A/N: This one will take a bit of explaining.
To put it the short way, this is another of Lucy's nightmares that I chose to omit from The Call of the Horn – I figured two were enough, and anyway I like how elements of both dreams were in the birthing chapter: water, the forest, running, and a bit of magic. This one is a nightmare about the birth itself. (In my universe, Lucy has acted as a midwife during the Golden Age – that's expanded from the idea of her cordial – so she did have some inkling as to what childbirth would be like.)
If you really want to get into it, this dream was the product of many long ponderings about the effect of Star's blood, or lack thereof, in Rilian's lineage. We known that Ramandu's daughter was uncommonly beautiful, wise, and removed. Later she is called gracious and happy, but within her initial characterization there is something distinctly other about her. In canon Rilian inherits these conditions; in my universe, he is the son of Lucy and so forfeits anything to be gained from being one-quarter Star. So I asked myself, what can I do to achieve that same strangeness through Lucy's part? The answer was a planned companion piece in which I would show the darker side of the story. Basically, Lucy goes though depression, and a little bit of schizophrenia and substance abuse. She starts taking drops of her cordial for no reason, and drinking some of the water Caspian brought back from the world's end. . . so maybe, a few things go funny with the pregnancy – but only as funny as being half Star.
Of course, you can only bend things so far before some point breaks into the AU, and in this case it was Lucy's character that took most of the weight and was pushed into OOC-ness. I chucked the idea, but not before writing this dream sequence that utilizes some of those plot elements. Enjoy.
It was more terrible than anything she had ever endured. She shrieked again, the hoarse scream barely leaving her. She was too exhausted, and too many screams had passed from her lips to make much sound now.
Still, the pain was ripping, tearing, so awful that it wrenched another scream from her throat. She bunched her fingers tightly around the grasses, but it helped only very little. She wanted her cordial, oh, she needed it so badly, to drink it all down in one gulp.
Finally, finally, it was over. Tears of relief were streaming down her face. The baby – tiny, golden, and perfect – was held out before her and she stared in wonder. Rilian was the most perfect thing she ever laid eyes on. His eyes were blue, like hers, and his little toes wiggled out from the blanket. She was still crying, but no longer from the pain.
Lucy raised her arms – so weak a moment ago – to collect her son. But the white hands that held him drew the baby back.
"Thank you," said a high, icy voice, "for my son."
Her heart went cold. No – no – it couldn't be! But Lucy raised her eyes and saw, with unmistakable terror, the figure of the White Witch.
"Give me my baby," said Lucy, trying to be brave.
"This child is mine," answered the Witch in her horrible voice, and Lucy's skin prickled. "He is mine by right, by royal and magical claim. . . Did you never guess what might happen? That there would be no consequences for what you had done?" She laughed. "A child – nephew to the High King! – raised in darkness, fed on fire-flower juice and silver water from the world's edge? He will be extraordinary, and he is mine. A Prince of Darkness." She laughed again and the baby squirmed in her arms. "Little Lucy, did you forget? The greatest evil is born from innocence."
The Witch laughed harder than ever at her words, and Lucy shrieked, "No! You can't have my baby!" She fumbled around, trying to find the strength to rise from the ground, to stand up and defend her son – but she was worn and weary, and her muscles would not obey her. A racing panic flooded through her veins and she drew great, gasping breaths.
Heavy, pounding footsteps in the grass, and Caspian was there. He stood behind her, a warm leg against either shoulder, bracing her, and she felt a very little better. He drew his sword at once and pointed it straight at the Witch. "Release my child, harridan, and your life may be spared," said Caspian.
Lucy bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. Caspian didn't realise – didn't know who this woman was, and what power she held – how foolish and empty his threat sounded. Her mind groped for a way to communicate this, to convey her identity to Caspian, but she couldn't think of one.
"Are you deaf as well as defiant? Heed my words, or face your end," added Caspian, raising his swordblade. Lucy cringed.
The Witch gave a soft chuckle, as if she hadn't heard him. Rilian fussed a little and she inclined her head to kiss him. And then, like lightning, the Witch flashed her wand through the air and Lucy felt cold stone at her back. . .
Every space of breath left her. Not Caspian, no, no, not Caspian – Lucy was choking, unable to breathe, as though she were drowning. She screamed until her throat burned like fire, shrinking away from the stone pillars behind her. She wept and wailed and the world spun, and when she looked up, Rilian and the Witch were gone.