So I realized my update schedule for this says every two weeks, not every week...so I've tried to compromise and do a week and a half! We're almost to the end of the Prince Caspian plot arc, which means we are approaching the halfway point of the story. So exciting!

And of course, thank you so much to sarahwood for reviewing so consistently, it really means a lot! Thank you as well to all the followers, favoriters, and readers. :)

Chapter 14

Morning brings a flurry of activity in the Narnian camp, as those who are leaving for the castle gather their necessities and the rest keep an eye on the newly defeated Telmarines. A stream of people who wanted to sleep in the How come out to see the castle party off, their faces still wary as they glance over at their enemies from time to time.

Miranda finds herself in the midst of the five royals as the party sets out, though she can't quite gather how she got there after saying goodbye to Suncloud. He's volunteered to stay behind, and so she won't see him for a little while. The thought almost makes her lonely, but her visit home quickly presses itself back into the forefront of her mind and sadness pushes the loneliness out with ease.

After they make their way into the woods en route to the castle, Caspian nudges her arm and silently asks her if she's alright. Startled, Miranda nods on impulse and hopes her eyes don't look as heavy her heart feels. How to say goodbye…how?

Miranda half-expects Caspian to press her again, but he leaves her be, though he glances over at her more frequently than before. Perhaps he doesn't believe her, yet he holds his tongue. She makes a mental note to thank him later, when they're alone and no one else will get curious.

Around her, the Narnians are quite talkative; no doubt they're anticipating newfound freedom under the soon-to-be King Caspian. The Pevensies too are animated, but Miranda does her best to pass under the radar so she won't have to pretend and, more importantly, so she won't put a damper on the overall mood. She'd try and fool them if she thought she could, but some things aren't that easy to hide.

The day passes on, and still Miranda can't quite bring herself to participate in the jovial mood. Caspian notices, but after that first check-in, he leaves her to her thoughts. And he's swept up in the mood after a few hours anyway, though a cloud still lingers over his head. Miranda isn't sure if it's because of Miraz or the news she told him yesterday, but a selfish part of her hopes it's the former so it won't be her fault that Caspian isn't as happy as he could be.

Aslan walks with her after they've taken the midday meal, but she can't quite speak to the Lion. He seems to understand, and his eyes look sad whenever she meets them. But when Aslan looks around at the Narnians and the royals, his eyes dance with joy. That lifts her spirits just enough for a smile to peek through.

By nightfall, the party has made good progress. Caspian spends some time with Aslan, and Miranda finds herself trying to keep up with the Pevensies' conversation.

Lucy recalls her days as queen during the Golden Age with Susan and Edmund while Peter talks with Glenstorm about something Miranda can't quite make out. Try as she might, her mind wants nothing more than to tune out and sit in melancholy. How to say goodbye here? How to say goodbye there?

Susan says something to her, and Miranda forces a nod and a smile hoping it was a statement and not a question. Confused, Susan doesn't ask what's wrong but her eyes say she knows something is up. Miranda tries another smile, and Susan seems to understand.

"I'm just a little tired is all," Miranda says as a mostly true excuse. She is tired, exhausted even, but it's no about the previous day's battle.

"If you want to talk, I'd be happy to listen," Lucy offers, somewhat out of the blue.

"Thanks Lucy." Miranda smiles a third time, a bit more genuinely than before. Even if she has no intention of taking up Lucy's offer, it's comforting.

The evening meal passes in silence for Miranda, though everyone around her remains as animated as before. When the time comes for bedtime, Miranda finds a place first and pretends to fall asleep almost instantly.

She waits until the snores start and then Miranda opens her eyes. As soon as she sees everyone around her is indeed asleep, she gets up and goes to find a quiet spot to try and work out what on earth she's supposed to do.

Just the mention of her impending goodbyes has Miranda sinking to the ground with her head in her hands. If she thought the memories of him were bad, this suffocating feeling of helplessness to keep her family and best friend from being hurt is even worse.

She's so lost in thought that she almost doesn't hear the footsteps approaching her. So when she finally notices, she can't be blamed for her cry of surprise and the tear that's jostled from her eye when she whips around, can she?

There's Caspian, hands up and apologizing as she lurches to her feet. Miranda tries to stare him down, to glare at him like she thinks she should, but the façade melts before she can even put it up and she's falling back to her knees. Her hands fly out in front of her to catch herself before she tips into the dirt.

