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Chapter Two

A Bad Night - Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans.

August 27th, 2306

Eastern Ocean, Narnia.

There could never be anyone like Susan the Gentle. Caspian recognised the ink coloured hair, curls framing her pretty, porcelain face. Lips like rubies curved into an elegant smile, and eyes like crystals sparkled in the sunlight. A gown that was the colour of honey hung off her dainty frame, toes only just noticeable under the hem.

A stretch of sand was all that was between her and Caspian. The azure waters kissed the shoreline, and the sun rays glistened off of the shimmering waves. Just a few meters, that's all. She just had to take a few more steps, and he'd be able to tuck her hair behind her ears, and hold her hand, and kiss her lips.

And then he woke up.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, and drenching the sheets, he shot up immediately. Eyes wide, and panting, his fists were clenched and his knuckles white. Looking around at his surroundings, Caspian realised he was back to reality. Rubbing his eyes, he swung his legs over the bed, and stood up. Sleep had eluded Caspian for the last eleven months. Nothing had helped; no potions, no powders, no pills. Tonight was just like all the other nights; a few mere hours of slumber, the same vision of her walking down the beach, with Caspian waking up before she can reach him.

Running a hand through his sopping locks, Caspian paced around his cabin. The candle on the bedside table was flickering, and the water in his cup swaying with the motions of the ship. He had fled to sea two months after the Pevensie siblings had left. Under the pretence that the new King needed to explore his country and it's isles, Caspian gathered a crew and embarked on a trip that he hoped would fill the gap left by her.

It didn't.

Glancing around the cabin, Caspian caught sight of himself in the small mirror he had propped up on the wall. Face as white as a sheet, his dark locks a stark contrast, he was appalled at the sight of himself. His eyes were sullen, and his cheekbones were more prominent than ever. Sighing, he turned his back to the shell he'd become, and instead found himself facing the painted portrait of the Kings and Queens of Old. That didn't make him feel any better.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the portrait, he brushed his fingers across the drawing of her. It had been painted during the Golden Age. Her hair was down to her ankles, and a bow was slung around her torso. Caspian couldn't help but think about how the artist had gotten the shape of her nose all wrong, and how her eyebrows were too arched, and how the colour of her eyes was a shade too dark.

Overcome by anger, at whoever decided that Peter and her couldn't come back, he lashed out and punched the wall. He resented his own thoughts. He resented the way that he couldn't control his rage. He resented the idea that he couldn't ever see her again. He resented the fact it had been eleven months and he hadn't figured out a way to move on from his feelings for her. He resented his own resentment.

Not for the first time that month, he approached the shelf that displayed her horn. Reaching out to run his fingertips along the ivory, he tried to resist the urge. Oh, did he try. He picked up the horn, and brought it to his lips. Hand trembling, he screwed his eyes shut. Glimpses of her face flashed on the backs of his eyelids, and so he dropped the horn back onto the shelf. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to blow the horn.

Feeling as though the walls were closing in on him, Caspian rushed over to the door, desperate for fresh air.

The wind on deck was soothing, in a way. The sweat that was sticking his shirt to his back was immediately dried, and he felt as though he could breath again. His heart was beating beating irrationally in his chest, and he felt somewhat dizzy, so he clutched onto the railing. A few men were going about their business on the ship, though in sleepy states, and thus did not pay any attention to their pale-faced King

"Are you alright, your highness?" inquired a voice from beside him, causing Caspian to jump slightly, startled. He didn't need to turn to face the man, however, for he recognised the voice of his captain.

"No, Drinian, I don't think I am," he sighed.

The man, Drinian, didn't pry any further. He knew what had been ailing Caspian. Though he didn't allow his personal troubles to affect his attitude in front of the men, they all knew about his kiss with Queen Susan. The whole country did. Word had spread, along with plenty of rumours. Rumours that the pair were lovers, that they were secretly engaged, that a little prince or princess was on the way. However, Drinian wasn't interested in fishwives' gossip. He cared only for his King, and at present his King did not appear all too well.

"We'll be docking in the dawn, your majesty," he informed him, looking out to the horizon. "You'll make sure you're well rested by then, won't you sire?"

Caspian smiled in spite of himself, and placed a hand on Drinian's shoulder. "I will. Thank you."

Drinian nodded, hands clasped behind his back. A man of few words, and of even less expressions, he was perhaps one of the most genuine people Caspian had ever had the pleasure of meeting - and as a king you don't meet many. He knew he could trust what Drinian had to say was worth the breath it took. He also believed that Drinian's advice, however honest and sometimes hard to listen to, was worth listening to. More foolish men than he had ignored Drinian's advice, and paid the consequences.

"I'm sure you are aware of the time difference in our world, and the world the Kings and Queens come from, Drinian," Caspian began. His captain nodded, signalling for him to continue. "You understand that whilst eleven months has passed here, a mere second could have passed in their time? And that in a hundred years time, when we're all bones and ash, the Kings and Queens could have aged by a minor hour?"

