A/N: Apologies for this chapter going up a day late! I've blown through a lot of my pre-revised drafts so I'm writing against the clock every week now 😅 That might be why this chapter is under 5k, for once!
Chapter 50 Content Warnings: mention of pregnancy/children, menstruation, reference to prior assault, portrayal of PTSD. In the last scene in the chapter, Addie's PTSD involves blaming herself quite heavily, so skip if you need to ❤
Chapter 50: stay a while
Caspian
She would have wanted it. She would have wanted his -
I would have wanted that small piece of you.
Lion's Mane, what is he to make of that?
Addie's breath warms his chest, so steady, as if she didn't speak a desire he would never have uttered aloud to her, not yet, not when the ring isn't completed and he hasn't worked out how to even ask her to be his wife, his queen, and - someday, someday, not now - the mother of his heirs.
Of his children. Their children.
Caspian's mind races, flitting between imagining Addie round with child, the glow in her cheeks, a baby at her breast, their baby, wisps of black hair on tan skin, glittering hazel eyes like hers, small wrinkled hands, rolls of baby fat, ten tiny toes. His, hers, theirs, a precious new life made together.
She wants that?
Even still?
Would have. She said would have.
Caspian nudges her awake, combing through Addie's hair until she stirs. Rude as it is to disturb her rest, how can he bear not knowing?
"Would you still?" he murmurs.
"Hm? Would I what?" Addie hums, her eyelashes tickling his neck.
Caspian tries three times before he can ask aloud.
"A child. Would you still want that?"
With me?
Addie shifts, her back flexing under his palm.
He waits.
"I don't know," Addie says. Her voice is hoarse; from emotion or their earlier lovemaking - fucking - he can't say.
Caspian kisses her hair. That's… fair. He shouldn't have hoped for a different answer.
Addie speaks again, her head heavy on his shoulder.
"I think so. Someday."
She would?
Hope bucks to life in Caspian's chest, sharp as a blade, his heart beating bloody and emboldened. Desire he'd given so little thought to before yesterday curls in his lungs, twines between his ribs, a choking vine stealing his breath.
The moment the goldsmith finishes the ring, Caspian will kneel at her feet.
Someday. She said someday.
Caspian clutches Addie so tightly his war-weary arms ache, his palm pressed to her neck. Her pulse thrums steadily, proof the heart she offers so nakedly to him beats strong and unbreakable.
She offers more than he deserves, but Lion help him, he will take everything she gives and still crave more.
Addie
When Caspian falls asleep, she leaves.
She tells herself she's being practical, saving Nadni a morning headache, until she passes her room without entering. Leaving that new, unfamiliar part of her life untouched.
Instead, Addie wanders to her old room. Her shared room, the cot her back remembers like a second skin, the threadbare blanket she cried into as a child. She finds it almost unchanged.
The room is dark, cool, and damp - a welcome refuge from the sticky summer night lurking in the courtyard. Claudia's snores echo in the small space, Sellea tosses and turns like a fish, and Lola's cot is occupied.
That's new. Alfonso must be on duty.
This was once the music of her night - constant sleepy sounds, grumbles, snores. A decade of sleeping, dreaming, and waking with the same faces - two still here, the third gone, dead, and that's her fault. Isn't a decade enough to make familiarity a home?
Maybe she gets to decide where home is.
Maybe she can have more than one.
Addie pads silently to her old bed and curls in half under her old blanket, her arm a makeshift pillow. She'll rise early and return to her new life before anyone's the wiser.
"Addie? You alright?"
Addie blinks awake to the chaos she's grown up with, a flurry of three other maids shoving on their dresses, tying aprons, stuffing their hair into caps.
Tash, she overslept. When did she turn into someone who oversleeps?
"If that woman from yesterday interrupts again, Perla'll have your head!" Claudia rushes out the door in a flash of brown fabric, white apron in hand.
"Or her head, then yours!" Sellea adds, tucking a wayward wisp under her cap.
