A/N: Okay, I am actually sincerely sorry for this chapter. It wrecked me in the rewrites, and now I get to share the ouchies. Please mind the content warnings on this one especially; we're entering some messed-up territory. 😬
If it's any consolation, I did outline two back-to-back smut scenes for Part 5! So! Look forward to that!
Chapter 39 Content Warnings: discussion of murder, discussion of possible pregnancy, involuntary sedation, herbal birth control/contraception (slight dubcon in that Addie's decision is compromised)*
Chapter 39: love you enough to let you go
Caspian
The How's halls and tunnels are choked with gossip. Word of the Kings and Queens is spreading like wildfire, and the murmurs now include Aslan. 'A miracle!' say the Narnians. 'A miracle come at last!' They have not been forsaken; Aslan will set Narnia to rights!
Caspian smiles and nods and hums cordial agreement when addressed directly. He bandies hope because the Narnians need it, and who is he to contradict them? If Aslan and the Kings and Queens stoke their courage, then let them bask in their rewarded faith.
Caspian prays he seems sincere, and keeps his passing conversations short for fear he fails.
The joy of miracles isn't entirely lost on him, but this miracle only appeared when his faith was ground into nothing, when his hands were red with Addie's blood and she almost slipped right through his fingers.
How much closer to tragedy must he come for the next miracle, and the next? How many more miracles must he pay for in blood? Not even his blood, which he would gladly give, but the blood of those he loves?
What difference is there between a black ritual demanding blood, and a miracle demanding the same?
Caspian forces another smile for two Bulgy Bears wondering if they have enough honey saved for the Kings and Queens and hurries on his way. Before meeting the war council, he must see Addie safely out of the How.
There is only one person he trusts for the task.
Marcos is a Telmarine soldier in the truest sense of the word. He helped – encouraged, said Arrus – Addie to circumvent orders and fought like a demon on the training fields more for the pleasure of combat than to be useful. But he also got Addie out of the castle, kept her safe in the forest until Caspian found her.
He kept her alive when Caspian could not. When Caspian chose his kingdom, left Addie to her fate and rode into the forest, it was Marcos who saved her life. Caspian will get the full story to be sure, but there is little question that Marcos took care of her.
And not an hour ago, when Nikabrik had a knife to Addie's throat, Caspian failed her. He nearly gave Narnia to the White Witch, and Addie almost died while he was right there.
Because of him. Because of his love for her.
Caspian swallows against a tight throat and musters only a nod for the trio of Red Dwarfs musing amongst themselves if Aslan will lead the battle charge.
Addie has never been safe with him nearby. He thought he would could protect her. He was wrong, so wrong.
Damn his pride.
From the day he met her, he's put her in danger just by loving her and still caring what happens to Narnia.
Marcos, however, has no kingdom to command his attention – no duties, no responsibilities to anyone but himself. He is the only person with nothing to lose but Addie, and he's callous enough to do anything to keep her.
All Caspian has to do is concede her. Hand her over.
Tash, what a thought.
Caspian finds Marcos in the armoury, scowling at the nearest anvil as a faun sharpens his sword. Ever since their confrontation, Caspian has paid as little attention to Marcos as possible. But now, Caspian needs his help.
Marcos is perhaps the one person left in Narnia who can guarantee Addie's safety.
None of the Narnians can; if the battle goes ill, Miraz will comb all of Narnia for survivors, and no Narnian can pass for human. Sending her with Falmus or another Narnian would only put her in worse danger. No, Caspian must send her somewhere she can hide, somewhere she can blend in and disappear. He has to send her with someone willing to kill for her, with no loyalty to anyone or anything but her. Marcos' loyalty for anyone may be dubious, but even if he only wants Addie for himself, he won't hesitate to spill blood to keep her alive.
His hands in fists, Caspian breathes in the sharpness of forge fires and molten metal, lets the loud hammering drown out his thoughts so he can shore up his composure. Marcos is his last hope – Addie's last hope. There is no time for sparring or jealousy-tinged barbs. Only the truth: that Marcos has saved her life before, and he must do so again.
Caspian schools his face into polite distance as he approaches, blinking as a cloud of smoke burns his eyes.
"Marcos," he says, as business-like as he can manage with the memory of Addie's blood on his hands. "I would speak with you."
