PART FOUR - AFTER DUSK


7. Apprehension

It was one of those uncomfortable times where he needed to stay at her side for an entire evening. Time together was customary and unavoidable, but it was easy enough to feign affection toward her during the bustle of every day. Tonight, though, while they sat side-by-side in gilded chairs presiding over the celebratory feast, he felt sure that someone would notice something was amiss. They barely spoke, he never quite met her eyes, and the whispers and soft touches of lovers were conspicuously absent.

Caspian wondered if any of his guests could even guess at the turmoil battling inside him. So many emotions were constantly at war beneath the armour of propriety – shame in his actions, love for Lucy, guilt, anger at himself. All of these mysteriously vanished when he entered the secret room every night; love swelled and filled his chest in Lucy's presence, and fear for the imminent parting occupied his moments without her. With his counsellors he was busied with the duties required of him: it was only his wife that could summon the true feelings he could otherwise suppress.

She sat on his left, close enough for him to hear her breathe, and as every moment passed, it seemed to get louder. There was music and laughter and people talking, but all he could hear was the sound of her breathing. And with every breath she drew his pulse quickened and his own heartbeat pumped in his ears, double the rhythm of her breathing. His palms were sweaty and his whole left side felt hot – at least two servants had asked why he'd eaten so little, and what could he tell them? Being near his wife evoked a guilt that made his stomach turn? The traitorous king, the unfaithful husband, disobeying the mandate of the Lion Himself all for a love he couldn't bear to be apart from, that would vanish from this world in a month's time. If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been proof that you were not. . .

He was roused by the crowd, who were shouting and waving their wine-cups. Hastily, Caspian rose and raised his own drink, and delivered his address: "Dear friends, it is our very great pleasure to hail the Lord Chancellor's return from the court of Archenland, where he has served as High Councillor under King Nain since Summer last. He is welcomed most heartily back to Cair Paravel," said Caspian, and drank from his cup to great cheer. He spared the swiftest glance to his left. The Queen sipped serenely from her drink, and he looked quickly away.

--

By time the festivities had finally ended and the last drunken faun had found his way to bed, Caspian had become very agitated. He had been patient while the night crawled on unbearably slowly. Cair Paravel was the most gracious host to foreign dignitaries, but left to themselves, Narnians celebrated with unmatched fervour. The return of their Lord Chancellor was no small celebration; toasts and dances and jokes had lasted until the stars grew faint in the heavens. All this Caspian endured while playing his part – and with no obligatory dances with strange princesses and ladies of distant courts, there had been nothing to distract him from counting every second that slipped by away from Lucy. Now, finally, he could make the most of the time left to them – so little this morning! – and enjoy her calming company.

Caspian paused at the edge of the Great Hall. He could take to hallway to his left, the lengthy and winding path to his destination, or he could cross through the Hall to save a good amount of time from his route. He shifted the parcel on his back and considered it. He had so little time with Lucy left to him already, especially tonight, and did not every second count? And while he had always avoided the main parts of the castle in the past, no soul could still be awake after such a night. He hesitated, and thinking of the ever-valiant Lucy, crossed into the Great Hall.

He was three-quarters of the way through when he met the guard.

Tirinus was a royal guard posted – as Caspian now remembered – at the southern entrance to the throne room, directly from the Great Hall. The centaur had come forward the sound of Caspian's footsteps, and now stared down at the king with unblinking eyes.

"Forgive me, your Majesty. Few come through here at such an hour," he said, giving a noble incline of his head.

"Yes. . . well. . ." Caspian muttered, groping for words. He was unable to find any. His heart had dropped into his stomach and Caspian was keenly aware of the suspicion of his companion. The parcel slung on his shoulder felt extremely conspicuous, and even in the little light he could see Tirinus' eyes dwelling on it. Where would the king of Narnia take such a package. . ?