Addie smiles despite herself. She'll take Perla's tongue-lashings over Nadni's any day.
Not that she has a choice, apparently.
Lola pinches her cheek between calloused fingers, but it costs her balance. Addie steadies her as she teeters trying to stomp on her clogs.
"I'm glad to see you, really," says Lola. "But don't be late on our account. We all understand it's different now."
"I know, it's just…" Addie says. Her hand falls away as Lola straightens, both shoes on. "I don't want it to be different."
The door bangs, Sellea's skirt a flash around the door frame. Lola, bless her, lingers, her hand on Addie's shoulder.
"Me neither," Lola says. "But it is, so we'll manage. Alright?"
Addie swallows and folds her blanket into a neat square, leaves it on this bed that was hers, but maybe it isn't anymore. Lola's right; the only thing to do is weather the changes until they feel like gentle spring rain instead of a summer storm rolling with thunder.
Addie jogs to the door with Lola, their arms swinging free, unlinked.
Lola pauses in the hall. "Come back tonight. Well, if you can. I'll be here; we can catch up."
Addie's eyes sting, even as she tries to paper over yearning by watching the other servants rushing by.
"I will."
Lola's already jogging away, waving a temporary goodbye.
"Tell Perla I made you late!" Addie calls.
Lola grins. "I'll blame Mrs. Flowers."
By some miracle, Addie's room is empty when she runs in. Which is -
There's a small gush, sticky and warm between her legs. Addie grabs a spare cloth from the basket she stowed under her bed, and -
It's red. She expected white, remnants of last night, Caspian's spend he fucked into her so thoroughly her tongue turned loose and stupid for hours after.
It'll… stain. It'll stain, all those nice dresses.
Addie blinks down at the bloodied rag. No sense fretting; at least she's not… she's not…
It's a relief. She's relieved.
This is a good thing.
Addie stuffs a wad of rags in her underthings and prays they'll be enough. As a maid, she had lulls after breakfast and lunch to clean up, but Nadni rushes her from duty to duty, teas and etiquette lessons and dance lessons and another fitting today, as if she needs more than the dozen dresses already in her wardrobe and however many Sasne's making.
Think of the devil, and they appear.
The door bangs open, and in sweeps Nadni.
"Finally, you've learned punctuality," she says. "Is it too much to hope you've practised your curtsy?"
Addie tosses the stained rag into the basket of dirty clothes beside the wardrobe.
"A little. It's not perfect."
"As expected," Nadni sighs. "Well, go on, show me."
Is there more to nobility than dancing to Nadni's orders like a trained pup?
Addie grits her teeth and sinks into a curtsy. She only wobbles a little; Queen Lucy's tip to rest the ball of her foot flat behind her helps.
Nadni hums. "Passable, I suppose, but try to be demure. Cast your eyes down and keep them there. You weren't born to this, after all."
Addie straightens and opens the wardrobe, breathing through a cramp. "How could I forget?"
"Rest assured no one who sees you will forget it," Nadni says, crowding her away from the line of dresses. "Green today, I think. To bring out your eyes. Do stand up straight, it's -" Nadni's eyes fall to the dirty clothes.
Addie's cheeks heat. That's private, nothing Nadni should be concerned about.
"Well," Nadni mutters. "That's a relief. Terrible inconvenience, Sasne is very busy, but these things can't be helped."
Addie tilts her head, confused, as Nadni closes the wardrobe.
"Off to bed with you," says Nadni, flapping her hands toward the bed. "Go on."
Addie stays where she is. "Bed? Why?"
Monthlies are never pleasant, but they don't render her bedridden. All the maids work through theirs, if they can; it's no different from a headache after a night drinking with soldiers.
Nadni looks at the ceiling, her features settling into the distance of an educator. "You must convalesce. It's improper for you to appear in public when you bleed."
What's improper about continuing life as normal? Wouldn't secluding herself alert the entire court she's on her monthly?
"I'm fine," Addie says. "It's nothing rags won't hide."
