11. – Awakened the Queen
Caspian strode restlessly down the hall, away from the Eastern chambers where Lucy lay, still unconscious. His doctors said that she was in no danger right now, but nobody could explain why her hands had turned black, and her finger bones twisted. Nor could they explain why she was not waking up. And people continued to sicken in the infirmary, growing increasingly feverish and crying out from nightmares and pain. No matter where he turned, people were hurting, and he was powerless to stop it.
Utterly and completely powerless.
Before he even knew it, his fist connected painfully with the stone wall, its rough surface breaking the skin on his knuckles. Again, he hit it. And again.
He stopped with a shuddering breath and gathered his mind on his tasks.
There still had not been any news from Cair Paravel, and the scouts were reporting increased activity on the battle front- More and more patrols had been spotted leaving the White Witch's castle, and taking up positions on the Ettinsmoore.
It had been a day, and Lucy still was not waking.
He started walking again, making his way down the hallway and looking for something, anything he could focus his mind on. He needed to take stock of his troops, and to place them so that he could counter whatever the Witch was up to.
"Your Majesty."
He looked up to see two shaped stepping out in front of him, seemingly from nowhere. One was obviously a dryad, while the other one was hidden beneath a loose cloak. The fabric shimmered like moving water.
Caspian recognised the dryad from the first aid tents back at the battle site. What had her name been? Something within the oak family, he thought. The aged bark of her skin and the dark green of her leafy hair convinced him, and suddenly he remembered.
"Oakrynai," he greeted her. "What brings you to me?" He glanced at the woman standing behind her as he spoke, considering her cloaked form. The small feet beneath the greyish green cloth were slender and pale, and like Oakrynais, they seemed to be made of wood and bark. Her hands were the same, though painted with dark green sap in strange patterns, and her eyes looked completely black. Her hair was silver.
"I believe we can help," Oakrynai said firmly. "The queen is wounded and asleep, and I have brought you a healer."
A small scoff sounded from under the hood, but the oak dryadine bore it no mind.
"None of the doctors know how to treat her," Caspian said slowly, but his eyes lit up with hope. "They say this illness must me magical, and some say it's the curse of the White Witch."
The hooded dryad drew back her cloak and revealed robes of the same colour, covering a thin figure, almost sharp to look at.
"Even if it is a curse," she whispered, "I will break it."
"And you are?" Caspian asked.
"Willowispila," she murmured. "From the forests of Lantern Waste."
Caspian blinked as both fierce hope and gladness rushed through him, battling all the way with fear at being faced with this creature. Her other name crossed his lips without him deciding to let it.
"The Weeping Willow of the Waste."
.o.O.o.
Her examination of the sleeping queen with the burned hands was quick and thorough though she did not touch her. Instead, she drew in deep breaths, as if sampling the scent rather than the sight, and drew strange symbols in the air. Caspian worried what she might be doing.
"It's not a curse," she murmured. "There's ancient magic here."
The dryad loomed over the sleeping queen, and Caspian thought how fitting it was for this dryadine to be of a weeping willow.
Williowispila's long hair, so like the sleek silver leaves of her tree, lifted in an invisible breeze and she reached out, holding one slender pale hand over Lucy's face. The dryad's eyes closed as her pale green lips parted in continuous whispers. The air grew heavy with magic and filled with the scent of water and soil.
She frowned angrily at something, and Caspian's stomach clenched at the sight.
The whispers intensified, and the scent strengthened around them. With it came the sound of running water and a whisper of wind. Her hair billowed strongly in the magic currents. And then, like the sound of the wind weeping, the whispers turned into song.
The tones slid like cool caresses over everyone in the room, be it Caspian, Oakrynai or Lucy, and vibrated deep within them, lifting their hearts and bringing forth the emotions they tried to keep under lid. Like a flood all consuming fear coursed through Caspian's blood, whispering that Narnia, his world, would be lost if not Lucy survived. Oakrynai's eyes filled with tears as she slumped to the floor, the strong line of her body seeming to bend, her eyes locked on the Weeping Willow.
