A/N: Let the Prince Caspian plotline begin! We've got a tense reunion in this chapter...
Chapter 26 Content Warnings: physical injury, wound care by a medical professional
Chapter 26: there's vacancy in your eyes
Addie
The streak of fur sends Marcos flying downhill, skidding through the underbrush. When Addie recoils on instinct, her back collides with rough tree bark and blinding pain envelops her shoulder. She falls to her knees. Gods, she never wanted to die by a sword, it won't be quick, and she never found him and how will she know he's alive if she's dead by the hand of -
What in Tash's hells is it? No, he; the face is human. But its - his - feet aren't even feet, they're cloven hooves.
A yell splits the air, saying, "Stop, stop!"
Addie realises the sword swung past, didn't hit her, that the breeze on her neck was the blade missing. It'd hurt if it cut her, right?
"Addie?"
She knows that voice. She'd know it anywhere.
Addie blinks, her eyes struggling to focus amid the chaos and the fever and the almost dying and -
Calloused hands close around her arms, trace her neck, cup her cheeks, as familiar lips repeat her name.
Her eyes focus. She clutches him, too.
"Caspian?"
It is him; she'd know the press of those lips anywhere. "Lion's Mane, Addie, what are you doing here?" he says between kissing across her brow. "I thought you went south."
"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but what of the other one?"
The rest of the world beyond Caspian (he's here, he's alive, he got out, she knew he'd get out) comes into focus, and Addie finds herself staring up at a half-man, half-goat creature.
Faun, that's what Caspian's stories called them.
Addie shakes her head, tries to blink away the lingering fog. That can't be right. The Narnians went extinct centuries ago.
She turns back to Caspian, because if she's gone delirious like Marcos said she would, better to focus on Caspian.
Marcos.
Addie scrambles to her feet. There's no sound of a struggle, so he's dead or -
As Caspian reaches out to help her, his hand lands on her right shoulder. Addie yelps and lurches, the edges of her vision whiting out.
"It's Marcos," she rasps as Caspian asks what's wrong. "Don't kill him, it's just Marcos."
Just Marcos. A phrase she never thought she'd say.
Caspian steadies her with gentle hands at her hips. "Marcos?"
Addie leans into his side. Another faun (perhaps a fevered hallucination morphing an ordinary man into a half-goat) stands pointing his short sword at Marcos' chest.
For a man staring down a sword and an inexplicable creature, Marcos doesn't look like someone facing potential death. He looks like Perla chewed him out for pulling Addie from the kitchen too early - irked, frustrated, impatient.
Addie meets his eyes.
"He got me out," she tells Caspian. "He… saved my life. A few times. I owe him."
The truth tastes bitter in her mouth, but Marcos doesn't deserve to die for getting her this far. For keeping her alive long enough to find Caspian.
Well, for Caspian to find her.
After a moment, Caspian nods to the faun. "Bind his hands, Arrus, and keep him under watch."
Surprisingly, Marcos doesn't raise hell. His scowl could sour a vat of milk, but he has the sense to not to start another fight. Addie forgets him quicker than perhaps she should to take in the crowd.
There must be two dozen of them - creatures she's only seen in Caspian's storybooks, some half-human and others utterly foreign. There are centaurs, minotaurs, fauns, satyrs, a few dwarfs, a snarling wolf. All the animals, if they are Narnians, must be able to talk, so that means talking badgers, talking mice, talking bears -
"Caspian," Addie murmurs. "What are… I mean, who are… what's going on?"
Caspian's arm rights her as she sways on her feet. "They're Narnians, Addie. They've survived all these years in the woods."
Addie blinks between him and the faun who almost killed her. "So the rumours -"
"True enough," Caspian answers, his hands warm and steady around her waist. "But as you can see, they're no ghosts."
"So you have an army now?"
He nods and presses another lingering kiss to her hairline. "I do. Narnia belongs to them; once Miraz is gone, they can live freely again. Much like us."
