A/N: A few hours late but here we go. I want it known that there is unfortunately some light Plot other than just "Caslina finally get back together" because uhhh oopsie I made quite the mess in Heartworm and there's some loose threads there that need to be tidied 😅 However, comma, we might get more fluff and hurt/comfort outta this so, all's fair in love and war, I guess.
I also had to split this chapter, so the great news is Chapter 92 is going up next week on Sunday evening at 6pm EST! Y'all might also get a certain Christmas one-shot this month... anyone up for a short, sweet lil coffeeshop AU? 👀
Chapter 91 Content Warnings: PTSD (expect that one to hang around for a few more chapters)
Chapter 91: honesty engraves me
Your Majesty,
I understand you've just finished defeating a witch and a horde of Giants, but you're sorely needed here. The council's beside themselves, and the rumour mill's chirping my ear off, speculating you're dead or some other such nonsense. All the people know is you can't keep both feet in the capital for even a season, and they're spinning quite the yarns as to why. I've been setting the record straight until I'm blue in the face, but it'd be simpler for your people to see you're well for themselves.
The entire castle's buzzing with gossip, thinking you're off chasing assassins or thieves or spies - the story changes every hour. Then there's the rumours of another war with the Giants (which of course has everyone chittering about another earthquake), to say nothing of dark magic supposedly engulfing the land from the City Ruinous to the River Shribble. So, respectfully, get yourself back in this throne you keep leaving me to warm for you and show your people their king is healthy and whole before my head explodes.
With all due respect,
Trumpkin, Lord Regent of Narnia
Lord Trumpkin,
You will doubtless be relieved to learn the items I set out to retrieve have been found and Harfang has been defeated. You may expect my return with Adelaine and one regiment in three days' time. General Glenstorm will oversee Ettinsmoor with two regiments at his disposal until a new steward of the region can be appointed.
Cordially,
Caspian X, King of Narnia
Caspian
"This is ridiculous! What could they need to hear from her that I've not already explained?"
Caspian fumes, pacing behind his desk as Doctor Cornelius sits placidly, hands folded over his stomach. A weak winter's sun bears witness to his frustration, sparse sunlight struggling to peek through a blanket of snow-laden clouds.
His return had initially gone well. His victorious army was greeted with fanfare and cheering crowds, especially after he'd sent ahead a falcon with a brief message for the town criers: Harfang was defeated, and by the efforts and sacrifices of himself and many others, the Witch Opheodra had been thwarted.
However, while his people readily accepted his reasons and celebrated the victory, his "chosen council" felt otherwise.
Caspian clenches his jaw as his eyes pass over the official memorandum requesting - no, demanding that he head the inquiry into the "Christmas Affair," as they're calling it. Despite his detailed reports and lengthy meeting he held to explain the events of the last few weeks as a courtesy to them, the council is now insisting a formal investigation is necessary.
So we may gather evidence directly from all parties involved and impartially commit the details to the written record for posterity, declares the paper on his desk.
That they dare to openly doubt not only his impartiality, but the very account he provided, is an insult at best, and a question of his authority at worst.
He thought he'd earned more trust than that - has he not done enough for Lion and country?
Under the weight of Doctor Cornelius' watchful stare, Caspian braces against his chair, his study's familiar walls and rugs like strangers after everything that's transpired since Christmas.
It's difficult to look at his desk without seeing Addie perched there with a cruel little gleam in her eyes.
It was not her. Not truly.
The Doctor adjusts his spectacles and leans onto his elbows. "Caspian, you must understand the circumstances. This castle, widely understood to be unconquerable, was breached by a mere maid who freed a royal prisoner who then butchered his way out of the city. Furthermore, she stole not one but two priceless treasures, and you rushed out of one of Narnia's most important holiday celebrations with barely a hundred men. Then—"
"As was my duty!" Caspian gestures to the empty wooden box atop his desk, where the rings collected dust for months. "As I said—"
Doctor Cornelius continues as if he hadn't spoken. "Then you disappear into the north—"
"I was not finished, Doctor!" Caspian says firmly. "There was no time for inquiry or explanation. You know as well as I how disastrous the rings falling into enemy hands would have been. Do not lecture me now with your benefit of hindsight."