At once, her parents' faces dance before her eyes and Leila's sobs ring in her ears like it's all happening again. They don't stop, no matter how hard she tries or inwardly screams that Caspian is seeing her breaking and she has to stop it right now.

She thinks he's saying her name and asking if she's alright, but she can barely focus on his words right now. She just has to sort herself out for the next few minutes; how hard can it be?

The fact that he's interrupted her attempting to do just that isn't helping.

"Later," she finally gets out, even as the memories of the three people she's about to hurt press in on her chest until she can barely breathe.

A warm and calloused hand touches her shoulder; Caspian didn't listen, did he?

So she tries again. "Later," she tells him again, more firmly this time.

"I can't leave you like this," he answers, softly and yet stubbornly too.

"Yes, you can." The memories leave her alone just long enough for her to finish the thought. "You have to."

"Mira-"

"I want you to." Miranda hears how the tears tearing at her throat warble her voice, but she can't quite care. Maybe if Caspian hears how hard she's trying to hold everything in, he'll leave her be like she's asking.

His hand returns to her shoulder and his arm follows, until he's sitting next to her and gently tugging her toward him. Silently, she wonders if she should allow this, if it's too close or too familiar, but by the time she finishes wondering her head is resting on the king-to-be's shoulder and his arms are wrapped around her.

"I don't want to cry in front of you," she warns, because she's dangerously close to tipping over that edge.

His hand brushes her hair back as it starts to spill across her cheek.

"It's alright," Caspian says.

Miranda wants to mumble back that of course it's not alright, she has a policy of only crying on her own thanks very much, but the words catch in her throat when Caspian's hand cradles the side of her face for the briefest moment. It should frighten her; most contact does. So why does it only feel sweet and almost tender, so pleasant that she can't wish it away?

Miranda opens her mouth to protest anyway, on principle, but Caspian anticipates and hushes her. She stiffens when he puts a finger over her lips. Silently looking down at her, he suddenly seems to understand and removes the digit, and his hand shifts down to clasp hers.

She considers whether to move away or not. On the one hand, Caspian is warm and the night air is a little chilly, and the way he's trying to soothe her is actually helping her hold it together. On the other, she still hasn't known Caspian for very long at all, and she normally doesn't like physical contact anyway. But then, what of their little talk the other day, when she held his hand and he held hers? She shouldn't have liked that either, but she did. Much like this.

"Do you wish to speak of it?" Caspian whispers against her hair, breath tickling her forehead.

Does she wish to speak of it? Yes, and no. Miranda isn't quite sure; perhaps she would like to talk it out just to get it off her chest, but does she necessarily have to talk it out with Caspian? She's already told him far more than she should have, anyway.

But couldn't she also argue that he's told her quite a bit too, and it's only fair if she opens up a little more in kind? In theory, the reciprocity makes sense, even if the idea of being obligated to do anything makes her hackles rise.

"I don't know," Miranda finally whispers back.

She doesn't expect him to understand that; if anything, she's bracing herself in case he decides to push her. So when he says nothing, confusion wrinkles her brow and she lifts her head to look at him straight on.

Caspian still doesn't say anything, and she can't read the expression in his eyes.

"Is it your family?" he asks at last.

It is, but how did he guess so easily?

Miranda opts not to reply; instead, she returns her head to its place on Caspian's shoulder. A tear is threatening to fall, but maybe if she can avoid sniffling, it'll pass unseen.

She succeeds in resisting the sniffles, but another lone tear wants to spill over too. If she lets enough of the pesky drops escape, Caspian will notice his shirt getting wet. If she's honest, she's quite lucky that he didn't notice the first one.

Just then, the second tear spills. Miranda's nose is starting to run in earnest now, and it tickles. She could sniffle, but then Caspian would know for sure that she's crying and she'd rather not have that.

'If he doesn't know already,' she thinks bitterly to herself. What happened to not crying in front of other people? Where is that rule now?

In spite of that thought, a third drop follows the second, and a fourth, until silent tears are streaming down Miranda's cheeks and she can't quite pull herself together enough to stop them. If Caspian didn't notice before, he's surely noticed by now; she can feel a wet patch on his shirt under her cheek where her tears have leaked.

