Sorry this is late getting out guys! The good news is that we're almost to the end of Arc 1.

Thank you to joycelyn. for reviewing!

Chapter 17

She wakes the next morning feeling every bit as lethargic as before. If anything, she feels worse.

The knock on the door seems a thousand times louder than it really is, and Miranda really doesn't have the energy to answer it. Hell, she can barely manage to lift her head from the pillow. So she ignores the rapping at the door and sinks back into the bed.

To her chagrin, the door opens and in bustles a slim woman with a firm frown and a snap in her step.

"Lady Miranda, what on earth are you doing still in bed? Breakfast was an hour ago!"

Miranda has to take a moment to remind herself why swearing loudly at people is never a good idea. No matter how grating their voices sound in the morning. And why is Madia not the one waking her up? Madia was much nicer about it.

"I wasn't especially hungry," she offers at last. Her excuse is met with a raised eyebrow and a guffaw.

"The king has been asking after you, my lady. In future, I would advise you to go anyway."

"Noted," Miranda mutters under her breath.

The woman regards her with hands on her hips, frown still firmly in place.

"Do you intend to stay in that bed all day? Up with you!"

Miranda is nothing short of incredulous. If she wasn't so crabby she'd be amused, but right now all she wants to do is go back to bed, perhaps for a solid week, and not emerge to face the world until her strength is returned.

"If I get up, do I have to stay up?" Miranda is sure that this sass is only coming out of her mouth because she's too tired to bother with being polite, but it most definitely does not have the effect she was hoping for.

The blankets are snapped from her quicker than she can protest, and the suddenness of the action startles her so badly that she tumbles out of the bed in a heap with the covers.

"As I said, up with you," the woman says matter-of-factly with a smirk that isn't the most subtle Miranda's ever seen.

"I'll be getting dressed then." Miranda tries not to sulk on the way to the wardrobe, but it's a battle she can't say she wins.

The woman harrumphs her approval and sets about cleaning the room, starting with making the bed. Miranda wonders if she can just take a quick stroll and come back when the cleaning is done and use the couch as her bed, just in case the snappy woman returns.

Miranda loathes asking for help with the laces on the back of her dress, but she has to. The woman is not so gentle, but it doesn't unsettle her. If anything, the woman's spunk is almost comforting. She's not a woman to be trifled with, but for Miranda that means she is safe.

"The king is in his study," the woman suddenly says as she tightens the last of the laces. "On with you now!"

Miranda half-expects a swat as she scurries out of the room, but by some act of mercy none comes. But the thought of one alone keeps her scurrying relatively quickly to Caspian's study. Well, she has to stop someone in the hall and ask them where, precisely, that is, but she keeps up her pace as she makes her way there.

At her timid knock, a familiar voice calls, "Come in!"

Caspian turns in his seat as she closes the door behind her and instantly stands with concern written all over his face.

"You wanted to see me?" she asks, trying to ignore the silent question in his eyes.

"I've been worried, Mira." Hearing that softens her just a little, and he must know it too. "Where have you been? I could not find you at all yesterday, or the night before."

"I was there at the courtyard meeting, silly," she answers, almost indignant at his inquiry. "And as I said, I've been sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Caspian echoes, clearly not quite believing her. In light of her present mood, this annoys her quite a bit.

"Yes, sleeping," she says crossly. "People do that when they're tired, you know."

Caspian seems to be at a loss; he stays silent and looks as confused as anything. It almost makes her consider telling him what's really happened, but she remembers how much she told him mere days ago and can't find it in her to tell him anything else. He knows far more than she'd prefer, anyway. She even thinks that she'd take it back if she could.

"Is it Leila?" he asks quietly, looking at her steadily even when she frowns deeper and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Leila's fine."

Why can't he just leave it lie? Doesn't he know she's told him far more than she should have already?

"I don't want to talk about it, Caspian," she finally says, the words heavy and cold on her tongue. She knows he only wants to help, she does, but right now she has to deal with this on her own and she can't do that if he's going to constantly be concerned.

She's almost expecting him to shake his head and tell her that she needs to talk about it, but he does the opposite. Caspian stays silent and just nods to acknowledge what she's said.

