Hi there,

still a lot going on in Tashbaan - there will be some confessions, uninvited guests and miraculous remedies in this chap.

That being said, sorry in advance for the Jon Snow moment. But honestly, I wrote this scene (in the German version) before I even watched that GOT episode, so please bear with me :D

I hope you have fun!

Chapter 26

Irony of Fate

When Lord Abney rushed into the medic's room, he urged those present to tell him whether the King was still alive. But horrified silence was the only answer he got until the doctor admitted that Caspian's pulse was almost gone.

A pulse, however, no matter how weak, gave Abney hope. The Lord hectically pushed the bystanders away in order to take a golden bottle - well known to all of them - out of his coat.

"Damn it, of course," Trumpkin rubbed his eyes when Abney administered a few drops of the potion to the King. "Lucy's cordial…"

When the Lord took a step back, nobody dared to say a word. They all held their breath and stared at the King, covered in blood, unsure of what to expect. Seconds passed like hours, without anything happening.
And just when all hope seemed like utter madness, Caspian opened his eyes on the improvised operating table, gasping for air as though he had been under water for far too long.

He had been outrageously close to death, and that would certainly have after-effects for weeks to come. Lucy's cordial had healed the deep stab wound within a few moments, but he had still lost a much too high amount of blood. No potion in the world could reverse that.

The King did not wake up for the first few days, and he seemed more dead than alive. The doctor was confident in declaring it normal for Caspian to recover like that, but Ria did not trust the calm and stayed with him day and night.

In his delirium he heard her voice ever so often, as dull as in a dream. Had he only hallucinated that she was carrying his child?

The others kept looking after him as well - Trumpkin, Lorella, the officers, the doctor, even Alhajar... They all were in and out of his sickroom and encouraged his young wife as much as they could.

Until he finally regained consciousness. Ria's worried smile was the first thing he saw. The dark circles around his eyes and his pale skin made the question redundant, yet she sat on his bed and asked anxiously, "You're awake… How do you feel?"

The sunlight shone so bright into the room that he could barely keep his eyes open. He recognized the white curtains of the four-poster bed, swaying in the warm desert wind to the sound of birdsong, and he could tell where he was. Apparently he had been taken to their guest chambers, and the fact that the doctor saw no urgency to keep him in his treatment rooms was probably a good sign.

Not that he felt that way... The King forced a wry smile when he replied, "Don't ask, dear."

Ria nodded with a sigh and fetched a glass of water.

"The doctor says you have to drink a lot," she explained and helped him to sit up just enough so he could follow the medic's instructions. But that already put a strain on him and Ria's eyes inevitably glittered with tears again.

"You've got to get well again, will you? I've never been so terrified."

"No llores," he said under his breath. "I'll be fine in a few days."

Ria shook her head. "You've lost a lot of blood, it'll take you weeks to recover."

He did not take up the point - he clearly did not want to hear that because he never rested. Instead, he leaned back again and, after a glance at her belly, he plainly said, "I dreamt you were pregnant."

She blushed at the guilt that speared through her. He probably could not remember much of the fateful evening, but this he had not dreamt. She had indeed kept the fact that he was about to become a father secret from him for weeks, and that was why he almost died without ever learning about it.

"Ria?" he watched her attentively, but she only bit her lips for lack of better words.
He took her hand and pulled her closer to him so she lay down in his arms, where she finally worked up the courage to speak up.

"Believe me, I wanted to tell you," she said, her heart pounding.

He lowered his face to hers, almost disappointed, "Why didn't you?"

"I thought… I was afraid of how you'd react," she struggled to admit, well aware that she could no longer avoid this conversation. "I mean, you've said it so often - that we'd need to take our time, that we shouldn't hurry..."

"Oh, Ria," he sighed and kissed her on the forehead. "Of course I said that, you're so young. I just didn't want to pressure you."

"I know that's not what you wanted and it's all happening too fast, but - "

"Not at all, that's wonderful news - I'm thrilled!" he slowed her down, and his captivated smile perplexed her quite a bit.

"You are? You're happy?"

He could barely believe that she had doubts about it. He was quick to nod and answered as euphorically as his poor health condition allowed him to. "Happy doesn't even begin to describe it, cielito. Me encanta empezar nuestra familia. The earlier and the more, the better..." (1)

Ria sank back into his arm because of the great relief that rushed through her, and her mouth curved into a big smile.

