Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any of the characters

I'm quiet, you know

You make a first impression…

I've found I'm scared to know

I'm always on your mind…

Caspian groaned against the stone wall, tired and defeated in more ways than one. Grasping his wounded hand he winced, watching drops of blood falling to the ground in soft wisps.

Any of which could have been used to bring back the White Witch.

He didn't know what came over him. After the disastrous defeat at the Telmarine Castle, which slaughtered half of their army, he remembered feeling nothing. The painful encounters with his professor and Miraz had left him feeling void of any emotion. Perhaps, he thought sardonically, that had helped him slaughter his fellow Telmarine men, the same men that had once fought on his behalf.

He wanted the kingdom and the throne was rightfully his…but at what price?

Upon arriving back at Aslan's How, greeted by the anguished faces of those left behind, he felt broken. It was apparent that the Narnians preferred Peter's leadership to his own, and the Telmarines wanted him dead. As much as he despised the once High King for his lack of sense to retreat sooner, he knew he couldn't have done much better. After a short, bitter exchange of words with him, he felt even deader inside than before. Not even a King of Old wanted him around.

So he found sole comfort in the dark dwarf that offered it to him.

Caspian knew something was wrong the moment the strange, bird-like Narnian drew out an ice staff. When the White Witch approached from behind her cold prison, offering him Miraz's instant death, he had every intention of declining.

Then Susan's image came to his mind.

He recalled her during the battle at the castle. The prince remembered her encouraging words as she supported him in finding the Professor, and her stern but commanding voice in Miraz's bedchambers. He then pictured her fighting next to him, her slender but lithe body moving effortlessly among the Telmarine soldiers, fighting with as much skill with her bow and arrows as her brothers and he did with their swords.

It was then he made his unconscious decision.

Did everyone have to suffer for his throne? Even the most Gentle of Queens participated in battle; killing and wounding more than her heart could probably endure.

All for him and the throne.

It was then he raised his hand up to hesitantly try and reach the White Witch's. Susan's sorrowful face as she gazed at the Narnians trapped behind the gate was burned into his mind, and he thought only of her and her pain then.

Caspian X would do this alone and release her of this bloodshed that he brought her into.

The next thing he remembered was shielding himself from the explosion of the ice wall and watching Edmund walk away, mumbling a few words he couldn't hear to Peter. He felt the sting of his hand as his memories came flooding back, and glancing at Peter, turned to look at the source of his suddenly ashamed face.

Her face was livid. The gentle blue eyes that once looked at him with great compassion now stared at him with betrayal and pain. Her rosebud lips were pursed in anger, and her hands were clenched at both her sides. She gave each of them one long, hard look, then spun and left them in their shameful states.

The Telmarine prince thought of nothing but of Susan, but instead of earning her heart he earned her scorn and regret.

Caspian let out a slow, painful sigh as he heard someone's footsteps approaching his crevice in the stone cave. Retreating farther into the shadows, he heard them stop a few feet away from where he sat.

"Leave me be," he called out dully, hanging his head as he urged his bleeding hand to stop.

"You're hurt. Let me take a look at it."

The voice, cold and unfeeling as it was, belonged to no other but Susan. Lifting his head slowly, he suddenly felt small and lowly to the great Queen that stood before him.

"I'm fine," he insisted weakly, pulling his hand closer to his body. "It will stop eventually."

"Hmph." Caspian watched as she fell to her knees, and saw the herbs and bandages she held in one hand. "Give it here," she commanded.

Afraid to anger her any further, he hesitatingly offered his hand, which she took with much care, to his surprise. Examining the wound with a sharp eye, she pulled out the herbs.

"Keep your hand above your heart. It will stop the bleeding some."

Obediently he complied, lifting his hand. He settled it near his face, watching her crush the herbs in a small bowl. "Susan," he began.

She didn't answer him. Reaching for his hand the Gentle Queen rubbed the herbs into the wound tenderly. Her touch made him breathe sharply, but she didn't seem to notice. After covering it with a bandage, she stood to leave.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, fingering the carefully knotted cloth around his hand. "I had no right calling back an old enemy of yours and your siblings."

She stiffened, turning to leave. "You're correct," she muttered darkly, "you had no right."

"My intentions were good."

"I'm sure they were," she answered curtly. "But then, where is the line drawn between good and evil?"

"The good must outweigh the evil, Caspian. As a ruler of Narnia, you must remember this."

Caspian fell against the stone wall, listening to her footsteps echo farther and farther away and taking in her words, as he watched the blood seep through the material.