"I just need to work this one out on my own," she tells him with an apology in her eyes. The confusion and slight hurt in his gaze pricked at her conscience, and she wants him to know that it isn't anything he's done.

"You will tell me if there is anything to worry about, won't you?" He sounds unsure even as he asks and afterwards he seems to hold his breath, waiting for her refusal.

She can't quite do that to him, so she lies.

"Of course." Miranda says this softly so it doesn't sound like she's dismissing the question, even though that is precisely what she's doing. She will have to tell him at some point seeing as how she was foolish enough to tell him about being in the hospital in the first place, but she can postpone it for a while until she figures out how, exactly, to have that conversation. It's not really something she can just mention at the drop of a hat.

If only she were ready, now would be a prime opportunity to discuss it – rather, to mention it. Miranda is quite sure that she will never want to outright discuss it.

Caspian still doesn't seem quite convinced, but he nods like he knows he won't get anything more out of her right now.

"Will I see you at dinner?" he asks as she turns to go.

"If you insist." Miranda says this playfully, hoping to make him forget about the conversation at least a little.

Smiling, Caspian accepts this and she takes her leave.

Goodness, he's not easy to fool.

Dinner that night indeed sees Miranda at the table making small talk with the king and, after dinner, Suncloud. Suncloud presses her a bit more than Caspian did regarding her absence, especially when she had promised to annoy him, but Miranda manages to placate him with the promise of a good archery match-off in a week's time.

"A fine proposition, Mira," Suncloud says to her suggestion. "Even if I am partial to the sword."

"Trust me, you can still probably shoot much better than I can," she answers with her first laugh in days.

"Probably."

She makes sure to swat his arm for that, and she doesn't miss that Caspian watches their antics with a dangerously fond smile on his face. It makes her forget to breathe for a second. He is only a friend, and that is precisely how he thinks of her, she reassures herself that night when dinner is over and she's sitting quietly in one of the gardens by herself. Only a friend, that's all. But that look…it made her wonder, for one breathless moment.

She wants nothing like that.

So assured, Miranda puts the odd occurrence from her mind and focuses on enjoying the receding aches in her body. Spending the previous day in bed, while irksome to some, was really quite helpful on her end. Now she can at least move without biting back a grimace, though she still can't do anything too strenuous.

Thinking of her body's recovery quickly puts her thoughts on the road to what actually is happening.

She died, and she's still here. She'll never see her family again and now she has to live with the fact that they're alive and missing her and in pain and there is absolutely nothing she can do. Worse, she has to trust that Leila took her warning to heart and is taking all the extra precautions she can.

What if those precautions aren't enough?

Miranda wants more than anything to trust Aslan will take care of her, but Aslan is in Narnia; how can he look after Leila when Leila is in another world entirely?

If Lucy were here, Miranda knows she would tell her to have faith and trust that Aslan would look after her.

The big concern, however, was Leila looking after herself. Miranda still doesn't know how much Leila knows of that night, but she thinks she must know at least a little because the two were practically attached at the hip and Leila would have wormed it out of her one way or another if Miranda didn't tell her.

Leila has to be safe, or Miranda will truly never forgive herself.

Miranda has, she realizes, no way of knowing one way or the other. Whether Leila stays safe and Bates leaves her alone or not, she doesn't have any way of finding out for sure. Of all the things to trust for good to win out for, this is one that's almost too challenging to bear. How is Miranda supposed to just accept that there is nothing she can do now? She'd hoped for at least a little more time to tell Leila what she meant, that a demon might be on her trail.

'Aslan, please keep her safe,' Miranda whispers in her mind, praying the Lion can hear her wherever he is. He just disappeared into the tree, after all.

When she goes to bed that night, Miranda goes with a mind as troubled as it is tired. She hopes to sleep soundly, but the night has other plans, it seems.

Miranda is aware that she is dreaming. This is perhaps the strangest thing of all, because being aware of a dream is not how the thing usually goes for her.

