Thanks for the reviews so far!
Disclaimed: I don't own Narnia. Except Caspian's heart. Hahaha I wish.
Lucy and Edmund Pevensie tumbled out of the wardrobe, much as Magnolia had only a few Narnian hours previously.
"Oh, it's winter already?" Edmund exclaimed, landing on the rough crystals of snow.
"I don't think it's winter, Ed," Lucy said cautiously. "This isn't Christmas. Winter brings joy, and here, not even the trees are cheery."
Edmund winced. "Oh no, oh no oh no oh no," he said, shuddering at the mere thought of a resurrected Jadis
Lucy looked tearful, and Edmund suddenly jumped up, startling his sister. He puffed up his chest and gathered as much courage as he could, then said, "Whatever this force is, whatever's making Narnia suffer, we're going to do everything we can do stop it."
Edmund's voice was strong, but it didn't match his heart. Truly, he was shivering, frightened, knowing his weakness for the witch and her Turkish Delight. But he had to be strong. He had to. Peter wasn't here. And Susan wasn't here – he was the oldest, Lucy's protector, and who knew what Magnolia would do?
At his words, Lucy brightened, and Edmund knew he had said the right thing.
"So what do we do?" Lucy asked. Edmund grimaced. He had been hoping she wouldn't ask that right away.
"Well, er, we find help first, I guess," he said. "But…who'll help us? If it's the White Witch who's back, who can we trust?"
"Trumpkin and Reepicheep," Lucy said thoughtfully, but sadly. "But…are they still around? Reepicheep's a mouse, after all. He's…probably not here anymore."
"Oh, that's what you think, is it?"
The familiar voice emerged from the darkness of the trees around them. Lucy screamed; Edmund nearly tripped over his own foot.
Lucy began backing away from the source of the noise. Less suspicious was Edmund, who knew the voice well. Instead, Edmund darted his vision around, and spotted a slight rustling in the shrubs at the bottom of the trees.
Edmund grabbed Lucy's hand and held her still, still watching the rustling.
"Is – is that a tail?" Lucy asked weakly.
"You betcha!"
It was Reepicheep.
Lucy faltered in surprise. The mouse grinned at her.
"What, you have nothing to say to an old friend?"
--
"Narnia is my country," Caspian said, still frowning. "What – what are you doing here?"
"I fell through the back of wardrobe into this place," Magnolia said coldly. "I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, but this is crazy. You're a king of this, what, Narnia? And the Pevensies were what? Fighters?"
"More than just that," Caspian said, with a surprised expression. "They are the kings and queens of old. They ruled this place, over a thousand years ago!"
Magnolia blinked, then laughed the same tinkling laugh she had given Lucy only hours earlier.
"You're joking," she said flatly.
"No," Caspian replied, more bemused than ever. "Time passes differently for my world and your world. Always differently."
Magnolia groaned. Caspian, however, sighed, beginning to dislike her even more despite her appearance.
"I'll take you to a guest chamber, then, and I'll have a servant bring you some fresh clothes," he suggested. Magnolia nodded and followed him.
The guest chamber was large, spacious, beautiful. Magnolia gaped at it, her large eyes darting around the room, taking note of its high ceiling, flaring fireplace, and luxurious bed. She turned to Caspian.
"Thank you," she said humbly. Caspian raised an eyebrow and welcomed her.
"Someone will be up shortly," he said before departing.
Magnolia flopped down onto the bed. It was delightfully soft. She watched the flames in the fireplace lick the brick walls for a bit. The warmth was nice, but it made her drowsy…
All the servants were busy. Caspian cursed them when none of them was free to deliver Magnolia's clothes, and had to take them himself.
The girl was sleeping when he entered her chamber. Caspian laid a new dress and scarf at the foot of the bed on which she curled up.
He glanced at the grandfather clock by the fireplace. It was still early – night time would not be due for another few hours. The room was wonderfully warm, though, and Caspian wished he could just lie down and go to bed.
Instead, he sat down beside her and gazed at her. Her face was strangely familiar: he recognized the long eyelashes that cast feathery shadows onto the high cheekbones, the full lips, the long black hair. Caspian was sure he had seen her before, somewhere…but where?
