Chapter Text
Over three years since the day that (Y/N) and Caspian had pledged their lives to one another on a beach at the End of the World, the peace which had settled over Narnia found itself disrupted.
Those dark-hearted Narnians, who had once attempted to resurrect the White Witch at Aslan’s How, now began to stir up trouble in the far reaches of the North, near where Jadis’ castle had once stood. And at the same time, the Calormen of the South grew restless, as rumors of a more mellowed Red Lady began to arise in murmured thoughts of war.
At the same time that the Narnians faced their own struggles in the Northwest, Archenland called for the aid of their closest allies. And so it was resolved that Caspian should settle the matter of the Witch’s new followers, whilst (Y/N) turned South to revive her reputation if needed. It pained them to go their separate ways, but after some negotiation of who should have what to best protect themselves, Caspian made his way to the old fortress of the Witch with Glenstorm at his side and the compass in hand, as (Y/N), draped in her cloak of red, carried the Juice of the Fireflower to Archenland.
Among her entourage, she brought Windmane, the wife of Glenstorm, and a faun called Nausus, who had fought in the War of Deliverance, and sailed on the Dawn Treader.
King Nain greeted her upon arrival. He was a young man, having taken the throne around the same time the Giants of the North surrendered to Caspian. The bond between their nations had been forged in the midst of blood and desert sand, during a desperate call to aid when last the Calormenes had deigned to attack. All these years later, he was newly married and most elated to meet the legendary Resilient Queen.
His wife stood alongside him to greet the Narnian envoy, a shy young lady with a kind smile who took great care in showing (Y/N) to her chambers, rather than leaving the task to a servant as one might expect.
Nain intended to give the Narnians as much time to rest as possible before the council would convene, and (Y/N) appreciated it all the more once something occurred that no one could have predicted, save perhaps a Seer, but she’d had no such warning.
The Narnian Queen took ill almost immediately upon arrival. At first accrediting it to weariness from travel, once she’d had a chance to rest, the situation could no longer be denied, and Nain suggested bringing her to see the court physician.
(Y/N) thanked him, but insisted that Nausus was a perfectly capable healer, and apologized profusely for the delay.
“I’m certain he understands, Your Majesty,” said Nausus as he directed her as gently as he could. Fauns would never truly order anyone about, but this was certainly as close as one might get.
A good while later, (Y/N)'s whole world had changed, and suddenly, it became much more important to avoid war with Calormen at any cost.
“A child?” she asked breathlessly.
Nausus nodded. “Yes, My Lady. About three and a half months along, I’d say… That, or thereabout.”
A smile broke out upon her face, and she covered her mouth with one hand in some attempt to keep from laughing in the faun’s face in her joy.
Her very next thought, far more sober, was of how Caspian couldn’t be present to have heard the news.
Caspian… He was so far away at this very moment, facing the perils of the North.
And likewise, (Y/N) was here, in the South, facing the prospect of a battle, in which she would be expected to lead the charge as a ghostly figurehead. But with the child to consider…
“I must speak with King Nain at once.”
The King was most understanding, and wholly congratulatory, but they both realized what this meant. If a battle did come, (Y/N) could not fight. The success of diplomacy became all the more imperative.
The war council gathered for many days of many weeks, drafting letters and treaties and agreements, sending word by messengers, hoping to come to some accord with the Calormen. Aslan’s blessing must have been upon them, for they were fortunate enough to at least remain at a standstill for the time being; no armies marched, and no troops were moved on either account.
And all the while time passed, (Y/N) worried for her child, and for her husband, so far away, who knew not what he had gained.
At last, at long last, the Calormenes agreed to a temporary truce, just long enough to attempt negotiations. The message was clear: This would be their last chance to avoid war.
So (Y/N) donned her red cloak and her armor, thanking Aslan that the signs of her child weren’t yet noticeable to any but herself, and she and King Nain rode out into neutral territory, a small oasis in the west of the Great Desert, where a tent had been set up to host the proceedings of the would-be accords with the current Tisroc.