But even though she knows it has to be painfully obvious, Caspian doesn't say anything. His arm only tightens around her shoulders a little, little bit and his thumb rubs soothing circles on her palm, yet he says nothing about Miranda's silent crying. In her mind, she thanks him for the discretion.

They stay like that for a while, until the sky fades to gray and the first streaks of pink stain the horizon. Miranda pulls her head from Caspian's shoulder and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. For his part, Caspian stays as quiet as before. When she starts to scramble to her feet, he takes her hand and helps her up, whether out of chivalry or concern.

At first, neither of them says anything. Miranda stares at the ground in embarrassment, but she can feel Caspian's gaze on her. Well, she'll have to meet it at some point, right? Maybe it's best to get it over with. So she risks a glance up at the prince.

She finds nothing but warmth.

"Sorry," she mumbles, half-hoping her words will fly into the dirt and die there. As soon as she finishes the apology, her eyes flit back downward, as if the leaves and earth are the most interesting things she's ever seen.

Gentle fingertips tip her chin back up, and it almost doesn't occur to her to be afraid. By the time she remembers that she should be uncomfortable, she's already meeting Caspian's eyes again.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he tells her, so seriously and so earnestly that she's taken aback. All she can do is nod once in reply.

By some sort of unspoken agreement, he ends up walking her back to her sleeping corner and it's there that they say goodnight. Miranda wonders why they even do that; they've never really said goodnight before, not really. Not like this, with him clasping her hands in his and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and murmuring "Goodnight" as if it's something between only the two of them and nothing else in the world matters.

And even stranger, Miranda finds herself murmuring it back and leaning into the light touch instead of away from it. What's so different about tonight?

She's still left wondering when she finally beds down for the minutes she has left of the night. Caspian leaves her then, but she doesn't miss that he returns to their sitting spot. When she's woken just after dawn, he's still sitting there.

The rest of the travel to the castle passes with surprising calm. More often than not, Miranda finds Caspian walking at her side. She never questions him, though she wonders why he's suddenly seeking out her company more than before. By her reasoning, if he has a reason for this change in behavior and he wants her to know, he'll tell her, and if he doesn't then he won't.

Susan notices the change too, and asks Miranda about it one night when they're within a day's journey of the castle. Almost sheepishly, Miranda admits that she's confused by the whole thing and isn't sure what to make of it herself. And when Susan smiles and tells her that she's lucky, Miranda is only more perplexed than ever. What does that mean, she's lucky?

In her confusion, Miranda discretely asks Lucy what her sister might have meant the next day when Caspian's distracted talking with Peter.

"I'm not sure," Lucy admits. "I did wonder if there was something there, but I don't think it went anywhere."

"Alright then," Miranda mumbles, still at a loss. She quickly decides that enough is enough and if Caspian wants to walk with her, she's not going to ask why.

By the time they arrive at the city, Miranda is more than content to just blend into the people around her. Prince Caspian and Aslan lead the way into the city surrounding the castle, closely followed by the four Kings and Queens. The reversal from their arrival at the How isn't lost on any of them, Miranda thinks.

The city, surprisingly, takes their group rather well. Maybe it's the sight of Aslan or the booming announcement of Caspian's kingship that keeps them from trying to push back, but whatever the case, Miranda can practically feel the collective sigh of relief when they march through unopposed.

It's good to see things going well.

Aslan doesn't waste any time in crowning Caspian king; as soon as possible the next morning, the coronation takes place in the council room of the Telmarine castle, with the lords present. Miranda quickly finds that even though it's quite the privilege to be there to see Caspian being crowned, the unfamiliar Telmarine men in the room make her a palms sweat and her legs cramp and her head swirl just a little. But then, Caspian did ask her directly to be there, so she tries her best to ignore the fear prickling at her skin for his sake.

Once the Telmarine crown is placed on Caspian's head with Aslan's blessing, she finds him looking to her for the briefest moment. Part of her wishes he wouldn't, but another part is flattered, even happy. It's then that she realizes that slowly but surely, Narnia is starting to change her.

The coronation is followed by a parade through the city. Apparently, Caspian and Peter agreed that it would be best for the Telmarine people if their new king went down into their midst, especially since Miraz took pleasure in elevating himself. At least, that's what Miranda's gathered.

Susan and Lucy convince her to join them in the parade, so Miranda reluctantly mounts up and rides behind them. How they managed to talk her into the ordeal, she will never know.