Cornelius takes a breath with a shallow nod of deference.
"Your Majesty, your only communication was to send for reinforcements with not a syllable said as to the state of your health, your mission, or your quarry. Now, nearly a month later, you have returned with tidings of another war started and ended with the Giants, a witch's plot, and a sinister enchantment that ensnared hundreds, if not thousands, including Narnian citizens."
Caspian waves dismissively. "The Giants have been dealt with, and the witch can never set foot in Narnia again. By my hand, Addie's courage, and the lives of our men, we are safe."
The Doctor sighs, hands crossed over his belly, dark circles under his eyes.
"You gave us quite the scare. The council seeks merely to understand all that has transpired. I…" Cornelius pauses, absently tugging his beard. "Regrettably, our insistence on utmost secrecy to the exclusion of the rest of the council may have contributed to this."
"That their exclusion is driving them to such pettiness is absurd," Caspian snaps. "They now know everything I do. The matter is finished."
"Adelaine may know more - perhaps even more than she's let on."
She's said enough; he knows all he needs to of the witch's plans and wicked deeds. To think of putting Addie before the council not for an hour or two of questions, as he had warned her of, but for days on end of questioning, a trial in all but name…
He cannot. She is already haunted, her mind fractured by dark magic, barely held together by her own will, or what slivers of it remain.
Caspian drags a hand down his face and sinks into his chair.
The council is eager to be seen doing something of use after feeling slighted by his secrecy. To force Addie to re-live everything before strangers who will judge her only for the danger she posed to the kingdom…
She's already in a fragile state; this would break her. It will break her.
And if - when - Addie breaks, she will be a wounded deer surrounded by wolves. As the last surviving member of the witch's inner circle, Addie is a convenient scapegoat for some of the witch's crimes. The council likely want to make an example of her - and if he knows her at all, Addie will readily throw herself into the noose.
The enchantment… she didn't force me. I asked her to do it.
I could have fought her so many times, and I didn't. I never even tried until it was too late.
I let her control me, and I thanked her for it.
Nothing he's said to Addie has dissuaded her from heaping the blame on herself instead of the witch. And if the council hears her confessions…
"I can't ask that of her. I will not."
Doctor Cornelius leans forward, his voice gentle but persistent. "You yourself must have additional questions as yet unanswered."
True enough, but he does not need or want the Council of Lords to bear witness.
"They are for her ears alone," Caspian says.
The Doctor frowns, his bushy eyebrows drawing together.
"This is not a private matter between the two of you. It affects all of Narnia, and the council will not be satisfied until they know everything. Keeping the rings from them until now surely roused their curiosity and suspicion further."
Lion damn the council! He granted them more power shortly after his coronation to give the Narnians a stronger voice and prevent another tyrant like his uncle in the future, but he is still their king! His word ought to be enough; he has never given them cause to doubt it, the necessary secrecy surrounding the rings beside.
The trouble is that Addie was seen. Her face and her deeds are known, with witnesses who have had weeks to spread the tale from mouth to gossiping mouth.
This is an opportunity to prove her innocence - for the council to see for themselves what Opheodra's magic wrought. No one can lay eyes on Addie and doubt what she endured.
But if she breaks…
"It will be too much," he murmurs. "I can't… I won't ask this of her."
The Doctor strokes his beard and does not budge, scholarly distance creeping into his face. "She may be stronger than you think. Even if she is not, your kingdom deserves answers."
Chin cradled in his hand, his untrimmed beard scratchy, Caspian turns to stare out the window, where another winter's storm is descending, thick grey clouds cloaking the blue sky he has not seen in so long.
It will not really be asking at all.