There are only two things she is aware of: a fabric-like smell and a pillow under her head. She lifts her hand to itch her forehead, but her elbow hits something solid but soft. At once, Miranda's hands shoot out in front of her to feel what it is. It feels smooth under her hands, but it's slightly poofy too. It catches on the pad of her finger as she pushes against it.

It doesn't budge.

Miranda moves her hands to either side, and there she finds the same strange fabric. It's almost like satin, but satin that's been stuffed.

All at once, Miranda realizes exactly where she is.

Her coffin.

At first she thinks to lie still and wait to wake up, but quickly that plan goes horribly awry and she snaps. She screams and shouts and claws at the soft satin that almost feels like the edging of her childhood blanket until her throat is raw and the tips of her fingers are bleeding from her efforts. It does nothing.

The only thing she does is scream and claw anyway.

Miranda wakes screaming with the sickly soft feel of the satin still tickling at her fingertips.

And then she realizes all at once just how loud she's being and nearly smothers her face into a pillow trying to quiet herself. It's a relief when her voice wears out and she can only lie there quietly.

That was a nightmare, and the first that did not involve another person. In that sense, it was an odd brand of relief.

Relief or no, Miranda doesn't sleep the rest of the night, and when sunrise comes she feels almost as drained as she did when she first woke up from the hospital. Her body needed the rest, and she couldn't really get it.

Breakfast is a tedious affair as a result, especially when she remembers that she needs to go to the training area and keep up appearances for Suncloud. She did promise him that archery match-off within the week, and she knows she'll need to practice to keep him off her back. Caspian's concern is difficult enough to evade.

He doesn't approach her after breakfast, to her relief. Maybe he knows that she'd rather be left alone, especially after their little talk the other day in his study. Miranda makes her way to the practice grounds in a mood regardless of the morning's successful solitude, but once she gets there, she finds that the methodical practice of shooting and stringing arrows soothes her, though it taxes her already exhausted body terribly. Her arms ache as if it's her first time with a bow, and her accuracy seems to have tanked overnight.

Suncloud joins her on the range soon, and he jests with her regarding her notably awful aim.

"Honestly Mira, it's as if you have never held a bow in your life!" he says with a grin after one of her arrows sails across the lawn and buries itself in the ground.

"Keep in mind I haven't been doing this since before I could walk," Miranda grumbles in return. She's not that cranky, not really, but the banter is comforting.

"A pity. But even you cannot deny that today, you are spectacularly…well, uncoordinated."

"You can be honest and say I'm awful."

Miranda punctuates this with another arrow; this time it finds purchase in a tree.

"You are, then." Suncloud isn't even trying to hide his amusement, and on one level Miranda doesn't blame him a bit. The situation does have a twinge of humor, even if her arms are so sore by now that just holding the bow up makes her grit her teeth.

"Thanks."

Hours and hours of painful shooting continue in a similar fashion; Miranda fires again and again with disappointing results, Suncloud puts her aim to shame, and he isn't so shy about letting her know exactly how poor he thinks her aim really is.

"Hitting the target is always a good start," he tells her with a wry grin when she hits someone else's bull's eye rather than her own.

"You never specified whose target," she tosses back with a pinched smile. Her arms really do hurt a little too much.

"And you are ready to drop," Suncloud states blandly. "I think it's time you called it a day."

"What are you, my dad?" Miranda really does want to go back inside and stop the hopeless endeavor, but she has to at least pretend to be annoyed at the proposition, if only for the fun of it.

Suncloud plays along by shooing her back toward the castle and grabbing her bow amid her rather lackluster protests.

"Go on now," he finishes with a laugh. "We will try again tomorrow and hope some sleep reminds you what you have learned."

"Going, gone." Miranda smiles as she goes, all the way to her room. She's hoping for a little nap before dinner.

Unfortunately for her, the bed holds too many memories of waking up sweaty and scared; it looks hostile, even though it is the softest thing she's ever laid on.

"That leaves the couch," she murmurs to no one in particular (seeing as how the room is, in point of fact, empty).

She pads over and removes only her shoes before curling up with her head against the arm and her legs tucked up close to her stomach, her skirt tickling the sides of her feet. Having her back up against something solid is comforting, and soon enough Miranda nods off into a fitful sleep.

