A/N: As you can see, the last chapter wasn't the last at all! I couldn't have done that to Caspian, leave him there so depressed. So I decided to give him...more angst. But with a payoff, I promise! Later. We're actually going all the way back to Narnia with Caspian.

By the way, to those of you who said the last chapter actually made them cry, I don't think I've ever received such an awesome compliment. Though it may be slightly sadistic to enjoy making people cry, it does let me know I've conveyed what I was feeling.


Chapter 11: Return to Ramandu's Land

Caspian lay in bed staring at the sunlight dancing on the ceiling. The Silver Sea was a white blur on the horizon now, and the clear water of the sea reflected the sun again. He could hear Reepicheep splashing in the water and crying "Sweet! Sweet!" He turned over on his side.

In the first days after their departure when they were still in the strangeness of those last waters his grief had seemed beautiful, in its own way. He was thankful to have such friends to mourn, and the sea of lilies was a place where he could make a ceremony out of his sadness. Now, though, when they were almost on regular waters again he felt what it would be to go on without them and even mourning was no longer a solace. Would it really be that he would never see Lucy and Edmund and Reepicheep again? He screwed up his face and buried it in the pillow, thinking that Aslan was very hard on him indeed.

Hiding in the pillow made things worse still because it still held—or he liked to imagine it held—the scent of Lucy's hair. But no—perhaps not.

Perhaps they had never come. He had not been sleeping much and he wondered if that was starting to work on his mind. True he hadn't felt he needed sleep, but after coming away from the Silver Sea and breathing the fresh, real air after the dreamlike scent of the lilies he couldn't help but wonder if it had all been just a dream. Were Lucy and Edmund and Eustace really just figments of a fevered imagination?

This idea stuck fast to his brain, and eventually he was so bothered by it that he got up and threw open the lockers. No, it was no dream. There were all of Lucy's things just as she had left them; her small sandals arranged neatly next to his sea boots, her dresses folding into his tunics. To see those bright things so neatly arranged in an innocent display was the worst thing of all. Instead of being a dream, Lucy became so real that he felt she might come through the door at any moment to change clothes or tie up her hair. He fingered the bright blue dress she wore so often on board, and the soft feel of the weathered cotton brought back also the sound of her laugh, bell-like and musical. He would give anything to be bunking with Edmund and Eustace in the cabin below.

He didn't really want to be around people, but he couldn't look at those clothes anymore. He went up on deck. Some of the sailors nodded to him, but no one spoke. Everyone on the Dawn Treader understood that the King was much altered after his friends left and did not wish to speak to anyone. Indeed, Caspian had not addressed the crew at large since his fateful speech at the edge of the Eastern Sea and barely talked at all except to agree with Drinian's suggestions.

He passed two sailors working to fix some part of the ship. It was a minor routine repair, but they were encountering difficulties. One of the sailors let out a string of oaths in frustration. Caspian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Rynelf was passing at that moment and he looked at Caspian and shook his head. "No one dared speak like that when we had a lady on board." Caspian nodded. Then Rynelf stopped in his path and added "Sire, if I may say so, we all miss the King and Queen. She was the greatest Queen Narnia ever had, and I wish I could spend more hours talking with her as we used to."

Drinian came up on them. "Aye," he agreed. "King Edmund was a born sailor. We whiled away much time while he told me of the sea adventures Narnia saw in her Golden Age. But my Lord, we worry about you. It is right to miss your friends—we all feel the loss of Reepicheep—but what is to become of you? You cannot mourn them forever."

"I don't know," Caspian said very softly.

"All the same, Sire, I am glad to have you with us on the return journey," Rynelf said suddenly.

"Thank you," Caspian said with a thin smile. Then he went to the railing to watch the water over the side. The day was warm and still, and Caspian watched the dancing sunlight on the water. He looked past the surface and into the water. After staring confusedly for some minutes, he realized he could see all the way to the bottom of the ocean. He just noticed the black shape which was so evidently the ship's shadow, and he stared in amazement. Now he knew why Lucy had spent so much time hanging over the rails of the ship. He liked that there was still something to discover even on charted waters, and he began to feel a very little bit better. At the very least, he started to take an interest in something for the first time in many days.

The floor of the sea bed was a fine pearly color. He noticed there were underwater plants growing all along the ocean floor, and they were waving gently in a submarine breeze. There was something peaceful and charming about the sight, especially when he saw a school of brightly colored fish grazing among the plants. "They look just like a flock at pasture," he thought. Sure enough, after a moment the shepherdess came into view.

