I do apologize for the slight lateness of this chapter. Technical difficulties converged with a little stomach bug, and well, a few days later I was scrambling to finish editing because it was late. So apologies once again!
And of course, thank you to all the readers, favorites, follows, and especially reviewers! liz-04, sarahwood, and joycelyn. , thanks a bunch for your lovely feedback!
Chapter 15
A cold and clammy hand clamping over her mouth has her thrashing to get away from it. She knows this hand.
She tries to bite down, but it moves just before she can, as if it was expecting this.
"Keep quiet, understand?"
A shiver courses through her veins, cold and unforgiving as ice, at the sound of that oily voice. Why is it back? How?
Thrashing won't make it go, and she barely has the energy or strength for it anyway.
She stills through force of will alone, though her pulse still shivers through her veins and her hands twitch in place. The hand moves, as she had hoped. She has to fight the urge to wipe her mouth on the pillow behind her head.
"I told you not to come back."
He waggles a finger right under her nose, reigniting her urge to shrink away.
"No, you only told me to leave. You never said I couldn't come back."
"I didn't think I had to."
He shakes his head, scraggly blond curls falling over his eyes and hiding half of his face from her. She can't read him as easily now, and it almost sets off her trembling again.
"I'll never leave, not really." He takes the waggling finger and taps the tip of her nose with it, his face uncomfortably close to hers. "And you know it."
"Go to hell." She isn't sure why she hasn't bitten off his finger yet. Someone told her that fingers were like baby carrots - very easy to chomp off.
He chuckles, a cruel sound that echoes in her ears like a curse.
"I miss you, Miranda. I'd like you to come back to my place again. We had such a pleasant time there."
She spits in his face as her answer.
"You have two seconds to leave before I scream and let everyone know you're here."
"Tsk, tsk. I had hoped you would be more cooperative," he says as he wipes her answer from his eyebrow - so nonchalantly, like it means nothing.
For her part, she just stares daggers at him, praying that he'll just go, because the fight is starting to go out of her and she can't let him see her wither. She has to be strong, constantly strong, in his presence.
Really, she shouldn't have to worry about his presence at all.
To her surprise, he straightens and brushes his hair back from his eyes. And then he says something that makes her see red and swear to every god she's heard of that she'll dismember him herself, piece by piece.
"I'm sure Leila will be more amenable."
"Touch her, and I'll kill you." She's never threatened someone outright before, but she means it. It terrifies her that she means it, but she does, and she can't find it in her to feel sorry.
"I always did like a little fight," he tells her with a grin that spans his whole face and leaves her with a sick feeling all over.
"You think I'm joking?"
He leans in until his nose is almost touching hers. She tries not to gag at the heavy smell of spoiled food that comes from his breath.
"It's much more fun if you aren't, my dear."
He stands and walks out before she can say anything.
Miranda wakes in a cold sweat and surprised she isn't screaming.
She's up before the sun pacing around the room, unsure whether she should try and forget the encounter or remember it in cold, brutal detail. If she forgets, she might not be able to warn Leila enough. If she remembers…she knows she will quickly find herself back at square one.
Thoughts swirling and heart pounding, Miranda stops pacing in favor of sitting at the foot of the bed and curling up into as tight a ball as she can manage. That works, until images and screams flood her mind and she has to jump away from the bed like it's made of poison. She tries the sofa next, but she keeps thinking he's on the other side that she can't see and soon she can't take that either. Then comes sitting in front of the door, but then she thinks that if someone is going to come inside she'll want to see the door handle before she feels the door open, and so she winds up in the center of the room facing a mirror. This way, she can see all around her and nothing will sneak up.
Logically, Miranda knows that almost no one will be coming to her room before the sun is even up, yet she can't think of anything but the what-ifs and how to prepare for each and every one of them.
How can she warn Leila if she's dying? She could die the next time she wakes at the hospital. She'll have to try, she'll have to do everything she possibly can do. She can't even think about the consequences if she doesn't make sure Leila knows what's going on.
Just as she was learning to hope, now this happens. Miranda can't help but wonder if the cosmos is purposely against her climbing out of the veritable hole her demon shoved her into, and keeps shoving her into. In a few moments she can dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but deep down she can't help but wonder just a little bit. What has she done to merit this?