She's woken by Madia, to her relief, and shuffles off to dinner after taking a few minutes to chat with the kindly young woman in the interest of getting to know her a bit better. And besides, Madia is much kinder when waking her up.

During dinner, it occurs to Miranda that she can't just sit around, mope, and do little else than practice shooting arrows. She needs to have something to keep her busy, if only for the benefit of distraction. She considers asking Caspian what there is for her to do, but she feels guilty when she knows he's busy. Surely she can come up with some way of spending her time usefully.

Her answer comes in the form of the snappy maid's snark.

The next morning the sour-faced woman is the one to wake her, and it's when the matron comments with a disapproving sniff as to the utter lack of Miranda's wardrobe that Miranda decides at once how to keep busy. Rather than having a dressmaker make her clothes, wouldn't it be fine if she could do it herself? It would certainly take up enough of her time, and perhaps when she'd made her own things she could just take up the job as an apprentice, or however that sort of thing works here in Narnia.

And in her free time, she could practice her archery and perhaps do some reading in the library. Yes, those things would keep her pleasantly busy, busy enough that she would not constantly be trying to avoid thinking about her family, about Leila. It sounds like a very good idea indeed.

Miranda wastes no time in asking Madia if she knows of a way Miranda can ask the dressmakers about helping out.

"They would likely take you as an apprentice, miss," Madia tells her with surprise written on her face. "But why would you want to do a thing like that?"

"To pass the time, " Miranda answers truthfully. "I like feeling useful."

This visibly perplexes Madia further, but Miranda is determined and so Madia only nods and tells her where to find the castle seamstresses.

"You could stand a few nicer fitting dresses anyway miss, if you'll pardon me."

Miranda is more amused than anything else, and tells her budding friend so at once. This produces a sort of ease between the two that was not quite there before, and Miranda wonders if she'll have a new friend before the month is over. It certainly seems that way at the moment. It's a cheering thought.

Wasting no time after breakfast, Miranda makes her way to the seamstress's corner of the castle complex with a determined stride that's so unlike her that she has to stop to take stock of herself for a moment, right there in the middle of the courtyard. She's pleased with herself, and quite sure that this idea of keeping herself busy really was the best decision in light of recent events. Then she remembers in painful detail exactly all of the things she's trying to forget, and her courage drains away quicker than she can get it back. It's a long walk back to her room, and of course she just has to bump into Caspian on the way.

"Sorry!" she says with a start, having rather ingloriously crashed into her friend shoulder first.

"As am I," Caspian answers with a grimace. "It seems we both should mind where we walk a bit better."

Miranda's about to stammer another apology and retreat with her tail even farther between her legs than before, but at the last second she understands that he's only trying to joke. Her unease remains, but she hides it better.

"Shouldn't the king set an example for his subjects?" she tosses back with only a small quiver in her voice.

"Should not a lady be more graceful and forgiving?"

This feels a bit like the night they met in Trufflehunter's cave, when she told him he was still a boy and they bantered over that alone for a few minutes, until she'd almost forgotten how uncomfortable she was around a stranger, especially a strange boy.

Now, when she looks at him, she does not see a boy; she sees a man. Well, a rather young man, but a man still. Perhaps it was the war that had changed him, or perhaps it was Aslan, or his crown, or his uncle, or all of them combining at once. In any case, she likes the look of him a good deal more now than she did that first night. He carries more burdens now, but he is older (a little), wiser (a lot), and somehow safer too.

Caspian clears his throat, and it's then that she realizes she's been staring at her hands and thinking to herself for far too long.

"You presume I'm a lady," she hurries to say, hoping he won't ask what she was thinking because it's really quite embarrassing now that she replays it in her head.

"And how could you be anything but?"

This is only half teasing, and they both know it. At the same moment, Miranda notices for the first time the new lines in his brow and around his eyes. He's been worried and weighed down even more than before. In a rush, she wants to take just a tiny piece of those burdens away if only for a few minutes.

"Come with me," she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him off down the hallway with a tentatively mischievous gleam in her eye. "You look like you need a break."

