Hello again! Another horribly late chapter, yes. I'll be uploading the rest in a bit of a rush to avoid that going forward. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 9
(Caspian)

She's here. The thought echoes through all of the dances, the only thing keeping him grounded in the midst of her closeness and the wild yet sweet smell of her.

She is no girl from the forest tonight – she is a princess. Caspian forgets all about the eligible matches brought to the ball and can only think of her, only look at her and marvel that she remembered him. It vaguely occurs to him that he should dance with at least some of them, but every time he looks at the girl – the princess – from the forest, he can't do anything but stay by her side and ask her to dance again.

Even when his feet ache from all the dancing and no rest, he doesn't care, only dances again. Only when he's well and truly exhausted from movement does he stop. But he finds that he still can't leave her, can't bear to let her go for the night. He just knows that he won't get a chance to come back to her before the night's end. So he does something terribly foolish – he asks her to go with him, and he leads her outside into the cool Narnian night.

Once they're outside, he supposes there's no real reason to keep a hold on her hand. They're out of the crowd with nothing to separate them. Yet he doesn't want to let go. Her hands fits just so well in his, and he wants to keep her as close to him as he can. He doesn't even know her name.

"I'm sorry I was late."

Her voice brings him back to reality, the reality where they've found each other again and they just danced for minutes – or was it hours – and they're all alone outside in the garden but for the occasional guard. He's about to tell her not to worry, that he somehow knew she would come, but he looks down and sees that same sparkle in her eyes he saw that day in the forest.

"I was quite worried," he teases back, though it's half true. When he couldn't find her at first he was terrified that she wasn't coming. The less rational part of him had even wondered if she had truly been just a mirage, a dream. "It would've been rather a disappointment if you had turned out to only be a dream."

Her hand tightens in his, and he wishes he could look into her eyes and see that same playfulness every single day.

"Perhaps I still am," she answers, and something shy and uncertain appears behind that spark. It confuses him greatly – what on earth could she be shy about?

"Morning shall tell, then." Caspian hopes he can steal her away for the entirety of the ball, that he can watch the sunrise with her from the royal gardens and see her off when the ball is over. And, if she allows it, he wants desperately to see her again after this night.

They walk hand in hand in comfortable silence, and Caspian gets the sudden wild idea to take her to his favorite place. If she does stay until dawn, it will be breathtaking.

He leads her deeper into the garden, past the shrubs and perfectly trimmed flowers, through the rose walk and up a few stairs to a weeping willow tree. A stone bench sits under its branches, facing full east. A perfect place. But even better is the swing that hangs from the tree, wide enough to fit two people. It is to this spot that Caspian leads her, away from anyone's sight, even the guards'.

"I have not brought anyone to this spot as of yet," Caspian tells her, though he isn't quite sure why. "It's quiet, but you will find few places better for watching a sunrise."

The girl smiles radiantly, running her fingers through the graceful branches all around them. She drops her hand from his and walks the perimeter of the tree, hand brushing those leaves all the while. Caspian can only stand and watch her marvel at the place he's sharing with her.

She lets out a bubbling laugh that stirs a warmth in his chest he's never felt before and comes to stand in front of him with laughter and yet something much softer in her eyes.

"It's perfect," she says, voice as soft as a summer breeze. "I can see why you love it."

Caspian hears what she does not quite say: she loves it too. On a mad impulse, Caspian wants to kiss her, to see if her lips are as soft as her voice, if she tastes of joy and sunlight the way he's imagining. That sparkle is back in her eyes, and it's all he can do to restrain himself, to keep some form of propriety.

He doesn't know what to say, so busy is he with fighting the ever-growing urge to lean down and press his lips to hers. He shouldn't, they've only met twice now, but it takes more effort than he would ever like to admit to listen to his reasonable side.

The girl takes his hand, hers sliding perfectly into his own as if it were made to rest there. She tugs gently on his arm, leading him toward the swing where he has spent many an evening alone musing out various problems or memories. He's thought of her many times here, most often when he has spare time in the mornings.

He makes sure to hold the swing steady for her as she seats herself, and even with her gown spread out there's enough room for him to join her. So he does, and he tries to stop himself from wishing he could sit closer and feel her against his side.

"I thought you may have forgotten me," she admits suddenly, still in that soft voice that carries hints of both teasing and that soft something he's afraid to name, that makes him hope for things he shouldn't be hoping for just yet.