In the name of Aslan, on the third day of Candlemas in this the fourth year of the reign of King Caspian the Tenth, the most honourable Council of Lords does hold and convene this inquest to investigate recent charges of treason, conspiracy, and a plot of dark sorcery against the Kingdom of Narnia. At this hearing, we appoint the following Hearers:
Caspian X, King of Narnia, Lord of Telmara and Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands—Judiciary, Hearer, and Officiate
Lord Cornelius, High Chancellor of Narnia and Advisor to the King—Judiciary and Hearer, Presiding
Lord Trumpkin, Lord Regent of Narnia and Advisor to the King—Judiciary and Hearer
Lord Cozimo, Ambassador to Telmar—Judiciary and Hearer
Lord Duzig, Duke of the Western March—Judiciary and Hearer
Lord Denclover of Dancing Lawn—Judiciary and Hearer
Lord Gorelvi of Beruna—Judiciary and Hearer
Lord Relvos, Ambassador of the Lone Islands—Judiciary and Hearer
In this matter, we begin by calling forth the Mouse Cheepiteek as our first witness.
Caspian
Cheepiteek, the mouse he assigned to follow Addie during the holidays, attests that Addie set the fire, and details her activities in the days prior - her archival duties, how much time she spent at Opheodra's city home, with Hallgrim often by her side, and her brief visit to a city apothecary.
The council summons the apothecary, a severe-looking faun with fine wrinkles around her eyes.
"What did the maid Adelaine purchase from you in the week before Christmas?" asks Doctor Cornelius.
"Three vials of my strongest sleeping draught, sir," she answers in a voice like a soft breeze through river reeds; Lord Duzig leans forward to better hear her. "If you'll pardon my manners, she looked in sore need of it."
"What do you mean?" Caspian says, though he knows well.
"I see many troubled souls in my line of work, Your Majesty. There was something not quite right about that young lady. A certain look in the eyes - difficult to explain, but you know it when you've seen it. Any healer'll tell you the same."
"We would be most gratified if you could find the words to describe it," Lord Relvos says pointedly.
The apothecary taps her chin. "It was… well, I suppose it's a bit like looking at a runaway child and a ghost in the same eyes." She waves a wrinkly hand. Her fingertips are stained green, as if she spent the morning chopping herbs. "Not all there."
"I see," says Caspian. "Thank you."
After a few more questions regarding the draught's ingredients and safe dosage, the council dismisses the apothecary and summons the castle guards Addie drugged one by one.
The six, recovered in full, share nearly identical stories - a tray of tempting sweets, a disarming smile, and sudden unconsciousness soon after partaking. Caspian also submits Rainroot's record of their diagnosis and treatment, read by Doctor Cornelius. Its verdict corroborates the apothecary's explanation of her sleeping draught.
Of the guards who met the northman's blade, however, none survived. Trumpkin reviews the pensions and funerary proceedings extended to their families.
Caspian signed similar orders early this morning for the many men who fell at the Ettinsmoor manor and at Harfang.
When the witnesses to the Christmas disaster have spoken their piece and been dismissed, the council deliberates in private.
The moment the double doors clang shut, Lord Gorelvi springs to his feet. He often attempts to command the room, though he has only a booming voice and the bombast of a scant year's experience to make his words ring. Thus far, his outrage has been mostly proportional to the situation at hand.
"My fellow lords, in the past four days, we have been told such tales of treachery and treason as I have never heard. This plot struck at the very heart of our beloved Narnia; I ask you, to what end?" The slender, bearded lord gestures open-palmed to Caspian. "Not to steal your crown, Your Majesty, but to obtain a priceless treasure - two, in fact. One was Queen Lucy's cordial, safely returned, though drained of many priceless drops. But it is the rings that concern me most - a treasure which you, Your Most Royal Majesty, saw fit to hide from this honoured body for reasons as yet undisclosed. Perhaps you will share them now?"
The council mutters among themselves, trading fear and doubt like merchants haggling a trade.
"As this very plot has proven, sharing knowledge of the rings would have done nothing but add to the risk they posed," Caspian replies evenly. "They could not safely be used, nor could they be destroyed with any certainty."
Half a lie; he had little intention of suggesting such a permanent solution while Addie and Doctor Cornelius' research continued, but the council need only know that he had considered it.
Caspian strengthens his mask of royal gravitas and sips from his water goblet as if sampling wine at dinner. "The rings were safest hidden in the castle vault, as secret as could be. Few words spoken, and fewer ears to hear them."
More murmuring and questioning glances.
