Note: Bookverse. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Narnia, the abomination that is Suspian never, ever would have been allowed to happen.
—viennacantabile
Duty
.
At long last, she was complete.
Caspian the Tenth felt a swell of pride in his breast. The first Narnian-crafted ship since the reign of Caspian the First rose tall and triumphant before him—and she was a beauty. As he and its future sailors stood on the harbor dock, he couldn't help but admire the artistry of the shipbuilders who had labored long and hard, not only to produce the vessel that floated at the quay of Cair Paravel, but also to learn the craft that had been lost to Narnia in the days of the conquering Telmarines and Caspian the Conqueror. They had reclaimed the art with zeal, and the fruit of their labors stood before them, a marvel in polished dark wood carved to resemble a magnificent dragon. Royal purple sails lay at the ready to be raised the next morning, when the ship was to set sail with himself and his loyal crew on a journey to find the Seven Lords of his father, Caspian the Ninth.
Caspian's friend and old tutor Dr. Cornelius rested a gnarled hand upon his king's shoulder. "I never thought I'd live to see the day," he murmured softly. "A Telmarine king by birth—though a Narnian by heart, bless you—setting sail to right the wrongs of the past. And over the sea, no less—the bane of all your line."
The King grinned good-naturedly. "And about time, too!" he exclaimed freely. "I've had just about enough of sitting around Cair Paravel, waiting for adventures to come to me. Dr. Cornelius, when I return, I swear to you—no longer shall I be merely Caspian the Tenth. I shall be known as Caspian the Seafarer!"
The doctor chuckled, then looked his former pupil in the eyes. "Take care that you do not wander too far, O King," he cautioned. "Above all, your place is with—"
"Yes, I know," Caspian sighed, his good mood suddenly deflated. "My people."
"The people who fought for a free Narnia with you, Your Majesty," reminded the part-dwarf. "The people who bled, and died for you."
Caspian was quiet. "And I shall never forget it. You, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, even Nikabrik—" There he checked himself. "I shall never forget it," he repeated solemnly.
Dr. Cornelius smiled. "However," he declared, "I suppose even a King deserves a holiday sometime."
The grin returned in full force to Caspian's face. "Yes," he agreed whole-heartedly, "he does. And with such a splendid ship to carry me," he added proudly, "how can I fail to succeed?"
"Splendid, indeed," agreed his friend. "However—you have forgotten something, my King," Dr. Cornelius chided with amusement.
Caspian's eyes widened. "What?"
Dr. Cornelius produced a stoppered flask of wine from somewhere in his voluminous robes and handed it to the King, his eyes twinkling.
Caspian gasped in sudden understanding. "I hadn't thought of it," he admitted in consternation. "What are we to do?"
"Leave it to me," smiled the doctor. He thumped his cane vigorously on the ground to snare the attention of the crowd.
"Friends, friends," he shouted. "Though this sailing vessel is complete and you are to embark on your voyage next morn, there remains one vital matter to be settled."
The whole of the quay fell silent, apprehensive of his next words. Was there still more to be done? Had they forgotten something?
"No ship may sail without a name," smiled the aged doctor. There were many sighs of relief. "Surely this one deserves as superior of one as any that ever sailed the seas. What say you, my fellow Narnians? Honor and glory will follow he who lands upon the name of she who languishes here, anxious to be on her way."
"And whosoever names this most admirable ship," interjected Caspian, inspired by the doctor's wisdom, "shall be granted his berth on our quest and a boon from myself. And I will swear to do all within my power to grant his request, save if it be treasonous or damaging to the honor of Cair Paravel, Narnia, or Aslan."
There was a hush, then a murmur of voices as each sailor and lord imagined his reward. The Mouse Reepicheep's eyes shone bright.
"Well, men?" asked Dr. Cornelius. "Who is she to be?"
All at once chatter broke out.
"The Queen Susan!" shouted one sailor who had been entranced by legends of that famed beauty.
"No, the Queen Lucy!" contradicted another, who much preferred an active, useful monarch to a pretty woman.
"You've all got it wrong," said a sailor, called Pittencream, importantly. "She should be called the Narnian Star, to remind us from where we have sailed from and where we are coming home to."
Dr. Cornelius thumped his cane again. "One at a time, one at a time! All shall be heard in time." He turned to the man at Caspian's right. "My Lord Drinian?"
Drinian leaned onto a piling, stroking his beard. "The Sea Dragon would be fitting, I should think, given the shape of her."
The wizened doctor nodded. "And you, King," he motioned, "what say you?"
"I rather like the Star Maiden, myself," spoke up Caspian thoughtfully, who hadn't intended to try, but preferred this name to any other that had been spoken.
Name after name followed, some lighthearted, some bold and striking, and some that Caspian directed Dr. Cornelius to make note of. Through it all, Reepicheep stood bright-eyed and alert, his whiskers quivering and his tail erect. Finally, after he could bear it no more, he leapt up onto a wooden barrel.
"Friends, friends!" he cried. "You forget what it is we have set out to do. Should not our noble vessel's name honor our purpose?"
"The Seven Wanderers?" asked Rynelf quizzically, as guffaws of laughter erupted about the yard. "I should think that would lend an ill omen to our voyage, Sir Mouse."
