The warm breeze of early summer carries her light, airy laugh across the meadow. Gentle sunbeams warm the top of her head. Birds call to each other and answer back from the branches of the trees circling the meadow. The unearthly green leaves on the tree she leans against whisper as the breeze blows through them. She can feel the rough, uneven bark through the back of her lavender summer gown.
She sits in the soft, thick grass, leaning against the tree, her legs bent underneath her. Next to her, he lays on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. Her wide, carefree smile is mirrored in his own joyful grin. His white riding shirt hangs loosely, the neck untied, exposing the strong curve of his collarbone and a hint of his chest. He rests his free hand against her thigh, rubbing lazy lines over her skirt with his thumb.
"What shall we call them?" His familiar, alluring accent sends a thrill down her spine.
"What do you think?" She giggles, an action so completely out of character for her around anyone else, but perfectly natural around this wonderful, beautiful man.
He brings his hand from her thigh to her stomach, resting it against the soft, rounded start of a baby bump. She looks down, admiring his large, strong, gentle hand, smiling as the sun glints off the golden wedding band on his ring finger.
"Royal children's names are no easy matter."
His words are true, but she can't help but giggle again, giddy under the sun in the summer with her husband. "Girls are easier, you know. There's always flowers, or gemstones, or the like."
"Hmm," he murmurs in agreement. "A boy could be an important figure. An old king, or a warrior..."
"Of course, there's always family names," she yawns.
He laughs. "Yes, the entire kingdom will be expecting a Caspian the Eleventh."
"How odd that sounds."
"Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?"
Her eyelids droop, and she fights to keep them open. "And how confusing it would be to have two Caspians in the family."
His deep, rolling laugh complements her own light, airy giggles as the sunlight fades from her eyes. The afternoon drowsiness is too much for her to fight, here under the warm sunlight, the breeze brushing smoothly over her forehead.
I wake to a sour feeling in my stomach. Sunlight is peeping through the curtains; it's late enough in the morning that Peter must be at work now. Somehow, I've ended up flat on my back in the bed again. My mincemeat supper from last night is not agreeing with me. The last midwife who visited told me that sleeping propped up would help my morning sickness, but I always seem to slide down in my sleep.
I push myself up to a sitting position and slide my feet out of bed to go to the loo. Even though I was up every few hours during the night, I still have to go immediately every morning. It's quite a pain.
I return to the bed and lean back against the headboard, resting one hand on my stomach. In only five weeks, I've grown to the size Mother was shortly before Lucy's birth. I've no idea how I'll manage any longer at this rate. The best explanation for my rapid development that Peter and I could come up with is the difference in time passing between Narnia and this world.
The midwife's visit was three days ago, and she estimated me to be at fifteen weeks; this lines up with the last two midwives' estimates, putting my pregnancy at three times the speed of normal development. At this rate, I have only eight weeks at most left before birth - and the midwives tell me I'm likely to deliver early, since I'm carrying twins. Of course, the unusual nature of my condition means Peter and I have had to find a new midwife for each visit, which is made all the more difficult by the secrecy of our circumstances. Hopefully at least the birth will go well, although I'm not looking forward to having another strange woman delivering my children.
The thought is so odd. My children. My babies. I'm certainly of age to have children, but this has happened so fast. In under three months, I've gotten married, left my husband, and carried twins through a third of pregnancy. It's unnatural, and it's left me feeling a different sort of sick. The dreams aren't helping. I've had them nearly every night since leaving Narnia, and they only become more real with each one. It's disorienting.
A restless night spent running to the loo has left me feeling not at all rested this morning. I push another pillow behind my head, hoping I don't slip down in my sleep this time, and close my eyes.
- - - PART TWO - - -
A/N: I'm back! Welcome, lovely readers, to Heart Torn In Two: Part Two! I know, I know, dream sequences are cliche, but I wanted to do one more Suspian fluff bit before diving back in to the story. I hope to post about a chapter a week for the rest of the summer, if I can manage that along with my internship and online summer class. Thank you all for sticking by me and our favorite royal couple for so long. As the story becomes a lot less canonical from here on out, I hope you like what I've come up with, and remember that any canon I do use here is strictly movies only.