"May it please this honoured council to recall," Caspian continues, "that the research overseen by the Lord High Chancellor revealed that Jadis herself first came to Narnia by way of those rings."
As intended, the mere mention of the White Witch silences the room. The Narnians shudder as if he named a demon and exchange worried looks laden with their ancestral tales of the Hundred Year Winter. Even the Telmarines shift uneasily in their seats.
"Yet the thief who stole these rings and only returned two was the very same maid who assisted in this research. Your secrecy was for naught. Is it not so, Sire?"
Caspian schools himself against a scowl. Lord Cozimo, ever willing to follow Gorelvi's suspicions, is… not incorrect, but his tone leaves much to be desired.
"We shall soon hear from her directly," Caspian says. "But recall that the rings have now been split up. Without a complete pair, none can use them to travel to or from this world or any other, and the risk they posed has therefore been neutralised. It was Adelaine who did us this service."
"Service indeed," says Lord Duzig, a dwarf with a kind hand for his own lands but a gruff temper and skeptical mind for everyone else. "Though it was she who endangered them from the first - and Narnia, by extension."
The council hums and nods. Gorelvi and Cozimo talk over each other in their eagerness to agree while Trumpkin, Relvos, and Denclover the centaur trade skeptical murmurs. Doctor Cornelius calls for order with three quick strikes of his gavel.
"We have many more witnesses awaiting," the Doctor says. He summons the door guard. "Aimar! Send in Oslus."
The faun, one of Caspian's soldiers who accompanied him to Underland, will be the first of his company to testify regarding Underland and the people they encountered there.
Addie
You've done well. I was right to trust you.
I had every faith in you, and you did not disappoint me.
You have been my most loyal friend, sweet Adelaine. I shall miss you dearly.
Shivering, Addie grits her teeth and edges closer to the unlit hearth. She hasn't found the courage to light it, but soon, she may have to. She remembers everything Opheodra's ever said, but everything she did…
That's harder. There are gaps in her memory, things she can't recall without a trigger. At first, sitting by the cold fireplace was enough to bring pieces back, but now it's just…
Her. Opheodra's words are quickly becoming the only thing she can re-live with any certainty.
You have done more than you know.
Addie chews her chapped lips until she tastes blood. She needs to remember everything she's done, every task and answer and happily oblivious obedience she gave Opheodra, so whenever the council sends for her, she has as much truth as she can possibly summon ready for them.
The days have crawled by, here in this room that, despite its comforts, may as well be a prison cell. When she arrived amid Caspian's victorious procession into the capital, Caspian said the council might want to speak with her about Opheodra's activities, even though she already told him everything she knows.
But when she set foot inside the castle, Caspian had to rush off to see to the state of Narnia, and the moment he left, four stern-faced Telmarine guards surrounded her and led her here. Doctor Cornelius came later that day with a brief, stilted explanation that she's here to testify to the totality of her involvement with the witch until the council is satisfied.
The world above is not a kindly land, as you well know.
The world doesn't need to be kind; it just needs to be fair, and this, her current situation, is.
Mostly.
She's functionally under house arrest, two guards posted at her door who don't let her leave. Her room itself has no sharp objects or easily breakable items - nothing that could be used as a weapon. Nothing for entertainment, either, save the journal Rainroot brought her on the first day to keep track of her thoughts.
The room does have a lovely view of the city and the grassy plain beyond. Curiously, it's also close to the royal wing.
A room this nice is a bit too merciful, if she's being honest. This comfortable room, with its soft bed, tall windows, window seat, and polished furniture ought to be a prison cell.
You've survived a dreadful affair.
You should rest, my dear. You will need it.
Fret no more. You are very unwell; rest now, rest…
No, she needs to remember. The council wants to know everything, and she'll damn well tell them. At first all her actions under the enchantment were crystal clear, an endless parade of her own failures. But recently, if she surrenders to a memory too long, it fragments, like shards of a broken mirror skittering across a polished floor.
She can't have that.
Quiet now, and I shall ease your troubles.
You betrayed me, Adelaine, and for what?
Addie tries to breathe in sets of four, but when she closes her eyes, she smells smoke and chokes.
