What's in a Name?
"Your Majesty."
Caspian the Tenth laid down his quill, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Yes, Drinian, what is it?"
"King Caspian."
A little more awake, Caspian looked swiftly at his friend and former Captain.
"Your Majesty, we just received word—the Queen is in labor."
In later years Caspian would not remember much of the ride from Beruna to Cair Paravel. He barely remembered running through the tapestried halls to his wife's chamber. But he remembered stopping, a full hallway away, when he heard a baby's wail.
A shove from Drinian had him running again, and he remembered the hard feel of the door when his hand slammed against it—and he went in.
His wife—his wife was lovely. Sweat-stained, panting, but her eyes were as bright as the stars she had come from. And in her arms, resting against the loose white dress, was a bundle of green blankets.
Caspian came forward, reaching out to move the edge of the blanket away. His son—his son—lay there blinking, sucking in hitching breaths.
"He was born just before you arrived," his wife said softly, rocking the bundle.
Caspian could not speak.
"Would you like to hold him?" she asked, with the smile that stilled his heart.
A Dryad materialised behind him, taking the bundle with long and careful fingers, and then Caspian's son was placed in his arms.
The little boy didn't seem to like the change, scrunching up his eyes and opening his mouth to wail again. Caspian hastily began rocking him, pacing around the three sides of the bed, till the little face unscrunched and the little eyes stared at him once again. Caspian could not help smiling down; the dark face was so small and so serious.
"Congratulations, your Majesty," Drinian said from the doorway. "What will you name him? Caspian the XI?"
"No." Caspian did not look away from his son. "The Kings named Caspian were Narnia's conquerors. I would not have my son named after them." He tore his eyes away from his son to look at his wife. "Do you have thoughts?"
"I would name him Rilian," she said, reaching out her hand. Caspian hastened to stand close enough for her to touch the bundle of blankets. "It is the word used in the sky to describe a river of light.* That is what I hope he brings to this land."
Caspian looked back at the face of his son and smiled again. "Prince Rilian," he agreed softly. "To bring Narnia light from the dark."
*Rilian is (at least, what I could find) a feminne German name meaning a small stream. So I improvised.