A/N: I posted a sweet lil edit for Caslina on my YouTube page. Just in case y'all want soft feelings before the rubber hits the road at the end of this chapter :)

Chapter 16 Content Warnings: mention of contraception

Chapter 16: i think it'd be nice with you

Caspian

By the time Caspian comes back to the present, something quite curious has happened. The woman he just made love with is asleep.

Addie must have been exhausted to fall asleep so suddenly. Caspian is no stranger to the lethargy after one's finish, but it never seemed to affect Addie before.

Then again, he's never seen her finish twice before. Even once has not been nearly so often as he'd like. He could draw a dozen climaxes from her every night and it still wouldn't be enough.

Though his legs still tremor with aftershocks, Caspian finds the floor and fetches one of the clean cloths he keeps in a small basket in the bottom of his wardrobe for cleaning up such things. He's never had occasion to use them on anyone else before.

Caspian finds the two softest and returns to the bed, where Addie lies surrounded by a halo of knotted hair, looking as sated as he feels. Caspian wipes away the white trickling from between her thighs with half the cloth and wets the other half in the water he had the foresight to keep at his bedside. He wipes her again, just to make sure. Sometimes the stickiness lingers if one isn't careful.

The whole time, Addie doesn't stir.

Caspian rejoins her on the bed after using the second cloth on himself, shifting her closer to the window so they're not laying in the same spot they just -

He must sleep, else he'll spend all night watching the slow, steady draw of her breath lifting her ribs.

Carefully, Caspian folds Addie against his chest. Spending all night with her unclothed in the same bed without touching her is unfathomable, impossible, unallowable. Even so, he asks if it's alright as he begins the slow work of coaxing the tangles from her hair. The way Addie nestles closer is answer enough.

Waking alone has been the usual thing all Caspian's life. He's used to the cool morning air against his neck, the tickle of the sheet under his chin.

This is the first time he's woken to the soft rush of Addie's breath over his heart. This is the first time he's woken on his side, though he shouldn't be surprised he couldn't let her go even in sleep. This is the first time Caspian's woken before her.

Caspian will never complain about mornings again if they can start like this - with Addie curled in close, her head tucked under his chin, her arm limp on his ribs, her hair tickling his lips. Caspian presses a furtive kiss to the crown of her head, careful not to breathe too deeply. It would be cruel to wake her and go about the day with only his clothes for company.

Addie stirs, but she doesn't yet wake. They have a little time before the day can't wait.

If Caspian thinks too much, he'll barely believe it. For weeks now, Addie has kissed him like a goodbye. She tucked her fingers against his wrist or his neck seemingly on instinct, like she needed to memorise the beats of his heart just in case. She was bleeding 'just in case.'

She still is - most days, he is too. But last night, for a moment, she almost looked at him as she once did. The near-constant tang of fear and impending goodbyes faded as Addie's kisses coaxed him with something more than desperation. She started to taste like her again - bright, insistent, and so sure of her own desires.

An echo of desire shivers up Caspian's spine. Addie wanted him enough to surrender in a way she hadn't before. So often, he's found himself (happily) on the receiving end of Addie's wishes, but her pleasure isn't something she shares easily. Despite his best efforts and requests, Caspian has only seen her finish a few times before, and he could never watch the entire thing. Addie had a way of coaxing him over the edge right after, leaving him a ruined mess before he could memorise the tenor of her soft little sounds.

But last night.

Last night.

Caspian asked her for what he wanted, and she allowed it. She enjoyed it, so thoroughly she begged him to -

Caspian prays to the Mane that Addie will ask for such things again. He needs more practice between her legs, needs to know all her favourite things so she will stop such nonsense as denying them both her pleasure. Caspian has no shame in suggesting, but some proud part of him wants Addie to ask.

To beg.

Lion, her taste. She let him chase it, moaned encouragement as he drank her in and buried his fingers in her wet heat until finally he knew what she'd meant by similar but on the inside. Caspian pulses just at the memory.

He must get hold over himself. He has no idea how Addie feels about being woken up with kisses or touches or a certain… stiff appendage that seems bound and determined to maintain its wakeful state. Caspian confines his hands to her back and tempts himself nearly asleep with the hope of sensuous dreams.