Caspian gaped. She had skin so pale it was tinged blue with the color of the water, and her hair, which was a deep indigo, fanned out behind her, waving like the plants. She was young, surely still only a girl among her people, and she was lithe and graceful. The ship was moving slowly under oar, and Caspian had a chance to look well into her face. She gazed on the grazing fish with such a look of peace and contentment it put his troubled heart at rest for a moment and he smiled very slightly.

Then she felt the ship's shadow above her, and she turned to see what was blocking the sun. As soon as she saw the ship and Caspian leaning over the side, she started and swam as fast as she could to the surface. When she got close enough to really see his face, though, he saw a look of disappointment grow on her face. Her lips moved as if she was speaking, and Caspian could see a question in her eyes. He shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "What are you looking for?"

She tried to answer him, but the water prevented them from speaking. He knew she would have broken the surface to speak to him if she could have. She kept pace with the ship, searching for a way to communicate with him. He could see there was a quest in her eyes, but he couldn't understand. Possibly she was searching for someone, but he didn't know who.

He was so absorbed he didn't notice Drinian had come up beside him until he spoke. "Your Majesty, what are you gazing at in the water so intently?" He was trying to keep his voice even and free of anxiety, but he was failing.

Caspian turned to him with a perplexed look, wondering what could worry him so much. "There are people in the water. Did you know?"

"Aye, your Majesty. Queen Lucy saw them first, but I bid her not to tell anyone. If the sailors see, it could spell disaster for the crew."

Caspian hardly heard the rest of what he said. "Lucy!" he exclaimed softly, and wheeled around at once. He knew without a doubt that the mermaid had been looking for his friend as well. It's so like her to make friends even with a person she can't speak to. He searched for her face in the water, but she had stopped swimming with the ship and was well astern already. He was sorry; it would have been good to talk about Lucy with someone who was searching for her almost as hard but more hopefully.

He sighed and returned to the cabin, where he pulled Lucy's dress from the locker. He liked that she dressed simply; ornamentation would have spoiled her beauty. He remembered the princess of Galma—that seemed years ago now!—and her many bracelets and armlets and amulets, and the thousand ribbons and ruffles on her dresses. She had looked ridiculous. Lucy was a queen in a blue that reflected her eyes and a skirt that fluttered around her ankles with more allure than a hundred baubles. He buried his face in the fabric, for a fresh wave of tears threatened all over again.

She should have been my wife! I would have waited five years, ten, half a lifetime. She understood me like no one else in this world does. And I loved her merely for herself, without an agenda of embraces and kisses. I only wanted to be with her; I don't understand why Aslan took that away.

Aslan had said he would find happiness again, but he didn't see how. He couldn't even find comfort.

He was about to hang her dress back on its peg when he saw that the belt which held her cordial was underneath. He traded belt for dress and took the cordial from the locker. The shape and the heft of Lucy's gift was very familiar as he had borne it himself many times since she recovered it. He remembered when she insisted on giving some to Eustace when he was only seasick. The smell in the cabin had been lovely, and surely Eustace could appreciate it now. Wherever he was on his round world.

Caspian pulled the stopper out of the bottle, and the perfume of the cordial filled the room. The scent was warm and wholesome and cheerful, and just inhaling made him feel better. Lucy had the same scent as the Silver Sea, but there had always been something more to her, and he realized this was it. She had that same healing presence that was working on him now.

He corked the bottle and hung it up again, though the perfume still lingered. He stretched, feeling suddenly tired and restful, and he climbed into bed. For the first time in many days, he slept.

He dreamed of Lucy. They were on the deck of the Dawn Treader. Lucy was older, nearer to twenty perhaps, and she was lovely and laughing. They were standing before Drinian, who was in strangely bright robes instead of his sea clothes. Caspian looked at Edmund over his shoulder, and the King nodded to him. Drinian seemed to be waiting for this nod, and he continued with the wedding ceremony, marrying them in a strange language Caspian almost thought he knew.

Then Reepicheep was paddling among the Dufflepuds and Lucy was laughing, clutching her sides and leaning against him, trusting in him. Always, always he could smell her: the wild, free scent of the lilies and the warmth of the cordial. The sun set behind them and they walked along the sand.

Caspian awoke at last in the hour before dawn. Perhaps we ought to stop at the Dark Island. Not all dreams are bad, and I might face a nightmare or two to live that one for real.

When the sun came up the ship became more lively, and Drinian knocked at his door to say land was in sight. They had come back to Ramandu's Island. He tucked his arms behind his head and stared at the sunlight dancing on the ceiling.