A/N: Here we are, the last chapter of Part 1! I think it's about time we kick off the PC plotlines, don't you? Please know I am both very sorry and very much not sorry for how this chapter plays out.
Also, um, Red (Taylor's Version) might be the best thing that's happened to me? Please consider "Message in a Bottle" and "State of Grace (Acoustic Version)" formally the two theme songs for all of WGCBS. I haven't stopped listening to MIAB for hours😍
Chapter 24 Content Warnings: physical injury
Chapter 24: who will save you now?
Caspian
The last two months of his aunt's pregnancy go by impossibly quick. Caspian is still stuck with allies who might help only if the tides swing in his favour anyway, and it's been over a year since any of the lords mysteriously disappeared. It seems Miraz has enough caution left to space them out. Or, more likely, he's focused on the bigger prize.
It's no longer just Caspian's neck beneath the sword. The very thought of Addie turns his stomach into a mess of nerves. Focusing on his studies is unconscionable.
Caspian shoves aside his note paper and stands, his chair scraping across stone as his quill drips a messy splotch over his last few lines. "Professor -"
"Come now, my prince, your aunt will be well." Doctor Cornelius doesn't even glance up, though his voice is louder than it needs to be to reach Caspian's ears. "We will turn to grammar with Sir Pulverulentus Siccus next."
"To Tash with Sir Siccus!" Caspian strides to the Professor's desk and leans in with his hands in fists between the piles of scrolls. "I will not sit here and wait any longer. There's been enough watching and waiting."
Doctor Cornelius grabs his arm, yanking him down so forcefully that Caspian's forearms scatter his papers. "Sit down, Caspian. The wait is nearly over."
Caspian tries to pull away, but the Doctor is stronger than he looks.
"For you, perhaps," Caspian hisses. "If nothing else, she needs to leave now. We both ought to."
"Not yet!" Doctor Cornelius wrenches him back in, the wisps of his beard tickling Caspian's fist. "Nothing is certain. It could yet be a girl."
Caspian hears the tremor then, lingering underneath his professor's usual monotone. He's afraid enough for his usual scholarly distance to fail - more proof that Caspian is right. He should have sent Addie away ages ago, no matter what it would've done to her - to them. At least she would be safer.
No, she is safer at his side. He will be enough to keep her safe.
"You don't believe that," Caspian murmurs. "I don't think I should either."
Doctor Cornelius visibly deflates, all hunched shoulders and dropped chin, though his grip has yet to ease.
Caspian swallows and tries for whatever scraps of patience he has left. "Waiting is what they all did, isn't it? My mother, my nurse, the lords loyal to my father. And they're dead."
"If you try to leave now, Miraz will lock down the city and kill you both as soon as the baby is born. Don't be rash." Doctor Cornelius' hand loosens, but not enough for Caspian to tug free. "You need surprise. The lords made little secret of their suspicions - that was their mistake. Now sit down and at least pretend at lessons, for Lion's sake!"
At last, the Doctor releases him, leaving a lingering hand print in Caspian's sleeve.
Caspian hesitates as he straightens back up, his forearm throbbing. Nighttime will offer the most cover, the most opportunities to hide when they need to. There will be fewer people in the halls, though the guards are more abundant. But Addie knows how to evade them; she's had months of practice - well, in the castle.
"Alright," Caspian whispers. "But no more lessons. We'll make sure everything is in order. And Addie -"
"She's in enough danger," says the Doctor. "Don't draw attention to her. Don't give anyone a reason to wonder."
Caspian would rather have Addie with him now, so he can feel her alive and warm with his own hands. He wants to find her pulse and memorise it until he knows it better than his own, like she does with him. He wants to hold her and breathe her in during these last few hours before everything falls apart.
No, before everything changes. He can't let himself despair now, so close to the tipping of the scale.
Doctor Cornelius isn't wrong; summoning Addie would attract attention - the opposite of what they need. So Caspian nods once, ignoring the pit forming in his stomach.
"Very good," says Doctor Cornelius, much louder now. "Now if your Highness will turn to page twelve in A History, we shall test if you have studied your geography properly."