Miranda stays curled up in the middle of the room until the sun rises, and a little bit after that too. Every creak both freezes her in her spot and fills her up with the un-ignorable need to flee. The combination of the two renders her nearly helpless, with nothing to do but stare at the mirror and wait for someone to come crashing through the door.
The time indeed comes when that handle turns, and Miranda finds that she's stuck where she is, too afraid and unsure to move. Even when the door swings open and it's only a maid coming in, she can't quite convince her limbs to pick her up from the floor.
"Best get up miss, breakfast is within the hour," comes the lilting voice with that almost Spanish accent.
Miranda wants to say she's not hungry, but her tongue feels like it's frozen to the roof of her mouth.
"Miss? Are you well?"
Miranda has to say something, or the whole thing will look even stranger than it already does.
"I'm fine," she finally manages to say. "Just getting my bearings."
It's a flimsy excuse if ever she's heard one, but it apparently holds up well enough; the maid doesn't ask any more questions. It occurs to Miranda as she's turning to go just how rude her silence must seem, so she clears her throat and tries to make amends.
"Sorry, I've been rude. What's your name?"
The girl looks a little surprised at being addressed, more specifically at the question, but she replies with a tentative smile.
"Madia, miss."
"I'm Miranda." Miranda smiles, and it sets her more at ease when the gesture is returned.
"Breakfast is within the hour," Madia says as she finishes straightening the bed and stomping out the last embers in the fireplace. "I'm to help you get dressed."
Miranda wonders why she needs help getting dressed when the first dress Windmane gave her required no help at all, but when she goes to the wardrobe and sees complicated laces, then she understands.
"Were these already here?" Miranda asks. Some of them look a mite small for her.
"They were brought here just the other night. I am sure we will find something to fit you."
The whole thing is a bit awkward, but Miranda thinks of how much worse it could be (being helped into a dress by a male, for instance) and keeps her mouth from putting voice to her discomfort. She's undeniably relieved when she's clothed properly and Madia leaves. Unfamiliar faces are unsettling at best after such a night.
Miranda has half a mind to skip breakfast altogether just so she won't have to exhaustively hide her shaken state, but she also knows that if she does not go, the questions will come even swifter than if she does and simply appears on edge. So she grits her teeth and starts toward the dining room that Madia was kind enough to give her directions to. Already, just standing outside, she can hear easy chatter and cordial greetings being passed around. Miranda takes an extra minute to try to hide away the turmoil she knows must be in her eyes before opening the door and stepping inside.
Thankfully, her entrance goes almost wholly unnoticed. Unfamiliar Telmarine faces are here, but so are the Pevensies and Caspian. On the whole it's not as bad as it could be. Miranda thinks that maybe, if she makes a mantra of that and repeats it, she'll get through breakfast without bolting or screaming.
Miranda's surprised when she manages to do just that, though she barely says more than ten words the entire time. She only looks up from her food four times, two of them to answer a question addressed to her by Susan. One of them is to reply to something Peter's said, and that takes a bit more determination on her part. Even though she knows Peter well enough now that she wouldn't be afraid of him under normal circumstances, the memory of last night is still too fresh and she can't meet his eye without knowing she'll fall apart, that it won't be Peter in front of her.
When breakfast is over, Miranda scurries away as quickly as she can and squirrels herself away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. Preparations for a coronation celebration are underway and will be for another day or so, and she'd rather not get in the way while she tries to pull herself together.
She wanders about without really knowing where she's going, wanders until she feels a breeze on her face and realizes she's at the same tower as last night. This time, however, she has the place to herself.
The only thing she can think about, over and over, is his face as he told her he hoped Leila would cooperate. Amenable, that's the word he used. Miranda thinks her blood might actually boil in her veins just at the thought of that demon going after her closest friend. What had Leila ever done to deserve that demon's shadow? And when that loop rests in her mind's eye, everything she's been so good about forgetting the past week or two comes flooding back, but instead of all the horrible things happening to her, it's Leila she sees screaming, Leila crying, Leila begging him to stop and let her go.
It's too much.
Miranda feels the telltale racing of her heart and shortening of her breath begin as the blind panic threatens to drown her. She has to do something, but while she's in Narnia there's absolutely nothing she can do.
