her.
"You'd have taken too long!"
Whatever retort he had in store is cut off by the unmanly screech of a soldier behind them.
Miranda tries to glance over her shoulder, but Trufflehunter is in the way and if she jostles him anymore he'll be in even more pain.
"Get them out of here," Prince Caspian says with a shove.
She passes Trufflehunter to Nikabrik so she can question his judgment call face on.
"You're picking now to play hero?"
"I trained with them; I can hold them off. Go!" He points back to Nikabrik, who's struggling with Trufflehunter a little.
She has to help them, but something in her isn't sitting right at the thought of letting him stand here like a sitting duck. Even if it's a dream and he'll probably be back and good as new the next time she's asleep, she doesn't like it. But what choice does she have? What help could she really be?
"Catch up when you can," she finally says. He might appreciate her obedience, but she's over with Nikabrik helping Trufflehunter before she can tell either way.
"Come on." She picks up Trufflehunter again and tells Nikabrik to keep up, and then they're running and leaving the prince with the hero complex behind.
They only get a few yards before Nikabrik tugs on her pants and tells her they're safe now.
"Are you mental?" she starts to ask, but when she looks up again, she sees the centaurs. Standing tall, majestic, there down the hill. "Oh," is the only thing she can muster at the sight.
She's wondering if she should introduce herself when a small war cry sounds behind her. Too small for one of those burly soldiers, she's sure. But she isn't prepared for the all too amusing sight of a certain Prince Caspian sprawled on his back with a mouse pointing a needle-like sword at his face. And oh, the look on his face! Surprise and fear and disbelief all rolled into one.
And is the mouse yelling at him?
Yes, the mouse is yelling at the prince, and said prince is waving his hands like he's trying to pacify the creature firmly planted on his chest.
"Which is why I might live longer if I choose not to cross blades with you, noble mouse," Prince Caspian replies to something the mouse said.
Miranda smiles into her free hand and tries her hardest not to giggle. If she can find a stuffed mouse here in Narnia, she'll have to remember to prank him with it somehow.
"I said I would not fight you." The mouse whips his blade back closer to the prince's face, who visibly stiffens at the motion. "I didn't say I'd let you live!"
A snort builds, and Miranda has to forcibly swallow it down. She can cackle in amusement later.
"Reepicheep! Stay your blade!" Trufflehunter suddenly yells, startling Miranda and annoying the mouse apparently called Reepicheep.
"Trufflehunter! I trust you have a very good reason for this untimely interruption!"
'He's really quite cute, all indignant and formal like that,' Miranda thinks to herself. She only just manages from saying it out loud by the simple fact that the mouse has a sword that looks like a needle, and she's never been overly fond of needles.
"He doesn't, go 'head."
Miranda has to purse her lips and hide her face behind the badger in her arms to keep her silent laughter hidden. 'Not the place,' she silently chides herself.
"He's the one who blew the horn!" Trufflehunter finishes, gesturing grandly with his paw, so much so that it throws off her balance and she has to shift him in her arms to keep him from tumbling toward the ferns underfoot.
"What?" asks the mouse apparently called Reepicheep as he lowers his blade from Prince Caspian's stunned face.
"Then let him bring it forward," says the tallest centaur as the team of them trots over the crest of the hill to observe the scene. "This is the reason we have gathered."
Reepicheep hops off of the prince's chest then, and kindly sheathes his sword. Miranda almost comments on the adorable red feather perched on his head, but she decides against it.
"And who is this Daughter of Eve you've brought along, Trufflehunter?"
"She appeared in the middle of the woods, the same night Prince Caspian here showed up at our doorstep."
"I'm Miranda," she adds, unsure whether to offer her hand to shake or not. Is hand-shaking a custom here in Narnia?
"A pleasure. Now come, join us."
sarahwood - Yeah, they actually surprised me! I was expecting Miranda to be a little more shy, but she got a little sassy and I liked it so I kept it! Glad you liked her and Caspian meeting :) Thanks for the feedback!
Review!