Geography has been Caspian's best subject for weeks now, but Doctor Cornelius' words were for the benefit of any eavesdroppers - better that Miraz think he's hopeless with the lay of the kingdom.
Caspian opens his book and a scroll with the full map of Narnia without complaint. Only a few hours, and he'll spend every one ensuring he knows every inch of their path out of the castle, the city, and into the wilds of Narnia.
After a tense, rushed dinner he could barely choke down for fear of poison, Caspian waits anxiously by the study door with no care for his Professor's strict instructions to get a good night's rest. How can he, when he does not know where Addie is, when he can't run to find her?
To Tash with it; he certainly can. There's no excuse for holing up in his rooms waiting, wondering, if she might need his help right now.
Caspian shoves open the bookshelf. He's taken three steps when he notices the figure advancing from down the hall.
His breath leaves him in a rush, so quickly he nearly falls to his knees before her as Addie darts toward him, mindful to stay in the shadows. She has more caution than he.
Addie flies into his open arms the moment she's in reach, and never in Caspian's life has he known such relief. She's alive, alive and whole and by some miracle entirely unharmed. He sends a silent prayer up to Aslan, for how else than by the Lion's grace have they been so lucky thus far?
"Get inside, for Tash's sake," Addie whispers against the shell of his ear. "You shouldn't be out here."
If this baby is a boy, there won't be a safe place left for him in the whole castle. Caspian has the sense not to say so, but he doesn't let go of her hand as they scurry back inside and shut the bookshelf.
Caspian's hands sweep over her frantically the moment they're inside. "Did you have any trouble? Were you followed? How many soldiers did you see?"
"Caspian," Addie says, pressing a finger over his lips. "I'm fine. Bit hectic today, but I'm fine. There were a few more guards, but I was careful. Any word on your aunt?"
"None. But I imagine it won't be much longer." Lion, he can't keep just one hand on her. It's been too long a day to let her slip out of reach for even a moment. Caspian buries his face in her neck and tries to calm his racing heart with the comfort of her scent.
Addie nods, somehow the calm one amid everything. As though she isn't in just as much danger. Does she have no concern for her own safety?
"Come on. Shouldn't you sleep?" She's already guiding him into the bedroom, and Caspian follows her so easily. He would follow her anywhere.
"I don't know if I can."
Caspian's protest falls on deaf ears; Addie guides him out of his day clothes and into his nightshirt, the picture of patience and control but for the slight tremble in her hands. Across the room, his falcon - their only alarm for intruders - rustles its feathers and chirrups faintly as it beds down.
"Just try," Addie whispers. "I will too."
Caspian would give anything to sleep with the comfort of her skin against his. He knows, he knows it's not practical when they may need to run at any moment.
He can be forgiven for wishing for it anyway.
Once they're in bed, Caspian wraps his arms around her as tightly as they'll go and resolves not to let go until the morning.
Caspian wakes with his Professor's hand clapped over his mouth. He mumbles about five more minutes and turns back to Addie.
Her eyes widen, and then he understands.
"You won't be watching the stars tonight, my prince."
Caspian is up in an instant, dragging Addie up with him; he refuses to let her go even as Doctor Cornelius urges them to hurry. Beyond his chamber window, Tarva and Alambil burn frosty and distant in the sky, shining through a rare patch of clear sky.
"A boy?" Addie blurts, the whisper nearly too loud in the chamber.
"Yes, a son," confirms the Doctor.
Caspian's eyes stray to the stars beyond his window, his gaze settling on twin points of light in the heavens, nearly joined as one.
Tarva, the Lord of Victory. Alambil, the Lady of Peace. Whose victory? Whose peace? Caspian looks away from the stars as his pulse hammers away so quickly he feels it in his fingertips as a thin sheen of sweat coats his palms.
Perhaps that's how Addie slips from his grasp. He's grabbing frantically, but no, she's stepping away, away where he can't reach her.
"Addie, what -"
"Go," she whispers. "I have my own way, remember?"
No.
No!
"Addie!" Caspian lunges, but she's halfway to the study.
"I'll meet you in the woods. Go!"