"Do I?" It's clear he's humoring her, and she purses her lips in reply.

She pretends not to notice when he laces his fingers with hers, though she is imminently aware of how very warm and comfortable his hand is.

After a brief brisk walk down the hall, Miranda ducks into the first garden she sees and sits him down on a bench that's a little out of the way, but not so remote that she can't get away fast if she feels like it.

"I think they don't have Truth or Dare here, but it's a fun game. We're decompressing."

Did she just order him around?

"I mean, that is, if you'd like," Miranda hurries to add with a certain unpleasant sort of heat working its way up the back of her neck.

"I am intrigued," Caspian answers with a curious smirk. "Please, explain."

"It's exactly what it sounds like, silly," Miranda says with a bit more timidity than she'd have liked. "You choose either to tell a truth or to get a dare, and if you lie or don't do the dare, you pay the penalty."

And she realizes abruptly that she has not thought of a penalty, and sets about that immediately.

"I see," Caspian says slowly, with his eyebrows pinching together like he's working it out without being entirely sure of how the whole thing works. "What is the penalty?"

"Owing the other a favor." Miranda says this without thinking, but as soon as she says it she knows it's a good idea. She hates being in debt to anyone, and she knows he will not like the idea either. So really, it's a very good penalty for the both of them.

"Alright." Caspian sounds mildly curious now, and is clearly waiting for her to start so he'll understand exactly what the game truly entails.

"Truth or dare then?" she asks him, with her heart pounding in her ears.

"Dare."

So he's the dare type then; Miranda remembers what fun it was with some of her friends from years ago and tries to think of something as ridiculous as possible. After all, the whole point is to help Caspian unwind from whatever is troubling him.

"Jump in that fountain, boots and all." Miranda is full aware of how very uncomfortable the proposition will be (leather boots are not at all nice when wet) and his regal attire will not help matters either, but he did go and ask for a dare and she wasn't about to disappoint.

Caspian raises an eyebrow at her suggestion, but he gets up at once and strides steadily toward the elaborate stone fountain with the bubbling water that almost sounds as if it could be laughing. Luckily for him, it is a rather deep fountain.

He jumps in as instructed, but in the end the water only just comes to the middle of his thighs, and Miranda gets the pleasure of shaking her head and gesturing for him to go down farther.

"All the way," she tells him with a smile that relishes in the first taste of the fun.

He doesn't even hesitate before completely submerging himself, and when he emerges a wet and dripping mess, Miranda can't quite help her giggle.

"Your royal robes have looked better," she tells him as he's struggling out of the water with clothes made quite heavy by the dunking.

"And yet, I think you preferred that to the favor," he answers mildly but with the dawnings of merriment in his voice. If Miranda guesses correctly, he hasn't had much real fun like this.

"Indeed. Though now I'm not off scott-free; it's your turn to ask me."

"Truth or dare, Mira?" he asks as he comes and sits beside her again, the water still dripping and forming little puddles around him and on the bench.

Miranda scoots over when one of the puddles starts inching a little too close to her dress.

"Dare."

Well she couldn't very well go with truth after he'd begun the game on a dare, now could she?

"Sing a song from your world."

In this moment, she just might hate him.

"Caspian, I do not sing," she answers in a low and unhappy voice.

"I suppose I'll have a favor in store for me then," he replies nonchalantly as he wrings out one of his sleeves.

Damn.

Miranda sets her teeth and grits out, "Fine," without really being as annoyed as she thought she'd be. It is, after all, a game, and if Caspian makes fun of her she can simply swat him and enjoy the idea of him sitting in his wet things for the rest of the game.

At length, Miranda settles on some random pop song she heard on the radio and grinds out the refrain with a face, she's sure, as red as a proper tomato.

"Is that the entire song?" Caspian is outright messing with her now, but she knows that he's right.

She finishes the song with the beginnings of homicidal thoughts and promises herself to get him back good and square when it's her turn again.

"You enjoyed that entirely too much," she grouses when she's finished belting out the off-key tune of the unspeakably popular song from her world.

"It's not often you blush so fiercely, and I was curious."

