An introspective piece on Caspian X and what it means to be King.

- Set after the book/movie, "Prince Caspian" (Return to Narnia)

Before the Kings and Queens of Golden Olden Narnia stepped between the gaping rocks, before they walked through and disappeared with nothing but the open air and the sea-foam below, before they left with only the waters below running their fingers across the crevices of the rocky cliffs as their witnesses, the Four had turned as One to ask Caspian a single simple question.

The new King of Narnia found he had no answer as he bid each farewell with a full and heavy heart. The new crown on his head was a weight that stilled his tongue, and it was not until many moments later that he refound himself in order to answer the question.

But by then, it was too late. The four sovereigns of Narnia of the Golden Age had returned to a place beyond where he could reach.

And so, he was left with that question that left him wandering the same paths the Four had walked, that left him standing in the same room they had stood, and to sit in the same chairs they had sat. He was no Magnificent who could lead and banish shadows from the realm. He was no Gentle who could caress and heal with a softness that bordered strength. He was no Just who could speak wisdom and dispense mercy with clear eyes. He was no Valiant who could dazzle all with hope and courage.

He was just Caspian and maybe that's why he found himself late at night staring out the window, as if the stars above would answer the question the four Old Kings and Queens of Narnia had asked. Hours had blended into days, days into months, and it was not until this very moment where he spent another night waking from a dream he could no longer remember, that he thought that perhaps he could answer what they had left to him.

What kind of King will you be? Peter had asked with solemn eyes that spoke of loss and hope all at once.

What kind of King will you be? Susan had questioned with softness tinged with steel.

What kind of King will you be? Edmund had inquired with a tilt of his head, hand on his sword.

What kind of King will you be? Lucy had challenged with a smile, hand on her cordial.

A King was nothing but a man imprisoned by his duties, and it had been made intimately clear to him when all he could remember about Kingship was the heavy hand of his father on his shoulder, the desperate clench of his mother on his other, and the beguiling charming smile of his uncle from two seats away. All he could remember about Kingship was the bitter taste in his mouth and the burning ashes of his heart at his father's funeral. All he could remember about Kingship was the ancient paintings of his ancestors that lined the walls he walked past daily and the stern gaze they set on his back.

But surely, surely, Kingship was more than that when he witnessed Peter and Edmund transform with one sword stroke and the next on the battlefield. For a beat, two, the sun had shone on them both and they had illuminated from the inside out with Gold. Surely, surely, Kingship was more than that when Susan had lit up, peeling silver through the sky to make marks on her enemies. Surely, surely, Kingship was more than that when Lucy had appeared with Aslan, defiant and burning bright with the shine of awe humming beneath her skin.

So what kind of King will he be? He's still trying to scour the texts of Old for a semblance of something he couldn't quite put his hands on, but knew that if found, it would somehow be the final piece of the puzzle that the Four had presented to him that day when Aslan had breathed Golden Sunlight on his head and told him to rise as a King of Narnia. Leafing through tomes that were as ancient as the willows that had once danced across the fields, thumbing through volumes that were once held by creatures unknown, peeling back the ancient pages that held wonders in each inky character, Caspian could only continue to grasp at the ghostly memories they left behind, leaving him more exhausted than when he had first began this journey to Enlightenment.

So what kind of King will he be? He had asked himself the same question when the Four had emerged from the woods as if they had always been there all along. As if they were once who they were all those years ago. As if they had been sleeping and waiting this whole time for someone to call them from the Deep in order to emerge like a newborn foal, stumbling but knowing they had to eventually run. Caspian wondered if it was Faith that kept them going when they were lost in the Beyond. He wondered if it was Aslan who guided them through stumbling roads and back to where they all began in the forest. He wondered if He would do the same for him as the young King took down the paintings of his ancestors one by one. Would the untame Lion approve of what he was doing as he stacked the paintings delicately on top of one another before he made that long journey to the storage rooms that bore the fruits of his labor?

After all, just as the habit did not make a monk, the crown did not make Caspian a King.

But wounded land had a powerful will to heal over and he was the witness to this magic as the wind whispered in his ear about the coming of the Dawn once more. A new day was upon him. And what could Caspian do but breathe and believe that Aslan had willed this to be.

- Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas!

- Recently rewatched Narnia movies and got sucked back into the beauty of this world. I wanted to write a small piece about how Caspian comes to term about what being a King was. He had such different examples of what a King should be in both the book and the movie, ranging from his father and his uncle to Peter and Edmund as rulers of Narnia.

- Enjoy and reviews are very much appreciated! :)