And if she can't stop him, then it's her fault.
If Leila is made to suffer for her bad judgment all those months ago and for her refusal just last night in a hospital bed…Miranda isn't sure she can handle the fall out from that. Just the thought of it is crippling her right now, as she presses the side of her face against the stone and tries to ground herself enough that she can at least see straight.
It's not working.
Miranda doesn't know exactly how long she stays up there on the windy tower, clinging to her sanity only by the barest of threads, but when she finally straightens from her crouch and finds that she can breathe without her head spinning the sun is sinking in the sky.
"Hours," she murmurs to herself. Hours she's been up here falling apart. It feels so much shorter than that.
She should return to her room to freshen up, in case anyone comes looking for her. Most of her doesn't care one whit what she looks like right now, red eyes and runny nose and pinched face be damned, but she thinks she'd rather clean up and at least be able to pretend on the outside that everything is okay. These are her problems after all, and not anyone else's. She'd prefer to keep it that way, especially because she doesn't think she could even begin to talk about what's wrong.
Miranda barely pays attention to where she's going on the way down from the tower. That is, until her shoulder collides with someone else's and she whips around to apologize.
She freezes as soon as she does, because she recognizes this man. He was one of the soldiers she helped trick, back during the nightly raids. And now he recognizes her.
"I remember you," he says with an angry scowl. "You helped the Narnian rebels steal our weapons, didn't you?"
She has to get out of here, has to get away from this man. He's dangerous, she can see the telltale glint in his eye. She knows the look of a dangerous man all too well.
Miranda stumbles away, or tries to, but his hand clamps around her arm in a vice grip and she's left struggling and trying to find the words to tell him to let her go now.
"What's the matter, little missy? You frightened?"
Where is everyone else? Why did the hallway have to be abandoned now of all times? Miranda curses her self for seeking solitude, no matter the excuse.
The soldier leans in with a snarl that turns her blood to ice.
"You should be."
"Let me go." Miranda has no idea how she spat out the words with so much venom, but she's relieved at least her voice knew what to do.
"Why?" the soldier says, his face so uncomfortably close that she can smell what he had for lunch. Smoked meat of some sort, she thinks.
"Let. Me. Go." Miranda isn't expecting him to do so, but she figures she'll give him one more chance before she lets her need to flee take over and she rakes her nails down his face. She does have one arm still free, after all, a fact he seems to have forgotten.
"I do not take kindly to being ordered about by a girl," growls the soldier, tightening his grip from vice to bruising.
He's out of chances, and she's out of patience.
In a desperate swing, Miranda takes her nails and slashes across his face just as she envisioned doing moments ago. A howl of pain fills the air and the hand on her arm loosens just enough that she can break free and bolt down the hallway.
And bolt she does; everything flies past at a dizzying speed, and she ignores the strange looks that come her way. She's through with caring what other people think, at least for the moment. All she can focus on right now is getting away and making herself safe, whatever that takes. Because if something happens to her before she can go to sleep…Leila won't know what's coming after her until it's too late.
Miranda crashes past the door to her room and throws it shut behind her. She can barely breathe from her mad dash through the halls, but it seems to have paid off – she can't hear any footsteps coming after her. Not for the moment, at least.
All at once, Miranda's legs give out and she sinks to the floor like she did this morning, with her back to the door and her front to the mirror so she can see everywhere in the room.
Maybe now she can take some time to get herself under control; she knows this level of frantic terror is very bad and she'll pass out for sure if she can't get her heart rate down and her breathing back under her control.
Just as she's beginning the process of slow, deep breaths, a knock comes at the door.
'Of all the times,' she thinks.
"Who is it?" she asks when a second knock follows the first.
"Caspian. Miranda, are you alright?"
What is Caspian doing knocking on her door in the middle of the afternoon? Doesn't he have a whole host of new responsibilities to contend with?
"I'm fine," she lies.
The door opens slowly and then she's meeting Caspian's eyes in the mirror and wishing he wasn't so damn stubborn.
"I'm fine," she tries again. "Don't you have things to do?"
That sounded much more hostile than she intended, but maybe it's for the best. After all, there's nothing he can do about any of this, and it'll be better if he's not worrying with her problems on top of his own.