Drinian was well aware of the time difference between their world, and the Kings and Queens' world. He didn't pretend to understand it, but he knew of it. He knew how distraught the concept made Caspian.

"I've been trying to grapple with the concept myself, going through it over and over in my mind," Caspian sighed. "I hate not knowing. I hate wondering where she is, or what she's doing, or who she's with. I can't move on here, not knowing how she is over there."

"Sire, if you don't mind my saying so, I believe that you shouldn't allow yourself to dwell on the bad," Drinian advised. "You will never be able to look back on the past with fondness otherwise."

Caspian gripped the railing, his knuckles turning white. "Fondness?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I have no fondness as long as . . . as long as she's involved."

Pursing his lips, Drinian knew that, given time, Caspian would regret ever saying those words. Instead, he chose to ignore them. "I overheard the men discussing Queen Susan today," Drinian began, causing Caspian's head to whip around at the mention of the Queen. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared shocked, as though he hadn't heard her name spoken in eleven months. In truth, he most likely hadn't. "A few didn't believe that she had fought alongside you and the other Kings during the Second Battle of Beruna, let alone commanded the archers."

Caspian smiled at the memory, and then as though reminded of her fate, his lips curled downwards, and his forehead creased in a manner that made him appear almost sinister in the moonlight. "Why are you telling me this, Captain? I don't want to know," he seethed.

Ignoring him, Drinian continued. "They were impressed when one of the fauns, who had been there on the day, Ichor I think is name is, told them that after nearly falling to her death off that ledge, she joined you and her brothers on the battlefield. One of the men said that he'd never seen a woman fight before, and that he'd have loved even more to see a Queen fight."

"I said, I didn't want to hear it," Caspian hissed.

Once again, Drinian continued as though he hadn't heard anything. "Your Highness, you once told me that Queen Susan was unlike anybody you've ever met. You said that along with Queen Lucy, she was the best Queen Narnia had ever seen, and possibly ever will see. Well, the fact remains that there will indefinitely be more Queens. Narnia needs a Queen, regardless of who came before. You need a Queen, sire."

Caspian slammed his fist down on the wooden railing, causing Drinian to flinch slightly and a man who had been slumbering peacefully to stir, reaching for his sword. "I do not want another Queen, I want her!"

Tentatively, Drinian reached out a hand, and placed it gently on his King's shoulder. He could feel how tense his body was, and how much he was burning up. "I understand, sire. Or at least, I think I do."

Caspian sighed, tilting his head towards the breeze. "I don't want to marry anybody else, Drinian. Not if it's not her. I don't think it would be fair, not to Narnia, not to the woman, not to myself."

"Give it time, your Highness."

/

Simple and Sweet - Helen Forrest and Artie Shaw

August 30th, 1942

Southport, North Carolina, U.S.A.

The last eleven months, Susan had found it hard to look at herself in the mirror. She didn't like how pale she looked, or how hollow her eyes were. Her reflection only served as a painful reminder of what had happened to make her so unwell.

Which is why, looking at herself in the mirror, she was surprised at how good she felt. How positive. Her face was glowing, in a strange way, and her blue eyes were bright and sparkling. It would go against all of her beliefs as a modern, 20th century female to suggest that it was because of Johnny Coppola that this sudden change was brought about, but even she couldn't deny that his company had had some impact on her.

Despite her abrupt change in attitude, she couldn't do anything about the nerves raging in her stomach. Her palms were uncharacteristically clammy, and her mouth was dry. Turning from side to side, her scarlet red dress billowing as she moved, she chewed on her lip. The dress was new, a gift from her mother for the Tea party, and it was lovely. Little white flowers adorned the fabric in ivory cotton, with short sleeves, the hem stopping short just above her knees. Her raven coloured hair was down, and wavy. Susan wasn't completely sold, however her mother had ushered her into a pair of red heels.

Speaking of her mother, the beaming woman appeared in the doorway, her hand clasped over her mouth. "Oh my darling girl, how beautiful you are," Helen Pevensie comes. She crossed the room, and held her daughter's face in her hands. Susan leant into her mother's touch, smiling.

"You don't think it's all a bit silly? Like a little girl playing dress up?" Susan asked, anxiously. She couldn't remember the last time she gotten this dolled up - at least not in this world. She knew exactly the last time she had worn a dress this nice, she thought bitterly. It had hung off her shoulders, and was the colour of cream and cornflowers.

Helen cocked her head to the side, her eyes scanning Susan, then she smiled. Holding up a finger, she quickly rushed over to the vanity chest, and rummaged in the small make-up bag. A few seconds later, she triumphantly held up a thin, black tube. Uncapping it, Susan spotted an alarming crimson colour, and knew immediately that her mother intended to paint this lipstick on her lips.

"Don't look so worried, Susan," Helen chuckled, as she began to dap the rich colour onto her lips. Stepping back to admire her work, Helen appeared to be satisfied. "There, you're perfect."

Susan turned around to see her mother's addition on the completed canvas in the mirror, Susan was struck by how grown up she suddenly appeared. How much more mature, and stronger. Suddenly Susan didn't look like the scared and lonely little girl cast out of Narnia, but a woman in control of her life.