Goddammit!
She scrambles to her feet, saliva flooding her mouth as her stomach lifts threateningly.
Not real, not real. The hearth is dark and cold, the stone floor is like ice beneath her bare toes, and Opheodra is gone.
She's gone.
Addie's breath rasps, caught on the burn of misplaced grief tight in her throat.
Opheodra's gone, never to return, and that is a good thing. Caspian's safe, Narnia's safe, and she…
She's safe, too.
Rainroot keeps saying that, a steady refrain during her daily visits with breakfast. Every repetition has the opposite of the intended effect.
Opheodra comforted her, too - was always making her feel better, chasing away any thought or feeling she didn't want to have - drowning out truth with dark magic, until the magic was the only truth she knew.
Let it go, Addie. It's not such a terrible thing.
Bile surges up, and she barely makes it to the chamber pot before breakfast comes hurling up, splashing into the hammered metal bowl.
Addie heaves until the witch's seductive whispers fade, leaving an echoing silence behind.
When her mind is quiet, she has to keep her hands busy. Otherwise, she'll pick them raw.
After rinsing her mouth with water, Addie strips the covers from her bed into a pile on the spotless floor that she swept and polished to a shine for hours last night. She carefully folds the sheets, blankets, and coverlet. Then, when five precisely symmetrical squares are sitting on the ottoman, she remakes the bed.
Four days, and hardly any word. She wakes, readies herself to testify before the council, and waits, with nothing but self-triggered memories and invented chores to occupy her time and thoughts.
Four days of waiting. Four days of nothing.
Addie breathes through the knot of anxiety forever twisting in her stomach and smooths the first bed sheet to perfection.
This morning, when Rainroot came, she noticed the pristine bed that hadn't been slept in, and offered a sleeping draught.
Addie refused.
Unmedicated sleep sometimes brings more memories than her daytime attempts. Three nights ago, the tune Opheodra played on her mandolin came to her - always the same tune. She can hum it accurately now.
The first few notes tickle her mind.
The right song, with the right musician to play it, can do many things.
Addie flinches and scratches her ear.
Footsteps sound from the hall.
Addie drops the second sheet and rushes to the small vanity by the window, taming flyaway curls and smoothing her dress in the wardrobe mirror. Outside, a feminine voice exchanges words with the guards.
"—king's orders."
There's a rustle of paper and clinking armour, and then the door opens to reveal a familiar face.
"Bru—"
"Here to clean, miss. I also brought fresh clothes." Bruna dips into a shallow curtsy, a basket of clean sheets and dresses on her hip. "I won't be long."
Miss?
Bruna's acting as if they've never met.
As Bruna closes the door, Addie goes to strip the sheet from her bed again.
"Four hands make lighter work," she says - something Bruna said to her a long time ago, when they cleaned Caspian's rooms together. "I'll help."
Bruna's glance lingers too long to be coincidence. As she puts her basket on the ottoman and surveys the room, the empty fireplace draws her disapproval.
"Little wonder the room's freezing." Taking a flint and steel from her pocket, Bruna makes for the hearth, and Addie's heart lurches into her throat.
"No!"
Bruna stops, glancing over her shoulder.
"Don't," Addie says, quieter, more plea than command. She's not ready yet. "It's… just don't, please."
Frowning, Bruna pockets her flint. Addie swallows thickly, but nods in gratitude.
"The bed first, then." Bruna takes a clean sheet from her basket, unfolds it, and offers the other end to Addie.
Together, they make the bed to perfection, with crisp corners and fluffed pillows. It's a bed fit for nobility, with sheets so soft she'd be eager to sleep on them tonight if not for…
Next, Bruna takes a dust rag to the furniture - the wardrobe, the nightstand, the vanity, the small desk beside a plush window seat. Addie tidies the desk and wipes the windows and vanity mirror with another rag Bruna gives her.
While Addie takes over the dusting and cleaning, Bruna turns her attention to the wardrobe, , muttering to herself about the mess therein as she retrieves an armful of blue-toned dresses from the basket of linens and hanging them up. She occasionally clicks her tongue and shuffles clothing from the wardrobe to the basket, but says little else.