Whether or not he truly slept, when Addie shifts closer and mumbles into his shoulder, Caspian is decidedly awake. It's not even the glide of skin on skin in the morning; it's the way Addie presses close until her nose bumps his chest, the way her breath warms across his skin.

"Good morning," he whispers. Caspian can't resist dropping a kiss to her hair.

"'Morning," Addie answers in an adorable little grumble.

Addie curls in tighter for only a moment; in the next, she's stretching with her back arched and her legs long and tense.

If he notices the softness of her breasts against his chest, he'll go mad.

Addie presses a kiss to his lips not half as long as he'd like. Caspian strokes up her back absently, wondering if there's a world where they could just linger here, without worry for politics or chores or if anyone else would notice.

One day, perhaps.

But not today, with Addie already climbing out of the bed and leaving a chill in her absence.

Caspian lingers in the heat she left behind. "I will never understand how you rise so quickly."

Despite his complaining, the sight of Addie walking around his bedroom, curves all aglow in the dim morning light, is nearly worth it.

"Habit, I guess," Addie hums, fetching her dress from the floor and pulling it on too hastily for his liking. "Thank you for cleaning up."

"Of course." Caspian is about to ask if she's alright, if this perfunctory morning ritual is the beginning of regret, but before he can speak Addie is at his bedside and drawing him from the covers with a kiss.

"I'm off to fetch my things. Be careful."

Holding her with the dress in the way now that he knows what it's like to hold her with nothing between them seems a frosty thing, even though duty and responsibility and common sense hammer at his skull. So Caspian refrains, somehow, from pulling her back to bed and promises.

"I will. And you as well."

Addie huffs, a smile dancing around her mouth. "Of what? Bed linens and crockery?" But she cups his cheeks like she knows exactly what he means.

Addie

Sneaking into her shared room takes patience to avoid the patrols, but soon enough Addie's inside and knotting her apron tight around her waist in the company of the others.

It really was lovely of Caspian to clean them up. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and what a relief to wake and find herself clean.

The door bangs open and in bustles Lola.

"Seen my cap, Addie?"

Cap, cap… Addie spins on her heels as she stuffs her own over her curls. It's not on the shared bedside table where it belongs.

"You check under the bed?" It wouldn't be the first time Lola's knocked something out of place in her sleep.

Lola ducks under her cot and sure enough, the tan linen covers her dark hair as she stands. "It'd be nice to get out of these things for once. Swear the kitchen gets ten times hotter with - Addie?"

"Hm?" Addie tucks up the last of her curls, sweeping her fingers up the back of her neck to capture the stragglers.

"You go sunbathing or something? Sneak wine for breakfast?"

Addie's stomach sours at the mention of alcohol, even something so common as wine. Lola's investigative stare itches on Addie's face, hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed nearly to slits.

"No," Addie says, each word slow and careful. "Why?"

Lola's gaze sweeps her from head to foot, like Perla appraises her creations before barking for Anna or Claudia to start dishing. "You're honest to Tash glowing, or something."

Claudia throws open the door a moment later, yelling for Lola to hurry. Apparently, not everyone is having so lovely a morning. Addie excuses herself and squeezes by, but Claudia has suddenly gained Lola's inconvenient perceptiveness. She winks and leans in, grinning impishly as their caps nearly touch.

"Make sure he doesn't finish inside - unless you're trying for a babe. Oh, and there's an herb pouch under my cot. Come back early and we'll have a morning after tea."

Tash's talons.

Addie's tongue flaps uselessly in her mouth around half-formed denials. Her tongue blurts a stupidly bright, wholly uncharacteristic, "Thanks!"

Tash, could she have been more obvious?

Face aflame, Addie slips past Claudia and bolts down the hall, fighting the same ridiculous smile that's been tugging at her lips all morning.

The herb tea is a good idea; best not take chances. Addie's never stopped to wonder if she wanted a babe. Even if she did - even if Caspian does - it's not a good time.