"Johnny will at a loss for words," her mother promised, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

As if by magic, the doorbell echoed throughout the house, and Susan's breath hitched in her throat. He was there. She could hear the door open, and the stern voice of her father. "I'd better go down, make sure your dad doesn't scare him off," her mother joked, before walking back towards the door and downstairs.

Easing her breaths, Susan tugged at her dress, and gave one last glance towards the mirror. You're overreacting, she told herself. There's no need to be this nervous. You're just being friendly, nothing has to come from this. You'll be going back to England soon, you'll never see him again. Nothing can come from this. With those affirmations in mind, she started towards the door. Susan knew she couldn't allow herself to make the same mistake she made in Narnia - she wasn't sure she could take it again. The first heartbreak she suffered nearly broke her. Up until three days ago, she thought it had.

It wasn't because of Johnny that she was feeling better, it was because she had met him. For those few, short hours, she didn't feel so lost, so empty. She was able to laugh without feeling guilty and smile without it slipping. Narnia was the last thing on her mind for the first time in months.

And now it was all she could think about.

Ever since accepting Johnny's invitation, she couldn't help the surges of shame that had washed over her when she remembered a certain someone. How unfair of her to even entertain the idea of attending parties with other men with she knew damn well that her heart belonged to another. How unfair to him, how unfair to him, how unfair to Johnny.

It was this nagging concern that almost made her wipe all the make-up off, and pull her hair loose, and shut the door. But then she heard his voice, his deep, dulcet tones, and knew that she'd be making a huge mistake not walking down those stairs.

So, taking a long breath, she began her descent. Peter caught her eye, and he seemed shocked by her appearance. Susan looked away before she could decipher whether it was good surprise, or bad surprise. Her father and mother were stood together, Gordon's arm around Helen's waist. Her mother was clutching a bunch of posies, pink and white in colour.

Susan's eyes then landed on the young gentleman waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. He was gazing up at her, eyes wide, mouth agape. She was taken aback by his attire; black, smart uniform, adorned with gold. US Navy dress attire. Clutching a vivd, red rose in one hand, and his pristine, white hat in the other, he was every girl's dream. True to her mother's word, he was speechless.

"Look what Lieutenant Coppola got me, Susan," her mother exclaimed, cheerily, holding out the posies for her to examine.

Raising an eyebrow, Susan reached the last step, looking Johnny up and down. "Lieutenant?"

Johnny seemed to be trying to find his words, unable to tear his eyes off of Susan. "Only Junior Grade," he answered modestly, almost bashfully. "Enlisted as an Officer as soon as I turned seventeen."

Susan nodded, impressed, as Johnny was lured in by her captivating beauty once more. Her father coughed, stirring Johnny once more.

"Oh, this is for you," he stammered slightly, holding out the rose.

Susan took the flower, blushing. No man had given her a rose before. In Narnia, men would come with elaborate gifts, such as exotic animals, exquisite silks, and enchanting jewels, but no flowers. "Thank you, it's lovely," she told him, truthfully.

Johnny grinned, relieved almost, clearly glad she liked the gesture. "You look beautiful, by the way," he mumbled.

Susan's blush deepened. "You too," she replied, then realised her word choice, and screwed up her eyes, and shook her head. "I mean, you look very dashing."

Before Johnny had a chance to reply, her father tapped his watch. "Shouldn't you both be going?" he sighed, his eyes narrowed.

"Shame to miss it," Peter added, in a monotonous tone.

Susan rolled her eyes, as Johnny held out his arm for her to hold onto. Smiling, she took it, as he led her outside. Susan could hardly believe her own eyes when she saw the car outside waiting for them.

It was a dazzling 1938 Chrysler Imperial Convertible, in royal blue. Sunlight shone off the windscreen and the mirrors, giving the impression that the car was made of diamonds.

"It's a friends. Let me borrow it for the night," Johnny whispered in her ear. The closeness sent shivers down her spine. "Hoped it would impress you."

"Well, consider me impressed, Lieutenant," Susan retorted, her red lips curling upwards in a teasing sort-of way.

Johnny laughed, and then proceeded to open the car door for her. She climbed in, graciously. He walked round to the driver's side, and got in too, closing the door behind him. Glancing to his right, he beamed at Susan, and put his hat back on.

"Have fun, you two!" Helen called to them from the doorway, waving. "And don't forget to be back home before eleven!"

Blowing her mother a kiss, and ignoring her brother's glowers, Susan then turned to Johnny, who she found was already staring at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him, incredulously.

Johnny took his time to answer, smiling at her. "Because it's just dawned on me that I'm going to this party with the prettiest girl in the whole of Southport," he finally said.

"So, you've met every girl in Southport, have you?" Susan asked him, smartly. Taken aback, Johnny shook his head. "Well, when you do, then you can tell me I'm the prettiest one - if that's still the case."

Chuckling, Johnny started the engine. "You know, I've never met anyone quite like you, Miss Susan Pevensie."

"No, I don't suppose you have."