"Like us," Addie echoes. Narnians, here, instead of ghosts. They must have stoked the rumours to keep the soldiers out. "I should introduce myself."
"Yes, later." Caspian cups her cheek again, worry creasing his brow. "You're bleeding. What happened?"
A smile cracks her lips. Of course Caspian's worried about her wounds when she's busy staring at storybook creatures. Tash, they must think her rude.
"Just an arrow," Addie answers. The stab wound in her stomach is too shallow to bother mentioning. "Probably reopened in the excitement; I'll manage. Don't suppose you've seen any broadleaf, have you?"
Caspian looks at her shoulder before she can stop him. "Rainroot might. The moment we reach the How, I'll take you to her." He presses a cool palm to her forehead. "Has a fever set in?"
Addie's neck heats. Can't he pause the fussing until they're alone without these strangers watching?
"It's summer and I've been travelling. That's all. Reach the what?"
Marcos marches past with the faun - Arrus, that was his name - prodding him along.
"Definitely fever," says Marcos. "Wound's been festering for days."
Caspian's dark eyes lock onto hers.
Addie stops herself from sending Marcos a scathing glare as she shrugs her good shoulder. "A little."
"As I said," Caspian murmurs. "Healer. Until then, take this." He pushes a half-full waterskin into her hands.
Addie looks up at his face, shining with sweat in the heat of the day.
"You need it too -"
"Addie." Something sharp in his tone halts the protest on her tongue. There's a new edge to his concern she hasn't seen before, a hard glint in his eyes.
Addie takes a tiny sip.
Caspian smooths her hair, but the edge in him doesn't fade. At his command, all but eight of the Narnians move out to the How - whatever that is. Addie doesn't ask again. She'll find out soon enough, and maybe by then the harsh set of Caspian's jaw will melt into the same steady relief that's already overtaken her.
The half-moon is at its zenith by the time they reach the How - a Narnian hideout. It looks like some sort of ancient mound, towering thrice as tall as the treeline and half-overgrown with wild grasses and moss. If the How once had edges, centuries of wind and rain has weathered them into a bumpy knoll. In the dark, it looks like part of the land. It could be an innocuous foothill until the moonlight catches a rough-hewn ledge.
Caspian's been quiet for a while now. He, a prince who took months to stop filling every pause with polite small talk, hasn't said two words put together to her these past hours. He took her hand the first time she stumbled and hasn't let it go, hasn't gone a full ten minutes since without looking at her, but he shouldn't be this quiet.
Addie straightens and grits her teeth, vision fogging as her shoulder protests. If Caspian won't break the silence, she will.
"So this is the How?"
Caspian startles, his silhouette jolting closer as he shortens his strides and tangles their fingers tighter.
"Yes," he answers after a moment. "The Narnians built this over the Stone Table three hundred years ago."
Addie frowns up at him. That's all? No details, no story of its creation whispered like a delicious secret?
"Why? Protect it from the weather?"
"Perhaps in part," says Caspian. "It was near the time my ancestors invaded. It's been a hidden sanctuary ever since."
"Charming establishment." Marcos half-turns on his heel before Arrus pushes him back around.
Arrus keeps him walking with a sword hilt to the back, and Addie should, perhaps, find a crumb of sympathy. But there's a certain satisfaction in seeing Marcos being ordered about.
"The Telmarines destroyed everything they found of the Golden Age," Arrus says, his voice gruff. "We couldn't risk that they would desecrate the Table."
Addie regards the towering mound of rocks and earth and grass. "So it's a temple?"
"No, it is an ancient place full of magic," says Arrus. "According to the old stories."
"A sanctuary," Addie muses. Caspian's word for it sounds the most accurate.
It looks more like a tomb than a place of worship. It must have stayed hidden so long thanks to the Telmarines' fear of the forest. Just because the Narnians are real doesn't mean magic or gods are.