"I saw you running," he says, walking toward her hesitantly after he closes the door, like he's afraid of setting her off.
He's right to be worried about that, though she doesn't say so.
He catches a glimpse of her in the mirror again and walks a little faster.
"Mira, what happened?"
"There's nothing you can do," she whispers. She thinks she should tell him to go and leave her be, but she can't quite force the words from her mouth.
He's close now, close enough that if he sits down next to her he'll be within arm's reach. She expects him to stop where he is, but he doesn't. Caspian continues forward until he's right beside her. She stiffens when he leans down; any proximity is too much right now.
He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Caspian take a seat next to her and covers one of her hands with his own. She tries not to think about how easy it would be for him to grab her, but she can't quite help it, not with the events of the past twelve hours replaying in her head like a movie reel.
"I need to sort this out on my own," she says then, even though deep down she knows she'd like the company for just a few minutes. He's a friend and she trusts him, underneath all this newly awakened fear.
With what he says next, she thinks he might just know that she wants him here just enough she can't outright tell him to go away.
"You don't have to," he murmurs, giving her hand a little squeeze as he does.
It's the wrong thing to do, but how could he have known that? Yet Miranda finds she's spun away from him and sprung to her feet before she's remembered who he is.
"I…I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice breaking as she does. "I can't…it's not…"
This is her breaking point. This is worse than kneeling by a river's edge thinking of how to say goodbye to her family, of how much they'll miss her and how helpless she is to stop that pain from visiting them. This is everything crashing down at once, and this time there's no way to stop it. She has nothing left now, no strength to keep from crumpling to the floor.
Two arms catch her as she goes and keep her from tumbling down in one senseless heap. Miranda isn't quite sure how the whole thing happens, but when she's blinked the tears from her eyes, she realizes Caspian is holding her up. He's sitting at the foot of her bed and cradling her against his chest, uncaring that she's ruining his shirt.
"It's alright," he whispers into her hair as he smoothes it from her forehead. "Everything is alright."
She wants to scream that nothing is alright, but something about the way he's holding her stops the words before they even tickle at her throat. He tells her again and again that everything will be alright, so many times that she almost starts to believe him. Then she'll remember the demon threatening her friend and begin shaking all over again. Sometimes, fragments of the night's events slip past her lips in a nonsensical string of syllables, and each time this happens Caspian just hushes her and pulls her a little closer. His heartbeat, faster than usual, echoes in her ear and quiets her raging mind after a while.
Sometimes though, her mind snaps and she forgets who he is and struggles against him, struggles until he reminds her with gentle touches and reassuring words. Those moments always take a while for her to come down from, but when she does, she sags against him in exhaustion and wonders that he hasn't left her to her own devices yet. How he stays with her for what must be an hour or more, she'll never know.
But finally, after many snaps and tears and pounding memories, Miranda finds that she's starting to calm down. At length, she returns to the present without shying back into her mind-made hell and looks up at Caspian for the first time since she caught his eye in the mirror. She searches his eyes for anger or disappointment or disgust, searches until her own eyes start to cross from her efforts.
She finds none.
"Mira." He says it like a question, like he's asking if she's feeling better now.
Hearing her new nickname relaxes her. It helps her keep grounded, and she smiles a trembling sort of smile in response. She wants to thank him, but isn't quite sure how. A simple "thank you" seems ridiculously insufficient.
Instead of answering, she ends up dropping her head back to his shoulder and taking a deep, cleansing breath. If it were anyone else, Miranda is sure she'd be panicking again at the proximity, but not with Caspian. No, Caspian makes her feel like she could be safe, like he wants her to be safe instead of scared.
"Thank you," she ends up telling him, even though she's keenly aware it's not enough.
"Did something happen?"
If only he knew how many things have happened.
Miranda isn't sure what to say, or what to tell him. Strictly speaking, she supposes she should tell Caspian about the soldier, especially since she struck him. But she isn't quite sure how to tell him without letting the whole story fly from her lips – a story she doesn't think she's ready for him to know.
She ends up sitting in silence and trying to decide exactly how to tell him. She's alright with him knowing about that soldier, but everything else…he can't help, so why burden him?
"You do not have to tell me," Caspian says.
She must have stayed quiet for long enough he knew she wasn't entirely comfortable.