Marcos lifts an eyebrow, but doesn't look up from watching the faun's work.
So Caspian says the one thing he knows will command Marcos' attention.
"It's Addie."
Instantly, Marcos turns, his eyes appraising.
"She finally come to her senses, then?"
A bitter huff of a chuckle nearly escapes Caspian's lips before reality tempers the misplaced spike of humour. Addie may be asleep on his cloak, cowed and quiet from brushing so close to death, but he can't imagine her ever coming to her senses as either Marcos or Caspian himself would define it. She loves and makes her choices in defiance of what Caspian would call logic.
He loves her for it, but he can't afford to let that stubbornness kill her.
"No," Caspian answers, pushing past the sting of annoyance that he must ask this rival for anything. "But she must, and I would have your help."
For a long moment, Marcos is silent. Then he seems to shake off his surprise and gestures to the dozen Narnians manning the smithy.
"Don't you have subjects for that?"
Caspian bites back an acerbic reply, fire turning to ash on his tongue. No Narnian can keep Addie safe in Miraz's Narnia – and Marcos should know that.
"Not for this," Caspian says. And then, because he will sacrifice his pride to save Addie's life: "This is something only you can do."
Marcos' eyebrows jump, a momentary lapse in his vacillating aloofness, as fleeting as the sparks that shower and die from a blacksmith's hammer.
"Well then," Marcos says with a slight bow. "Lead the way."
Without looking back, Caspian turns on his heel and makes for the far tunnel. Marcos' footsteps – heavy, booted – keep pace as the tunnel's shadows wrap close and cool, the metallic smithy smoke giving way to sap-sweet torch smoke, heady and viscous in his lungs.
When they round the bend, Caspian faces Marcos, this abrasive, necessary salvation for the woman they both care for. Jaw clenched, Caspian breathes through the temptation of antagonisation and forces his pride to a far corner of his mind.
"Not much room for taking each other's heads off." Marcos points between the two nearest torches. "Fire doesn't go well with brawls. Friend of mine burned off half his beard that way. Not a problem for you, though, is it?"
"Nor for you." Caspian clasps his hands behind him, nails of one digging into the opposite wrist. "You have little love for this place, and you care not whether my uncle or I sit on the throne. Your only concern seems to be Addie."
Marcos snorts. "Jealous?"
Caspian's teeth grind. He should be grateful to Marcos for keeping Addie alive when he could not – did not – but all he wants to do is start a fight neither of them has time for.
He wills away the impulse.
"You got Addie out of the castle. Kept her alive long enough to get her here."
Marcos hums. "I did."
"You saved her life," Caspian continues. "Can you do it again?"
Marcos shifts further into the torchlight, his frown deepening.
"I can't take on that army any more than you can."
You want her alive? Send her away.
"I'm not asking you to fight," Caspian says. His palms itch at the thought, but he forces the words past his lips. "I'm asking you to take her and run."
Seeing Marcos' eyes flashing wide, his nonchalance briefly cracked, might be satisfying any other time. Considering the circumstances, Caspian's stomach twists as Marcos clears his throat and collects himself.
"It's about time one of you listened to me," Marcos says. "Guess you do care about her."
Caspian recognises the bait for what it is. Even so, his knuckles pop.
"We both know that was never in question," Caspian says.
"Still, that's quite a leap. You get sick of her? She's not for the faint of heart."
What would Marcos know about Addie's heart? He clearly mishandled it in the past.
Caspian's knuckles crack again.
"Can your family be trusted?"
Marcos crosses his arms and leans against the wall, but his tone is serious.
"Yes, unlike yours," Marcos says. "They have no loyalty to Miraz."
The shadows cool at Caspian's neck. Then how did Marcos come to be a soldier? The guard captain's records cited voluntary enlistment.
"Yet you joined Miraz's army," Caspian says. "Why?"
"Coin."
At Caspian's silence, Marcos glances away with a sigh.
"Call it a family feud," Marcos says. "You'd know all about that, too, I wager."
Caspian frowns. His 'family feud' is a war, and he will not send Addie into another fight where she could be collateral damage.
"What was the feud about?" Caspian asks.
Marcos straightens, resting his head on the wall.
"Brother joined with Sopespian, so I joined with Miraz. Half the village tried to talk me out of it."
"And the other half?"