Bruna, however, hasn't been pleased with her ever since she nearly missed that morning. Addie tries to arrive early to strip the bed just so there's less work for her. As an apology.

Of course, after last night there's another far less innocent reason to take care of things.

Finally.

Addie bites her lip to stifle her smile as she winds her way back to Caspian's rooms. Servant girls don't walk around mooning, now do they? Not on the way to their chores, and especially not on their way to clean bedchambers.

She makes it to the study before it breaks free again.

Addie traces the back of Caspian's chair like she's greeting an old, dear friend. This chair in particular has been the start of some wonderful things between them. No harm in starting her day here; she can finish the study and strip the bed before Bruna arrives with the clean linens. The sun's barely finished rising.

Addie wipes away what little dust accumulated since yesterday, her rag snagging on the missing eagle's wing. It's hard to imagine the times when Caspian was glued to this chair and she to the window seat with the desk and five strides of air between them. In hindsight, reading through the evening together seems an obvious prelude. But at the time it was all so uncertain.

How strange that she discovered her hunger for him in fits and starts, from acting on impulse and ill manners.

How strange that Caspian never minded.

The chair clean, Addie tidies the desk and shakes out her rag, sneezing through the puff of dust. The window seat is next - her seat, most of the time. Caspian never intrudes without invitation on this little space Addie carved out for herself almost on accident. Sometimes he still seems afraid to touch her, as if he can't quite believe she wants him to unless she makes it abundantly obvious.

Why is that? As a prince, surely Caspian hasn't met rejection over that sort of thing before. Perhaps Addie will ask; she hasn't asked him enough hard questions.

After she plumps the pillows and dusts the window, the only thing left is to sweep the floor and dust the shelves. Addie knows the shelves so well there's no need to snoop anymore; she's memorised every title and its place. She's not sure how the castle library organises its books, but Caspian prefers his according to topic. With so many categories, it makes the most sense - especially given how many titles start with "The" or "A."

Addie straightens a thick tome left askance. She's no expert in writing, but she wishes the authors of generations past had more creativity than that? So many titles sound the same with only the major words different. Perhaps when Caspian is king, she can get him to start some new convention of titling, something more exciting. Perhaps a book titled with a question; it'd be nice to have writing that thought to ask her what she thought about something. Like an invitation, rather than a telling.

Given how much Caspian seems to like (need, really) invitations, he should love the idea.

Caspian

Caspian arrives at breakfast in a nigh unconquerable mood. Yes, there is the usual business of surreptitious poison-checking, and his uncle's snide commentary, and his aunt's aloof courtesies, but now Caspian has thoughts aplenty to distract himself.

"Ah, nephew. I trust you slept well," says Miraz, glancing up as he pops a grape into his mouth.

"Yes, uncle," Caspian replies dutifully. "I trust the morning reports are not too tedious. Good morning, Aunt."

Though Lady Prunaprismia never fully smiles when she speaks to him, Caspian's aunt hasn't shared Miraz's abundance of disdain over the years. Even since the announcement of her condition, Lady Prunaprismia hasn't treated him rudely.

"Perhaps when you are king, these reports will hold more charm," Miraz says, in one of his nasally voices meaning precisely the opposite.

Fortunately, his aunt is the picture of hospitality. "And how fare your studies, Caspian?"

"Quite well, thank you," says Caspian. "Though if I err in one equation more, the good Doctor may chain me to my desk."

"How unfortunate," says Miraz, a moment after he's trained his goblet.

Caspian takes a careful scoop of his oatmeal and decides his aunt will know better how to return to pleasantries.

"Quite," chimes Lady Prunaprismia, though she, at least, sounds sincere. Caspian inquires as delicately as he can how she's feeling and how fare the storerooms; it wouldn't do to not return her courtesy.

"We are well-stocked for the season. The next shipment from Galma is due any day now."

One of his aunt's virtues is her eye for detail - she lets nothing in the castle run low, least of all the food.

"You never miss a thing," Caspian says. He raises his own cup in a brief toast.

If Caspian must ever reclaim this castle, he'll remember to avoid sieges. Caspian VI built this castle to withstand them, and Lady Prunaprismia's talents would further thwart such methods.