"It's okay," she finds herself saying. "I kind of owe you anyway."
No sooner has she finished these words than Caspian's taken her face with both hands and looked her dead in the eye as he says, "You mustn't say that, Mira. You do not owe me anything."
She wants to believe him, but it's easier said than done. After all, what has she actually done for him?
"You will never 'owe' me," he finishes, still looking as serious as she's ever seen, even a little pained.
"I think…" Miranda clears her throat and tries again. "I think I wouldn't mind."
And moreover, with the soldier Caspian will have some possible course of action to take if the fancy strikes him; there will be no wasted energy, as there would be if she told him everything.
But once she opens her mouth to tell him about the soldier in as brief a story as possible, she quickly finds that other things spill out too. And before she knows it she's told him about the soldier and the hospital and her demon, all about her demon. Caspian doesn't quite understand the full significance of the previous night at first, though he's plenty upset just at someone going into her room and threatening her and her friend. Miranda debates internally, but before long that story is spilling from her lips too – though that one she sticks to the bare minimum. No need to blow it out of proportion.
When she's done with the entire tale, ugly bits and useless bits alike, Caspian doesn't react at first. He just stares at the ground, almost like he can barely comprehend everything she has just told him in such a small amount of time. Miranda considers apologizing, but it looks like Caspian is deep in thought and she doesn't want to disturb him.
"That is why I frightened you the first night we met, isn't it?" He speaks slowly and quietly, like he can't quite grasp the words as they're leaving his mouth. "And all the times after that…how many times did you think it was he approaching you?"
"Not so many as you'd think," she tells him honestly, because it's the nightmares and flashes that plague her more than anything.
"Last night, on the tower…" Caspian sounds nothing short of awed now, and she knows that now he understands exactly how difficult that was for her.
She only smiles at him – a tiny, tiny smile, but the first since he came into the room.
"Thank you," he tells her. This one means even more than the thanks he bestowed on her last night, because now he knows.
Then she realizes too: he knows, and he's still here.
"Wait, aren't you…I mean, shouldn't you…shouldn't you…"
Caspian just looks confused at her words, and he doesn't pull away.
"I mean, you're the king," she finally gets out.
"Yes, I am." He sounds bemused and stares down at her with a curious little quirk in his brow.
"Well, now that you know, shouldn't...that is, I should..."
Why is it so much harder to concentrate when he's gazing down at her? Is it normal, to want to smile at the flicker of amusement in his eyes?
"We shouldn't be like this," Miranda finally splutters, gesturing to their, by medieval standards, compromising position. "Isn't it different, now that you know?"
Her heart beats a little faster as she waits for his answer. Half of her still expects him to get up and leave.
He doesn't.
If anything, he looks purely appalled at the idea she just suggested.
"Mira no," he tells her. "His actions are the only shame. Not you."
Now she's confused – confused and grateful, but still afraid to believe him fully. She doesn't want him to suddenly turn on her, and if he will then she'd rather he just go ahead and do it already so she doesn't have to wait and wonder.
Caspian looks at her until she meets his eyes, and even then he doesn't seem quite satisfied.
"If it is ever in my power to tear this monster limb from limb, you may be assured I will do it at once. But I will never turn you away for what he has done."
Tears prick at her eyes at how he speaks to her. She can't even begin to come up with a response, but she thinks he can see how much his words have affected her.
They sit together until the hour for dinner comes. Miranda hesitates at first, because she doesn't want to leave the relative safety of her room, but Caspian is standing and offering her his hand, so she gets to her feet on legs that shake from the turmoil of the past twenty-four hours. Caspian steadies her, and she marvels that his touch doesn't send her spiraling in fright this time.
He even waits while she cleans the evidence of her tears and exhaustion from her face as best she can and straightens the wrinkles from her dress. She tells him he doesn't have to, but he just says that after the confrontation with that soldier, he'd rather walk her to dinner himself. He even asks her to sit with him.
At first, Miranda isn't sure what to say to that. But then again, he did sit with her for some of her worst hours, so she can't quite say no. He reminds her again that, by his mind, she owes him nothing and can do whatever she pleases.
She'll feel just a little safer with Caspian next to her, so she finally acquiesces with another of her small smiles.
