A/N: Surprise, I found a deleted scene that wasn't super angsty! I know, I'm just as shocked as you are. I wrote this during last year's NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) when I was still trying to figure out how much Ramandu's Island content Exulansis needed. Turned out, the answer was less is more in the interest my Nefarious Plans for Part 4: Heartworm (If you've read Ch. 65, you know 😅) Anyhow, here, have this totally unedited, unbeta'd garbage from Chapter 62 (formerly Ch. 61, when I was still clinging to movie canon by my fingernails).

Content Warnings: N/A

Caspian

Upon his return to Ramandu's Island, Caspian finds Lord Revilian, Lord Argos, and Lord Mavramorn awake and feasting at Aslan's Table. They greet him on bended knee and mistake him for his father.

Caspian tells them he is the son of Caspian IX and the king of Narnia, and lifts them from their bows.

"I have brought back one of your shipmates from your voyage east," Caspian tells the lords. "I fear he is not himself. Lord Rhoop spent these past years trapped in Dark Island."

Lord Mavramorn shudders. "Would that we had never sailed this far," he says.

"Would that we had kept our wits about us," says Lord Argos. "Had I not picked up the stone knife - yes, that one there - we might have kept Lord Rhoop from his grim fate."

"No sense in what-ifs," says Lord Revilian. "We had all sworn to find the source of that dark magic and to vanquish it. Had we resisted the sea madness, we would all four have spent these past twenty years trapped with him. Well, very close to twenty years." Lord Revilian turns to Caspian, his head tilted. "How many years have you, my king, if it does not offend you to say?"

"Twenty-one," Caspian answers. "Nearly twenty-two." He is still young, but age has never been a sore spot for him.

"By Tash," murmurs Lord Mavramorn. "Twenty years indeed."

Caspian casts about for something to say. For all his courtly manners, what does one say to anyone waking from a twenty-year slumber?

Fortunately, he's saved from bumbling. With a creak, a door opens in the hillside at the end of Aslan's Table and an old man in a silver fleece robe emerges from the dark. He picks his way on bare feet through a tangle of dead vines as soundlessly as a cat, though with a much graver face than any feline Caspian has met. The man himself seems to glow slightly silver, like a sword gleaming in moonlight. His hair and beard both brush the ground.

Caspian bows at once. He met the Blue Star on this island previously, a great lady who glowed white-blue. Perhaps this man is her father, Ramandu.

With a wide gesture, the man bids them welcome.

"My lord," Caspian says. "Am I to understand this is your island?"

"I am Ramandu," answers the man. "I am merely the steward of this land, for it belongs most truly to Aslan - as do all lands in this world. My daughter tells me you and your crew have vanquished Dark Island, and I am very glad for it."

Caspian straightens and tries not to think of Dark Island. Every soul on the Dawn Treader saw mirages there best forgotten forever.

He hopes he will soon forget the mist taking his father's form and voice to express his disappointment. Worse, the vision of Addie whispering that of course she left, why would she ever want to stay after he failed her so many times?

Caspian shakes off the memories for what they are - venom meant to poison his mind.

"As are we," Caspian says at last. "Was that foul island always there?"

Ramandu shakes his head, his long beard swaying. "By my time, it was there hardly any time at all. You might call it a few decades."

Lips pursed, Caspian clasps his hands and drums his fingers on his wrist. A few decades is short by a dynasty's standards, but it's a long time for the sacrifices on the Lone Islands to go on. Longer still for dark magic to spread without word reaching Narnia's shore. Caspian is glad he installed Lord Bern as the Duke of the Lone Islands; the lord knows what to watch for, and he will never hesitate to alert Caspian if he finds further trouble.

"How did Dark Island come about?" Caspian asks.

Ramandu's shoulders droop slightly. "It arose from a battle," he says after a pause. "A terrible affair best not recounted."

"Forgive me," Caspian says. "But I must seek your recollections so that I and my people may watch the better for it."

As he learned from Nikabrik, a defeated foe can always return with the right magic. Better to know the warning signs well in advance, before the danger grows too treacherous.

With a sigh, Ramandu agrees. "Walk with me at the shoreline, Caspian of Narnia, and I will tell you."