"I went. . . I'm going. . ." Caspian tried again, but the powers of speech had deserted him. The lantern hinge swung in his sweaty palm, and the squeak carried clearly across the hall. Silence billowed around them. Caspian desperately tried to think of something to say, but his heart flurried in a nervous panic and his mouth had gone dry. He could hear his whole kingdom crumbling around him. This was the end, it had come earlier than expected, and Narnia would fall. . . But through the darkness came a single candle and slipper-shod footsteps, and the face of his beloved friend appeared.

"King Caspian. Tirinus," Doctor Cornelius said, gesturing with the candle in his one hand and a nightcap in the other. "What brings. . ." he began, but got no further, for he caught Caspian's eye and went silent. But the royal guard was not so easily led away.

"The king was about to inform me, Lord Chancellor," he said, as if the question had been fully formed.

Caspian saw the Doctor's eyes glance briefly toward his parcel. Seeming to understand the situation perfectly, Doctor Cornelius spoke. "Why, the King was fetching a small meal, for we two shall be doing a little astronomy, observing the morning sky. Yes, my King?" said the Doctor smoothly.

"Yes," said Caspian hurriedly.

After the smallest pause, Tirinus bowed again, and said slowly, "Then I shall keep you no longer." Doctor Cornelius bowed also, and led Caspian from the hall. They went in silence for a few minutes, until – well out of earshot of the Great Hall – the Doctor stopped and spoke.

"Now, my King, come into this closet and tell me all," he whispered, gesturing through a door. "I trust you completely, yet I feel that something is afoot."

The little room was quiet and completely dark. Caspian couldn't see anything, but he still spoke his words to the floor. He knew no matter the story and conditions, his mentor would defend him, but Caspian was reluctant to admit the situation to his wise friend.

"The Horn? It worked as a summons? But such an operation ought. . ." muttered Doctor Cornelius, almost before Caspian had finished. "And others have seen future of Narnia? Why, time itself should remedy any inconsistencies. . ." Then the Doctor seemed to rouse himself. "And what does her Majesty think of this secret, my King? She has bound herself to silence? Promised to raise the child?"

Caspian shuffled his feet, unwilling to confirm his answer. "I. . ."

"Heaven and earth!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Do you mean the Queen has no knowledge of Lucy's presence?"

Caspian didn't quite know what to say. He felt like a youth again, admonished for shirking some responsibility.

"Had you any plans for informing her? Surely you realised she would enquire to the source of your newborn son."

"Doctor, I – " he started.

"No, no, never mind. We shall think of something. I will speak with her, explain, or – "

"Magic?" asked Caspian, and his conscience squirmed.

"Perhaps. I should not like it, but secrets of the state – a king's lady – scandal. . . We must do what is necessary to keep Narnia intact. But leave that for another time; let us away now."

"To where?"

Doctor Cornelius sighed. "To this chamber of yours, my King. If I'm to be of any aid, we must make haste. Dawn is nearing."

--

It was a short visit, for Lucy tired easily these days. She put up a great show of cheeriness and smiles, and gave no indication that she was displeased at the surprise guest. As when Drinian had first come to see her, Lucy was shy and embarrassed at her state – she had grown quite large – but in all things she displayed a queen's grace. Even so, Caspian could not help feeling that he was exhibiting to the whole court, which was neither gentlemanly nor kind of him. He was careful to observe her expression when she recounted the months thus far to Doctor Cornelius. To his relief, no shadows passed over her face; she laughed softly and waved away her troubles in conversation.

When twilight beckoned and Caspian and Doctor Cornelius made their leave, the pair halted in dark passageway outside the chamber. Before they left the place, the Doctor answered Caspian's unspoken plea for advice.

"I am no physician, your Majesty. I am a master of knowledge, not medicine," said Doctor Cornelius.

Caspian had his reply ready. "Yet you are my friend in whom I trust, a learned man whose counsel I seek in every important matter, especially one as this. Please," he implored, "there is no one else I could ask, even if I wished it."

The Doctor gave another heavy sigh. "I shall offer you all the aid I can." He paused, then began, "She appears very well cared for, my King, and you are lucky she suffers from no fear of small spaces. I do wish that Queen Lucy might have stayed somewhere else – there is something in sunlight, your Majesty, which is good for the health – though I suppose it can't be helped. She certainly must not be moved in her current condition. . ."