"But how do you feel about it?" Caspian asked, not quite able to hide the worried undertone in his voice. After all, it was a big step at her age.

But she beamed. "I'm bursting with joy. I love children - I used to look after the little ones of Anvard's nobility quite a lot."

"Or they after you, depending on who had the worse ideas," he said.

"It was always fun," she grinned. "And I can't wait to hold our child."

He chuckled and kissed her quick. "Good - that's good. You could just as well be mad at me."

"Why?" she asked and looked up at him, but her answer came from an unexpected direction.

Lorella joined them from the balcony and winked, "Because it always takes two, Ria."

Caspian smirked - of course his cousin could follow him.

The closer Lorella came, the more she worried.
"It is good to see you alive. Although I really have to admit that you still don't look lively at all..."

"It'll be all right," Trumpkin said as he also entered, closely followed by Abney. Both were very relieved to see the King awake.

At the sight of the Lord, Caspian's memory suddenly rushed back - was it not him who held the remedy in his hand when he woke up for a moment?

"Abney, I really owe you one."

The Lord gave a wave of his hand and said, "I beg of you, I'm glad you survived."

Trumpkin frowned. "That would've been impossible without the cordial. Had you not thought of it..." He fell silent, unable to finish his sentence. Caspian had become his closest and most loyal friend over the years - the mere thought of him gone hurt him. "I'm... glad you're here," he finally finished. Finding emotional words had never come easy to him, and Caspian knew that well.

The King smiled, at least until a thought crossed his mind. "What about the boy?"

All of a sudden, the room fell silent. Ria looked at Trumpkin, and he knew he had to react.

"You... you must really focus on your recovery," he clearly failed to change the subject though.

Caspian was exhausted, but he firmly said, "I want to talk to him."

Trumpkin took his time, drawing in a deep breath. He needed to put it in such a way that Caspian did not get too excited in his condition, so he tried to be as imprecise as possible.

"I'm afraid... that's not possible."

Caspian had a bad feeling at once and he hoped to be wrong. But when Trumpkin made no effort to explain himself further, the King lowered his voice, "What does that mean, 'not possible'?"

Trumpkin ventured no reply. Lorella could tell that he was struggling to find the right words and so she decided to help him out. "Caspian, he hasn't woken up yet," she said quietly.

The strange reaction of all present had already prepared him for something similar, but to really hear the words gave him a sting. He tried to sit up, but right away he moaned in pain, gritting his teeth.

Ria did not hesitate to push him back into the pillows, lovingly but firmly. "We can only hope that he'll wake up again," she bit her lip.

The boy had almost succeeded in killing him, but, as bizarre as it was, that King was genuinely worried about him. But the reason was clear to everyone - the child had not hurt him voluntarily. The true enemy had only hidden in his shadow like a coward.

"Alhajar commanded his guards not to touch him," Caspian said. His voice betrayed emerging anger, but also consternation.

"They didn't, the Tis'roc took your objection very seriously," Trumpkin was quick to reply. "But they lost him in the chaos."
Trumpkin looked down and did not know how to tell the rest of the story. He gulped, then he explained, "It took them hours, but they found him down by the riverside, near Tashbaan's gates. There were bruises all over his neck, and at first they believed he was..."

He fell silent again, and they all put two and two together. Sadness clouded every face and they could only imagine the terrors the poor boy had barely survived. To cover their tracks, Diorn and his conspirators had not even shied away from such a cruelty. They, or whoever had to get their hands dirty in their name, must have left the boy behind believing he could never speak the truth again.
Caspian closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw visibly clenched - he could not decide which feeling was stronger - dismay or rage. He would have loved to get up, reach for his sword and search all of Tashbaan for Diorn. But he did not even have enough strength to sit up properly, and that could be blamed on Diorn as well - which was nothing but irony of fate...

"We'll only hear the whole story if the child gets better," Lorella said. "Alhajar has his closest confidants search for traces, but with each day that passes, it's less likely they'll actually find something."

"There's no need to search," Caspian protested. "Didn't you tell him about Diorn?"

"Of course I did. And he believed me. But his hands are tied, Caspian. He has no proof and Diorn's father has developed a strong name in Calormen for decades. He can't just convict his son without good reason."