Even the best falls down sometimes,

Even the stars refuse to shine,

Susan sat stiffly atop the horse as she waited for Lucy to settle herself behind her. Glancing down she watched as the dark-haired prince adjusted the saddle to accommodate the two Pevensie girls, his long, tan fingers working adeptly among the latches and buckles.

With the others preparing for the second battle against the Telmarines, it was up to Lucy to find Aslan and ask for his help. Susan would accompany her; as to ensure her safety through the woods, although from the looks Peter and Caspian had given each other, it was more to keep her away from the battlefield as much as possible.

"This is Destrier, my most faithful horse," Caspian murmured. "I'd trust my life with him."

The Gentle Queen flinched as she felt his touch on her foot, guiding it to the stirrup with much ease and care. She noticed the bloodstained bandage on his hand, and made a mental note to redress it once the battle was over.

If they survived, that is.

Their eyes locked, and Susan found herself drowning in the prince's chocolate depths. No, she scolded herself, he nearly called the White Witch back to Narnia. Besides, you were never much to swoon.

Until now.

"Good luck," he breathed, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"Thanks," she returned coolly, swallowing the little dignity she had. She felt her cheeks burn red, and was thankful for the dark cave to hide the color change.

He was silent for a moment. "Look," he said quietly, reaching to his side and bringing out her precious horn. "I think it's time you had this back."

Susan stared at the horn, recalling their first personal encounter with each other. He had tried to give it back to her then too, but Glenstorm had come in with news of a Telmarine invader.

He had been so sincere then, so honest and open. Looking up and meeting his gaze once more, she realized that he was still the same Caspian from then. His eyes now, so full of sorrow, were apologetic and remorseful.

Everyone makes mistakes.

The Gentle Queen then recalled a time, a time that seemed decades ago, when she didn't believe her sister Lucy when she told them of a secret land behind the wardrobe. Child's play, she had called it.

And yet, where did she live for 15 years of her life? And in what world was she in right now, staring into the eyes of its rightful ruler?

Susan was given a second chance. Caspian, as wrong as he might have been attempting to call the White Witch back to this world, deserved one as well.

Breaking out into a kind, slightly silly smile that even Susan couldn't understand, she answered him.

"Why don't you hold on to it." Gathering the reins in her hands, her smile broadened. "You might need to call me again."

The last thing she remembered before galloping away was the twinkle that returned to Caspian's eyes, as he knew he was forgiven. In turn, her own heart felt lighter, although her stomach was still turning from the smile that overcame his face before the horse and cargo made their way through the cave.

"You might need to call me again?"

Susan's eyes widened. She had forgotten that her sister was riding behind her, and had seen and heard the entire interlude between her and the Telmarine prince. Groaning inwardly, she bit down on her pride.

"Oh shut up."

"You know, you two were rather friendly back there. Is something going on between you and him?"

"Keep your mouth shut before the flies get in."

Out of the back you fall in time,

I somehow find you and I collide…

Caspian hurried down the stone corridor to where Edmund was helping Peter ready himself for the battle against Miraz. After realizing that Susan had forgiven him, he felt as though he could conquer the entire Telmarine army himself—though it was highly unlikely. Rounding the corner, he eyed the Pevensies in their chain mail armor and red tunic with the lion emblem; no doubt a tribute to Aslan and the days when they had ruled Narnia.

Peter turned, fully dressed for combat save his helmet. "The girls?"

"Are on their way," Caspian confirmed, nodding. "Are you—"

"Ready as I'll ever be." The High King laughed, his blue eyes filled with mirth. "This brings me back to the days of old."

"Ha," Edmund grumped, readjusting his own armor. "Just remember you're fighting for the present, not the past."

The Telmarine prince watched as the two brothers bantered with each other. Looking down at his bandaged hand, he once again felt useless, an extra wheel.

"We're doing this for you, you know."

The dark-haired young man looked up in surprise at the two suddenly serious former kings in front of him. "What?"

"This," Edmund fluttered his hand in a royal manner around him and the cave, "this is all for you. For your kingdom."

"So don't look so down," Peter added, giving him a curt nod as he drew his sword. "I know we've had our differences, Caspian. Truth is, we're both alike. Both headstrong, both stubborn—"

"Both arrogant," the younger king muttered, earning a half-hearted punch from his older brother.

"But in the end," the golden king continued, "we're both fighting for the same thing—for Narnia."