--

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning her head to show him. "I had a bit of trouble at the back."

Caspian considered it. Her golden locks were shorter, shorter than when she'd first arrived – almost to her shoulders – and the fringe at the front was back. She was beautiful, of course, but mostly he was disheartened: yet another reminder that their time was running out.

"I know it's a bit short," she said, almost as if she'd read his thoughts, "but I thought I'd give it some time to grow out to the old way."

"You look different," he responded evasively. "More than when you first got here."

"Caspian, dear, you must have thought I would cut it. I couldn't well return with hair as long as that. . ." Her eyes searched him knowingly.

A silent moment passed between them. Caspian cleared his throat and asked, "And what I am to do with this?" He raised the small bowl of golden cuttings.

She smiled. "It's for the birds, silly. Nest materials. I used to set it out earlier in Spring, but it shouldn't be quite too late now. There are always last-minute nesters."

"I see." He set the bowl down, and reached across to run his fingers through her hair. It wasn't so bad, he thought, kissing her shoulder. Under his arm, she gave a comfortable sigh.

--

She was standing in a forest clearing somewhere in eastern Narnia. It was snowing – no, she was wearing a veil. When she pulled it off, she saw that it was a short white one instead of the longer Narnian styles. Looking down, Lucy realised she was dressed in an English wedding dress.

The earth shook under her bare feet, and without knowing why, she began to run. The ground shuddered in waves of quaking – she tripped and lost the veil somewhere in the trees behind her. Pushing her way through the leaves, she made it out into a field and glimpsed what her feet were carrying her to.

The Hill of the Stone Table was rising up on the horizon. When she came upon it, she saw that the Table had already been cracked in two. Then her eyes fell on the body of Aslan. He was scarred and mangled, muzzled, and bound tightly. She looked wildly around her, but no one came to her aid. The sun was already high in the sky – it was noon, day had come – the Deep Magic had failed.

Her eyes were spilling over with tears, but Lucy bravely stepped forward, hand outstretched. She hesitated over where his mane should have been, but in the end she touched him. He was cold. She gave a gasp of pain and jumped back, head reeling. Aslan, Aslan – dead? No! It couldn't be! She fell forward on her knees and wept bitterly, wishing for Peter and Edmund and Susan. She heard the sound of birds and looked up. Two vultures were circling high above her. The earth gave another almighty tremor, and deeper fissures appeared in the stone.

Lucy did not want to leave Aslan's body, but she could not bear to stay. Where was everyone? Didn't they know that the Lion had fallen? Her stomach turned. She had to tell someone! Without pretence she got to her feet and began to run as she never had before in her life. It didn't matter the direction or distance, she just had to keep running, to find someone. Aslan was dead. . . Narnia would surely perish.

She was in another wooded area, still running her hardest. She trod over sharp stones and bramble that cut her feet, but she did not slacken her pace. Without warning, she slammed into something warm and solid. It was Caspian. He was standing alone in the trees, wearing common clothes but adorned in his golden crown.

"Caspian!" she cried hysterically. "Aslan is dead, back there at the Stone Table. . ." She was sobbing into his chest.

He didn't answer at first. With his hands, he gently tilted her face so she could see into his eyes.

"Shh," he whispered calmingly. "Perhaps it was meant to be." Before she could reply, he pressed his lips on hers in a rough, lustful kiss. She was caught up a passionate storm that ran though her blood and made her heart race. Caspian's mouth was on hers like his life depended on her, as she knew it did. She fell headlong into him, feeling his hands slide up her back and his hair between her fingers. She pulled away a fraction to smile into his eyes, but when she looked up at him she shrieked and tore herself from his arms. His face was wrinkled and sunken, his hair grey. Even as she watched in horror, his hair – and the beard newly appeared – turned pure white; the wrinkles deepened and cataracts covered his eyes. She screamed, and Caspian reached out blindly, calling her name in a weak voice. He staggered and fell sideways. Lucy dropped to the ground beside him, taking his head in her lap.