The How only has one entrance - a single, squat door that the centaurs and minotaurs bend low to squeeze through. Anyone on a horse would be in the same predicament.
With a start, Addie remembers the escape and taps Caspian's wrist.
"Where's your horse? You rode out, didn't you?"
Caspian blinks down at her as he helps her through the door, that strange frown returning to his face. "Destrier saw me into the woods, but I fell off. I suppose Glozelle's men have found him by now."
"That's two strays, then." Hopefully Miraz is kinder to horses than he is to people, though there's nothing to be done about it now.
Caspian blinks again. "What?"
"Marcos and I lost a horse before we ran into you."
"Ah."
Caspian lapses back into silence.
The brief tunnel into the How opens into a sparsely lit cavern cast in the dancing orange-gold of torches. It appears to be a makeshift armoury, with fire pits next to thick, charred stumps and piles of metal weapons Addie can't identify. The air is dense with the smell of earth and stone and smoke.
"Addie -" Caspian halts in the middle of the cavern, shaking his head as if to clear it. When he looks at her again, he has the look of a prince - resolved, responsible.
Distant.
He's not supposed to look at her like that. He's supposed to look at her like she's just Addie. Like he's just Caspian.
Caspian starts off down the left tunnels with lengthening strides. Addie jogs two steps for every one of his, and even then she's trailing. Her legs are sore, and her shoulder is on fire.
"What's -"
"How long since the fever began?" Caspian interrupts, his tone flat and brusque.
Addie stubs her toe on a loose stone in her rush to catch up and bites back a curse. "What's gotten into you?"
Caspian's pace quickens, his fingers around her wrist more insistent. "How long?"
"Few days. It's not that bad, I can still be useful." In a cruel twist of timing, Addie stumbles again. "Tash's sake, slow down!"
Caspian stops in his tracks, so abruptly she almost collides with his back. For a moment, he seems to consider answering. But then, before Addie can protest or ask what in Tash's name he's on about, he's swung her up, cradling her like a bride. On any other day, the thought would leave her warm. Addie's shoulder burns less than expected, but gods, her head swims.
"What care have you given the wound? Poultice, cleaning, fresh bandages?"
"Sorry!" Addie tucks in her legs a second before her foot catches a faun in the chin. "Yes to the last two, no to the first."
"And the arrowhead?"
"In the forest somewhere. Bit late to fetch it." Addie can't help her wince as Caspian angles them through the narrowing tunnel. "You can put me down now."
In response, Caspian adjusts the arm at her back. Any other time, his hand cupping her arse would be the start of a lovely night. Not now with this sudden barrage of questions. Congratulations to Caspian for not fussing most of the way here, but they're still not alone.
In the castle, she liked having a mark on him because he was never supposed to be hers. Here… here, he's made a place for himself and she hasn't yet, and now she looks like dead weight. Like a burden.
"You're certain you got it out?" Caspian continues.
Addie rolls her eyes. "I think I'd know if I had a piece of metal stuck in my back. Marcos dug it out; I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you all about it. On that note, where did he go?"
The hand on her knee clutches hard enough to bruise. "Arrus will find a place for him. Anything else?"
Addie glances to the cramped walls, her torn skirt skimming the end of a torch. "A few things. Most importantly that I'm quite capable of walking on my own."
Caspian continues as if she hadn't spoken. He's walking sideways now, dodging more creatures than should be awake at this hour. Even amid her frustration, Addie struggles not to gawk.
Fine then. If he won't listen, she'll do it herself. Her shoulder may be on fire and dark spots may be threatening her periphery, but she still has her pride.
Addie pushes off with her back and stretches her toes down. Her feet find the ground, but the sudden rush of pain brings bile up her throat and sends her lurching to the wall.
"Lion's Mane!" Caspian's on her at once, throwing his arm between her and dirt and caging her in.
"Stop babying me," Addie snaps, locking her knees to keep herself upright through the fog of fever. "I survived a fortnight out there."
