The world fell silent.
Amber's gaze drifted down to where the spine had sunk into her flesh, watching her blood bubble over its rough skin. She felt her stomach sink impossibly low to the point of nonexistence, leaving behind a gaping hole that filled with pain and fear with tremendous speed.
With a shaking hand, she lifted her sword and cut off the spine and watched as it faded to nothing, dissolving in a green cloud to be reclaimed by Dark Island.
She didn't hear the thud of her blade as it met the deck, or the sharp intake of her own breath as the agony increased tenfold, blood seeping quicker between her splayed fingers. There was only the pounding of her own heart left to fill her ears, though now it sounded like a bomb ticking down towards its detonation.
The sea serpent flailed back out into the ocean and aimed instead for the sail, pitching the ship sideways as it tugged on the wooden beam.
Amber tripped and fell to the ground. She made no move to stand, and when a wave pushed the ship back, she did not resist the way gravity had her slide down the deck limply until her body hit the half-destroyed wall. She couldn't if she tried.
The crew continued fighting. Their concentration was focused solely on the sea serpent as they gathered harpoons and prepared for another attack, launching their weapons out to sea and watching the dull metal sink into the creature's flesh.
Nobody saw the colour drain from Amber's skin.
Nobody was present the moment her hands became so soaked in blood that her fingers began to prune.
Nobody helped her hold onto reality as it slowly slipped away, leaving only whispers of thoughts that scattered to the wind as soon as they floated through her head.
People were yelling, she thought. She could make out the sounds, vaguely, but it was hard to hear over a slow thumping in her head. Though it wasn't just in her head; she felt it underneath her hands too, still pressed firmly to her stomach. Is that my heartbeat? She asked herself. I don't remember it being so quiet before.
Before her shone a pillar of green and gold and white. It crackled and burned, waving erratically across her hazy vision until it collapsed, slowly, heavily, out of sight. She had no idea what it was. What had happened. All she knew is that she was tired; so, bone-deep, achingly tired. She wanted to close her eyes, just for a minute. Until the pain left her.
On the other side of the deck, the Dawn Treader crew cheered, watching the body of the sea serpent drift down below the ocean before dissipating into nothing. With it left the sinister presence that had latched itself to their beaten-down forms and drained them of hope like a leech drains a man of his blood. They were free.
Caspian clapped a hand against Drinian's back and let out a breathless laugh. He looked at each and every one of his crew's faces and smiled, overwhelmingly glad to have them here standing beside him, stretching their blades triumphantly into the air and hugging each other as if it had been years since they had last met. The thought of losing any of them was unbearable.
Up above, the clouds split open and the sky burst with sunlight like it was saving all the warmth and the colour for their return and hadn't wanted to waste a drop when they were unable to appreciate its beauty. They grinned wide, closing their eyes as they faced the sun and let the heat overwhelm them.
Amber sat still and grew colder. She couldn't find it within herself to shiver.
She looked up towards the sky with half-lidded eyes. Is this… England? I don't remember sunshine like this.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Where am I?
There was a name – she was sure of it – but it was as if her memories had leaked out of her through her wound. She looked down. Her skin seemed impossibly pale, white as bone, and the blood was so, so red against it.
Her eyes drifted up to those scattered on the deck, distracted and chattering loudly amongst themselves. She wanted to call for help, but her body wouldn't listen to her.
It was then, as her gaze drifted unfocused across them, past Marco stripping himself of armour, Reepicheep congratulating the men like a captain would while balancing perfectly on Tavros' shoulder, and Edmund hugging his sister fiercely, that she unknowingly caught Caspian's eye.
He screamed a singular, piercing note, and the world went quiet.
She looked so impossibly small lying there, crumpled in the corner of the deck.
His boots slapped against the floor as he ran over, falling roughly to his knees and pressing his hands instantly against her wound. She didn't feel them. She didn't feel much of anything.
A sob tore through his throat. It was broken, the sound shattered into fragments within his throat and forced to release itself as a half-assembled, crumbling mess. Each piece pierced his throat like glass; he had forgotten how to breathe.
"Hang on, Amber. Please. Please hang on." He pleaded. He yelled over his shoulder. "GET CHIRON!" Several men on the deck scattered, obeying their King and searching for the much-needed doctor.
Nobody knew their search was futile. Nobody had seen him fall through the collapsed railing during the battle or watched the black waves of Dark Island drag him underneath the sea. They searched, hopelessly, for a dead man.
Lucy nudged her way through the crowd that had formed around the pair and gasped lightly, eyes fixated on the rivulets of blood trailing down their wrists and staining their shirt cuffs red. Barely a moment later she turned, running so fast across the deck that her feet hardly skimmed the floor and disappearing into the quiet depths of the Dawn Treader.
Caspian's breathing hitched and his shoulders shuddered. He pressed his hands harder against her abdomen, not daring to take them away for even a second. His arms began to ache with the pressure. Though the surrounding men could see his strain, none stepped in to help. They knew their King. They knew he wouldn't risk letting go no matter what. They knew that he, though he trusted them implicitly, wouldn't allow them to do this.