There is still so much she has to do, but at least for now she can breathe.
Miranda spends the better part of the next day in her room. No one disturbs her, and she wonders if Caspian didn't have something to do with that. Given all that he now knows, she wouldn't be surprised.
He knows she needs her solitude to sort through everything. The previous evening was only scratching the surface – that was the frenzied grasping for understanding, and now comes the steadier exploration. She has to figure out exactly what to do.
The day is not wasted; Miranda keeps herself calm as she goes through her options, and even settles on the most logical course of action. She has to use every bit of her strength left the next time she wakes up to warn Leila, and in the meantime she will go to Aslan and ask for his help.
She sets out to find the Great Lion after dinner. She searches the castle minimally – she's afraid of running into the same soldier as before, even though Caspian said he would find him and ensure he never threatened her again. The soldier has not been found yet, and that was the important part. She can't have him undoing all of her hard work for today, can she?
Miranda ends up wandering in an outside garden looking for Aslan, and it's there among the flowers and vines that she finds him. At once, she knows he understands everything.
"Aslan," she greets him with a respectful, if clumsy, curtsy. "I need your help."
"I know, my daughter. Come and sit with me," the Lion rumbles in reply, leading her over to a secluded corner.
He lies down on his belly, and she has to marvel at how huge he is – even lying down, he's almost her full height. To her relief, she's not the least bit afraid. Aslan is safe, and his warm and furry self only makes her feel that much safer. She curls up against his side with a sigh of relief. Here, with the Lion all around her, she feels untouchable.
"I have to warn her, Aslan," she says as the silence starts to descend. "I can't let anything happen to her."
"That is not all up to you, Miranda. She must also decide to heed your words."
"She will, I know she will," Miranda replies swiftly. Whether she's just that confident in her friend or she just can't even acknowledge the consequences of the opposite, she can't say.
"You have asked, and now you will have all the strength you need when you see her."
The Lion's words give her unfathomable release from her burden. She's so overcome, she can only murmur a quiet "thank you" into his fur and sag gratefully against him. To her surprise, she realizes she's barely even wondering if he minds. Normally, she would.
There she sits with Aslan until the moon rises to its full height.
"Go to your chambers, my daughter," he tells her then, with a strange mixture of calmness and urgency.
It's time – she understands just from that sentence.
"There is little time," Aslan rumbles when she doesn't get up right away.
In an instant, she's gotten to her feet. She tells him goodnight briefly and rushes off toward her room, missing the Lion's warmth as she goes. It was reassuring, resting against him, but now she has to keep her friend safe from her demon and she can have more rest and reassurance later.
On the way out of the gardens, she fully understands why Aslan told her to hurry; a sudden wave of weakness hits her like a wall, and she's stumbling along rather than walking, barely able to see straight. This is what he meant about little time – he meant her life.
"I suppose it is time then," she whispers as she forces herself to rush along at the fastest pace she can manage. Part of her wishes she could say goodbye to Caspian and all her new friends here, but Miranda knows that she will barely have time to get to her room as it is. Caspian and the others will understand, she's sure of it.
Oh. Tonight was the celebration of Caspian's new rule.
Of all nights.
Miranda almost sighs, but even that will cost too much energy. She wishes this was not happening on a night Caspian was supposed to be happy for, but with any hope he won't know what's happened until morning. That way, he can at least have tonight. But perhaps she's overestimating the effect her passing will have – after all, he has plenty of other people he cares about.
Just in time, she finds that she's at her door. After fumbling with the lock for agonizing minutes, she forces her fingers to work and slips inside. Almost immediately, she collapses on the floor not two feet from the door. She can't even drag herself to the bed.
"Aslan," she whispers as the last of her consciousness fades away. Now, she can only pray the Lion will give her the strength she asked for. Oddly, she's sure that he will.
Stick around guys, the story isn't close to being over ;)
sarahwood - Thanks! I definitely wanted to make sure Caspian's coronation wasn't just a little blip. I made that mistake in one of my previous stories and was adamant it not happen again. Taking on a throne is a big deal, I just hope I did it justice! I'm glad you liked Miranda's role too! I was a little nervous about it because I was debating if it fitted her character, but now I'm glad I kept it. Thanks for reviewing! :)
Review!