"It is improper."
Addie shrugs. "No one will know. You've planned a busy day, right?"
At Nadni's huff, Addie opens the wardrobe and pulls the first green dress she sees - a creamy sea-foam, delicate, square neckline embroidered in yellow and blue flowers.
Nadni's stare heats her face; if Nadni were Perla, Addie would've complied by now.
Perla's earned her respect.
"First is breakfast, then your second fitting," Nadni says. "Followed by your dance lessons, etiquette lessons, luncheon, history lessons, afternoon tea, and finally, more sorely needed etiquette before dinner."
Addie nods. She'll be busy; that's the important thing.
Nadni sniffs, an eyebrow arched, clears her throat, and marches to the chest by the bed.
"Very well," Nadni says, shoving flat, slipper-thin shoes at her. "Get dressed."
Addie blinks down at the shoes before sense returns.
"I can fault you for many things," says Nadni, hands on her hips as Addie strips to her shift. "But I suppose your… perseverance is not one of them."
Caspian
After waking alone and heartsore, Caspian spends most of his morning looking for Addie. She's not at breakfast, and she doesn't attend council or his smaller meeting of advisers.
By the time he's to meet with Marcos, Caspian still hasn't seen her. A hurried question asked of a passing faun between meetings is his only proof Addie's out in the castle at all.
Tonight, he will go to her. But first, he must deal with Marcos.
Caspian sends a runner to bring Marcos to the throne room, where he waits on his throne, flanked by half a dozen Narnian guards and General Glozelle.
Marcos saunters in at two o'clock precisely, led by a page boy. With his newly crooked nose and travel-worn armour, Marcos looks less a soldier and more an outlaw. Three long, red scratches stretch from his forehead to his left cheek, and a purple bruise encircles his eye.
Caspian grips the arm of his throne, the ornate wood creaking in protest. Even if Addie had told him nothing, Marcos wears proof she struggled, and she couldn't have inflicted those wounds sitting in front of him on a horse.
Marcos eyes the guards as he approaches, dispassionate until he nods to Glozelle.
Caspian watches in silence.
Marcos stops at the dais and bows. "I've come to collect."
Caspian is uncertain if his omitted title is a mistake or intentional. Marcos' lowly position never stopped his sneers before.
After what Addie has told him, Caspian wouldn't put anything past him.
"Collect?"
Marcos straightens. "My salary, as agreed. Lady Adelina is returned to you safely." His lip curls speaking her name - in guilt? Dismissal? Scorn?
It doesn't matter; neither Marcos' respect nor his lack of it will change where he spends the coming years.
"Lady Adelina returned to me on her own; you were nowhere to be found." Caspian fights for temperance, for kingly comportment. "You failed."
Marcos' eyes glint. "She's alive, isn't she? That was the agreement."
Caspian arches an eyebrow. "The agreement was that you would take Lady Adelina to safety, protect her from harm, and return her to me after the war." Calm, he must keep calm. Striking Marcos down is something his uncle would do. "Instead, she came to me covered in the blood of the battlefield."
"You look at her hands?" Marcos seethes, all pretence of deference gone as he points to the scratches on his face. "That blood was mine. I warned you, she's a wildcat."
Caspian almost blurts that of course Addie drew blood, and he's glad she did. Addie was protecting herself.
Yet, however much Marcos should pay for all his crimes, Caspian's uncertain if Addie wants the truth kept quiet and he couldn't find her this morning to ask. Such… violations are a deeply personal matter. If anyone else is to know Marcos tried to force her, it will be Addie's choice and no one else's.
Not even his.
Caspian drums impatient fingers. "Perhaps she knew your crimes. Such as accessory to murder?"
"Beg your pardon?" Marcos' tongue traces his teeth, his shoulders a rigid line.
It is not guilt darkening his eyes, Caspian thinks.
