XXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 2, Part 1: Second-Rate; Never

XXXXXXXXXXX

Caspian felt as though his nerves were lit on fire for all the excitement overwhelming his senses. Just think! Two of the monarchs of the Golden Age walking less that a meter away from him! Oh miraculous day!

Letting his advisors and soldiers enter the tunnel's mouth first, Caspian lingered behind, drawn inexplicably to the two siblings that followed behind. They gazed at Aslan's How in unrestrained wonder, puzzling the young man exceedingly.

"Are you unfamiliar with Aslan's How…?" he queried, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Edmund tore his eyes away from the intricate etchings and mosaics that blanketed the walls of the maze. "It was just the hill of the Stone Table in our day…" he replied with a hint of wistfulness in his tone. "How strange to think how ancient these images look, and yet, we are even older…!"

Caspian glanced at the younger of the two monarchs, curious at her reactions. As his gaze rested upon her, he became captivated; the queen was bending to peer closer and caress gently some of the illustrations that caught her eye, her golden curls falling over her shoulder in what appeared as a cascading river of pure sunlight.

Her finger softly grazed the illustration of a Faun near a lamppost in winter… then moved on to a boy holding a bloody sword as he stood above a Wolf's corpse… only to brush the pad of her pointer finger over a pair of beavers standing beside their dam…

Her tender strokes of the illustrations on the walls never ceased (spending an especially long time on the carvings of a lion… the Lion) as he led the king and queen to his council room… But it was the reverent intake of breath from the duo that had him turning to watch them more carefully. Both of their eyes were locked upon the cracked Stone Table behind him.

Queen Lucy's features were overcome suddenly by a plunging sadness, lightened by the small affectionate smile that came into being. Stepping away from her brother's side, she reached a shaky hand out to the cold stone of the table. With a deferential sigh of contentment, she ran her hand along the stone, tracing most carefully along the jagged crack down the center. Then, as though drawn back to her brother by some unheard call, Lucy moved to him, clutched his hand, then stood silently by as she rubbed comforting circles on his hand and observed his face.

King Edmund's expression had paled upon seeing the table, his face turning white as snow – white as the Witch's skin… No! Edmund had long tried to forget his memory of the White Witch – to shed those painful recollections like a second skin, but his horror-filled remembrances refused to leave him. Lucy and Susan had eventually shared with him the knowledge of Aslan's sacrifice… and it had nearly torn him apart. His siblings had brought him tender solace and wise counsel and unconditional forgiveness – most of which he felt he didn't deserve. However, with time, perseverance, and a little help from Aslan, Edmund had moved past the terrifying memory of the Witch, or at least he thought he did, for the memories would creep up on him at times. And now Edmund was gently shaking from his guilt and disgrace when Lucy returned to his side (had he noticed her leave?) and offered him noiseless comfort. Recovering, he squeezed his sister's hand in gratitude.

With a wan, sympathetic smile, Lucy nodded in answer, understanding (always, always understanding…). Pulling her brother along, the two siblings followed Caspian where he led – namely the rough wooden table with logs for chairs and a clay lamp for light. With gracefulness that contrasted sharply with the crude furniture (yet lent it a stately glow in the lamplight), the two monarchs of old sat, joining the king's council, made up of Doctor Cornelius, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik, and Caspian… (Reepicheep and Glenstorm, after being introduced to the king and queen, had departed to see to the practical needs of the army.)

"Your Majesties—" Caspian began grandly…

"Oh please!" Lucy dismissed with an elegant wave of her hand. "We shall get nowhere if we constantly address each other by our titles! Caspian, we are Edmund and Lucy to our friends…"

Astounded, Caspian stammered, "But – but we met just a few minutes ago…"

Edmund smoothly cut in, "And you are the inheritor of the thrones of Narnia. Our thrones. Aslan has sent us to aid you – to bring you to your rightful place as king. And you, Caspian, have embraced the true essence of Narnia… What better friend we do we have here but you?"

Smiling broadly at Caspian, Lucy shared, "It's quite a compliment, you know, to receive Edmund's friendship so quickly…" Her face sobering, she softly added, "He does not trust so easily." To soften Edmund's emotional blow at her words, the queen pressed his hand beneath the table, soundlessly communicating that she meant no harm by her words; he squeezed back his reply – understanding and acceptance. Suddenly business-like, Lucy asked, "Now what is it you were saying, Caspian?"

"Well, your Maj—Lucy and Edmund," the prince began, "I was wondering where the High King Peter and Queen Susan were…"

For a brief moment, Caspian felt sure that he had somehow misspoke. Lucy had cocked her eyebrows at him in a dry look, as though to say 'Are we not good enough for you?' Meanwhile, Edmund's had gained a fleeting glint of something that forewarned of danger ahead. Before the prince could sputter out an explanation, an apology – anything, Doctor Cornelius interjected himself into the conversation.

"We are overjoyed at the presence and assistance offered to us by both your Majesties," the Doctor, ever the diplomat, explained. "However, we are curious and perplexed as to the absence of your Majesties' royal siblings."

Edmund shot Caspian a look as though to ask if that was what he had meant to say.

"Truly, your Majesties, Doctor Cornelius has described the situation far better than I could…" the prince reinforced. (Caspian was interested to note that in their slighted state, they made no move to have him call them by name.)

King Edmund took a deep breath before he said, "We have chosen different routes to reach you – all in the name of expediency. My sister, Susan, and Trumpkin the Dwarf travel with my brother Peter, who will arrive within a day or so by Aslan's will."

There were nods to be seen around the table – excluding Nikabrik who gave a light scoff.

"You will have to make do with us," Lucy remarked softly, peering into Caspian face almost as though seeking reassurances that he was not disappointed. When she saw that his face had not fallen from dismay, the queen added to the table at large, "…for Aslan has given Edmund and I the duty – and honor – of aiding Caspian ourselves." Then, speaking to Caspian alone, she said, "As Narnia is your responsibility now, Caspian, you are ours…"

The intimate words of the queen seemed to echo in his ears. He could not remove the delicious whisper from his thoughts – nor did he wish to. Her utterance, though loud enough for all to hear, was spoken to him, and by Aslan's mane! he didn't feel worthy of the trust she had placed in him. Beneath his outward musings on her statement, Caspian experienced a deeper, more visceral reaction to the queen. All at once, he had felt blood rushing, adrenaline pumping, and this unnamed, unrecognized desire (no, it was a need) to… do something. Caspian was unsure whether he wanted to grasp the queen to him in a breathless embrace, pull her to her feet in a wild celebratory dance, or… or crush his lips to hers in unspoken joy.

Suddenly, Caspian was almost grateful that the other king and queen had been delayed…