Edmund drew his sword, and both him and Peter raised their swords in salute to the rightful heir to the throne. Caspian watched in awe as the Narnians surrounding them followed the gesture, each raising their weapons in the hair.

"For Caspian! For Narnia!" Peter bellowed.

"For Caspian! For Narnia!" the others echoed, their voices rumbling and resounding through the How like an earthquake.

Sheathing his sword, Peter stretched out his hand and offered it to the humbled prince. "When I fight Miraz on that battlefield, it will be for you. I know that it should be you facing your uncle, but with his history of dishonest attacks we can't have the future King of Narnia slain on the battlefield." Grinning, he added, "A head on a silver platter wouldn't look very good for the coronation portrait."

Caspian smiled, taking the offered hand. "I understand. Thank you."

"King Peter! King Edmund! Prince Caspian!"

The three royals turned to see Reepicheep scurrying towards them, three of his men hot on his trail. "Your Majesties! A small troop of Telmarine soldiers was seen heading in the direction Queen Lucy and Queen Susan had left in."

Peter swore underneath his breath as Edmund clenched his fists. "You're sure, Reepicheep?"

"Positive, Your Majesty," the small mouse confirmed. "My men and I are ready to follow them at your disposal."

"No," Peter shook his head. "You're needed here."

"I will go."

"Caspian? Are you sure?" Edmund grasped the hilt of his sword. "I'll go with you."

"No. You are needed here, with your brother." The Telmarine prince turned to the mice. "Show me the direction they were headed."

"Right away, Your Highness."

"Caspian."

Turning, he saw Peter approach him, a strange expression on his face. "I trust you to take care of her in my stead."

"Lu—"

"No, Susan." The High King planted a firm grip on his shoulder. "Once she sees that they are in danger, she will do everything in her power to draw them off of Lucy and onto her."

Caspian gave him a strange look. "You have the gift of foresight?"

"No," Edmund gave a half-smile. "We just know our sister. She may be known as gentle, but she can be as headstrong and stubborn as the rest of us, when the time calls for it. Now hurry," he stood back, lifting his head in a commanding manner. "She had been prophesied years ago by Father Christmas to stay out of battle. Susan might find herself in a more helpless and compromising situation than any of us would like."

"But—"

"Go!"

Caspian took one last glance at High King Peter the Magnificent and King Edmund the Just, their stances regal as they stood, one hand on the hilts of their sword. He felt an odd sensation as he followed Reepicheep down the corridor as he hurried away with their image and command to take care of their sister in his head, as though he had stepped through time and witnessed for himself the magnificence and glory that was the Kings of Old.

Pushing the thoughts away for later, he jumped on the awaiting horse and sped off in the direction that Reepicheep had shown him. He needed to focus at the task at hand—saving Susan.

They galloped further and further into the forest, the horse flying through the trees as if it had wings. Caspian urged it harder, knowing that if what Peter and Edmund said was true, Susan would be engaging in battle.

After what seemed like a torturous eternity, he finally spied the Telmarine regiment, and even farther away, Queen Susan, standing in all her royal glory in the middle of the wood. With bow in one hand and arrow in the other, Caspian watched in amazement as the legendary queen proved her archery prowess by taking all but one of the soldiers down.

Her brothers' fears became true as the last soldier came on too fast for her to draw another bow, and, as he galloped towards her, swung hard at the Queen's head. Caspian felt his stomach knot as he drew his own sword, ready to decapitate the remaining soldier who threatened the Gentle Queen's life. His timing was perfect, and as the Telmarine turned to take another swing at Susan the prince came from the side, his sword hitting flesh as his opponent was unseated from his horse.

Sheathing his sword his eyes landed on the Queen, who was huddled by the base of a tree looking rather shocked. He searched for any wounds on her, and satisfied when he found none, trotted over to her paralyzed body.

Susan gazed up at him, her chest moving up and down at an erratic pace, as her eyes were as round and surprised. Her lips were shaped into a perfect 'o' as she stared up at the prince with a mix of confusion and relief.

Seeing her in such a state unharmed brought a smile to Caspian's face. Offering a hand towards her, he gave a short sigh.

"You sure you don't need that horn?" He asked in a rather teasing manner.

Her stare landed on his hand before moving up to his face. With a small shake of her head and a grateful smile, she accepted his hand, and in one easy move was swept up on the horse behind him.

Don't stop here…

I've lost my place…

I'm close behind…

AN: Okay, here's the second installment of the song-fic. I anticipate one more chapter and I should be done. I hope you all like the elaborations/extra scenes my mind has cooked up...R&R!