Doctor Cornelius does not share Caspian's improved spirits. All the same, when Caspian finishes his recitations of Telmarine Narnia's international relations (the Professor's method of daily recitations to keep the most important lessons fresh is marvellously effective), he strikes up a conversation he's not attempted in years. This morning, it feels especially important to ask again.

"You've told me little of my parents," Caspian murmurs as he scratches out his equations. "I wish I knew more about them."

Doctor Cornelius leans over Caspian's shoulder, beard nearly brushing his scrabbling quill. "Take care with your fractions, my boy," says the scholar, louder than necessary. The Doctor's chair bumps over the floor, hiding his words from any listeners. Then, in a whisper, "What do you wish to know?"

Caspian leans over his paper and props his cheek on his free hand. It should keep his whisper from carrying. "How did they meet?"

"Carry the two," says the Doctor, though there is no two in Caspian's current equation. A moment later, quietly, "As many nobles and royals do - at court."

So it's to be one of those conversations, where Caspian has to pull every detail from his Professor's throat. But why? What danger is there in learning more about his parents? He never got to know them, and if his uncle never speaks of them, it's only to berate Caspian's studies or his form on the sparring fields. Caspian learned young never to ask.

"And?"

Doctor Cornelius is a man unafraid of silences. Sometimes, when Caspian is close to grasping the point, the Professor will stop the conversation and stare him down. It's the spectacles that make it effective; there's something about his Professor's way of staring over the rounds of glass that makes the correct answer obvious.

This is a tense silence. Like he got when Caspian first asked him about Narnia a decade ago.

"Your father had a love for the old ways," the Professor says at last, so quietly that Caspian's quill nearly swallows the words whole. "He sought a lady of like mind. No easy feat in this court."

Caspian tries for all the world to focus on his paper, but he can't scribble endless numerals when his parents passed their love for Old Narnia down to him. Not when he isn't so alone in wishing, distantly, that the glory of the Golden Age might come around again.

"How much did they know? Did you tell them tales too? Did those books belong to them, or you? Did -"

"My prince, if you cannot complete these equations properly, we shall not move to the next unit until you've done two more sheets," says Doctor Cornelius, loud enough anyone five rooms away could hear if they wanted to.

"Sorry, Professor." Caspian snaps his mouth shut and dips his quill in the ink pot. He's too careless; his quill leaves a trail of ink droplets across the page as he dutifully begins the next equation. Caspian would just as soon never see another fraction for the rest of his life.

"Yes, I told them tales of the Old Days," mutters Doctor Cornelius. "As I have told you. It was your mother's idea to pass the books to you, when you were of age enough to look after them."

The air in the room thins to nothing. The books were his mother's?

"She chose them from my collection."

Not hers then, but books she meant for him to have. Caspian's quill falters again. His fingers can't decide if the quill is a superfluous thing to be dropped at once or the last lifeline in the room he can cling to for his composure. Caspian tightens his grip until his knuckles go pale.

The crack is deafening in the quiet room.

"While I commend your focus, do try to keep your quills in one piece. I think you'll find the equations solve easier with a complete writing utensil." Doctor Cornelius fetches another from his table. It's a miracle how he finds anything amid the piles of scrolls, papers, and open books. If Caspian ever grows ashamed of the state of his desk, he need only remind himself of his Professor's.

Caspian sets the broken quill aside and takes the new one as steadily as his hand can manage. There's always something refreshing about starting with a new quill - something clean, exciting. As if the quill holds countless secrets just waiting to be written out. All the best things are secrets.

"I see you need the full day for your equations," projects the Doctor. "No matter; you'll need the practice for your astronomy lesson tonight."

Another? The frequency is increasing.

"Yes, Professor." Caspian sets his mind to mathematics as best he can. He'll find out more of his parents tonight, under the Doctor's preferred cloak of midnight clouds and darkness.

Addie

By day's end, Addie's hands twitch with impatience. Perla released them at the usual time, but the day dragged. The days always feel longer when Addie spends half of them anticipating seeing Caspian again. Addie's out of the kitchen and fetching water at the well to wash up the very moment Perla dismisses them.