"Didn't care or told me to watch my back," says Marcos. "I won't be the first deserter they've harboured, or the last."
Caspian nods. It bodes well for Addie if they're willing to risk death to protect fugitives.
"And their loyalty?" Caspian asks. "If not to Miraz, then to whom?"
Marcos shrugs and looks away. "Themselves," he answers. "We're a small village; everyone looks out for their own."
Caspian hesitates. Addie is no blood relation, and she has no prior ties to Marcos' village. Will they shield her from Miraz's soldiers should the need arise?
"Will they consider Addie 'their own'?" Caspian asks.
Marcos meets his gaze steadily, his face blank but for the fire brightening his eyes.
"If she's with me, then yes," Marcos says. "I'll make sure of it."
"See that you do." Caspian tries for authority, but the words come out soft, closer to a plea than a command. The bitter flames in his chest lick at his heart.
This is Addie's best chance for survival, Caspian reminds himself as he ignores Marcos' fleeting smirk. Marcos' village will shield her, and Marcos himself will protect her. From there, Addie can hide until the immediate danger passes and strike out on her own if she wishes.
The notion soothes some of the tension in Caspian's shoulders before common sense brings it rushing back. He shouldn't hope Addie leaves Marcos – and safety – behind. It would defeat the entire purpose.
"She'll be furious, you know," Marcos says, picking at a fingernail. "The girl's a wildcat; almost scratched my eyes out last time I saved her. Don't suppose I can talk you into knocking her out?"
Caspian stiffens, his shoulders coiled for want of a spar to release the tension. Is that what happened in the escape?
"No," Caspian answers instantly. "I could never strike her."
Marcos sighs, rolling his eyes. "There's more than one way to do it. I'd wager that healer has something useful."
He's not wrong; Caspian witnessed Rainroot use sedatives on many a patient after these latest battles.
"Or find some rope," Marcos continues. "Just keep her quiet, or she'll alert every scouting party within ten miles before we've even set foot outside."
Unfortunately, Marcos is right. Caspian wants to think Addie is smarter than that, but she's stubborn too, and she will likely try to fight her way back.
Unless he ensures she can't.
He wishes he could depend on her to see this is necessary. To trust her to save herself, as she once trusted him.
But he can't.
"I'll see to Addie," Caspian says. "But first, tell me of the escape."
Although Marcos kept Addie alive, she still came bearing wounds – the arrow to her shoulder could have cost her the use of her arm if it weren't for Queen Lucy's cordial.
Marcos scowls, brow furrowed in annoyance or… guilt, perhaps?
"I went looking soon as Glozelle sent us out. You know your uncle had three of us assigned just to her? I tried to go alone, but Glozelle wouldn't hear of it." Marcos rubs his chin, scratching along his jaw. "Had to kill those two."
Good, Caspian thinks. That's proof Marcos will strike down old comrades if the need arises, assuming he speaks true.
"How did they know Addie wouldn't be with me?" Caspian asks.
Marcos scuffs his boot in the dirt. "They didn't, just covering every possibility. I tried to say she'd be with you – hoped she wouldn't be that stupid – but my credibility wasn't where it should have been."
"Why not?"
Addie mentioned Marcos warned her of Miraz months before the escape. If he was working in the shadows to keep Miraz's focus elsewhere, Marcos has done more for Addie than Caspian thought.
"Your fault," says Marcos, with an unforgiving half-smile. "Both of you. I told her to keep her distance after that maid. It was the smart thing to do."
"Anna?" Caspian guesses. At Marcos' grunt of affirmation, he frowns. "Addie was grieving; I couldn't abandon her."
Couldn't. Wouldn't.
Addie was his first sip of water in a desert of loneliness, years of longing for a home he couldn't name until he found it. How could he have left her to be buried in guilt as much as grief? How could he have done anything but hold her, stroke her hair, and kiss her brow when she jerked awake at all hours of the night? Her eyes had grown dull, her hands restless and hesitant when she curled into his chest. Even now the sorrow follows her, makes her believe anyone she cares about – including Caspian himself – is better off without her.
Perhaps if he had done then what he must, she'd still be safe.
Marcos shrugs, his shoulders tense.
"She would've been safer."
Yes.
Perhaps.
It's impossible to say for sure.
"In my uncle's Narnia?" Caspian says instead.