"Six months ago, a maid named Anna disappeared under suspicious circumstances," Caspian says. "Days ago, you admitted to delivering her for questioning. General Glozelle corroborated your story." Caspian gestures to the general, whose brief nod carries more regret than Marcos currently displays. "You will live out your days in prison where you will harm no one else."
With a snap of his fingers, Caspian's guards descend on Marcos - a days-overdue arrest.
Foolishly, Marcos struggles, red-faced and clumsy.
"I kept our deal!" he shouts. "I saved her life! I did your dirty work as agreed!"
Caspian watches, unmoved, as his guards clap irons around Marcos' wrists.
"No, you did not. Now your freedom - and your salary - are forfeit."
Two satyrs lead Marcos from the room, chains clanking in their wake, and Caspian sighs with relief as the door clangs shut behind them. Some small justice meted out is better than nothing, however belated it is.
Addie
After dinner, she steals away to the kitchen while Caspian's busy talking with Doctor Cornelius. Perla's still short-staffed - unsurprising, with so many Telmarines uncertain of their futures here and Caspian's assembly in two days.
Addie makes polite excuses - she hopes they're polite enough - to Queen Susan and two newly appointed Narnian nobles (a faun and a cheetah) and does what she's best at.
Disappears.
As much as she wants to settle into her place at Caspian's side, he's not the only home she has.
Besides, Caspian's busy debating politics with the Telmarine lords and Doctor Cornelius. He probably won't even notice she's gone.
Addie changes into her pilfered servant's dress and arrives in the kitchen amid the frenzy of cleaning. Perla stands tall in the centre of the chaos, her spatula waving directions as Sellea boils water, Claudia gathers leftovers for the city's poor, and Lola scrubs pots and knives and cutting boards.
Perla spots her instantly.
"You! Help Lola with the dishes if you've not brought your replacement."
Addie breathes through the pang in her chest. However much she'd - selfishly, secretly - like to be irreplaceable, no one is irreplaceable to Perla.
At least here, life is the same.
Addie passes the next hours at Lola's side rinsing and drying dishes. It's silly, probably, that the familiar sting of lye and near-boiling water moistens her eyes. It doesn't hurt, it's …
Familiar.
She's not a king's lover in here, not a lady, not a presumed future anything.
She's just Addie.
Perla shoos them from the kitchen at the last golden gasp of sunset.
"Go on, before I change my mind."
Addie links arms with Lola and scurries out of the spatula's path, an almost-giggle bubbling up her throat. Perla's said that for years; what she really means is 'Good work.'
Not that she'd ever admit it.
In the darkening courtyard, Addie finds her other arm occupied too, linked through Sellea's as they dodge a cluster of centaurs pointing at the sky.
The courtyard is busier these days - filled with fauns and satyrs, dwarfs and centaurs, minotaurs and talking animals, scattered in small groups under the almost-full moon. Telmarine servants and soldiers hurry between them, stares lingering in curiosity or suspicion.
Addie waves to a familiar-looking faun, smiling as Arria waves back. She was pleasant company that first night camping on the river shore.
Sellea leans around and waves too, exuberant and girlish.
"We're expecting the full story," Sellea says, bumping Addie's shoulder. "In case you were wondering."
Addie swallows a bubble in her throat as the four of them squeeze inside and tumble into their room.
"It's not that exciting."
"Oh stop," says Claudia. "Don't be modest."
"We're rather curious," Lola adds. She steers Addie onto her old cot and sits cross-legged beside her. "You don't have to, but -"
"Yes, she does!" Sellea abandons Addie's arm and pulls Lola's cot closer, wood scraping on stone. "You might not be curious, but some of us haven't ever left the city!"
A smile breaks free. Addie may barely remember what carefree feels like, but Sellea's levity beckons, whispering of simpler times.
"Well, in that case…" Addie toes off her shoes and crosses her legs, knees pressed against Lola's. "Claudia, I think Sellea wants to hear about Ettinsmoor."
Claudia rolls her eyes. "Now you're deflecting."