Addie's feet trip each other mid-air as she stares down this newest annoyance.

Marcos stands in the well's shadow.

"What a pleasant surprise," Addie drawls, reaching for the rope without a spare glance his way. "Really."

"It's serious, Addie." Luckily for his nose that presumably wants to stay in one piece, Marcos doesn't lean closer. "Miraz knows."

How could he possibly know that? Marcos is just… jealous, or angry with her. He's not a general, doesn't spend his days in Miraz's inner circle. Addie swallows away the nerves prickling at her hands.

"I doubt it."

The bucket comes up nearly full, but her elbow knocks it at the last moment and it's only because of Marcos that the bucket doesn't smash itself to splinters on the well walls.

"Miraz catching you with the prince sound familiar? Few weeks ago?"

Addie forces a slow inhale and keeps her face blank. But the bucket rope slips out of her fingers quicker than she can grab it back, and of course Marcos catches it only to hold it just out of reach.

"Thought it might. Whatever you two tried to pull off didn't take. Miraz has every one of his men on the lookout for a servant girl with ties to the prince. It's only a matter of time before one of them sees you around the prince's chambers and puts two and two together."

"One of you, you mean?" Addie speaks before she thinks better of it, but with the anger rising in her stomach she doesn't care. Marcos doesn't get to care one whit what happens to her anymore.

"Think of it however you want," Marcos says with a shrug. "I'm trying to help you."

Marcos is still holding the bucket, and she's wasting time standing here talking with him. Addie splashes her hands right into the water and scrubs away the kitchen grime.

"I don't like when you try to help me." Addie wipes her face on her sleeve, the evening breeze sending chills over her wet skin. Now for her hair; might as well freshen up while she's here and Marcos is useful enough to keep the bucket steady.

Marcos looks pointedly away when Addie tugs off her cap and combs handfuls of water through her curls.

"A servant girl dressed down, hair loose, no apron, and no cap was bound to draw attention. With the prince? Not that hard to figure out. Once that baby is born you either get out of the castle - hell, the whole city - or Miraz has you killed. Maybe thrown to rot in the dungeon, if you're lucky."

Addie finishes with her hair before she answers. She used to enjoy trying Marcos' patience in good fun. Now his fidgeting sets her teeth on edge.

"So I'll get out of the city. Why is he waiting so long?"

Marcos reaches for her, his fingers closing over air as Addie dodges. "And go where? You thought of that?"

Addie's throat tightens. She doesn't have anywhere else to go, but he doesn't have to know that. There's still no guarantee he wouldn't sell her out to Miraz for a promotion.

"Sure have."

Marcos snorts. "Bull. Look, my family is a few days' travel on foot if you cut across the river. It's a quiet village, far enough to hide."

"Because you're on such good terms with your family." Addie twists her hair back under her cap. "Thanks for the offer, but I can handle myself."

There's a certain satisfaction in leaving Marcos with a bucket of dirty water, but Addie's careful not to turn her back as she walks away.

"Addie, stay away from the prince; it'll throw them off your trail."

Addie turns on her heel and scans him up and down. "What are you planning?"

Marcos waves her away like a buzzing fly. "Nothing. Just stay clear of this."

Addie glares across the meters between them. "I doubt Miraz or any of your commanders would forgive you knowing who I am and not saying so. Worry about your own neck."

Only when Caspian's door lies rough beneath her palm does Addie realise what she's done. She just goaded a soldier, one who's already proven he'll hurt her if he wants to. She all but dared him to rat her out, and for what? Her pride?

Addie slumps against the wall and breathes until her pulse slows closer to normal. Better not to rush in to see Caspian like this; he doesn't need to know how little sense of self-preservation she has. He has enough to worry about.

Marcos, at least, Addie can face alone.

A/N: Buckle up y'all, next chapter is a THICC one!

Chapter 17 Preview:

She wants to kiss him and sweep away any follow-up questions in the heat of their bodies. Why spoil their usual routine? Why deny them both the comfort of reading together by candlelight? Why upset this fragile balance, when she feels the sundial shadows of inevitability creeping over what time they have left?