"Come now, quickly!" Quicker than Caspian can protest, Doctor Cornelius shoves him into the wardrobe and the hidden passageway and Addie's gone beyond his sight.
Boots thud beyond the wardrobe door, the air splits with the twang of loaded crossbows, and Doctor Cornelius clicks the secret door shut as they fire. Caspian's professor has to drag him thrashing down the stairs, causing enough noise that the soldiers should be breaking down the wardrobe door. Why aren't they?
"Don't be foolish," hisses the Doctor, his puffy hand like a vice on Caspian's shoulder. "Get out, give them someone to chase."
Before Caspian can say that Addie has always made him a fool and he'd rather die at her side a fool than live knowing she's gone, that he has to try because what is a life on the run worth if he has nothing, his professor's hand clamps over his mouth and hauls him into the deserted armoury with surprising strength.
In the stables, Caspian tries again to wrench away, to go back and find her, help her, kill for her if he must.
Doctor Cornelius is ready. "Give Miraz a reason to keep her alive," he murmurs, his hands like chains around Caspian's wrists.
"Professor -"
"Make her too valuable to kill."
Caspian's tutor places the Destrier's leather reins in his palm, and Caspian trembles.
He can't leave without her. He promised.
Doctor Cornelius seizes his arms and shakes until Caspian meets his bright eyes.
"Ride, my prince. It's too late to go back for her now."
Too late?
His limbs move slow as sludge, as distant as the Doctor's urgent whispers. Woods this, river that, dancing lawn…
The words pass over Caspian's head as quick and cold as mountain water, leaving nothing behind but sand. Pieces of memory ground to almost nothing. The entire world sounds distant, as if his ears are stuffed with snow.
Caspian fumbles with his gloves. He's never been so chilled on a summer's night.
Somehow, Doctor Cornelius wrestles him onto Destrier's back; Caspian can't fathom how.
One moment, he's staring at the saddle, at the familiar stirrups that have cradled his boots a thousand times with the thick scent of horses and hay in his nose. The next, Caspian's thighs chafe over creases in his trousers and Destrier's solidity is the only fathomable thing in the world.
Something firm presses into his hands. It gleams white as polished bone even in the dark stables.
"Queen Susan's horn?" Caspian manages. What is his professor doing with a treasure of the Golden Age? How did he -
"Do not blow it until your greatest need," whispers the Doctor. "I suspect you will need its help."
Greatest need?
Caspian's fingers tighten around the carved ivory, his thumb tracing the lion's teeth at its mouth.
His need is great enough now.
The horn never meets his lips. Doctor Cornelius yanks his arm, nearly tearing his sleeve.
"Narnia's greatest need," he says. "Not yours."
If my aunt bears a son, he will have no further need of me.
But Narnia does.
Narnia's need. This has always been bigger than him and Addie.
Perhaps that is how Caspian finds his wits to bid his tutor farewell before urging Destrier to action.
Hooves clatter on stone. The humid air of a summer's night settles thickly in his lungs.
Caspian never quite remembers the ride, the path through the city, whether Destrier galloped past the guards or if Caspian left bodies in his wake. His mind only holds two truths:
He is alive.
And Addie is gone.
Addie
The click-thud of crossbows echoes from the bedroom. Addie slides the bookshelf shut amid the unmistakable sounds of betrayal. Treason? Does it matter? Another minute and Caspian would be dead.
Thunk, thunk, click. Caspian's falcon screeches, calling warnings to a man long gone.
He better be long gone. Doctor Cornelius promised.
Another click-thud. The bird falls silent.
Addie feels along the bookshelf door seam, though she's checked it a dozen times. There's no lock from outside.
The deep shadows beckon her, whispering of safety and sneaking and over a year of muscle memory from hiding among them. She's been practising; she knows how to evade these men.
But the soldiers have gone quiet, and did Doctor Cornelius remember to lock the wardrobe? Or is that door like this one - lockable only from inside?
I'll give them something to chase.
Addie swallows, trembles against the door as her heart hammers loud enough to drown out the tread of boots. How far has Caspian gotten? Has the Doctor kept his word? Or is Caspian -?
Addie grits her teeth, tiptoes away for a head start.