"Stop," Caspian gasped. "Don't-" Every dark fear, every emotion he had fought not to let himself feel, every unsavoury need or impulse within him seemed to be drawn forth and impress itself on his soul as the song crawled through his heart. The rage he felt on the battle field. The need to harm and hurt all who threatened his people, the sick joy that would sometimes course through him when an enemy was defeated and could no longer harm his people, and so much fear. So much terror it made him want to vomit. Fear of not being good enough. Of making a wrong choice and harming his people. Of not being able to protect them. Fear of losing Lucy. Overwhelming worry and terror at the prospect of having to bury this young woman who at once was a long time friend, and a stranger he had only just met.
Oakrynai shook her head mutely, tears still streaming down her face. Stumbling to her feet, she pushed out the door and ran away down the corridor. If Caspian had been able, he would have followed.
The willow dryad paid them no attention, her cloak and robes lifting in the song and her black eyes solely on Lucy. Caspian was about to beg her to stop, tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook, when the corner of Willowispila's lips turned up.
Lucy's crippled hands began to uncurl, the bones falling back into their normal places, and her chest rose in more than just the surface breath she had had since she fainted. Her lips opened slightly to draw in more air, and her face relaxed softly. When the dryad drew her hand back, and the song disappeared, Lucy opened her eyes drowsily and confused.
Every honest feeling still laid bare in his heart, Caspian felt it soar with intense joy at the sight, relief mingling with painfully sharp happiness. Looking at those blue eyes, seeing the hint of freckles on her cheeks and the auburn fire in her hair, his soul sang. It was too much, and he hid his face in his hands. Everything inside his head felt raw.
"Who-?" Croaked a voice that almost made Caspian weep, but instead he steeled himself and lowered his hands to look up at Lucy.
Lucy was staring at the dryad, who looked back with eyes completely black, She looked scared, and exhausted.
"Willowispila," the dryad whispered, and Caspian thanked Aslan that she did not sing or talk normally. He felt like he would shatter, should he hear that voice again.
"She saved you," Caspian said, his voice hoarse. "Some magic is causing this, but she woke you, when no one else could, and you've been unconscious for a day already." His eyes met hers fully now, and lightning burned the inside of his mind. He shook his head, rising to his feet. "I need to-" He needed to go. To get away from this strange dryadine from the Lantern Waste, but at the same time, he felt unwilling to leave Lucy alone with her. To leave this creature without any supervision. The desire to protect Lucy overwhelmed him and almost strangled him.
Willowispila held out her hands to Lucy, and helped her sit up, gently.
The white nightgown she was dressed in fell softly down over her subtle curves, as her hair tumbled down her back and she gracefully tucked her feet under her, still beneath the blanket.
Sudden desire stabbed through him, and only the still amplified state of his emotions made him recognise it for what it was. His eyes widened and he staggered at the force of it all.
"It will fade in a bit," Willowispila told him. "The magic is disappearing."
"You should have warned us," Caspian almost growled. He felt exposed and weakened, but looking over at Lucy, who still seemed confused, he was also filled with reluctant gratitude. He took a deep breath. "Thank you, for waking her."
She made a small nod, whether in reply to the former or the latter, Caspian could not tell. Then she turned back to Lucy and cocked her head to one side.
"There's more than one spell on you," she breathed. "And more than one world you're tied to. Even when I pulled at your soul strings, you barely came back."
Lucy rubbed her forehead.
"Spells?" she wondered.
"Some seem to be of the normal kind," Willowispila said. "And then there is one, one which ties into the very core of this world and the others. One that was written with the creation of the worlds, and will not be broken by one as me." She lifted Lucy's hands, smoothing her fingertips over the still blackened skin. Lucy flinched, and Caspian almost tore her away from the dryad to keep her from hurting her. "I could heal some of the damage."