So what if she is? Even the little she saw of war was ugly and bloody and brutal; Sellea has no idea what she's asking.
Instantly, guilt pricks through. That's unfair - of course Sellea doesn't know. In this case, ignorance - innocence - is a good thing.
Addie finds a smile and thinks only of the Narnian sunlight, chirping birds and scampering wildlife, the endless stretch of trees and green, so much green. When she first saw the Narnians, she was speechless, disbelief warring with awe underneath the overwhelming relief of finding Caspian. That's what Sellea wants to hear about.
So that's what Addie shares. She leaves out the details of the escape and spins the rest like a gritty fairytale - Caspian's tortured self-doubt is the blossoming of a caring, gentle king (a truth, because he is). The screams and blood and death become glorious battles of outnumbered Narnians fighting for their homes - truth, again. Hours spent tending the wounded become campfire meals and camaraderie, an extension of the night on the river bank.
In this story, there is no arrow in her shoulder, no White Witch, no betrayal, and defeat is only the next step to victory.
It's… a charming tale, hopefully - mostly true and wrapped in more kindness and hope than she felt living through it. Something to whet Sellea's appetite for adventure while preserving her bright-eyed view of the world. Sellea is young; she deserves to keep her innocence a while longer.
When Addie reaches the last battle at the How and the war's end, Marcos becomes just a soldier and there is no tussle in the leaves, only a brief plea and a bodyguard who listens.
Lola's hand falls to Addie's knee. Her thumb strokes steady circles, slow and firm.
Addie stutters a moment. She didn't realise her knee's bouncing or that her jaw aches from talking too fast, her ribs from breathing too fast.
"Then Caspian arrived with the Kings and Queens, and you saw the rest," Addie finishes.
Sellea tilts her head, staring into the ceiling. "You make it sound so lovely. I'd like to spend weeks in the forest." Her heels kick absently, brushing the floor. "Do you think I could make friends with the Narnians? They must know everything about the woods."
Addie nods; this is easier than finding a pretty sheen for war. "They do. Rainroot knows every leaf and root from Ettinsmoor to Archenland."
Sellea flops to lie across the cot, legs dangling. "Will any of the Narnians work here? We could all be friends, I think."
Claudia lifts a knee to her chest and rests her chin atop it. "Have you even met one yet?"
With a pout, Sellea hesitates. "Well, not officially. But Addie'll help with that, won't you?"
"If you like."
Sellea's enthusiasm bodes well that not every Telmarine has Claudia's scepticism.
A handful of stories, promises, and shoos to bed later, Sellea is safely curled under her blanket and Claudia's snores whistle. Addie tucks into a corner with Lola where their whispers carry less, legs tangled in the dark.
"How are you, really?" Lola asks.
Addie shakes her head. "I want to hear how you are. It couldn't have been easy, these past weeks."
Lola's sigh echoes. "Don't do that. I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."
"I'm fine. A lot's different, but… I'm fine."
Lola takes her hand, her long fingers a familiar tangle. "You realise you've always been a terrible liar?"
Tash's sake, can she get away with nothing these days?
"It was my fault." Addie fidgets, seeking a loose thread that isn't there, because this servant's shift isn't really hers. "You were all questioned because of me. I want to know everything."
Lola glances away.
Addie waits, picking at a hangnail.
"Wasn't as bad as you're thinking," Lola answers. "Terrible timing, though. Alfonso and Luka interrupted right before lunch rush."
Addie's cuticle grows raw in warning. "Alfonso said Perla spent a night in the dungeon."
Lola grimaces. "She did. Luka barged in, ordering us all to stop. You can imagine how that went."
Addie almost smiles. "Spatula to the knuckles?"
"Shoulder," says Lola, tapping her own. "Dented the spatula more than his armour, but he decided Perla might be covering for you." Lola shrugs. "She was back the next day. We certainly didn't know anything, and she didn't either."
A sting of pain blooms on Addie's finger. She still picks, nail prodding the torn skin.
