I live! This thing has sat around waiting for me to finish it for a while, and hopefully this is the last push where it gets done. Thank you to everyone who supported this story back when it was still a baby. Y'all are the real ones!

Chapter 15

(Caspian POV)

Caspian knew Rose had a soft spot, but never has he heard her speak so reverently of Aslan. She tolerates Narnia, but she does not love it. But listening to her suggest that even their mistakes could all be part of Aslan's plan…it's a welcome surprise. Caspian's chest warms as his own faith restores itself deep in his chest.

And yet, there is no time to enjoy this. The most pressing issue is that of escape, and finding a way under the City Ruinous once they have. It sounds far too simple; it will be by the grace of Aslan if they all make it out in one uncooked piece.

"As fine as this affection is," Pole chimes in just as their little group hug dissolves, "oughtn't we begin to figure out those instructions? UNDER ME doesn't seem to make much sense."

"Yes it does, though," says Puddleglum. "We've got to look for his Royal Highness under that city."

"Right, but how can we?" asks Jill.

"We've got to find our way out first. Far easier said than done, I know, but we simply must seize the opportunity when it presents itself." Rose stares out the window at their destination, her voice slightly odd.

Caspian rests his hand between her shoulder blades, coaxing her mind back into the room. "Or we create one."

The five of them cast about for a moment before Puddleglum points a thin finger at the door. "Easy enough," he says. "We might try opening that door to begin with."

But even if Caspian stands on Puddleglum's shoulders, he finds that he can barely reach the handle, and that he certainly couldn't turn it even if he could.

"Perhaps they'll let us out if we ask?" Jill's optimism carries that weight that only doubt can bring.

"Supposing they don't?"

No one has a good answer to that. It seems to Caspian that Puddleglum's moment of optimism has flown right out the window to freeze over in the snow.

"Well we can't tell them anything of the truth of our business," says Rose. "So unless we can come up with a very convincing lie, we'd do better sticking with the original story of the Autumn Feast."

That's a given. Caspian grins wryly. "Especially as I am under a different name here." He thinks for a moment, tapping his index finger against his chin. His beard has grown scratchier on the journey, since he's not taken the time to trim it. No doubt he must be growing ridiculously scruffy.

"There's not much chance of sneaking out at night," offers Jill, tugging absently at her pigtail. "We've already proven we can't get these doors open, and the windows are far too tall unless we help each other up. Rather difficult to do when we've each been given our own quarters."

"Our only chance is to try to sneak away by daylight," says Eustace. "Mightn't there be an hour in the afternoon when most of the giants are asleep? I'd bet anything there's a back door open somewhere."

Caspian meets Rose's skeptical glance, but he does not shake away the suggestion. Thus far, it's the best they have.

"It's hardly what I'd call a chance," says Puddleglum. His long face is, apparently, back to stay.

Caspian speaks with all the authority he can muster. "But it's the best we have."

As he looks around their small circle, he finds straightened spines and the light of determination in every eye. It's good to grasp onto that bit of hope.

"Besides, if we're caught it's ever so much easier to pretend we were simply exploring, or some such excuse," says Jill. "I daresay no one would believe us for a moment if we said such a thing while lurking about in the middle of the night."

Eustace snorts with the mirth of a boy who's done more than his share of sneaking about and knows precisely what Jill is referring to. Caspian himself reminisces for a moment about his sneaking around as a boy to track the stars with Professor Cornelius.

"Perhaps that kind of thinking would have served you well in years past," Caspian whispers to Rose. She scowls and kicks his shin.

"Leave it to these two to know how best to sneak about." But when he sees her profile, the whisper of a smile dances around her lips.

With little warning, Eustace claps his hands together, rubbing them gleefully. "At least we've got a plan now." His boyish grin is contagious, but Caspian presses his lips together. They're not out of danger yet.

"But we must put them off their guard," Caspian reminds them all. "We must act as though we simply can't wait for this Autumn Feast. Play the part that witch assigned." He simply can't help the vicious curl of his lips as he thinks of that green monster.

"That's tomorrow night," says Puddleglum. "I heard one of them say so."

"Right," says Jill. "We've got to pretend to be awfully excited about it, ask all sorts of questions. They think we're absolute infants anyway, which will make it easier."