Something to chase.
She can do that. Why else has she done this, if not to give Caspian his best chance at escape?
Addie's toes curl and uncurl in her travelling boots. If she treads heavily, maybe it'll sound like Caspian.
The footsteps echo closer.
Addie gathers her courage, spins on her heel, and runs.
For the first few steps, she's alright. The nearest turn will take her toward Bruna's other cleaning responsibilities, the second toward one of the main stairwells, and straight on is the fastest way to the kitchens. If Caspian escapes over the bridge, it might distract the guards and let her slip out the side door. A long shot, but the best one she's devised over the weeks.
She flies past the first turn. The hidden door bangs open. Shouts and running boots and clanking armour sound behind her.
Addie pumps her legs faster, weaves between shadows. Almost there, stick to the shadows, so maybe they won't see she's alone.
The second turn looms. Almost there -
A bolt of pain explodes across her back, and an arrow shatters against the wall further down the corridor. Addie stumbles and the floor rises to meet her as her hands scrabble uselessly against stone.
Her face collides with the floor, blood flooding her mouth as her teeth cut the inside of her cheek. The fall knocks the air from her chest and cuts off her cry of pain.
The soldiers are closing in, their footsteps ever louder, closer, and what is she doing still face-down on the floor, gasping like a dead fish? Their crossbows are clicking again, loading up the next shot, and her right arm won't work -
Addie pushes off with her left arm, breaks her nails trying to pull herself up by the wall.
Run, she tells herself, you have to run.
Addie pushes with both arms, grits her teeth against a scream.
She's no timid thing.
Addie stumbles to her feet and careens to the left. Main stairwell next, that's good, lots of turns, keeps her out of sight and range. She knows the castle better, knows passageways they don't. It's not over yet.
You must give your word to survive.
I've no intention of dying.
An arrow pings off the wall inches from her head. Pain screams from her shoulder down to her hip as Addie veers into the staircase. She bites her tongue until it bleeds and forces her feet to keep going, a bit more. Turn again, to the right this time. Don't think about the footsteps, don't think how close they are, ignore the arrows whizzing past. Just run, that's all.
Run.
Addie's chest slams into stone as she spins into the narrow servants' stairs. These will take her the back route into the stables. If she keeps quiet, evades the soldiers until then, she can cling to the courtyard shadows long enough to reach the side door.
Addie coughs, her breath ragged in her lungs, forces herself to keep going. Don't think about the clicks, the thundering footsteps, the shadows of soldiers closing in. Keep going, don't think about anything else, one foot, now the other, don't look back.
I can't lose you, Addie.
Her feet falter. An arrow flies past, cutting her sleeve and, miraculously, nothing else. Addie bites the raw inside of her cheek and finds her balance, scrambling down the last steps two at a time and hugging the tightest parts of the turns.
Just as her vision blurs and the dizziness brings bile up her throat, the stairs open into a wider passage. This one connects to the servants' quarters.
No, no good, lead them away from the others, what was she thinking -
Addie lurches into another hallway. Yes, good, this should take her to the stables. Or is it the kitchen? The halls are too similar without the torchlight, and her vision keeps blurring when she turns.
She dodges a whistling arrow and rounds another bend, and Tash no, she should've heard -
Addie slams into a wall of armour. A broad hand closes over her right shoulder.
"Bastard," Addie tries to spit. Instead, her legs give out as blood trickles down her back.
"Impressive," the man says. "Quite the little runner, aren't you?"
She knows that voice.
"Got her," Marcos calls. "Prince is probably in the stables; already took out two of us."
There's a haze of half-intelligible orders, a sharp "get on with it" and "you two make sure it's done," and then a fist slams into her stomach, the resulting ache sharpened by the prick of a blade.
What I can't afford is losing you.
Her vision flickers, Caspian's shocked face as she pulled out of reach dancing behind her eyelids.
I'm sorry, Caspian, Addie thinks as footsteps rush away. Just run. Run and don't look back.
Something hard strikes her forehead, and the darkness drags her under.
With a yelp and the foulest curse she's ever uttered, Addie jerks awake. Three things hit her at once.