"Yes. I could've looked after her if you'd stayed away." Marcos' tone sharpens, an edge like steel.
"I tried," Caspian says, insists, stepping forward into Marcos' face, but did he? Did he try hard enough to push Addie out of his circle, to extricate her from the danger that stalked him like a viper through every room and tower?
He could have sent her away. Should have, perhaps, but he would have broken her heart when she was mourning, when already she couldn't sleep through the night without her tears staining his pillows.
It seemed too cruel at the time, Caspian remembers. And he, selfishly, needed her nearby. But now…
"Your uncle's Narnia is more than survivable," Marcos continues. "Just have to get your hands dirty."
The soldier steps back and looks Caspian up and down.
"Not that you'd know anything about that."
Caspian nearly laughs – a bitter, forced substitute for walking away and never having to speak to Marcos again.
He's leading a war. His hands are stained with the blood of hundreds – dirtier than any common soldier's. But Marcos doesn't mean armies or soldiers; he's speaking of something else.
Marcos shifts his weight once, twice, lifts his chin when Caspian says nothing.
I killed for her. What have you done? Left her as bait to save your own skin?
"You got your hands dirty for her," Caspian guesses.
"More than you have," Marcos tosses back.
There is something… unsettled about him. A strange light in his eyes, too bright for anger.
"Tell me," Caspian says.
Marcos clenches his jaw, his gaze unwavering.
"I killed for her. That what you want to hear? That I'll kill for her again, so you don't have to?"
"No." The denial leaves his mouth before Caspian can stop it. Before he realises it's true.
"Yes," he amends. "In a way."
And then, in a rare pocket of Marcos' silence, he asks who. Because if a man like Marcos wears scars of regret, if he baits the question thrice over and inches closer to the truth every time, this is important to him. He mentioned killing two of Glozelle's men the night of the escape, but now he's talking about someone else.
And it's related to Addie.
Marcos shrugs, the forced nonchalance a confession in itself.
"If you have to ask, you already know what I mean."
"Anna?" Caspian answers, more confirmation than guess. Marcos' damaged credibility, his defensiveness, his insistence that killing for Addie dirtied his hands worse than a prince leading an army into battle and bloodshed – what else could Marcos regret so much?
"Don't look so surprised," says Marcos. "Did you think it was a happy accident?"
Caspian shakes his head, a paltry denial. It turns his stomach – but not as much as it should. He remembers the relief taking root like a weed alongside his sympathy for Addie's loss. Poisonous, vicious, the thought that at least she was still alive, that he had the privilege of holding her most nights. That for all her sadness, all her guilt, Addie was still there and his.
Lion, it's vile, he knows it's vile.
Addie will need a vile, ruthless bodyguard if she is to survive in Miraz's Narnia.
Still, Caspian's throat tightens.
"You killed –"
"Not killed," Marcos cuts in. "Delivered, for questioning. Didn't take a genius to figure out how that'd end."
Less abhorrent, but a betrayal nonetheless. And the deed painted something on Marcos' face Caspian never thought to see.
Guilt.
If Addie were here, Marcos would be dodging a sword by now.
Caspian blurts the next question before he can second-guess it, before the words sink in as the ugliness they are.
Miraz's Narnia has been, is, and will always be ugly.
"Would you have killed her yourself?"
Marcos' eyes flash, his upper lip curling up his teeth. "Excuse me?"
Caspian presses on. He must know what sort of man Marcos is, how far his ruthlessness runs. If he turns Addie over to him, Marcos must be the sort who will make the choices Caspian cannot. Has not. Would not.
"If your captain, if Miraz himself ordered my lover brought in dead, would you have killed Anna in Addie's stead?"
The torch behind Marcos pops, spitting sparks onto his shoulders. Marcos never flinches, only swallows and lifts his chin high.
"Yes."
The breath rushes from Caspian's lungs.
So be it.
Marcos has the stomach for killing, and he cares enough about Addie to kill – sacrifice – someone innocent for her sake. He is the only person Caspian knows who will keep Addie alive no matter how terrible the cost. Including sacrificing people she loves.
With Marcos, she can disappear. She'll be as safe as he can make her.
"You leave immediately," Caspian says, ignoring the sick pinch in his stomach, the acrid smoke in his nostrils. "We have four horses, kept off the first main tunnel; take whichever you wish. Gather what supplies you need from the cache at the tunnel's end and meet me in the main cavern in twenty minutes."