Just because the maids said they knew nothing doesn't mean the guards didn't threaten them.
"Did the guards believe you?"
Lola rests her head on the wall. "Not at first, but we won them over. Sellea was the best of us; to hear her tell it, you were one of us then suddenly you were gone, just when she was getting to know you." Lola smiles slightly. "She even cried. Luka couldn't get out of that conversation fast enough."
Addie almost smiles, too. Sellea has the look of youthful innocence, and even better, she knows how to use it.
"And you? Claudia?"
Lola shifts again, their knees bumping. "We had similar stories; you'd been distant ever since Anna went missing. We said we didn't want to pry."
Addie waits as Lola stares at the ceiling.
"I asked Luka about Anna. Said I was worried that two of us had left or gone missing, and maybe it was nothing and you both found a better position elsewhere, but it wasn't even half a year apart and…" Lola swallows. "I said I didn't blame you, either of you, if you left on purpose, and if it were up to me, I'd never come back either. But it was interesting, wasn't it, how people keep disappearing?"
Addie's mouth goes dry. "You said all that?"
"You were gone," Lola snaps. "Anna, then you, and I was so sick of being afraid."
Addie's apology catches in her throat, tangled around but you knew I'd leave and I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine now, see.
None of that will help, and it's not true; Anna isn't fine.
Instead, Addie asks what happened.
Lola shrugs stiffly. "Luka mentioned the dungeon, but Alfonso vouched for me, and his friends vouched for him." Her hand descends to her stomach. "He implied I wasn't thinking clearly, with the baby. I almost told him off then and there before I realised he was helping me."
"The baby?"
Addie's heart stutters, its beat thundering up her throat. Lola is…
Lola meets her eyes, her mouth softening to a new smile - something gentle, aching, beautiful like sunrises and the first flowers of spring.
"It's early," Lola whispers. "But I think so. Alfonso's looking for a small house in the city for us. Something to grow into."
"That's wonderful," Addie says, because it is, as her tight throat and burning eyes prove. "Gods, I'm so glad you… Congratulations." Almost too late, she remembers to tease, as the old Addie would have. "Seeds took root, hm?"
With her free hand, Lola takes Addie's, and the easy fit of their fingers is so familiar, catching in her chest like belonging.
"I'm glad you're back," Lola says. "She'll need an aunt."
Addie's heart jerks. Soon there will be someone new to love, with Lola's doe eyes and dimples.
"She?"
Lola smiles and strokes her stomach, barely round. "I have a feeling. I'd like a girl."
Addie's smile wobbles. "A girl would be lovely."
Someday, someday, she might like one too. No, at least two - so one will look like Caspian.
Addie tastes salt on her wet lips before she realises she's crying. Tash, she must seem so selfish; now Lola's asking if she's alright, worried when she should be nothing but happy, incandescent.
"I'm happy," Addie manages. "Happy for you, that's all."
Because she is, gods, she is. Lola is happy, her hand soft with love for the life growing inside her. Lola will be a wonderful mother, kind but firm when needed, and how lovely it will be, to see Lola holding her daughter, playing with her, tickling and catching fireflies and finding shapes in clouds.
Lola's hand tightens. "You and Caspian?"
The joyful vision of Lola and Alfonso swinging their daughter over sun-washed cobblestones splinters in two.
Addie wipes her eyes dry. "What about us?"
"Will I be calling you 'Your Majesty' soon?"
A bubble of a laugh pops from her mouth.
"Gods no," Addie says. "I'll put myself on dish duty for a month if I'm ever that stuffy."
Lola breathes a chuckle, but nothing more.
Addie gives in.
"I don't know," she says. "But no matter what, I'll always be just Addie with you. All of you."
Lola hums, then nudges Addie's foot. "Don't know if he plans to ask, or don't know what you'll say?"
Addie's head drops, her stare fixed on the stone floor, cool even through her shift.
