A/N: This began as an unexpected out-of-nowhere dialogue. After some refining became a lighthearted little pre-romance conversation. I was extremely tempted to post this as a oneshot, but it's a bit too brief to stand on all its own, so it ended up over here. It was the first of my 'Conversations' pieces, originally titled 'Lucy and Caspian discuss age'. Enjoy.
"How old are you, Lucy?"
Her returning smile had a touch of wistfulness. "I don't know exactly. I'm eleven, I suppose, but it seems different in Narnia. I've already grown up here."
She paused. "I don't feel eleven."
Caspian thought for a moment. He remembered her accomplishment with blade and bow, the advice she offered in the tone of an experienced monarch, and her unquestionable bravery in the face of storm, sea-serpent, dragon and magician.
"Nor do you comport yourself so," he said. "How old were you at the end of your reign?"
"Twenty-three," she said softly.
He stared at her. Twenty-three was even older than he'd expected. Caspian suddenly felt very silly sitting beside her, as though the condescension had been reversed. In many ways he thought of Lucy as a younger sister, but he now realised it may very well be the other way round.
"That must be mixed up," he replied.
Lucy gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Her eyes were distant, and Caspian had the impression that her mind and memory were far away in another age.
"I feel. . . quite muddled," she said, meeting his gaze again. "I don't know where I am, or which to be."
"Perhaps you're at the middle. That would be. . ." He frowned, trying to figure the sum in his head.
Her brow wrinkled in thought. "Seventeen," she answered.
"Why, you're the same age as me!" he laughed.
Lucy smiled widely. "I suppose I am."
A/N: The point here was to give Caspian and Lucy some even grounding, since most of the outcry against the Lucian pairing is because of the age gap. Hopefully this offers a fluffy little solution.