Lucy met the dryad's eyes and shook her head slightly. Caspian wondered what passed between them, but did not ask. Instead he tried to reign in his frantic thoughts. If Willowispila had tugged at their souls, it was no wonder his feelings and core felt bared to the world. He shivered.
"Take a bath," the dryad advised. "The water will soothe you, and allow you to fully return to your body. We'll talk later."
She drew up her hood again, nodded once to Lucy, and left without sparing Caspian a glance.
Caspian took half a step away from Lucy's bed, and met her eyes again. There was still confusion there, and something extremely vulnerable and frightening too.
"I'll send Helin in to tend to your bath," he said.
Lucy nodded hesitantly, and reached out a hand toward him.
"Caspian-"
"We'll talk later," Caspian told her softly. He knew he should explain to her what was going on. That he should stay and comfort her. But every time he looked at her, he felt uprooted. "When you're- when you're clear headed, There's too much magic in this room."
And then he fled her, and her chambers, only pausing to send in her servant.
Only later did he realise, that if what the Willow of the Waste had said about the effects of her magic fading from Lucy, then she too, had to be the centre of an emotional storm.
.o.O.o.
Lucy was trapped in the darkness. Trapped and alone, and cold. Her hands burned, and tears ran down frozen trails over her cheeks. The pain and the cold was diminishing over time, as she grew numb. The whispers of Plague surrounded her, infiltrated her, poisoned her thoughts.
Without sickness, nobody would need you.
She shook her head violently, pressing her wounded hands against her forehead.
You are not needed.
She drew in a shuddering breath.
It was hopeless. She was powerless. She could not escape.
"Aslan," she cried. "Aslan, Aslan, Aslan." She wanted the lion to come for her, to keep her safe and to let her twist her fingers in his thick red mane. His powerful presence alone would always assure her that she was completely safe. And loved.
Loneliness cut at her heart- Loneliness and fear.
She had been so terribly lonely in England, away from her siblings, away from Narnia. The only thing that had made it even remotely bearable had been Anna, but even she refused to delve into the subject of Lucy's true home. Tears continued to run down her cheeks, as she recalled every bitter and cold evening she had sat, staring at the sky and missing Narnia. Every moment where an almost familiar face passed her on the street and she had to turn, and realise that of course Drinian, and Trumpkin, and Caspian could never be in England. And of course, Plague had been right in some strange manner, that she herself could only ever be in Narnia when the country was threatened.
It was true.
They only ever needed her in times of harm.
She gasped in pain, a broken cry wrenching itself from her lips, and turning into a sob. She was so alone.
A logical part of her mind tried to rally against the overwhelming loneliness, making the argument that it did not matter. That she should be happy to be able to help protect the land that meant so much to her. That she would always want to protect it.
She grabbed onto that thought and frantically drew in breath once more.
"Aslan," she whispered. The name gave her courage, and she remembered him calling her his little lioness. Remembered what it was to be brave.
And with that came the anger, the rage, which rushed through her numbed limbs and heated them. The intense desire to find and destroy Plague. To defeat Jadis. To make sure nothing could ever harm Narnia again. The emotions tugged at her, and the darkness moved around her.
She screamed.
And as she screamed out the loneliness, the fear and the rage, so welled forth other emotions. The heavy scent of rain and freshly turned soil spread like rings around her, surrounding and intoxicating her senses. Song filled her ears, and tugged at her entire being, pulling her away from whatever emptiness had claimed her.
The joy of dancing pulsated through her, and mixed with her unconditional love of the Old Narnians, and her acceptance of the New. Mischief tickled her senses as it connected with her admiration for the proud mice, so easy to tease, so easy to love. Fierce protectiveness for her people drew fire up and down her arms, and as her world exploded, she opened her eyes.
And stared into eyes as black as night, in a silvery green face.
"Who-?"