"Yes. Both. I don't…" That's not quite true. "I think he might," Addie whispers. "Ask, I mean. Eventually. Or soon, or… all of this, the lady business, it might be because I'm a royal's lover, or he's testing me, seeing if I even can, or…"
"Or he's trying to prepare you," Lola says. "Maybe he wants to ask, but he's waiting to see if you want him to." Lola squeezes her hand. "So, do you?"
"I don't know!"
Too loud, Tash, she might as well tell the entire castle her troubles. Addie sits stone-silent as Claudia grumbles, snores interrupted. When Claudia's breathing evens out again, Addie's tongue runs away with honesty.
"A lot happened in the war," Addie says, quiet as a confession. "Before the last battle, he sent me away with Marcos."
Lola's eyes widen. "Marcos? What the devil was he doing there?"
Addie shifts; she breezed over the escape in her story to Sellea.
"Marcos got me out the night Caspian escaped." Addie prods her sore finger and finds her skin wet where the hangnail used to be. "Caspian… it wasn't his fault. He was trying to protect me. I didn't tell him everything about… before."
Hasn't, still. Why should she when Caspian knows everything Marcos is capable of?
"Marcos was arrested today," Lola says. She rests their joined hands on Addie's knee, her thumb stroking slow circles. "Did he…?"
Addie's stomach pinches, a churn she knows well. Marcos arrested is… something, aloe on a burn, but medicine doesn't erase wounds - it can only heal, and only with time.
"Not this time. He would have, but I got away. It was my fault, I should have told Caspian, but…" Addie swipes at her cheeks one-handed.
Lola scoots closer, her warmth comforting. "But?"
Addie chews her lip until she tastes copper. It would be kinder - to herself as much as to Lola - to change the subject, to keep the rest of this ugliness private.
She is still selfish.
"That was my fault too," Addie blurts. "Before, Marcos… I… that was my fault, and if Caspian had known… what would he have thought of me, knowing that?"
"What?" Lola straightens, her fingers tightening to vices, unforgiving. "Addie, how could that have been -"
"I went with him," Addie says, too honest, too honest, but there's no stopping it now, these feelings she's been strong enough to swallow for so long spilling like water from a leaky bucket. "I went with him, part of me wanted to, I should have known he wanted… I started something, should've known I had to finish it, I… it was my fault, it was my fault."
Addie coughs, sniffles past her congested nose - ridiculous, because she's not crying she's not crying, what's the use in crying about this more than a year later?
Even more useless, selfish, because Lola's hugging her, shushing her, stroking her hair, whispering things like "It wasn't your fault," and "It's alright," and "The king loves you, he'd never think that."
Addie's mouth falls open, a silent sob. How can she expect Caspian to think better of her than she does of herself?
"You changed your mind," Lola says, the whisper warm in her hair. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Isn't there?"
Of course there is. The most important thing anyone can be is constant, present, there no matter what. Marcos was there, until he wasn't, because she wasn't, didn't want to be. Now again, with Caspian… she was there until the escape, when she wasn't.
But Lola is saying, "No, there's not. Everyone changes their mind, Addie. You didn't deserve that, alright? I never want to hear you say it was your fault."
"Even if it was? Or it might've been?" Addie squeezes her eyes shut, bracing. What if Lola agrees -
"It wasn't," Lola says. "I know it wasn't."
"How?"
Lola's hands stroke up Addie's back, steady and firm. "Because you wouldn't be crying like this if it was."
A/N: Anyone catch the Phantom of the Opera reference? I caught it in edits, laughed, and decided I get to keep it in, for funsies. 3 chapters until the end of Part II... seems like our couple's working through their issues, yes?
I'm not sure if I'll have Ch. 51 up in a week or not; I'm hoping I will, but I appreciate y'all's patience and understanding in advance if I don't ❤
Chapter 51 Preview:
"Really, I'm fine."
Caspian shakes his head and kisses her. "I never said you weren't." When Addie tries to speak again, he hushes her with a finger. "I have hurt you lately. It... soothes me. To care for you."