"Forget you?" he repeats, incredulous. "Never." He takes her hand again and wonders just how much he can ask her. He wants to know all about her, every little thing, but he doesn't want to overwhelm her. But perhaps he can just ask a little, see what she's willing to tell him. She hasn't offered anything of yet, and so his throat is a bit dry when he decides on what to ask her.

"You never said why you were chasing the stag," he murmurs.

She turns her head away just the littlest bit, but Caspian notices and immediately wonders if he should even ask anything at all. But he tries to be patient, to let her decide how or even if she wants to answer.

After a little while, she lets out a quiet breath. "I don't really know," she admits, and it surprises him. "I suppose I was looking for something to believe in."

"And you found it?" Caspian isn't sure, but from the reverence in her voice and the softer set of her shoulders, he thinks maybe she did.

The girl turns back to him with a soft smile that turns his insides to powder.

"Yes," she whispers. "I did." A content silence stretches between them, but this time she breaks it. "And you? Did you find peace for the people?"

Caspian smiles wryly. "Something like it. Given time, yes, I believe so."

The girl bumps her shoulder with his. "Perhaps you didn't even need a White Stag."

Caspian's neck is suddenly warm. "All the same, I'm quite glad I went looking for it."

He looks at her long and soft then, trying his best to resist another urge to kiss her. He wants to kick himself for wanting such a thing, but the way she's looking back makes him wonder if she would mind so very much. Vaguely, he realizes he's leaning in closer, eyes searching hers for a sign to stop. None comes. Her steady gaze only welcomes him, draws him in closer. A heartbeat passes, and he's so close now he can feel her breath on his lips.

He hesitates, still unsure and hesitant, afraid of frightening her away. But then she moves just that little bit closer, and he lets his mouth fall onto hers. It's a simple kiss, a kiss of only a moment, soft as butterfly's wings. Yet Caspian's heart thunders in his chest all the same, and he finds his hand that isn't entwined with hers is wrapping around her waist. He has to fight to keep himself from drawing her closer. Instead, he lets that kiss be just the one, because her breath is coming quicker and he can feel her heart thundering too, just by holding her hand.

"Won't you tell me who you are?" he whispers, opening his eyes so he can see hers again.

But this is the wrong thing to say. The girl doesn't pull away, but she saddens, a weight he's unused to seeing on her replacing the gentleness and soft something. Slowly, minutely, she shakes her head, eyes never leaving his as if she's begging him to understand.

"And spoil the mystery?" she teases. But it's not like usual, there's a new and strange thing in it that Caspian can't quite place. After a moment, her smile melts away.

"I can't," she whispers, now rather serious. Something akin to fear dances in her eyes now – fear of rejection, perhaps, that he'll discard her for not giving him the simplest of things.

"Not even your name?" Caspian asks, hoping against all hope he can at least know that little bit about her.

"I can't," she repeats, and Caspian's heart sinks down to his toes. How is he to find her again if he has no idea who she is? He sees that fear in her eyes and all he wants is to take it away.

So Caspian forces himself to nod, and smile softly to reassure her. "As you said, it would spoil the mystery."

He wills away his disappointment and wonders if he can kiss her again, desperate to taste the starlight on her mouth. No, not now, he realizes. Instead of a kiss, he simply rests his forehead against hers and lets his eyes drift closed in contentment. A small part of him is afraid to close his eyes all the way, afraid that she'll disappear into thin air again. So he peeks just a little, lets his heart skip at her nearness. The feelings will confuse him in the morning, but for now he's happy to just sit here with her in silence, sharing the privacy of the willow tree.

And sit there they do, unmoving for precious minutes that feel almost stolen.

"Should you be getting back?" she whispers to him at length, voice tinged in something he finds himself hoping is regret.

"Probably," he admits. "But let's not go just yet." Suitable matches be damned, he only wants her.

Eventually she moves, and he's irrationally terrified she's leaving. But no, she only shifts to rest her head against his shoulder, letting out a sigh as she does. He can't be sure if it's contentment or resignation, but he hopes for the former.

"I thought of you, when the council proposed the ball," he finds himself admitting. Instantly he wonders if it was the wisest thing to say, but when she hums quietly, voice vibrating gently against his shoulder, he ignores his better judgment and tells her anyway. "I wanted to see you again."

He feels her smile, hears it in her voice. "I'm so very glad you did. Though I am a bit surprised."

"Why ever so?"

Her smiles grows, and he wonders what her smile would feel like against his lips. "I'm only a girl from the forest, remember? I could have been nothing more than a wood sprite."

Caspian chuckles and wraps his arm just a little tighter around her waist. "I was sure you were."