Her dress is open at the back, the summer air humid across her skin. There is a knee pressing into her breastbone. And calloused hands are pressing something against her back.
Four things; a baritone she knows too well rumbles an apology, and all at once she knows whose lap she's laying in.
"Thought that'd wake you up," Marcos says next, as casually as if they were back in the courtyard at midnight, trading exaggerated tales of their daily exploits.
As if he hadn't punched her in the stomach, knocked her out and gods know what else. As if he wasn't the one who stopped her mid-flight, made sure those guards caught up with her.
Addie squirms, shoulder burning with the effort as her eyes water from the pain and her head swims. "What are you doing?"
"Saving your life," Marcos says, holding her down firmly. "Stay still, I'm dressing this."
Dressing?
Addie's hands scrabble in the earth, damp leaves and soil cool against her skin. They're not in the castle.
"Where are the soldiers?"
Cloth tears, and a moment later Marcos' hands are dangerously close to her breasts. If Marcos reaches any higher, she'll come up with some creative damage for his -
No, he's not groping, he's… wrapping?
"Combing the forest, I expect," Marcos answers, winding the cloth four, five, six times around her right shoulder. "Stop moving, I'm helping you."
Addie coughs as his knee digs too deep. "How? Mercy killing?"
Marcos ties the cloth tighter than seems necessary. "Then I wouldn't bother dressing a wound, would I? Sit up, there's still your stomach."
When Addie rolls away, she finds a dried, rust-coloured splotch over her abdomen. The stiff fabric pulls at the scab with every motion, but it's nothing compared to the lancing ache in her shoulder.
"You stabbed me?"
Marcos scoffs as she swats his hand away. "Barely a scratch."
"Then why dress it?"
"We've got days of travel ahead," says Marcos. He flaps a bloody hand (Is that all hers?) toward the pink-streaked sky, somewhere south. "No sense letting it collect dirt."
There's a brown horse saddled and chomping grass ten paces away and rushing water at the edge of her hearing. Addie regards the crusted blood on her bodice.
"Better to wash it off first. Is that a river?"
"Great River, and too far for you to walk. You lost a lot of blood." Marcos tugs her over, but Addie struggles to pull away until he lets go.
"Help me, then," Addie says, grudgingly. "Was that necessary?"
"Had to get the arrowhead out," he answers, looping an arm around her waist and holding most of her weight. "You're welcome."
Marcos walks with her until the river splashes at their feet, the fast-moving water sparkling in the sunrise. The river is bigger than it appeared on the map, though she shouldn't be surprised. Caspian mentioned river boats sometimes travel all the way up to the castle.
Addie wades in carefully. She almost loses her footing in the mud and again when they get deep enough and the current drags at her skirt. Marcos' grip is the only thing keeping her upright.
"So. Are you actually saving my life?" Not her brightest inquiry, but with her dress wet with blood and the rest of her bruised and aching, she can be forgiven for asking the obvious.
Marcos steadies her before she can tip over. "If I'm not, I went to a lot of trouble to kill you out here."
Addie kneels gingerly until the water rushes over her shoulders. "You could always drown me in the river. Less messy."
Marcos snorts, not unlike the horse, and tightens his grip when she leans forward to wash away the worst of the blood. When she resurfaces, he lifts her to her feet. "Come on. We've a long ride south."
She'll never admit it, but by the time they reach the bank again, her legs are close to giving out.
"South where?"
"You'll stay with my family, like I said. We both will." Marcos says it like it's nothing as they make their way back toward the horse, like they discussed and agreed and there's no reason for her to disagree.
"No." Addie tries to pull herself free, but her knees almost buckle.
Marcos stops before they reach the horse. "Beg your pardon?"
Addie tries again to no avail. "I'm not staying with your family."
Unbidden, the memory of the last time she told him no replays through her mind. Addie's muscles tense, as if she could run like last time. But she was healthy then; now she can barely stand. Maybe if she can muster strength in her legs, she can run to the river and the water will carry her fast enough that Marcos won't be able to catch her. Assuming she doesn't drown first.