It unspools some of the ever-present knot in her chest, to pretend at being a maid again. Things were simpler - better, in many ways - when all she had to worry about was the state of the kitchen or the latest gossip with the other maids.
She was better.
Too soon, the room is clean and Bruna's tying both rags back onto her apron. But instead of leaving at once, she approaches Addie and touches her shoulder.
"I'll be back tomorrow," she whispers. "Get some rest; he's worried. And change your dress."
Bruna's eyes flit toward the bed, then the wardrobe, and then she's leaving with a shallow curtsy and a formal, "Until tomorrow, miss."
"Thank you," Addie says.
The second the door clicks shut, she goes to the bed, careful not to rustle the perfectly tucked sheets.
Under the pillow Bruna fluffed, there's a folded paper.
Addie pulls it out and sits on the floor, slowly unfolding what must be a note. And oh, it's Caspian's handwriting - slanted, looping, curling across the page like his notes as a prince.
Still interviewing witnesses - no summons today. I'm sorry to keep you waiting.
I hope these books provide some entertainment. When this is over, please tell me how much truth is in them.
X
What books? Rainroot brought her the journal on her nightstand, but no books.
Change your dress.
The wardrobe.
Addie opens it and sees the same clothes she's worn these many months brought from her former quarters, mixed with a set of newer, more formal dresses in shades of blue with gilded trim that Bruna brought in. Nothing seems amiss, aside from one of her more worn servant dresses lying crumpled on the bottom of the wardrobe. Picking it up reveals her shoes.
There's something beneath them.
She kneels to investigate, and her fingers meet the cool leather of a book spine.
There are seven in total, all about England:
Tales of War Drobe
Spare Oom: Real or Imagined?
Boarding Schools: An Educational Peculiarity of Spare Oom
War Drobe, Spare Oom, and Other Worlds: A Collection
The Origin World of Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve
Of Magic Doors and Where They Lead
What Lies Beyond The Lamppost
Sitting back on her heels, Addie stares in disbelief. Bruna snuck these in right under her nose - and the guards' noses. At Caspian's request, apparently.
In her research, she combed through every inch of the castle library and archives, and she saw nothing about England. Where on earth did Caspian find these?
The books themselves appear to be genuine; there's no secret message or hidden compartment cut into false pages. Some spines crack with newness when she opens them, while others are brittle and yellow with age. Addie takes the first one to her desk.
She readies her quill and flips to a new page in her journal, preparing to take notes as she opens the book.
If Caspian wants to know about England, she'll oblige.
Over the next few days, Addie tears out pages of her journal to annotate the books. Most of the speculations range from amusing to outlandish; one tale suggests that as England is part of a round world, people walk around upside-down - with sticky shoes so they don't fall into oblivion - on the lower half of the planet, and the furniture has to be fastened to the floor and designed upside-down. The author even illustrated their theory.
She can't help laughing at that one. Her own amusement is so foreign that she startles at the sudden giggle of it, tensing as she waits for the guards to investigate.
They don't.
Addie sets aside the book before it makes her laugh again. She ought to reply to Caspian's note to thank him. Bruna can give it to him tomorrow.
The books are lovely, thank you. Not quite accurate, but all the better for it. I'm sorry to tell you that people don't actually walk upside-down on round worlds.
A
How unfortunate; I found that anecdote particularly fascinating. Have any others caught your eye?
No summons expected today. Perhaps tomorrow, but more likely two days hence. I fear their questions will be quite extensive. Know that it is within your right to ask for a respite whenever you need it.
X
Thank you for the warning. I'll be ready.
One story hypothesised that War Drobe has a forest of lampposts - I believe that is simply a public park, and there are more trees and benches than lampposts.
A
The summons will come tomorrow. Rainroot will have a healer ready at a moment's notice, should you need one.
X
I'm ready.
A
A/N: I swear I'm not actually trying to make more trouble for these two idiots, this is all in service of the endgame 😅 So, how do we think Addie's testimony will go? 👀
Chapter 92 Preview:
"I should be on trial."
"You are, despite my better judgement."