Out in the streets, it's not so bad as she thought it would be; the crowds cheer and seem genuinely happy to have Caspian as their king. With what Miranda's heard of Miraz, she's not too surprised. As the throngs are quite preoccupied with the new king and the legendary old Narnian monarchs, she can pass relatively unseen. Once the initial urge to bolt and hide somewhere passes, it's easier to let the general good mood rub off on her. Caspian is the happiest she's ever seen him (she caught a glimpse of his first real smile since she met him as he turned a curve in the road) and that's enough to get her through the rest of the parade.

Immediately upon returning to Caspian's new castle, preparations for a celebration begin. Miranda asks if there's anything she can help with as a courtesy, but when everyone she asks tells her there's nothing for her to do, she can't help her sigh of relief. Maybe she can find some forgotten corner of the castle to recharge before tonight? Susan was saying something about a dance or a feast, or maybe she mentioned both and Miranda can't recall which one they decided to go with. After all, Telmarine traditions were different than Narnian, but they had to try and accommodate both cultures if Caspian was to be king of them.

A task much easier said than done, but Miranda quickly decides it's not her concern; her help is not needed, thanks be to Aslan, and so worrying over how it will work would accomplish nothing.

Quickly, Miranda finds that any quiet part of the castle will be well away from the main floor. Heading up a spiraling staircase, she soon finds herself in a tower, winding toward the top with her hand on the cool stone wall. A tower will be quiet, and no one should accidentally stumble onto the spot.

And since the whole point of this endeavor is to be alone, Miranda finds herself spectacularly annoyed when she shoves open a heavy door only to see someone else standing there looking out at the city. She's just turning to hide her frown when they notice her presence.

"Miranda?"

Ah, so it's the newly crowned Caspian up here seeking a quiet moment. Miranda's annoyance simmers down considerably and she can pretend that she was not, in fact, biting down darkly sarcastic commentary.

"I didn't expect to see anyone here," she answers truthfully as she turns back around. "I can go if-"

Caspian shakes his head.

"I would appreciate the company."

At first, Miranda isn't sure what to say. Talking with Caspian is most definitely not a novelty, but talking so completely alone is. Still, when it comes right down to it, Caspian is just a friend who'd like some company, and Miranda can't come up with a good enough reason to leave now. So she goes to stand beside him, resting her arms on the cool, rough stone blocks.

At first, she feels like she should say something, just because the silence feels oppressive, like there's something both of them are refusing to say. Caspian looks over at her twice, and both times he opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then he closes it before any real sound comes out. After the second of these attempts, Caspian clears his throat and Miranda finally decides that she really ought to try and break the tension.

"What is it?" she asks.

Again, Caspian tries to say something, and again he stops short, ending the almost-reply with a shake of his head. Miranda watches him closely; she can't guess what he's trying to get out unless she studies him a little.

At once, Miranda thinks she understands.

"Your father," she states simply, and yet so softly too. "Are you thinking about him?" Where is this soft and caring side of her coming from? Hasn't she already learned how getting close to people ends?

Caspian hesitates at this; his jaw clenches and releases, his knuckles turn white as he grips the stones beneath his fingers. Casting his eyes down and studying his hands as if they hold the answers he's looking for, Caspian doesn't look at her as he nods. Almost against her will, it all makes sense. He now holds the same title as his father, and hearing himself called King Caspian must be reminding him all too much of his family tragedies.

Maybe it's their unexpected friendship that gives Miranda the courage, or maybe it's because she's grown to care for him enough that her demons don't matter so much, or maybe it's just that he looks so lost and alone that she can't really do anything else. Whatever the reason is, Miranda finds that she can't withdraw her hands from his once she's put them there. If she's honest, brutally honest with herself, the human contact feels…nice. Safe. It feels like maybe not everyone will try to break her, and maybe the young new king beside her is one of those exceptions to the hitherto universal rule.

When she glances at him again, the lines in his brow and the creases around his eyes have lessened a bit, though his hand is still tense under her own. Miranda realizes something else, with a clarity so startling that it makes her see white spots for a moment: he needs her. Right here, right now, the new king of Narnia, Caspian, needs her.

He makes a tiny, tiny move in her direction, so slight that at first she's sure she imagined it. But he shifts back away, almost guiltily; no, it was not her imagination, he really did move and now he's withdrawing, afraid of scaring her off. Miranda almost reminds him of the night she cried on his shoulder, that if she wasn't scared off then, she won't be scared off now. But the levity feels out of place. So instead, Miranda does what she can't remember doing with anyone for a very long time: she moves toward him.