Magnolia stirred unexpectedly, and Caspian jumped. When she remained still, he got up quietly and left.
If her attitude weren't so arrogant, Caspian decided, he might actually like her.
But he had better things than arrogant women to worry about. The White Witch's possible return, for example, would prove to be a great problem for the young king.
Caspian hurried back to his chamber and seized his well-worn but trustworthy cape, hooking it around his neck and grabbing his oldest but most durable sword.
Praying that no Telmarine whose allegiances lay with the deceased Miraz was still present in Narnia, Caspian checked his armor and nearly flung himself into the stables, where Odin was grazing, his nose buried in a pile of fresh oats.
"Ready to go off again?" Caspian asked softly, patting Odin's head. Odin nuzzled his master and gave a nicker.
Caspian took Odin's reins and led the horse out of his stall. Suddenly, Odin gave a high whinny, one that was shrill and cautionary.
"Look sharp, Your Majesty!" Odin whinnied.
Caspian gave Odin a look of half-alarm, half-confusion, but Odin refused to leave the stable, and Caspian tugged hard on the reins to open the door.
"Look sharp, Your Majesty, indeed you should."
Caspian whirled around, truly alarmed now. He recognized that voice. It was once warm, but now sarcastic and chilled.
"Aunt Prunaprismia?"
"That's right," former Queen Prunaprismia said sleekly. "You, boy, cost me a life of happiness. A life with Miraz."
Caspian could do nothing but stare. Prunaprismia had grown older, thinner, colder. She was once a plump, pink-cheeked woman, always smiling despite being overshadowed by Miraz. Now her face was lined, her long red hair tinged with gray, as though mocking her once good looks. An old dress that looked as though it came from her era of royalty hung loosely from her shoulders, a symbol of her losses.
"Have you nothing to say?" Prunaprismia said, raising her eyebrows.
"Are you alone?" was all Caspian could manage.
Prunaprismia's smirk seemed to fade a bit.
"Almost," she said sadly, and Caspian almost felt pity for her.
"Almost?" he repeated.
"My son," she clarified. "Phelim."
From behind Prunaprismia, a little boy of no older than four years emerged. Caspian took an instant liking to him, this rosy, bubbly toddler.
Phelim smiled toothily at his cousin.
"So," Caspian said hesitantly, "what are you doing here then, Aunt? I thought you'd left Narnia. For good."
Prunaprismia scoffed. "How could I leave?" she said harshly. "Traveling to the nearest bordering countries is impossible. Archenland is separated by mountains, and Calormen is separated by desert. Anywhere else is separated by water. I've been living in the forest for years, Caspian."
Caspian frowned. She hadn't answered his question.
"So I come here," Prunaprismia went on. She bowed her head and lowered herself to her knees. "I want permission to stay here."
Again, Caspian was speechless.
Finally, he mustered the strength to speak.
"You're here asking to stay with me? Aunt Prunaprismia, you did your best to make me unhappy! And you nearly killed me once! You think I should – let you back into this castle? What do you really want from me?"
Prunaprismia scowled.
"I want Phelim to have a happier life than he is now," she said after a long pause.
Caspian looked at Odin, who gave his master a wary but approving look. When he returned his gaze to his aunt, the toddler was babbling happily at his mother's feet.
"Fine," Caspian said with a long sigh, "what I'll do is I'll let you in. You'll be questioned. I refuse to guarantee anything, but we'll see."
The former Queen rose, her eyes shining. Caspian was troubled to catch a glint of something more like triumph than like relief; his eyes voluntarily wandered to the cut on his forearm, and he resolved to search his aunt for a knife while she was in custody.
--
A little background information in this story:
I'm assuming Caspian was about thirteen, like he was in the books, and that there was NOTHING between Caspian and Susan. Ever. Frankly, I dislike Susan. Now about four years have passed, and Caspian is seventeen. He has already returned from his adventure with Edmund and Susan, so Aslan found that they were needed again in Narnia. Hahaha it sounds a bit contrived but just play along.