"All of us, apparently," Rose retorts with her eyebrow arched.

Caspian holds in a shudder. He shall never quite forget the humiliation of being treated like an infant, but perhaps in good time he will manage to banish the shivers racing over his skin and threatening to turn it redder than a freshly picked tomato.

"Jolly," says Puddleglum with a bone-deep sigh. "That's what we've got to be – jolly. As if we haven't a care in the world. Frolicsome. Begging your pardon, but you four haven't always got the highest spirits, I've noticed. We've got to be jolly, like this – " Puddleglum's ghastly grin is truly enough to frighten the King of Harfang himself, Caspian is quite sure – "and frolicsome – " here he graced them all with a most mournful caper. It was truly a sight to behold, far beyond Puddleglum's spider-like performance under the influence of the Giants' drink.

Caspian makes, he believes, a truly valiant effort to keep a straight face and nod along as the Marshwiggle prattles on about being a funny fellow anyhow in the eyes of the giants and how his tipsiness was quite certainly – mostly at least – put on.

"I had an idea it would come in useful, somehow," finishes Puddleglum.

Caspian snorts through his admittedly poor game face, for which he receives a well-deserved elbow to the ribs from Rose.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," says Puddleglum with his chest comically puffed out, "but I do assure you it was quite the act."

"Quite so, my dear Marshwiggle," Caspian manages, biting the inside of his cheek for all he's worth.

Luckily before Caspian can quite chew through his cheek or Rose can gift him with another well-deserved elbow jab, the door flies open and in bustles the Giant nurse, clucking away as she shoos them toward the door. "Come now, my poppets. Come and see the King and all the court setting out on the hunt? Such a pretty sight!"

The golden window of opportunity shines bright, and Caspian wastes no time in rushing out with the others hot on his heels. The horns blaring and hounds baying and the court chattering in their thunderous voices provide quite a clear direction. Caspian, Rose, and Puddleglum lend their help to the children in clamoring down the staircase made for Giant feet.

It truly is a sight to remember. Were they not here by a witch's trick and bound for a stewpot unless they escape, Caspian would otherwise pause, take in the overwhelming scene before him. There are no Giant horses, naturally, so this hunting party is set to depart on foot, but with normal-sized hounds yipping and howling as they weave in among the party's feet. Surely they have practice, but it's a wonder that the Giants don't tread the poor beasts into the ground. But they must not, else the hounds would not dance about without fear.

"Blimey," murmurs Eustace. He sticks closer to Caspian's side, but Caspian tugs them along through the throngs, making straight for the Queen.

They've evaded the stomping feet within a few Giant paces of the Queen when Jill surges ahead. Caspian reaches for her arm, but Rose takes his wrist and pulls his arm away.

"She's the best one for it," Rose says. The surety in her eases the protective surge welling in Caspian's chest.

Jill, Lion bless her, goes right up to the litter holding the Queen aloft – on the shoulders of six young Giants, poor chaps – wearing the most winning, girlish smile Caspian has seen yet seen her employ.

"Oh please!" cries Jill, "You're not going away, are you? You will come back?"

It's something close to a miracle that the Queen can even make out the girl's words, but luck, it seems, is on their side.

"Yes, my dear," says the Queen. "I'll be back tonight."

From the corner of his eye, Caspian spies Puddleglum putting on a smile most unpleasant, though the Wiggle surely thinks it must be the height of geniality. He stops Puddleglum up short before he can frighten the Queen in the middle of Jill's workings.

"Oh good, how absolutely lovely!" Jill is just saying. "And we may come to the feast tomorrow night, mayn't we? We're so longing for tomorrow night! And we do so love being here. And while you're out, we may run over the whole castle and see everything, mayn't we? Do say yes!" Jill's curly pigtails bounce as she tilts her head in that most endearing way that children are known to do when they especially want something and are quite certain they can convince the grown-up as to why they absolutely must get it.

"Yes, dear, of course you may," says the Queen. But the roaring laughter of all the court nearly drowns out her voice.

Jill returns absolutely alight with her triumph, but for all the success of the moment, Caspian has to agree with Rose that the indoors is something of a relief after the raucous cheer of the Giant hunting party.