"And what would you have done then?" She's raised her head now, left his shoulder in favor of looking at him as he answers.

Caspian shakes his head and meets her eyes once more, the spark stealing away his breath and his words for a moment. "I suppose I would have had to find you some other way."

This pleases her; she smiles again, and Caspian could swear he drowns in her eyes for just a moment. Even if she had been only a dream, he would have chased every stag in the forest just to have it again.

"How am I to find you, after tonight?" he finds himself whispering.

Her smile falters for just a moment. She recovers well, but Caspian can't unsee that fear. It saddens him.

"I think it would be best if you didn't," she says. She's sad now too – he sees the wetness in her eyes. It seems as though she might want to see him again, so why is she turning him away?

"I don't understand," Caspian replies, brow furrowing as he tries to come up with some reason why he shouldn't. He cares nothing for the matches the council would advocate, he's already decided on her. If she'll have him, that is, but he can't ask her that yet.

"Things would be horribly different if I saw you again."

The explanation only furthers Caspian's confusion. Horribly different how? Why? His questions must be dancing through his eyes because she shakes her head again.

"I can't say why. Please don't ask me." There's a desperate edge to her tone, and that same beseeching for him to understand.

Caspian doesn't really know what to say. The only thing he knows is that he's horribly sorry not to see her again, sorry about whatever it is keeping her away. He tells her so, murmuring "I'm sorry" as gently as he can. She smiles, yes, but it's tinged with sadness, not quite reaching her eyes. All he wants right now is to see her smile again, to see that same light in her eyes.

Yet just as he opens his mouth to cheer her up, the distant chiming of the bell tower tolls midnight, and her eyes widen until she looks rather like a frightened doe.

Quicker than he realizes, she's jumped up and away from him, an apology shining in her eyes. "I have to go," she gasps. "I'm sorry, I—"

Words must fail her – she lingers one last moment, looking frightened as a hunted deer, gathers her skirts, and starts to race away, much faster than he would have thought she could go.

Caspian gathers his sense and bolts up, racing after her, suddenly desperate to keep her by his side for just one moment more. "Wait!" he calls after her. "Wait, please!"

Miracle of all miracles, she pauses and turns back to him. "I'm terribly sorry," she calls back. "I can't stay!"

All thoughts of the sunrise forgotten, Caspian still runs toward her, terrified of never seeing her again. "The Summer Dance!" he shouts. "At the Dancing Lawn, meet me there!"

She hesitates, indecisive. He prays for her yes, sees the war within her. Just as he draws near, she answers.

Not with words, but he can't miss the small nod she gives him, though her eyes are wide as if she's shocked at what she's just done. Then she's turning away and racing back toward the castle, away from him and into the crowd. He tries, oh he tries to catch up, but she's lost to the crowd before he can get close enough. Caspian isn't even really sure why he's chasing her, why he's so determined that she not vanish again, but all he knows is he can't let her just leave. Her name, just her name, that's all he needs.

It takes a while for him to escape the crowds of the ballroom. The ball is in full swing still, and he has to wind through dancing couples and drinking lords and servers who scowl when he comes close to knocking the trays they're carrying. He calls excuses this way and that, but still she eludes him and he presses on. By the time he makes it out of the ballroom, she's already racing down the hallway. How she's managing to run so fast in that dress, he will never know.

"Wait, wait!" he calls after her. "Can I not have your name at least?"

She throws a glance over her shoulder for only a half of a moment, with those wide doe eyes, and still races on. At the foot of the steps to the castle sits a magnificent gold and silver carriage, with four grey horses that Caspian swears all look like her mount from the day he met her.

"Come back!" he calls, desperation pushing him even faster after her. But no, oh it's too late, she's leapt into the carriage and the driver is snapping the reins and she's disappearing, she's disappearing and he can't catch her in time.

"The Summer Dance!" he shouts frantically after her carriage. "Please, meet me there!"

Her head pokes out of the carriage window, black hair whipping at its speed, and she stares back at him. Caspian can't be sure, but he thinks he sees her mouth her assent.

Then she's gone, with no trace left to indicate she was ever here but for the distant clattering of hooves on the street beyond his sight. The centaurs who stand guard at the castle doors ask if he wants them to go after her, but Caspian takes a wild chance and tells them not to. He has to trust he'll see her at the Dancing Lawn. He just has to, he'll lose his mind if he doesn't.

But this time, he's somehow sure it wasn't all a dream. He'll see her again. He will.

He has to.