“We have no quarrel with you,” (Y/N) told him, setting aside her worry to conjure the image of the graceful Queen. “We only wish for peace between our kingdoms.”
“You say this, and yet you come here, dressed in the garb of war,” he sneered, gesturing to her red cloak. “You can intimidate us with the reputation of the Red Lady no longer, for you are not your ancestor, girl, and you hold no power over us.”
(Y/N) drew herself up a little fuller, making use of all the height that she had.
“You forget your history, Tisroc,” she said sternly. “This cloak of blood red was given to me, not as a symbol of death and war, but as a gift, to honor my skill in battle. For I am the Red Lady, not some impersonating descendant. I have been brought here through the centuries by Aslan Himself. There is only one impostor here, and if you intend to fill the role of Rabadash, you ought to remember that doom follows the footsteps of those shoes.”
From outside the tent, a peal of thunder split the sky, and lightning flashed so brightly that it could be seen from within. And yet, if one were to look, they would find no clouds in the sky above that little oasis meeting place.
The Tisroc paled, as if his mind were conjuring images of the “demon” Aslan punctuating the Queen’s words, and the realization seemed to wash over him that he was, indeed, speaking face to face with Calormen’s feared Red Lady.
“I’m certain there is some agreement to be found, my Lady…”
And certainly, there was.
A month and a half after their arrival, the Narnian envoy set out home from Archenland, peace with Calormen secured; at least for a little while longer.
The journey back took longer than (Y/N) would have liked. She had no way of knowing if Caspian had even returned yet, though she suspected not, judging by lack of word from him. So she sent an avian messenger to where he had last been seen, hoping to find him safely journeying home.
But when they reached the castle on the coast, still no sign of her husband could be found.
Again travel had made her ill, and the dryads all but ordered her to bedrest, where she could do nothing but wait, and plead with Aslan for Caspian’s return.
At last, the messenger Bird returned, heralding the King’s return. Alas, he regretfully informed the Queen, her husband was badly injured while defeating the last of those who wished to see the Witch resurrected, and that had been the cause of the delay.
Despite the protests of the dryads, (Y/N) leapt from her bed, Lucy’s cordial in hand, and met Caspian halfway, in the courtyard. Glenstorm carried the weary King upon his back, but Caspian waved away any attempt to help him down. He was conscious; that much (Y/N) thanked Aslan for.
When he laid eyes on her, he paused. It might not have been noticeable to anyone else, but she was in only her night dress, and he was her husband. An expression came over his face, much akin to the one he had worn upon the realization all those years ago, at the End of the World, that she would be permitted to stay at his side.
They fell into each other’s arms, each supporting the other.
“My love…” Caspian said breathlessly, pressing his cheek to her temple.
“Caspian,” (Y/N) gasped.
His hands found her waist, her cheek, her shoulders; caressing over her hair and pulling her close, until he winced, some awkward angle jarring his bandaged side.
The sudden realization struck her, and just as quickly as she’d rushed to hold him, she pressed the cordial to his lips.
Moments later, he was holding her again, much more fiercely than before.
And when he carried her back to their chambers, she didn’t protest, content simply to be in his arms.
The dryads insisted that bedrest would be the best course of action, considering how often the child was causing her to be ill. (Y/N) detested it, of course, for she was a warrior, and a queen who loved nothing more than to be out and active amongst her people. But for her own health, and the health of her child, she reluctantly resigned herself to droll paperwork until the dryads and the fauns declared her fit for more.
In the silence of peace, when no responsibilities took precedence, she and Caspian spent some quiet times together. Most often in the evenings, the dusk hour, when the tensions of the day had begun to unwind for all, they stole away precious, private moments.