Jill, the darling of the moment, wastes not a single moment. Caspian has to admit that without her, the day would likely have been a disaster, especially if it were only he and Rose and Puddleglum. But with Jill, the five of them are swept off following in her grand tour of the whole of Harfang. Throughout it all, Caspian is quite sure that Jill's tongue is never still for even the smallest of moments. Her prattling and giggling would have been annoying in any other circumstance, but today it is their salvation among these Giants who simply cannot get enough of Jill's antics.

"She's absolutely perfect," marvels Rose in his ear as two giantesses pass Jill around their little circle, bestowing what look from this distance to be rather wet and very unpleasant sorts of kisses.

"Quite so," chimes in Puddleglum. "But she's got to keep it up, I say. Jovial's the word!" For the third time that morning, Caspian marvels at how such an earnest attempt at a smile can look so utterly depressing.

"I'd say Pole's got the entire act well in hand," says Eustace. "But then, girls are much better at that sort of thing."

Rose scoffs aloud. "Or perhaps you boys simply don't care to learn the skill."

Eustace looks for a moment like he's attempting to swallow an entire orange and the offending fruit is wedged in his throat. "What ever would I want to learn that for?"

Caspian is sure his grin must look positively wicked, but he finds that Rose is all seriousness beneath the playful flap of her hand. "Precisely for moments like this, Eustace."

Perhaps it's merely the light, but Caspian would swear to the Lion himself that Eustace's skin took on a decidedly greenish tinge.

Lunchtime slowly came around. Jill takes a momentary break from her sweet talking and innocent investigations to join them at a little table they have all to themselves, near the fireplace. Caspian catches himself watching Rose as sneakily as he is able. They've only been at Harfang a day and so he cannot expect miracles, but he hoped he would find her at least somewhat restored after weeks in the snowy wilderness. But though the dark circles under her eyes are somewhat lightened, she still picks at her food – cold venison, quite the lovely thing to eat by a crackling hearth on a cold winter's day – and the weight ever present on her shoulders seems not at all lightened.

Rose catches him staring, but she holds her piece until the noise from the chattering Giants at a large table a bit away from them reaches a crescendo and the others glance over briefly in annoyance.

"Stop that."

Caspian resists the jolting urge to look away and keep the fragile peace between them. "I am still worried."

Rose shrugs. "Then don't be. I've no use for it, and neither do you." Her casual tone twinges in Caspian's chest.

He doesn't have a good answer, but it feels wrong to let that be the end of the conversation. Things are still upset between them, and he has no idea how to fix it. He is no stranger to grief, but the contours of his are different. He still has hope.

Rose, it seems, is fresh out of that.

Caspian aches with the need to help, but she has shown him many times that there's nothing to be done but let her work through things on her own. He promised her and himself that he'd let her. But she needs her strength for what lies ahead.

He can't lose her too.

"Don't eat another bite," says Puddleglum with a start. His normally muddy complexion is noticeably paler, ghost-like even for him.

"What's wrong?" ask both the children in a whisper.

Puddleglum speaks with staccato urgency, as if the words are unbearably painful. "Didn't you hear them? 'That's a nice tender haunch of venison,' said one of them. 'Then that stag was a liar,' said another. 'Why?' asked the first one. 'Oh,' said the other. 'They say that when he was caught, he said, Don't kill me, I'm tough. You won't like me.'"

Caspian drops his fork, laden with another bite, with a clatter onto his plate. His stomach churns violently as the truth comes to fruition with Eustace's realization.

"So we've been eating a Talking stag."

A horrible silence descends over them all. Rose pushes her plate away, followed closely by Puddleglum, whose increasing paleness warns of impending faint. Jill's eyes grow ever wider as the comprehension dawns for her as well, while Eustace looks closer and closer to being ill or even crying. Caspian himself may well deliver his unholy lunch right back onto the plate.

"We've brought the anger of Aslan upon ourselves," says the Marshwiggle, his voice ever more unsteady with every syllable. "That's what comes of not attending to the signs. We're under a curse, I expect. If it was allowed, it would be the best thing we could do to take these knives and drive them into our own hearts."