She shuffles sideways until her shoulder presses against his, but they were standing close enough before that it's the work of barely three inches. With a deep breath to steady herself and calm the spike of apprehension in her chest, Miranda lifts her arm and slips it across his back.

Caspian is just as surprised by her gesture as she is; for the first few moments he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do and now more worried than ever of spooking her. But she bites down on her tongue to keep away a memory that's flickering just behind her eyelids and stays as she is, with her arm around his back in an awkward half-hug. Caspian must understand then that she has no intention of breaking away, and all the tension appears to leave him in an instant. His shoulders slump, his back curves under her hand, and all at once he's leaning gratefully against her and looking so tired, so very very tired and worn and exhausted. Miranda bites down extra hard to ground herself when his cheek hits the top of her head. He stops there, as if he's aware of how much she's struggling with this new form of contact.

He needs this, she knows.

So she stuffs her trembles and her fears and brings him closer to her, closer and closer until she's wrapped both her arms around him and he's done the same. His hesitation flees at her acceptance; as before, the tension leaves him in a rush, and when his head slumps onto her shoulder, she doesn't mind nearly as much as she thought she would. He needs this, after all, and he's already done quite a bit for her.

She almost asks if he wants to talk about it, but he doesn't seem to have any inclination to do so. Caspian seems content to stand here quietly with her arms around him and his arms around her, much to her surprise.

A loud boom overhead disturbs their quiet, and Miranda tries not to tense at the startling crack that follows. The fireworks to celebrate Caspian's coronation have now begun.

Cautiously, Caspian shifts against her, lifting his head from her shoulder to get a glimpse of the lights exploding in the sky. Miranda loosens her hold on him, but when she starts to let her arms fall away he takes an extra moment to let go of her himself. Miranda's heart pounds in her ears at that, and for a wild moment she wants nothing more than to run, run out of his reach, run out of the tower, run out of the castle, run out of Narnia itself. For that wild, breathless moment, she feels trapped.

Then he releases her and the moment ends almost as suddenly as it came.

"Thank you, Mira," he says quietly, his words almost obliterated by another booming explosion of colored fire.

"You did the same thing for me," she answers, hoping the remainder of her brief panic isn't showing in how she looks at him; or rather, how she looks just to the side of him instead of meeting his gaze head-on.

From here, neither of them seems to know precisely what to do. After a few moments of saying nothing, they turn to the stones in front of them and lean onto their forearms to watch the rest of the fireworks. But wait...he called her Mira, not Miranda.

"Mira?" she asks. She was under the impression Suncloud was the only one who called her that.

Caspian shrugs and glances over at her almost sheepishly.

"It suits you. I didn't think you would mind." Even as he says this, he sounds unsure, like he's asking if she really does mind and he's expecting her to say she does.

Instead, Miranda smiles.

"I don't. I like it."

Truthfully, taking on a new name, even if it's just a nickname, feels like a fresh start to her, makes her believe she really can leave all the fear and pain behind. She thinks she's ready to forget again, though this time she knows it will always be a part of her. But perhaps, in time, she will be happy and carefree once again. Her new name really makes her believe that's possible even if just for a few seconds.

Miranda stands there with Caspian until the fireworks have run their course. The hope lingers even after they're finished and when Caspian tells her goodnight. He makes sure to call her 'Mira' again, and when the name makes her smile he smiles too. Caspian also makes a point of telling her about the celebrations tomorrow. It's nothing too elaborate because of the last-minute nature of it, but she can tell he's hoping she'll come.

"I'll think about it," she tells him.

Caspian smiles like he knows that she's bound to show up whether she actually wants to or not, especially if Lucy gets wind of it.

"The company of a friend is always welcome," he says.

Miranda simply smiles and doesn't make any promises, but she think he can tell that she thinks she will go, in spite of the unfamiliar situation and the throngs of unfamiliar people. She can always leave whenever she wants.

That night, Miranda goes to bed with a smile on her face.

And now Caspian is king and Miranda's starting to have a tiny breakthrough...

sarahwood - Thank you! Miranda's feelings are definitely developing, and I think she's starting to let them crystallize. I'm glad the hospital scene went well, I'm flattered. :)

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