Caspian turns away the moment Marcos grunts agreement. Addie once made a similar choice. The time has come for him to break their promises, to send her away as he should have long before now.
Better off without me, Addie once cried on a hillside, her face streaked with tears.
Yes, Caspian thinks to the memory. You are.
So long as she survives, he will face whatever fate awaits him in this next battle.
"Not so fast," Marcos calls, just as Caspian passes by.
Caspian stops, only turning halfway.
"Is she pregnant?"
Pregnant? Caspian chokes on smoke and dank cave air, his chest burning as he withholds a sharp gasp.
She's not. They haven't lain together in –
Caspian stands frozen, feet rooted to the uneven ground, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He laid with her not half an hour ago.
"No," he says, a hoarse denial he will make true.
Addie mentioned a morning tea she took at the castle, something to prevent his… seed from taking root. She was wise to take it, wiser than he who only thought to ask after they'd lain together. Surely Rainroot has something similar, and surely Addie won't protest.
"She better not be," Marcos says, advancing when Caspian does not face him. "I'll keep her alive, but only her. I'm not saving any heirs you might've bred into her belly."
"Only Addie," Caspian says, willing steadiness into his voice. "I'll make certain."
"Good."
Marcos is right. Addie expecting would be a death sentence. If anyone recognised her, saw her belly round with child, Miraz would never stop hunting her. His soldiers would find and kill her and the babe within days. But childless, if Addie and Marcos avoid detection for a year, Miraz may decide she's not worth the trouble.
Caspian's hands fist. Addie's in enough danger being loved by him.
Again, Caspian walks away. Again, Marcos calls him back.
"If by some miracle you win the war, I expect a reward for this."
Blood money, payment for the lives he will take for Addie's sake. That's fair, however distasteful.
"A general's salary," Caspian answers. "If you return her to me entirely unharmed."
Marcos' tone darkens, and Caspian doesn't look to see if he's smiling or sneering.
"I have your word?"
"If I have yours."
"Agreed."
"Agreed." Caspian strides away as quickly as his legs will take him, leaving behind this scheming and hastening on to the next betrayal.
The more he hurries, the more precious last minutes he can steal with Addie.
Addie
Addie wakes alone, wrapped in Caspian's cloak with her damp clothes warm against her skin. Beyond the alcove, the hum of passing hoofbeats and clanking armour jolts wakefulness into her tired limbs.
Where is Caspian? Is this steady commotion the precursor to another battle? No, he wouldn't have left without saying goodbye, would he?
Addie shivers despite the warmth of Caspian's cloak. If it's not a battle, why is everyone rushing about? Where is he, doesn't he know she doesn't want to be alone after –
Addie scrambles to her feet before the thought completes. The cloak falls open, the cold piercing her damp clothes, stained pink from this morning's…
Cold steel under her jaw, muscles stretched too far, a warm seep down her neck, choking, drowning in her own –
Incident. This morning's incident.
Teeth chattering, Addie shoves on her oversized boots and hurries into the flow of bodies and the heavy smell of damp fur, chainmail kissed in rust, and the occasional herbal whiff of a poultice. She asks anyone who'll listen where Caspian is. Finally, a minotaur with dark, guileless eyes directs her to Rainroot and Addie takes off for the healer's grotto.
That's good; he must be seeing to his arm.
Caspian still has three injuries - arm, neck, hand. Why isn't he with the girl who had the cordial? Lucy, that was her name - Queen Lucy. Caspian should be downing however much cordial juice he needs to be in perfect health before the next battle.
Addie tugs his cloak tighter around her shoulders and weaves faster through the Narnians.
There he is, hunched over Rainroot's table with a steaming cup in his hands as they converse.
Rainroot sees her first and nudges Caspian.
Something deep in Addie's chest trembles when he turns to watch her approach. His eyes… Caspian's gaze rests heavily on her face, weighs down her steps.
Caspian holds out the cup and a minty scent she hasn't smelled in weeks drifts up to Addie's nose. Post-coital tea – or morning-after tea, as Claudia called it.
Addie hesitates, frowning at the steaming liquid. There's something else beneath the mint, another herb.
"What is this?"
Caspian's mouth pinches into a smile, his eyes dark and fathomless. "We laid together. This should be similar to your tea at the castle."