They also knew and suspected he did too despite not wanting to see it, that there was no hope left. A stab wound to the stomach on a ship with a missing doctor and no land nearby for hundreds of miles didn't allow for a happy ending. Applying pressure wouldn't be enough.
Still, he persisted.
Amber watched on as her reality continued to slip away like the blood that bloomed between the press of her fingers, the barest drops catching in the lines across her palm, just enough that, while she didn't know where she was, she knew Caspian; and knew why the steady stream of tears marring his cheeks had created a second ache higher inside her chest.
She didn't want him there. In the past she had learnt of the failed siege on Miraz's castle before his coronation and the countless soldiers he had seen perish over time. There would always be more; more battles, more losses, more regrets, more scars. She did not want to become one of them.
The words tried to force themselves from her lips, but they were weighed too heavily with emotion to fly, instead filling her throat until she choked, causing her to wonder briefly if she would die of that she had left unsaid before the blood loss. Instead she tried to push at his hands, force them away, praying that he understood what she was failing to say.
He only pressed harder in response, fresh blood coiling over his fingers as his breathing came in fast, sharp bursts. Amber was hardly breathing at all. He leaned in and touched his forehead to hers, shoulders shaking with sobs, cursing all his power and wealth as King for not being enough to save her. He would trade it all; he knew it.
Amber closed her eyes. It was easier like this. Her hands stopped fighting against Caspian's, moving instead to rest against the underside of his wrist where his pulse beat erratically. She barely noticed her own anymore.
She tried one last time to get the words out.
I'm sorry.
It's not your fault.
I love you.
But all she managed was a breath.
The men on the deck fell silent, and even the waves seemed to quiet in respect. The stifling hush in the air made the sound of Lucy barrelling up the stairs and onto the deck all the more resounding.
She threw the door open so wide and so quick that it left a sizeable dent in the wall behind it. Had anyone done the same, they'd have received immediate punishment, but a Queen – more importantly, a Queen on a mission – only received a wide berth.
"Caspian – move!" Lucy slid onto the floor beside him, averting her eyes from the wound and tilting Amber's head back to let two dazzlingly red drops of liquid travel down her throat.
Caspian looked between the glass bottle and Amber's face, worryingly still, his need for air abandoned. Tears clung stubbornly to his eyelashes as he blinked, removing his hands slick with blood away from her side.
Lucy gripped her healing cordial with white knuckles and told herself not to shake. It will work, she knew it would. There was no other option.
They watched the wound heal miraculously together, a new wave of tears – but this time of relief – coating their cheeks. Amber's breathing steadied slowly as if she had forgotten how; a child navigating their first steps, clumsy but strong.
She moved her arms. They felt fine – normal. If not for the blood crusting over her wrists and the sea of concerned faces surrounding her like a halo, it would be all too easy to believe that nothing had happened. But it had, and though her body was past it, her mind was not.
Amber peeled her fingers away from her side and directed her gaze downwards. She traced a steady finger, though it felt wrong, like every muscle in her body should be shaking instead, over the smooth, exposed skin of her stomach between the rips in her shirt. The blood there had yet to dry properly, and was all too easy to smear away, revealing a complete lack of injury. The memory of the pain lingered, imprinted on her brain like the aftereffects of a camera flash, but it was gone. Completely.
"That might be the weirdest thing I've seen so far." She mumbled. Each word was hesitant, every breath carefully measured. She never expected good health to feel so unnatural.
Caspian laughed in a singular breath, the sheer relief he felt was almost too much to bear, ten times the weight of his armour. Amber raised her eyes to his, searching, reaching, desperately, for something secure to hold onto. Something real – something safe. She found it immediately in his smile, how it stretched so wide it must have hurt and the way his eyes shined no matter the light, though they seemed brighter today.
He looked between her eyes, confirming that this moment was real, before he took her face between his hands and kissed her.
There was almost too much for her to comprehend. The way he tasted of the salt from his tears. The stickiness of his hands sat snug along the line of her jaw – the same hands that had been pressed against her open wound mere moments ago. The fact that she could feel him smiling as if he wasn't capable of stopping, as natural and permanent as the sun rising every morning. Though she was tired and confused and very aware of the crew crowded together on deck, it felt all too right to draw his mouth closer to her, feel her nose nudging against his own in her haste.
He pulled away, fresh tears escaping the corner of his eyes, and continued to press his forehead against hers. His body shook as he laughed, but the syllables shivered like he still felt the cold terror of what had almost happened.
"Narnians! There are Narnians – lower the long boats!" A crew member cried out.
Emerging from the horizon was a fleet of skiffs, each packed with disorientated Narnians, blinking at the sun as if it were their first time gazing upon such a force of light. At the sight of the Dawn Treader – no doubt a less impressive sight than it would have been hours before – when its sides had yet to be splintered, the mast had not been thoroughly chewed, and the dragon that stood proud at the helm still had its jaw intact, some of the approaching Narnians promptly began to cry with relief. Though battered, the ship was a beacon of hope, of new beginnings, and it was readying itself to greet them.