Caspian knows well that such an end is strictly forbidden in the laws of Aslan, but Puddleglum has perhaps never been more right in all this horrid journey. He's betrayed his own people, by the most egregious of accidents. How could he have ever thought it safe to eat anything Harfang had to offer?

Perhaps Puddleglum is right. Perhaps there truly is some sort of curse on them. On him? The only reason they even wound up at Harfang, after all, is because Caspian is seeking his son. If he had gone with Lilli that day, would things have been different? Would he have killed the witch before she could have taken his family and nearly ruined his kingdom?

Perhaps. But he did not go, and now here they are. Can he ever stop failing his people?

Even as he follows the children as they sneak out of the hall, even as they make their way down to the kitchens and watch as slowly, slowly, one by one of the scullery giants wipe their hands and leave, even as the afternoon dwindles down into that napping time common after a great meal, Caspian can't shake the sinking certainty that he will always fail Narnia in one way or another. And today, in one of the greatest ways.

The scullery, unlike the rest of the castle quieting down for the afternoon nap, is alive with activity. Giant maids bustle about washing this and putting away that, and dropping the occasional soap sud on the floor all the while. Jill has the misfortune of stepping in one and soaking a good half-foot of her dress, but she complains not a single word.

At length, only one old giantess remains in the scullery. Caspian watches listlessly as she bustles here and potters there, wipes a countertop, puts away a bowl. It seems to him that she has little intention of going anywhere at all.

"Well dearies," she says to them, though to Caspian her voice sounds faint, as if he's listening through wads of cotton. "That job's about throat. Let's put the kettle there. That'll make a nice cup of tea presently. Now I can have a little bit of rest. Just look into the scullery, like good poppets, and tell if me the back door is open."

Caspian perks up a bit when Eustace confirms it is.

"That's right," says the Giantess. "I always leave it open so as Puss can get in and out, the poor thing." She carries on as she sits down on one chair and props her feet up on another. "I don't know as I mightn't have forty winks. If only that blarney hunting party doesn't come back too soon."

"When do they usually come back?" asks Jill.

The Giantess shrugs and tugs her bonnet lower on her forehead, so the frill drops a shadow over her eyes. "You can never tell. But there, go and be quiet for a bit, my dearies."

Sneaking out while she's asleep is not the most ideal of circumstances, but it looks as though it will be their only chance. Caspian is the first to retreat to the far end of the kitchen, with the open door in full sight. The winter air beckons, whistling seductively as he stares. The murmurs of the children fade away further than before, leaving Caspian with the sudden throb of feeling utterly alone. It seems as though he could disappear into the cold winter breeze if he wanted, melt into the snow never to be seen again.

Rose's hand comes from nowhere when it yanks his shoulder back, just as the old Giantess starts a coughing fit. Before Rose can say anything, Jill's tiny hands nudge his shoulder and touch Rose's hand. What does the girl need now?

Caspian follows her pointed finger to an open book propped up on the wide table beside the Giantess. Eustace and Puddleglum have already climbed onto the bench and started reading the pages. Caspian has little care, but he humors her anyway. He mounts the bench with little difficulty, but it's only when he locks hands with Rose to pull her up the rest of the way that the fog thick with guilt starts to ease.

Her tiny half smile is enough, though he can't for the Lion fathom why.

Caspian turns to the page Eustace is studying. The boy blanches and turns away, scuttling over to Jill looking almost as ill as he did upon their luncheon discovery. And as Caspian scans the cookbook entries, he sees why; there on the page lies an entry for Man and, just below it, an entry for Marshwiggle.

It's no surprise to Caspian, for he knew ths whispered secrets of Harfang, but it's another thing entirely to see the words printed before him. A delicacy, this book calls them. Elegant little bipeds to be eaten between the fish and the joint. Though no mention of a stew.

Caspian is just reading about how the flavor of a Marshwiggle can be greatly improved when Jill taps his ankle and a most glorious sound fills the scullery – a snore.

Climbing down after Puddleglum and Rose is the painstaking work of minutes as they inch along, hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking the Giantess. Caspian finds himself continually glancing up, sure the horrid stench of the scullery will wake the old giantess in short order. But she slumbers on, breath whistling on each inhale just before the snore hits.

And at last, their party of five tiptoes out at last into the pale winter sunlight.