Reepicheep only stared sternly at the first mate, until the chuckles died away. "I was thinking," he said dryly, "our way lies East, does it not? Into the sunrise. Into Aslan's land. Or rather...into the Dawn."
Caspian leaned forward intently. "Go on, Reep."
"Because we wish to face the East in its home, and walk upon the first sunlight of day, I humbly propose that we christen this most worthy craft the Dawn Treader," finished the Mouse, his dark eyes shining and alive in his fierce face.
There was a silence.
"By the Lion's Mane, Reepicheep, I think you've got it," exclaimed Caspian. "The Dawn Treader, indeed. And may Aslan lend His speed and power to her sails. To the Dawn Treader!" he cried, lifting the stoppered flagon of wine high.
"To the Dawn Treader!" echoed the sailors enthusiastically in unison.
Caspian dashed the glass flask against the hull of the ship, staining the prow a rich, vibrant red-purple. A smile crossed his lips.
"Make merry tonight, men," he directed to their wild cheering. "Embrace your wives and children, for you shall not soon look upon their faces again. For tomorrow we sail to the East, Aslan's country, and the Seven Lords of my father, Caspian the Ninth. And tomorrow—tomorrow, we begin the voyage of the Dawn Treader."
.
As the sun set on the festivities at Cair Paravel, Caspian sat in the prow of the newly-christened Dawn Treader, thoughts whirling about the upcoming quest, and what lay in the East. He had always yearned to venture afar, boldly sailing where neither the cowardly Miraz nor no Telmarine would dare set foot. Were he not a King tied to his country, he knew, he would have departed long before, perhaps to the Lone Islands, or the Terebinthia, but always ever to the East.
Suddenly a light-footed pattering alerted the king that he had a visitor. He turned. There stood Reepicheep.
"Hail, O Caspian, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands," the Mouse addressed his sovereign.
Caspian rose, his brow furrowing at the formal address, and in turn greeted, "Hail, Reepicheep, Leader of the Talking Mice of Narnia, Most Loyal Vassal and Knight of the Order of the Lion. What is it you seek?"
Reepicheep bowed. "I have come to claim my boon and see it granted."
"And so you shall," assured Caspian heartily, though his heart was heavy, for he knew what it was that the Mouse sought. "Speak, then."
"I ask to sail with the Dawn Treader," said Reepicheep, "as is my right. And when she sails no more to the East, my desire is to continue alone, as far as my body will take me."
Caspian was silent for a moment. "That is indeed a most weighty request, my dear friend," he said at last. "For if you do so, Narnia will have lost its most valiant person since the Queen Lucy departed for her own world. I would not soon part with your companionship, Reepicheep, nor with your sword, not for all the pearls in the sea. I ask you to reconsider."
"His Majesty," the Mouse said gravely, "must remember his promise, given in good faith and sworn to be upheld by his Royal Word."
Caspian stood silent again, torn. "Confound it all, Reep!" he exclaimed impatiently, shedding his royal manner and showing himself to still be very much a restless young man. "All right. I see that I must let you go. But how can I bear it?"
"As His Majesty has always borne everything," answered Reepicheep solemnly. "As a King of Narnia."
Caspian sighed. "As a King of Narnia," he repeated discontentedly. "Sometimes I wish I had never become that King, Reep."
"We all make wishes that can never be," said the Mouse softly. "And it is for us to do the task which is given to us, and bear what we cannot, all in the name of Aslan and Narnia."
Caspian sighed again, very quietly. "I will miss you, Reepicheep," he said without looking at his friend.
"And I, you," replied the Mouse.
The young man straightened and once more assumed the regal air of Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia. "And Sir Reepicheep?"
The Mouse saluted. "My liege?"
"Thank you."
.
Later, when Caspian must bid farewell by the edge of the Silver Sea to not only Reepicheep, but Edmund and Lucy Pevensie, and Eustace Scrubb, it is a loss he believes he cannot bear, even with the promise of Ramandu's Daughter. And so he lashes out, heartsick at the prospect of once again being left behind while others go on to sights he cannot see and worlds he cannot visit. He forgets himself—and Aslan himself appears to scold the King as if he is a common serving boy.
You are a King of Narnia and a Son of Adam, Aslan says, and you have sworn to ever bear it well.
And he does, as he must.
But every so often, when reports come of a strange sighting in the West, or a new wonder in the East, there comes the old wanderlust, to dance in Caspian's eyes and dizzy his mind with images of adventure and glory. He listens to these stories as if in a dream, calloused hands gripping the arms of his throne with the yearning of Caspian the Seafarer. It is then that the King finds it hardest to remember Aslan's charge.
And always when this happens, whenever Caspian chafes against the chains of duty the most, it is Reepicheep whom he remembers, and his first sunset at the prow of the Dawn Treader. Reepicheep, who reminded him that a King's first duty is to Aslan, his second, to his people, his very last, to himself. A King, alone, must complete the task entrusted to him, and accept what he believes he cannot.
And he—Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and sometimes called Caspian the Seafarer—will bear it well.
.
.end.
Big props to Francienyc. Though she didn't inspire the original idea (the naming of the Dawn Treader), she did play a part in the expansion of that to some Caspian wanderlust, too. Thanks for writing such a wonderful fic. :)
—viennacantabile