For this matter, Caspian could not at all encourage diplomacy. "Is high treason and attempted murder not reason enough?"
He was clearly too upset and had to regret his outburst immediately. His head burned, his pulse soared. He hated to admit it, but maybe Ria was right after all - maybe he did have to rest. It was hard to calm down, however, given that the little boy was still in mortal danger.

"You should have seen his face. He was afraid for his life, I should've noticed..."

"No tienes la culpa," Lorella shook her head, but Caspian felt guilty though. (2)

"Is he safe now? What if - "

"Don't worry," Trumpkin interrupted him so he could not paint a too gloomy picture. "The child is guarded, by Cuartio and Driscol and the Tis'roc's men."

They were not spared the worry for the boy for another few days, just like Caspian was too weak to leave the bed at first. He did not want to admit that to himself though - his impatience had, of course, made him try to get up and therefore he found himself back on the cold, hard floor faster than he liked.

Weariness and wicked headaches as well as breathlessness and rapid heart beats were his most faithful companions whenever he wanted to do too much. His physical limits had never been so narrow, so the doctor constantly urged him to rest, eat green vegetables and drink lots of liquid.

None of it was fun, but they were stuck in Tashbaan anyway - the doctor claimed that the journey back to Narnia would still be too exhausting for the King. As unpleasant as all of this was, he was glad to be alive. All that mattered was that he would be there to witness the birth of his child, even though Ria did not look much like it. On the contrary - her constant nausea still kept her from gaining weight, but that would soon change.

Only a couple of days passed, yet they all felt trapped in a tiring loop. Every day was alike. Only the Tis'roc seemed delighted to accommodate his guests much longer than intended. After countless apologies for the lack of security at the welcoming festivities - Caspian kept assuring that the guards could not be blamed - Alhajar admitted to also secretly suspect Diorn. But still there was no proof, they were informed about the futile investigations on a daily basis.

One of the few disctrations they had was Tashbaan's most famous tradition. In the late afternoon, people usually gathered for tea and biscuits, and the Tis'roc insisted on this meeting several times. While Alhajar would eagerly present and explain different types of tea to Ria over and over again, Lorella would wink at Cuartio. Abney sometimes bothered to ask a question about the biscuits, but Trumpkin and Caspian were similarly absent. They both denied it, but gradually they got a bit homesick. Their eyes used to wander into the distance to the north almost wistfully.

Until one of these days, clacking footsteps on the marble floor of the palace approached them.

"Look at that, you're well!"

A familiar voice echoed through the tea hall, startling Caspian out of his reveries. As though he could not believe his ears, the King turned around to the tea hall's entrance and his suspicion was confirmed. At once he welled with unspeakable anger.

Dressed in a noble Calormene costume, Diorn spread his arms wide and smiled. Behind him, the guards also let Restimar and Octesian pass - they recognized them and connected them with Tarkhaan Abadish, so they did not dare to stop them. As soon as Diorn had learned that Caspian was still alive, he had jumped to the conclusion that he ought to pay him a courtesy visit to make himself look less guilty. But he had not considered how bad he was at hiding his feelings...

It was clear to everyone present that he was by no means innocent, yet Diorn acknowledged the Tis'roc and the others respectfully. But his companions, who were believed to be stone dead at that, only scowled. They watched Caspian intently - he had changed a lot since the last time they saw him in Telmar. Not much reminded them of the boy he used to be. He was a grown man now, and the resemblance to his father - the archetype of a proud Telmarine - was striking. But the massive loss of blood displayed clearly how matters stood with his health.

"You look terrible, if I may say so," Diorn turned to Caspian as though he was concerned.

It was hard to top his visit for audacity, let alone his comment, but except for Caspian, everyone was too shocked to say something.
The King did not let anyone nor his dizziness hinder him from nearing Diorn, his look one of wary disbelief. "Might be due to the attempted murder I barely survived."

"But of course," nodded Diorn, his eyes holding a glint of mockery, "we were very concerned - the endless trail of blood in the throne room was very disturbing."

Alhajar feared that the situation would quickly escalate, but he could neither hold the King back, nor let Abadish's son be taken away without good reason.

Caspian, however, remained surprisingly calm, though he glared down at Diorn in disgust. It was a bizarre sight - the slender Margrave provoking the much taller King impudently.

One could have heard a pin drop when Caspian finally, without turning his gaze away from Diorn, demanded, "Won't you introduce us to your shadows? They should be dead as well, or am I wrong?"