She swats him anyway.

"Alright you goose, truth or dare?" She's determined to change the subject and get him back as soon as possible.

"Truth." His eyes twinkle not so deep down when he says that, as if he knows that she was planning her revenge and he's enjoying making her wait.

Miranda rolls her eyes and consoles herself with the knowledge he'll have to pick dare again eventually.

"What was the most worst prank you ever pulled?"

"Nothing."

"You've never pulled a prank in your life?" Miranda can't quite believe this; everyone was once a mischievous youngster, and one thing she knew was that pranks had a certain appeal to them.

Caspian shakes his head.

"I was always training and being tutored and such. I did not, in truth, have anyone to play a good prank on."

"Well then you've got to come up with one and put into practice as soon as possible," Miranda states almost grandly. "Playing a prank is almost a right of passage, Caspian."

"Passage to what?"

"Life, I suppose. In any case, that's your homework. Come up with a prank and pull it." Miranda thinks that perhaps thinking of the prank will give Caspian a bit of a respite from his new duties, or at the very least give him something a bit more fun to think about.

"Very well."

She does not like how he said that, nor does she especially care for the evil little gleam he's gotten in his eye.

"Caspian," she warns. "I'm not good at being the butt of these things. I'm much better at pulling the strings than taking them."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're speaking of, Mira," he tells her in the most innocent of voices, but still with that promise of mischief in his eyes. It looks rather well on him, if Miranda takes a moment to notice.

"Oh hush, I know you do. And in any case, we've a game to finish."

"Truth or dare, Mira?"

Caspian is having fun, and Miranda finds that she is to, much more than she'd thought she would.

"Dare."

She's not about to back down, and perhaps if she does a dare then he'll choose that one next and she can really get him back for making her sing. All in good fun, naturally.

"Take my hand, and do not let go until the game is done."

He is positively cruel with the dares, and yet in the most amusing way. Miranda quickly finds that her face is heating up again, but since she's sat with her hand in his a few times before, the proposition isn't all that bad.

So she takes his hand and smirks triumphantly.

"You could have done worse," she says with a grin. It's not all bad, sitting here hand in hand. Almost…cozy. If only his sleeve wasn't so wet that it was getting her arm soaked too.

"I know. Dare."

Ah, this is precisely what she was hoping for.

"Screech like a bird before you speak until the end of the game."

This should keep him from teasing her so.

And now it is Caspian's turn to flush. He isn't nearly so quick to mess with her after that, but a few times an ungainly screech echoes through the garden and it's all Miranda can do to hold in a snort of sheer amusement.

They continue with their game for much longer than Miranda originally intended. Caspian doesn't seem to mind the time or the game, though he's quite visibly relieved when she declares the game over and that he needn't squawk before speaking now.

Of course, he makes a great show of teasing her about having to let go of his hand then, and she almost wishes she'd made the dare for the rest of the day rather than the rest of the game.

"Oh get on with you," she grumbles not very crossly at all. "You rat, you."

"Rat though I be, you're still smiling."

"Like you aren't!"

They both are, and they both know it, and they are both so immensely glad that Miranda proposed the game in the first place. Caspian even thanks her for it, once he's through with making her cheeks burn with an embarrassment that is not, quite, so very unpleasant.

"It was fun, even if I did have to hold your hand," she answers with a grin. It feels so good to be merry and have fun like she used to; she'd almost forgotten how very enjoyable the enterprise was.

Caspian smiles, but then he takes her hand again and she isn't sure whether she should pull away, especially because she doesn't particularly want to. It's oddly comforting, having her hand encased so. She'll never say that aloud, but she can think it all she likes.

"I should return to my study," Caspian says soon after with no small amount of regret in his voice. "Walk with me, after dinner."

"You didn't say please," Miranda replies, still with that light-hearted air that she's so unused to and so quickly becoming addicted to.

But her jolly mood is quickly brought down to a warm and earnest contentment when Caspian murmurs "Please" in a voice so gentle it sends goosebumps up her arms.

"Alright then."

Her voice is not breathless, is it?

"Until after dinner."

Review!