(Y/N) would lay in bed, gazing out the window as her subjects above began to make their appearance, and Caspian would hold her. With his body cradling hers from behind, his arm draped over the growing proof of their child and his face lovingly tucked into the crook of her neck, they would watch the Sun set together, pondering in quiet murmurs what changes their little one would bring.
The last time a child had arrived, it did not bode well for Caspian. But this child, his child, came not in the dead of night, but at the dawn; greeted by the first rays of morning, in that still, quiet moment that lingers just before the world has taken its first breath. Before the bustle of life begins, and all things awake to find the Stars have gone, the son of Caspian the Tenth and (Y/N) the Resilient was born.
And Caspian held his little family in his arms, as he had so often done before his son arrived; (Y/N), curled safe in his arms, and now, his son, tucked away in her hold.
Just the same as before, and yet so very different.
They debated for a while on the matter of his name. (Y/N) had at first suggested Caspian the Eleventh, but her husband declined it immediately.
“That name has caused much pain to the Narnian people,” he said. “Let us leave it behind, and enter this new era with a strong name for our son.”
And so the first son of Caspian the Tenth came to be named Rilian, with his father's dark eyes and brown hair that gleamed the Narnian sun. When he had grown some, (Y/N) would often remark that he had Caspian’s compassion and Edmund's noble heart, determined to do right by the people he would someday inherit.
Then came Susanna, the second born; a daughter with that dark hair so traditional of Telmar. Her eyes weren't quite the same as her mother's, laced with far more colors of the Narnian Wilds. She had her mother's resilient fierceness, Peter's stubbornness, and Lucy's roaring bravery.
"This one is different," said (Y/N) of the third, before he had even been born. "I can feel it. Not because of some dream or sign; I simply know it must be true."
The third child of Caspian the Tenth opened eyes so very like his mother’s upon the world when he was born, a wisp of hair upon his head. He was the perfect portrait of his mother’s features, and (Y/N) named him for her brother.
He grew into a gentle soul, after Susan, but most of all, he valued bravery and strength of character, just as his namesake, the Magnificent, the eldest Pevensie, before him.
And when young Peter began to dream of things that came to pass, (Y/N) taught him all that she knew of being a Seer of Narnia. He spent much of his childhood upon her lap beneath the starry sky, as his mother carefully told him each one's name.
He grew into a young man who longed to not only dream of things to come, but also to have great adventures of his own. So he sailed to the End of the World and returned with a Star for a wife. Not Lilliandil, but a bright young lady nonetheless who had been visiting Ramandu when Peter arrived.
The serpent did not kill the queen; Rilian remained safe in Narnia and was not stolen away by some witch's dark powers. Instead, he met a young maid in Archenland and fell madly in love. Much more rigid in matters of the heart than his brother, he did not profess his feelings right away. It took the course of several years and many long journeys to Archenland to visit her, along with hundreds of letters penned between them before he at last asked for the honor of her hand.
Susanna never married, though she remained content. It was not Aslan’s will, she would always say, and that was quite alright by her. She spent much of her time secluded amongst the Narnian folk in the far reaches of the wilderness, though she was sure to visit her brothers and her parents often. Later in life, she would go on to become one of Narnia's greatest generals, once Glenstorm had retired to the peace of the Western Wood.
Sometimes, (Y/N)'s heart longed for another daughter, for her children to match the number of her siblings, but she made peace with the fact that it was not meant to be, and loved the ones that were gifted to her with all her heart.
On some days, when she found herself missing Susan and Lucy and Edmund and Peter most fiercely, she looked upon the whole of Narnia and saw them there. She saw Peter’s stern protectiveness in the rigid cliffs of the northern lands, and Susan’s love in the warmth of the southern sands. In the boughs and branches of the western woods, she saw Edmund’s stalwart endurance, and on the gentle waves of the eastern sea, Lucy’s kindness washed in with the tide.
And when she remembered to search for her family in the life and livelihood of the world around her, (Y/N) never felt alone. With Caspian and her children held close, she faced each day with courage and love in her heart, until the end of her time.