"Oh please!" Diorn waved his fellows to him. "I'm sure you still recognize these Lords?"

"Lords by no means," Caspian said firmly. "After their alleged deaths and the subsequent hide-and-seek in the exile, the titles were passed on to worthier successors."

"Like the title that Miraz passed on to you?" Restimar spat out, taking a step forward.

Caspian knew exactly where he was going with that, and he sounded indignant by the very commitment to reply, "I was Telmar's crown prince. I certainly won't have to explain the bloodline of the rightful succession to the throne to you."

"Of course not," snorted Octesian, "and it doesn't even matter because you've killed your uncle anyway."

Trumpkin had intended to remain silent during the course of this conversation, but hearing the old, narrow-minded Telmarines throwing around such wild accusations was too much. He knew Caspian was long tired of defending himself for a crime he did not commit, so Trumpkin did in his place. "Miraz was murdered by Lord Sopespian. That is the truth, whether you believe it or not. And the fact that the North has blossomed ever since speaks for itself."

"I can only imagine that someone like you feels that way," Octesian looked down on Trumpkin contemptuously right before he turned to Caspian again. "You have betrayed our traditions. You let... Narnians... advise you... and your Queen is nothing but a - "

"Watch your words," Caspian lowered his voice.

"I take no orders from you!" Octesian shouted. "You are not my King! The decay and weakening of Telmar is all your fault!"

"The way you feel about this matter surely explains your attempted assassination," Caspian replied quite unimpressed.

Diorn objected though sarcasm laced every word, "How can you even make an accusation that serious?"

"I hardly take offence, Diorn," Caspian shrugged. "Well played. First Lorella, now that... But to use a child for your revenge so cowardly is truly dishonorable."
Diorn sneered at this comment. There could be found no remorse in his face, no shame, no qualms - only arrogance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. But rumour has it the boy was just an orphaned slave anyway."

At these words, Caspian finally lost his temper. He was not feeling well, but burning rage made him push the nobleman roughly against the next best wall.
"Just an orphaned slave?" Caspian roared. "Does that make him worthless, is that your justification?"

Diorn struggled for breath and tried to detach the King's hands from his neck in vain. Trumpkin, Abney and Alhajar wondered whether they were to stop Caspian from strangling the Margrave, but as Diorn winced and turned more and more crimson, Alhajar - even though he was a bit ashamed to admit it - decided that he had to inform the King of a certain detail.

"It has to be mentioned," he began, "we really don't punish crimes against... slaves..."

Just because he was so shocked by this revelation, Caspian let go of Diorn. He gave Alhajar an incredulous glance, then he briefly looked into Diorn's triumphant face, and right back to the Tis'roc again.

"That's what you call legal justice in Calormen?" he shook his head. "A child got almost killed and it doesn't matter to you?"

The other guests were also more than alienated, but the Tis'roc only gave an awkward half-shrug. Diorn's reaction, however, was rather telling - his jaw dropped at these words.

"Almost?", he gasped. "Does that mean he's still alive?"

Now it was up to Caspian to smirk. "Yes, the boy's quite tough - his neck is not as thin as yours."

Also Octesian and Restimar exchanged troubled looks as Caspian continued, "And maybe you won't be held accountable for what happened to him. But for the attempted murder of a King certainly. As soon as the boy wakes up - and he will - we'll learn every detail of your plan. And rest assured, it will cost you everything." He almost reproached the Tis'roc, "Unless, of course, treason and conspiracy at the highest political levels are also no crimes in Calormen."

"Oh yes, they are," Alhajar replied and smiled. "If the allegations turn out to be true, your actions will demand the harshest of penalties."

The evil trio swallowed. The harshest of penalties meant their certain death in Calormen, everyone knew that.

"My mighty Tis'roc, I beg of you, there is not a single piece of evidence!" Diorn cried. "The child could not even be questioned yet!"

"Well, that's why we'll have to wait and see," Alhajar cleared his throat tiredly and, with little interest, he said, "For now, however, we suggest you leave the palace the same way you found your way in. You should know that your unannounced visit will only have no consequences today because we have the greatest respect for your father. Khadim?"

"Yes, my Master?" the vizier replied eagerly.

"See our uninvited guests out."

Translations:

1. Me encanta empezar nuestra familia / I love to start our family

2. No tienes la culpa / It's not your fault.