Caspian stood, drawing Amber up by her waist, and looked out across his newly saved citizens. His brain was struggling to catch up with the sudden change of situation. Blood still stained his hands; he could feel it like an itch that needed scratching.
Drinian turned from the horizon to watch his King. His eyes fell on Amber, her eyes unfocused and haunted, one arm wrapped around the King as if to prop herself up and the other unconsciously tracing the hole in her shirt. There was blood on her face, handprints, and her hair was plastered to her face with sweat. He made a decision.
"Your Majesty." Caspian turned his eyes on his captain, startled, as if he forgot that such a title belonged to him. "We can handle the newcomers. I think you're needed belowdecks." He said, with a meaningful glance to Amber. Caspian looked down and connected the dots.
The last thing a wave of Narnians newly rescued from horrors they could only imagine should see is somebody covered in blood. It would only spark panic, and though the crew were sporting their own share of injuries, they still had energy to spare and life behind their eyes. He nodded to Drinian and mouthed a silent thank you.
At the feeling of Caspian moving, Amber blinked back into the present and obeyed the gentle guide of his arm into the belly of the ship, paying only the slightest attention to her surroundings.
They entered the office.
There had not been enough time to secure the chairs surrounding the grand oak table somewhere stable, and they now lay strewn across the floor, all except one, which Amber collapsed onto heavily.
She expected the action to force a bolt of pain up her side, she wanted it to, in a way. But she remained feeling stubbornly well.
Caspian knelt cautiously before her, trying to catch her eye. "Are you alright?" After the chaos of the fight, his voice sounded too loud in the suffocating quiet of the office. The air felt heavy and settled roughly within his lungs. He wasn't sure what to make of it.
She swallowed. "Physically or emotionally?" He paused.
"Physically." He eventually answered, confused at the need of clarification.
"Incredible." She wasn't being sarcastic – he had come to know when that was the case; the glint in her eye like the sun casting off a rolling wave, the slight tug at the right side of her mouth and the stubborn upward tilt of her chin.
None of that was present now, but she had replied lifelessly, with a low rasp that had forced itself past the threat of tears.
"And… emotionally?" His eyes darted between hers and saw the tears bubble in the corners.
Amber inhaled sharply and released it shakily as if she were laughing. "I've seen a lot of weird things so far, but this" she gestured an unsteady hand to the bloody tear in her shirt and the unblemished skin underneath "this is too much."
Caspian didn't know what to say. The best he could do was rub a comforting thumb across her knee and listen.
"I almost died." She continued, running a fist through her hair and tugging. "I could feel myself dying." Finally, she met his eyes. "What did she give me?"
"Her healing cordial, gifted to her by Father Christmas."
Amber had begun to realise how bizarre of a place Narnia truly was.
Granted, her journey had already been filled with a variety of impossible circumstances, and though the existence of Father Christmas himself was one of the less shocking revelations, she felt herself begin to sink under the knowledge.
Bringing her back from the brink of death was not the only result from Lucy's healing cordial. It had fixed, seemingly, all injuries and ailments. Her head no longer throbbed, and she felt steadier than she ever had before; she breathed easier with lungs no longer blackened from life in London and, of course, she was no longer bleeding from an open stomach wound.
Her mind had become sharper, too. The strangeness of Narnia was no longer just skimming over her skin but seeping into every pore, forcing her to sink underneath the weight of this reality. She had treated it carelessly, like nothing was truly dangerous here. Even when she was taken by slave traders and threatened by dufflepuds there was always something there holding her back from truly fearing for her life. But now she had felt the heavy, cold embrace of death and Narnia had become more dangerous than London.
There was a knock at the door.
Caspian stood. "Come in."
Marco entered the office, arms laden with clean clothes and towels and was shortly followed by Talos carrying two bowls of water, cloths dipped into each. "Drinian told us to bring these to you, Your Majesty." Said Talos.
"Thank you. How are our rescuees?"
"Relieved, Your Majesty." Marco began. "We," He glanced toward Amber and his expression twitched into a frown. "We're approaching Aslan's country. The water is drinkable here and seems to be calming their nerves."
The end of the world.
Caspian nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat before replying. He noticed that the clothes brought for Amber were the ones she had arrived in, scrambling in the ocean, many months ago.
"I'm glad to hear it."
This is so soon. I thought we had more time.
"We will rejoin you shortly." The men nodded and left.
I could board the door. We could stay here, safe, and never have to face what's outside.
His eyes roamed the office. The landscape outside the window was bare, the sea and sky so similar in the light that they could have blended into one.
The walls will always be brown and the sea will always be blue.
His eyes fell on Amber once more.
But you are the only colour I need.
this chapter was supposed to be twice as long as it is but i'm a coward and cut it short. see u in another 2 months
thank you lori for your kind comment on ch18. i swear i would not have abandoned the fic after that cliffhanger, though it would be hilarious. if you're feeling inspired - go for it! write your own! there's no reason why you shouldn't. and thank you, again :)