"It smells different," Addie says. It's earthier, muskier, with a bitter afternote. Claudia's tea was minty and sweet, heady with familiarity.
Rainroot glances up from her mortar and pestle, the rhythmic grind of stone on stone a soothing backdrop.
"Your castle tea likely only had pennyroyal," the centaur says. "You may know it as pudding grass."
"Pudding mint," Addie remembers. She didn't press Claudia for specifics; she only cared that her monthlies came on schedule.
The centaur hums and the grinding stops, leaving a fragile quiet.
"Wild carrot seeds and blue ginseng enhance the tea's potency," says Rainroot. "Muskier than willow bark; you will taste bitterness."
Gingerly, Addie takes the cup. More potent is sensible in the middle of a war, especially after so much strain between her and Caspian.
Sensible, yet her heart squeezes.
"It's just a precaution," Caspian murmurs, his voice gentle as a caress.
Addie takes a careful sip. Sharp mint and cloying bitterness war on her tongue, poorly tempered by the musk Rainroot mentioned. A bitter tonic, though a wise one.
Addie grimaces and sips again. Her tea warms her belly and leaves her tongue dry.
"You left," she says to Caspian. "Is the army here?"
Caspian's hand ghosts down her back – too light to be comforting, to overcome the sting of waking up alone.
"They camp at the field's edge," he says. "We're ready."
His dark eyes bore into her, his concern a heavy blanket. Addie leans into his touch, tucks into his side as she drinks and goosebumps sprout on her arms. For all its bitterness, the tea does a marvellous job chasing away the How's chill.
"And the…" Addie remembers her manners at the last moment, the warm spice of Lucy's cordial flashing in her memory. "Kings and Queens? Have you talked to them yet?"
Caspian shakes his head and brushes a stray curl out of her eyes, his thumb tracing the shell of her ear.
"Not yet," he answers. "I'm going there now. Walk with me?"
Addie nods, sips. Caspian waits patiently until she's finished the tea and returns the cup to Rainroot.
The centaur gives her a bag of herbs in return.
"Every morning for a week," says Rainroot. "To be sure."
Addie murmurs thanks and tucks the burlap pouch into her left pocket.
Sensible. It's sensible.
When Addie presses herself into the comfort of his arm, Caspian's hand envelops her fingers, his thumb tracing her knuckles. He sets a quick pace through the How, tugging her when she falters instead of slowing down.
"How long was I out?" Addie slides behind him to make room for an armoured minotaur.
Caspian angles to tuck her into his side, his leather vest cool against her cheek.
"Not long," he murmurs. "Are you well?"
"Better," Addie says. She's infinitely better with her right arm functional, but waking up alone was unpleasant. "Don't do that anymore."
Caspian squeezes them past a pair of satyrs with a brief peck atop her head. "Do what?"
Addie yawns and wraps her arms tighter around Caspian's waist. Stupid armour, always in the way. Stupid war, that makes all this metal and leather and weaponry necessary.
"Leave before I wake up," Addie mumbles into his shoulder. "S'not nice."
Caspian's arm tightens, the round of his bicep tensing beneath his chainmail sleeve. He says something about not wanting to and "I'll try, Addie," but he's not listening. He's walking too fast, strides too long for Addie to keep up.
Right, Kings and Queens. He must be late for the meeting. Addie lengthens her strides until her balance suffers for it, because Caspian's holding her tight enough the How's chill isn't bothersome and he isn't slowing down even as she huffs and swallows a petulant grumble.
Addie presses her lips shut and focuses on keeping pace with Caspian. Better to jog every few steps than be left behind.
Caspian stops when the tunnel opens up into the main cavern and the ringing of smithy hammers drowns out coherent thought. He stands there staring silently at the bustling scene, but it's alright because now he's stationary and holding her close again.
Maybe he'll be late for his war meeting; maybe he already is. It doesn't matter, Addie decides. If Caspian wants to stand here doing nothing but people-watching with his cheek on her head, she's happy to indulge him. So long as he holds her like this, Caspian can do whatever he likes.
Caspian
He doesn't allow himself to look at her. He can't; if he looks into Addie's bleary eyes again, he won't be able to do it.
Caspian presses a kiss to her hair and wills himself to find patience. Marcos will arrive any moment.