"Where else you gonna go?" Marcos speaks like a man trying desperately for patience and already failing. "You shouldn't be travelling at all."
Addie sets her jaw and tries to cross her arms before she remembers her right arm isn't cooperating and Marcos is still holding her left to keep her upright. She lifts her chin and tries not to appear as exhausted as she feels when she glares up at him.
"I have to find Caspian," Addie says. "Showing up at your family's doorstep with a stranger would raise eyebrows."
Marcos stares. No movement in his carefully blank expression, nothing but a slow blink as his arm slackens around her waist. "I pulled an arrow from your back and you want to traipse around a cursed forest looking for the prince that almost got you killed?"
Addie stares back. He really shouldn't push her, not with her patience this low. She just got shot, for Tash's sake.
"Stop it. I chose to stay with him."
"Run with him, you mean," he scoffs. "Or was it watch him leave you behind? I didn't see him come to help you."
"Didn't you hear me? I left him," Addie snaps. "To save his life. So now I have to find him."
Marcos sneers. "And did he divine a safe rendezvous? Or was it 'Run off into the forest, Adelina, I'm sure we'll find each other somehow?' Did he bother making plans for both of you?"
Addie jabs an elbow at his ribs, but Marcos shrugs off the attempt.
"He said to meet in the Shuddering Wood," Addie says. "That's good enough for me, and it should be for you. He's going to be your king."
"Was." Marcos scowls, pointing his finger inches from her nose. "Was going to be my king. Now that's Miraz. Or that baby. Or Miraz then the baby."
Finally, Addie succeeds in shoving him away and lurches to a nearby tree. "Why bother getting me out, if Miraz is your king?"
Marcos walks off and starts pacing, hands perched atop his head, then his hips. She's struck a nerve, and it shouldn't be so satisfying.
"I don't care who's king of what," he finally answers. "I wanted you alive - didn't bother with the politics of it."
Addie gestures broadly, even though the motion sends pangs through her back. She grimaces despite herself. "Why? We're not exactly close these days."
Marcos combs his wet hair back, scuffs his boot in the dirt. "You have to make this difficult, don't you?"
"You're making it difficult," Addie says. "I'm going to find Caspian; you're the one dragging your feet."
Marcos spits to the side. "You have any idea what's in these woods?"
"Old superstitions," says Addie. "Nothing more."
Supposedly a curse, but more likely just old ghost stories. According to Telmarine history books, the forest is where the Narnians fled after the Telmarine conquest until they were all hunted down. Sometimes people go missing in the forests, and the rumour mill decided it was old Narnian ghosts taking revenge.
Utter nonsense.
Marcos fists his hands in his hair and stares into the tree canopy. "Old superstitions? People disappear in these forests every other month. You want to die here after you kept running with an arrow in your back to save your skin?"
Addie fists her hands, eyes watering as her injured shoulder throbs in protest. She should've considered how stubborn Marcos is; merely insisting won't work. He needs an olive branch, an admission of shared concern or goals.
She can manage that.
Addie drops her shoulders, uncurls her fists, and tries to find something like understanding beyond all this frustration.
"I don't like this either; I'd rather be back in my own bed, too. But either you look with me or I'll go alone. If you won't help, at least stay out of my way."
With a sigh, Marcos finally looks at her straight on. "This prince is worth that much to you?"
Addie crosses her good arm and sets her jaw. She can play at olive branches, but Marcos makes it so difficult to keep up the act.
Marcos huffs again and nods. "Fine then. A few days, no more than a week, and I'll look after that wound. After that, you're staying with my family to heal up."
Not ideal, but the best she'll get from him right now.
"Fine," Addie says. "Until then, we go west."
That's where Caspian wanted to go, and it's where she said she'd meet him; if he's there, she'll find him.
She'll find him.
A/N: Soooo, any guesses on how the Prince Caspian plot will play out? I might've taken a few liberties with canon...
Chapter 25 Preview:
Marcos leans closer, resting one elbow on his knee, firelight casting strange shadows over his face. "Point is, you shouldn't rush into the middle of a fight. Stay hidden, wait until it passes. It's not worth dying for."
Caspian isn't worth dying for. That's what he means.