The dryad gave her her answer, and Caspian elaborated, meeting her eyes. Loyalty assaulted her, and mingled with the deep and steady love of friendship. His dark eyes made her insides tumble in a way that reminded her too much of her teenage crush on him those seven years ago. He looked frazzled, like he had been crying. The urge to hold him flooded her senses and made her dizzy, as her emotions rose to every small suggestion around them.
"It will fade in a bit," the dryad told her. "The magic is disappearing."
Caspian seemed angry at the dryadine, despite his thanks to her. Angry and unsettled, almost fearful. Lucy watched him and had to fight the urge to touch him, to soothe him.
"There's more than one spell on you," the dryad interrupted her thoughts. "And more than one world you're tied to. Even when I pulled at your soul strings, you barely came back."
The thought of the two worlds pulling her apart almost made her cry, and she rubbed her forehead to hide the pain it brought her. Aloud she wondered; "Spells?" because even if magic was causing this, why would there be more than one?
"Some seem to be of the normal kind," Willowispila said. "And then there is one, one which ties into the very core of this world and the others. One that was written with the creation of the worlds, and will not be broken by one as me."
She took Lucy's hands and Lucy flinched away from the soreness. But she realised that her fingers were not curled up like they had been in the darkness, and the pain was less.
"I could heal some of the damage."
The unspoken truth of those words made Lucy meet her eyes and shake her head. It meant that the spells were still in effect, that there was damage unhealed. Damage that might grow again. She did not want Caspian to know. Did not want anyone to know.
"Take a bath," the dryad advised. "The water will soothe you, and allow you to fully return to your body. We'll talk later."
Lucy hoped that the dryad, Willowispila, felt how grateful she was. And perhaps she did, for she nodded at Lucy before leaving, sharing a moment of common understanding. Lucy turned to Caspian, hoping to talk to him. The need to make sure he was okay was powerful.
He stepped away from her, and although he met her eyes, his own seemed determined to lock her out. She was confused, and hurt, that he would reject her like this.
"I'll send Helin in to tend to your bath," he said.
Lucy nodded hesitantly, and reached out a hand toward him. She needed to make him stay. She needed him here, to feel that she was not alone, to reassure herself that he was really there, that she was truly in Narnia and at a time where her friends were still living. She needed something to make her feel alive- grounded.
"Caspian-" She pleaded.
"We'll talk later," Caspian said. "When you're- when you're clear headed, There's too much magic in this room."
And then he left her. Sitting there, alone, and with too many conflicting feelings.
You are not needed.
.o.O.o.
Helin fussed over her as the warmth of the bath soaked into her. It was soothing, as the strange dryad had said it would be, and grounded her more firmly. She felt like there was something she was missing. Forgetting. But her mind was too muddled for her to grasp what it could be.
Helin washed her hair with gentle fingers, chattering softly as she did so, about how fierce Caspian had looked when he came carrying her after she collapsed, and how worried Helin had been that she might not wake up. She braided the auburn threshes while they were still wet, and when Lucy stepped out of the water, she brought her a dress to wear.
"Another one of that Archenland lady's," she confided in Lucy as she tightened the ribbons on the back. "Suits you better than it ever did her, though."
It was strangely comforting, the way Helin treated her, as if they had been friends forever. It did not chase away the sadness that had taken hold of Lucy in the darkness, but it gave her some soft respite from it.
"Here, your Majesty," Helin said, holding out a pair of white silk gloves. "No need to worry people," she continued, nodding at the black markings on Lucy's hands. Lucy agreed and wore the gloves, even though they made her feel uncomfortable. Trapped.
She was staring at her covered fingertips when the door burst open and Meechep burst in.
"Your Majesty- Please come quick! It's Aleety. She can't breathe!"
And all at once her doubts and fears fell away, and her entire being rallied. Any thought of being needed or not melted away compared to the instinct engrained on her soul, and she moved with a purpose.
.o.O.o.