Caspian swallows the nerves balled in his throat. This is the right thing. This is the best he can do for her. If he accomplishes nothing else, at least he's given Addie her best chance to survive.
Addie nuzzles closer, her deepening breaths warm on his neck.
Perhaps this isn't necessary. Perhaps with the Kings and Queens, the Narnians stand a better chance and Aslan will –
You'd have done the same.
Caspian grits his teeth. No matter the Narnians' chances, it's too dangerous for her. Addie's not a warrior, and Miraz won't risk that she carries another heir to the throne. If Caspian is to lead as he must, he has to know she's safe. He can't keep a clear head if she's here.
Across the sea of blacksmithing, Marcos appears with a towering bay steed, stolen before the Narnians had to stop the raids. The soldier has a kinder touch than Caspian judged he would; he pats the horse's arched neck with practised ease as it follows him obediently through the blazing fires and hissing steam clouds.
Addie hasn't yet looked up; for now, she's oblivious. Caspian sends a silent prayer to Aslan that Rainroot's sleeping draught was sufficiently strong. They agreed on a half dose so Addie won't be unconscious for too long. She may struggle when she realises what he intends, but Caspian would rather wrestle a weakened Addie onto the horse than leave her totally at Marcos' mercy.
Caspian tucks his fingers to Addie's neck, counting her slightly slowed pulse as Marcos and the horse clop closer. His own heartbeat thunders in his ears.
Caspian stands straighter than he needs to, especially with Addie in his arms and turning belatedly to see who's approaching, but it's difficult to stand in sight of Marcos without prickling. They've only managed one civil conversation.
Marcos doesn't glance his way, unbothered with anything that isn't the horse.
Perhaps 'civil' is too kind a word.
Caspian holds Addie tighter, wills the memory of her body to linger.
This is necessary. This is what he should have done the moment he realised he loved her.
Addie lifts her head to stare at Marcos.
"Going somewhere?" Addie tosses slurred words across the awkwardness.
"Home." Marcos lifts the reins over the horse's head and settles them at the saddle pommel. He doesn't swing up yet.
Caspian hesitates. He shouldn't. So he forces himself to see Addie dead in the cavern, in a tunnel, her eyes open and unseeing. Forces himself to remember the sea of blood that soaked his knees only this morning. He imagines a Narnia without her in it.
It's enough.
Caspian meets the question in Addie's eyes without wavering.
"He's done enough for us," Caspian says. "I've agreed he can leave before the battle begins."
Addie's eyebrows lift, but she doesn't resist as Caspian walks them both closer. She leans heavier on him, wobbling through her steps.
"Back to your family, then?" she asks.
Marcos nods, leaning casually against the saddle. "I figure it's time for a reunion. Desperate times and all that."
"Especially for deserters." Addie's words blur at the edges, heavy from the herb Rainroot didn't mention to her.
Marcos glances at Caspian. That's all it takes, a single glance. In some strange way, Caspian's chest warms at how quickly Addie realises. Rainroot's draught didn't dull her mind as much as he thought.
Addie stops, stiffening to steel beneath his arm. Caspian digs in his heels, grasping her waist before she can pull away.
"Caspian?"
"You're no warrior, Addie," he whispers, the truth bitter on his tongue. She's not a soldier, not bred for war like he was. This isn't her fight, and he refuses to lose her on a battlefield. "You shouldn't be here for this."
Addie's voice trembles with her body. "You said we'd do this together."
Caspian finds a soft, sad smile for her, resolve cut through with regret.
"You once chose differently."
How easily her hand once slipped from his. How right she was, and how very late he is in realising it.
Better off.
"You were right," he says.
Addie ducks under his arm and lurches three steps before he catches her with arms thrown tight round her shoulders, each of her wrists in his hands.
Addie shoves her elbows uselessly into his armoured sides, but the sedative weakens her, buckles her knees as she tries to fight. Caspian lifts her until her toes scrabble over the ground and drags her to Marcos, who's already vaulted onto the horse.
Addie kicks feebly, her head lolling. She's stubborn, always so stubborn – especially with risking her own safety.
In this, he can't let her.
Too many people have died for him already. She cannot – must not – be one of them.
Addie's garbled, fading curses ring inside Caspian's skull as he lifts her up to Marcos. The soldier settles Addie in front of him and wraps an arm tight around her waist.