"Yes, a fortnight!" Caspian's shout cracks through the tunnel and her ears, his voice thick. When he meets her gaze, his eyes are glistening. "I thought you dead, Addie. If that wound keeps festering, you still might be. So you will forgive me if I can't get you to the healer fast enough."
Addie's heart stutters, trips over a scattered rhythm at the rawness in him. She knew Caspian would be angry she went her own way, but this… she wasn't ready to face his terror.
She reaches for him with both hands on instinct and her shoulder instantly punishes the attempt. Caspian's face twists with hers.
"Come on." Caspian's arms fall away and he takes her hand more gently.
Addie swallows her pride and follows without protest. It's better than being carried.
Though it must near midnight, the centaur Rainroot greets them with a reserved yet gracious hello. Caspian finds the manners he lost and answers her slight bow in kind as Addie lingers outside the grotto. Rainroot doesn't look unkind, but there's a gravitas about her, something that makes Addie want to stand straighter, speak more thoughtfully, try to mimic Caspian's politeness.
"I apologise for the late hour," Caspian says as he steps into the hollowed-out grotto. "We arrived moments ago."
Rainroot's tail flicks, though her expression remains neutral as she turns to Addie. "Such arrivals are hard to miss. Over here, my lady."
'My lady?' What nonsense.
Addie steps from behind Caspian to oblige. Two stone slabs, one waist-high for Rainroot and the other as tall as Addie's hip, dominate the space. Dried herbs, fresh flowers, and unidentifiable powders of every colour form a neat line between the two slabs. Rainroot sets aside her stone mortar and pestle and the wild-smelling green mixture half-ground in the bowl.
Caspian's hand clings to hers even as Rainroot bids her sit on the higher slab and he rattles off every detail she told him as he lifts her up before she can argue.
A knife's edge ghosts over Addie's back as Rainroot cuts away the dirty bandages with gentle, precise hands.
"How many days exactly?" the centaur asks.
Addie is acutely aware of Caspian's stare.
"Four," she says.
Water splashes behind her, and a soft, damp rag lands on her back. It's gentle, the lightest possible touch to clean off dirt and blood, but Addie hisses when Rainroot ventures closer to the wound itself. Caspian envelops both her hands, his thumbs stroking her wrists.
Gods, she missed him. How did she go two weeks without his touch?
"When was this last cleaned?" Rainroot dabs harder, her voice flat like Lola's gets when she's trying to hide a frown.
Addie bites back a wince. Caspian's thumbs quicken.
"Last night. But I spent my morning crawling around."
Rainroot hums. "Dirt will worsen the festering. Help her lay down, Majesty; this wound needs flushing."
Caspian begins manoeuvering her before Addie's mind catches up.
"Hang on, flushing?"
Already, Caspian has her nearly to her belly. Addie gets her good arm between her chest and the stone and holds herself up as Caspian shrugs off his cloak and folds it messily.
Well, she tries. Her arm gives out seconds later and there Caspian is, palm flat to her sternum as he lowers her onto the makeshift pillow.
Addie greedily breathes his scent clinging to the cloak - sun-bright trees and leather and the salty musk unique to Caspian. If anyone says a thing about it, she'll blame it on the fever.
Addie realises too late that Rainroot never said what she meant. She would've braced herself if she'd known.
Instead, when the water splashes into the wound and cascades down her back, Addie shrieks.
Caspian sinks to his knees in an instant, pressing their foreheads together as he braces her arms down and keeps her from moving.
"You're alright, Addie," he croons.
Addie bites her cheek until she tastes blood. Rainroot seems to know what she's doing, so instead of kicking, Addie tucks her feet over the slab's edge and locks her knees.
It'll help, won't it? And if it helps, maybe she can pick up sparring again more seriously. Caspian hasn't said they're at war, but every Narnian in the party was laden with Telmarine weapons. If they're not at war now, it must be imminent. Maybe next time she meets Miraz's soldiers, she can hold her own.