He was dying, she could feel it. His gasps were irregular and his heart was beating only faintly. She reached in vain for the cordial on her hip, but her fingers met only empty air.

"Lucy," he murmured with his last breath.

She screamed, an eternal unearthly cry made the birds in the trees take to the sky. She could not stop her voice from piercing the cold air. She brought her hands to her face and clawed her nails at her skin until she drew blood. The ground beneath her lurched forward. Aslan was dead, Caspian was dead. . . and she was alone.

--

He was awake with his arm around her sleeping form. She had been so tired that he'd let her sleep, and now he was alone with his thoughts in the candlelight.

He ran across her stomach, feeling the swollen belly beneath the fabric of her nightdress, thinking again of the little time left to them. How he wished it had been different! With everything else going on, Caspian barely had time to ponder what it would mean to be a father. He had no memories of his own parents, after all. Lucy would be such a wonderful mother, he was sure, but she would be gone. . .

She was mumbling in her sleep. At first, he found it endearing and watched her with a small smile on his face, but as her tone became more and more distressed Caspian started to feel concerned. She let out a pitiful whimper and began to move around, turning her head back and forth. He shook her shoulders gently but she did not stir. Just when was contemplating fetching water, she gave a gasp and her eyes snapped open. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, and her shoulders shook as raised herself to a sitting position. She was sobbing uncontrollably, tears leaking through the fingers at her face.

Caspian was bewildered. She had been fine before she fell asleep, when they were talking! He felt very afraid; the rattling breaths she drew sounded horrid, and he feared also for the child sleeping in her womb. He embraced her tightly and rocked back and forth, whispering comforting words. They stayed so for a very long time, until her cries had quieted.

"What. . . happened?" he said, unsure of what her reaction might be.

"It was. . ." she hiccoughed. "Another dream. . ."

Another dream? He paused, and realisation began to come over him. "Lucy," he said sharply, "have there been other dreams besides this one and the last?"

She sniffled. "Yes," she admitted.

"All this time? Why haven't you told me?"

"You have enough to worry about," said she. Worry? Worry? He felt sickened with himself. Why had he never considered the possibility of other dreams?

"They are disturbing to even watch," he said seriously. "What are they about?"

She was quiet. With short hair framing her face, she looked alarmingly younger. Almost like the girl she had once – twice – been.

"Lucy, please," he implored.

She closed her eyes. "They are of pain. Destruction. Death," she said. "Narnia in peril."

Caspian took a slow, deep breath. Such dreams were merely that: dreams. Right? There was no chance that they could be. . . prophetic? And even if he believed them to be, nothing could make him reveal his thoughts to Lucy and upset her more.

"They are only dreams; they'll pass in time. Have you told the Doctor of them?"

"No."

"I will have him come tomorrow," he said. "Perhaps he can prescribe some tonic to ease your slumber. But I should leave now – it will probably be light soon. . ."

"Don't go," she said, and he looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she had ever asked him to stay longer. Usually she kissed him goodbye, resigned that he must leave her until the next night. "Stay," said Lucy, "please, at least until I fall asleep. . ."

With a jolt, he realised how meek and small her voice sounded. Had she been afraid to sleep on her own all this time? How could he be so selfish to not consider, never think of the fright of sleeping alone in this dark room, inviting nightmares to come? He thought back. . . the dream from months ago. . . he must have come in the aftermath, when she was calming down. The hysterics, he thought, he had so cordially missed.

He nodded. Caspian eased her back into the cushions and settled himself down beside her. As he waited for her breathing to become slow and rhythmic, the thought came to him that Lucy was not the only woman for whom he waited sleep to claim. Unlike his impatience to escape his own bed, however, her side he wished to never leave.


A/N: Reviews are welcome. I'd love some feedback on a chapter that took a ridiculously long amount of time and work, but I ended up not liking that much. I kind of feel like it lacks transition. Also, for reference, there's at least one direct quote from Prince Caspian here, and I borrowed the idea of cutting hair for bird nests from Jerry Spinelli's awesome book, Stargirl. It seemed very Lucy-like.