Caspian tries not to see how Marcos' hand cups Addie's hip. Tries not to notice how Addie's head lolls onto Marcos' shoulder as her body betrays her.
It's not the time for jealousy. Addie's life is far more important.
"Just for a little while," Caspian murmurs, holding her knee so tightly his knuckles whiten. "I'll find you after, Addie."
Addie tips sideways. Caspian pushes her upright, back into Marcos' hold. She kicks at his stomach, her boot barely registering through his chest plate. Caspian almost wishes it would bruise so he could have an echo of her presence more than memory. Perhaps then the claws tearing at his stomach would quiet, chased away by pain he deserves.
This is for her own good. It's to save her life.
"If anything happens to her," he says to Marcos, "I will mete it to you thrice over."
Marcos huffs, misplaced amusement morphing his frown to a smirk.
"You're welcome."
Marcos kicks the horse into a canter. After a quick pivot toward the How's only door, he races past with Addie – unconscious at last – tight to his chest.
Caspian stands there long after the hoofbeats fade.
She will hate him for this. But perhaps one day, given enough time, Addie may forgive him.
After all, he forgave her.
A/N: Anyone remember that line in Chapter 17, when Addie said: "don't you dare toss me aside because you think it's better for me. Don't you dare"? And then when she said: "I don't need your protection, I just need you"? Or in Chapter 19, when Caspian was blaming himself for Addie's grief and Anna's death "because he wasn't strong enough to let her go"? Aaaand Ch. 33 when Addie was like oh I don't deserve him and "he'll realise it one day and then he'll change his mind, say she was right"?
Yeah I was a little unhinged for this one, I'm sorry. I promise we're getting to a happier-ish tone soon! In the words of Queen Susan, "wars don't last forever."
*Updated A/N, 6/24/2022: Okay, if you're in the U.S., you've probably heard about a certain Court decision by now. In light of that, I wanted to talk for a second about Addie's state of mind during all this. So, we know she was taking a contraceptive tea for months prior to this. But I think we also see that here, Addie's a bit more unsure. She knows something is wrong about how Caspian's suddenly very on top of the tea situation, when typically she took care of it. She's suspicious, and I think for the first time, we see her unsure if she wants to take the tea. But she also thinks the tea is sensible - a safe choice, because her being pregnant would be dangerous for everyone involved. But the tea is a choice. Addie decides to drink it. Importantly, here, her decision is also compromised - Caspian isn't telling her everything, and she knows it. So a question you might be thinking is well, if Addie knew Caspian was about to send her away, and with Marcos, no less, would she still drink the tea? Would she still want to drink the tea? How much is this still her choice if she is being deceived?
These are questions I had throughout the writing, revising, and editing process. I'm still thinking about these questions, because there aren't easy answers here. Every person should have the right to make these decisions for themselves. Deciding to engage in sexual activity, and which ones. Deciding whether to take contraception, and what kinds and when. Deciding, if a pregnancy occurs, if they will, using their own body, gestate and give birth to this new life. In Chapter 38, Caspian explicitly tells Marcos he will make sure it's just Addie. That he will ensure Addie is not pregnant. With that dialogue and Caspian's interiority, I think another question is that if Addie did not want to take the tea, would Caspian try to force her? Would he try to convince her? Would he let her refusal stand?
Because Addie agrees, we don't have a definitive answer. This is fiction; this story is words on a page. These are not real people. So Caspian could, in theory, have done any of those things. Addie could, in theory, have refused. It all came down to what I wanted to write, and the story I wanted to tell with these characters. For the story I'm choosing to tell, Addie did drink the tea, even if part of her didn't want to. I think Addie understood the dangers, even though Caspian withheld information from her, and she chose accordingly.
I think my purpose in writing this story beat was to explore these questions for myself. Questions of agency, of who can make what choices, and why they choose what they do, and how they feel their choices are limited (or not limited), is a broad theme of What Grows. I hope that in exploring these questions, even and especially around such personal, intense, and intimate choices as whether to possibly carry a child or not, I've given you, my dear readers, a safe space (hopefully one of many available to you) to explore these questions for yourselves too, if you wish to.
It's all about choices. And every person has the right to choose.
Chapter 40 Preview:
King Edmund's stare softens. "Your lover? Future queen?"
"Yes," says Caspian. "Both."