Water splashes again. Caspian's worried face blurs, and the taste of copper floods Addie's mouth. The skin of her cheek is almost as raw as her shoulder.
She could help with the cooking too; the Narnians must eat hot food. That's useful. Maybe Rainroot needs another pair of hands, and that'd make use of her studying -
"I must close this wound," says Rainroot. "Try to keep still. Do you need something to bite?"
Addie almost laughs. "Think I've got that covered. Just get it over with. Er, please."
Manners seem necessary for anyone poking around under her skin. Caspian trails lingering kisses over Addie's knuckles, grimacing between each one like he's the one getting splashed and poked and prodded and stitched up.
"Caspian?" Addie's voice scrapes her throat as she stifles a cry. "Fill me in, won't you? I still don't -"
Breathe. In four, out four. In, out, in, out.
Addie clears her throat, bites back the temptation of tears. "I'm still not sure what's going on."
Caspian lingers too long with his lips to her hand. There's nothing to distract her when the needle first pokes through her skin. Addie sinks her teeth into the cloak to cut off her pained grunt.
Her sharp cry snaps Caspian from his reverie. He answers in that rushed, half-coherent way he once explained maps and mathematics and his uncle's latest machinations.
"You've seen the Narnians," Caspian begins. "Hundreds of them still live, scattered throughout the woods in the past three hundred years. Some have lived here in the How, mostly the moles and a few dwarfs. I've promised them peace and a free Narnia in exchange for their help."
Addie lets the saliva-damp cloak fall from her lips. "But war first, right?"
Caspian's jaw clenches as a whimper slithers past her lips.
"Not open war, not if we can help it. We're picking off the patrols and search parties - wearing them down little by little."
Rainroot's needle pierces the sorest edge by the shoulder blade. Though she's not tugging so much as Addie expected, a few pesky tears leak from Addie's eyes.
"Nearly done," says Rainroot.
Addie grips Caspian's hands until her bones creak, gasping around the pain through gritted teeth. "What about the lords? Any allies?"
Caspian briefly kisses her knuckles again. "I've been trying to reach Lord Arlian and a few others. We could use their help, though it'd be no easy alliance."
"Right," Addie coughs. "Centuries of murder does put a damper on things."
With a final, blinding tug, the needle's work is done, leaving the burning ache of battered skin stretched tight in its wake. A moment later, a cool paste soothes the wound before melting into a barrage of stinging. It takes everything Addie has to lie still and let Rainroot work.
"What's in that?" Addie asks, struggling not to wince. "The poultice?"
Rainroot winds clean bandage strips around her back as Caspian abandons Addie's hands to lift her chest.
"Broadleaf plantain and yarrow," Rainroot says. "Also known as staunchweed."
Persistent itching joins the stinging, and Addie swallows a few colourful curses. "Staunchweed? I thought that grew further south?"
"It's uncommon in Narnia," says Rainroot. "But possible to find in summertime in the mountains' rain shadow."
"I can gather more," Addie offers. "It's summer, and the mountains aren't too far."
"Absolutely not," Caspian snaps as he helps her sit up.
"His Majesty is right," says Rainroot as she ties off the bandage. "Rest and do not use your right arm. You'll need weeks to heal if you ever want to use it again. For now, return here every morning."
Every morning? All that trouble when they're at war and everyone needs to do their part and how can she be useful, prove she's on their side if she's resting and -
"She will," says Caspian. "Thank you, Rainroot."
Addie smiles and says the same, promising to drink the cup of willow bark tea Rainroot pushes into her hands as the centaur cleans the minor wound in her stomach. Caspian's frown deepens at the sight of the second cut, but he says nothing.
At times, Addie hates his silences.
Caspian
She's alive.
Addie is alive, and he is never letting her out of his sight again.
He'd rather carry her to his - their - resting place for the night, but in her impossible stubbornness, Addie won't have it. Something about perfectly capable and dignity and I'm alright, Cas, really.
Caspian leads her down the branching tunnels, past alcoves that serve as half-open rooms with one hand in hers and the other clenched in a fist. His arm trembles, muscles twitching in time with his haphazard heartbeat. Addie says nothing, and perhaps that's best. Caspian doesn't trust his frayed nerves to allow him the patience he needs.
She's injured. It's not the time to shake her and demand to know what in the Lion's holy Mane she was thinking. Running off, almost getting herself killed, after they'd agreed to go together and that damned note -
Addie's fingers curl around his wrist, press into the hollow before his thumb. Caspian breathes through the temptation to spin around and ask the dozens of questions burning in his throat.
It's not the time.
The tunnel flares out into the final alcove, illuminated by distant torchlight. It's nothing like Caspian's bedroom, but it's the safest place he's had as his own. He lays his cloak over the two divots in the earth he scooped out and helps Addie into the deeper one so she can lie on her good side. His is wider, more suited for sleeping on his back.
Caspian leaves her only to retrieve a spare set of clothes he stole in the latest supply raid. At the time, he picked it up because his nightshirt isn't ideal war-making attire. Addie will drown in the shirt and pants, but it's better than the alternative. Her dress is bloody, filthy, and ragged from a fortnight in the forest, and Rainroot emphasised the importance of keeping clean.
When he returns, Addie's breathing is deep and even. She doesn't stir as he kneels beside her, nor when he traces the curve of her cheek. Her face is pinker than he remembers, sun-kissed and bright with fever.
She never should have travelled so far. She must have traipsed through all the western forests if it took her a fortnight to make it this close to Beruna.
Caspian tries twice to wake her. On the second gentle shake, Addie stirs, blinking up at him and smiling. If she keeps smiling like that, all dimples and pink lips and sleep-clouded eyes, he'll be in danger of forgetting how upset he is.
"You need to change," Caspian murmurs. "Healer's orders."
Addie yawns and lets him pull her up to sit. "Your orders, you mean. Rainroot said nothing of the sort."
"It was heavily implied."
Addie doesn't argue as he peels off her dress and slips her into the shirt. He was right; she's swimming in extra fabric, even with the ample curve of her chest. Caspian rolls up a third of the sleeves before her hands peek through.
Addie plucks at the shoulder seam hanging low on her arm. "One of yours?"
"Close enough." It would have been, but more importantly, this shirt is clean.
Addie scrunches her nose at the pants. "I suppose those are practical, given the circumstances."
Caspian's hand lingers at her hip as he helps her into them. "The only practical thing I want you doing for the next four weeks is resting."
"Four weeks?" Addie knots the waist ties with surprising dexterity given the state of her shoulder. "I thought you said we're at war."
Caspian's temper flares in his chest, weeks of worry and frustration bubbling over his tongue. Is she so eager to get herself killed?
His hand falls away from her waist. "We are," Caspian says. "You are not."
Addie's face hardens, her eyes glinting as if he's insulted her. "I'm here, aren't I? So I need to help."
It's that kind of thinking that almost got her killed. Why else would she have -
"The most helpful thing you can do," Caspian murmurs, his throat tight as he cups her cheek, "is to heal. Once you're better, no one, least of all me, will stop you. Alright?"
Addie's brows knit together, but then she looks down and Caspian knows he's said enough. She's heard him.
"I'll hold you to that," she whispers.
"I know you will."
Until then, at least he can fall asleep with her at his side.
A/N: *rubs hands together* Alrighty, who's ready for the pain train? Personally, I can't wait 😈 Please feel free to yell at me, it gives me great joy.
Chapter 27 Preview:
Caspian squeezes Addie's hand on reflex. They can survive another week; Miraz hasn't pinned them down yet.
It is Caspian's duty to make sure his uncle does not.