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His name is Caspian.
Prince Caspian, like you, only his title carries more weight – he isn’t one of four, after all.
You watch him lead Susan through the gardens from your balcony, strange emotions tugging at strings in your stomach as he places a guiding hand at her waist.
He gestures wildly, as though telling a marvellous tale of adventures and heroics, and you can tell even from such a distance that Susan is only smiling because she is expected to.
“It’s so unfair!” Lucy cries, later, when the two of you have retired from the hall to help Mr Tumnus tend to the horses. “Why does Susan get to marry?”
“It’s politics,” you tell her. “Susan can have children. You can’t. There’s no point shipping you off to another corner of the globe until then.”
“That’s disgusting,” Lucy says, and laughs.
They have been dancing around for months, only ever spending time with each other, before Susan allows any of you to get to know her suitor.
Lucy fawns over him in the same way she does everyone, and Caspian seems equally smitten with her childish ways.
“I promise to bring you treasures on my next visit,” you hear him say one day, while you are aimlessly walking the halls you have come to call home. “Enough to fill an entire room.”
It’s nice, you think, as you disappear further into the castle. He has no need to charm your family – the marriage is happening, no matter how anyone feels – and yet he’s doing just that.
Susan finds him curious, because he is what she deems an enigma.
“He’s so strange,” you hear her whisper to Lucy one evening, when the three of you are relaxing in the enormous library. “The marriage is arranged, and yet it’s almost like he’s trying to court me!”
“Perhaps he doesn’t want you to feel unwanted,” you mutter, not intending her to hear.
The girls giggle, and you leave before they try to include you in their gossip.
*
Peter does not get along with Caspian, but that surprises no one.
“I’m the King!” Peter had proclaimed, the day the council bid Susan marry. “You can’t just marry off my siblings without my say!”
“It would be good for the kingdom, Pete,” you had told him. “We could use an alliance with the Telmarines.”
“That’s not the-”
“It’s exactly the point, Peter,” you had interrupted. “The alliance will give Narnia hope. They’ve had enough of war. Do you really want to throw them back into that, just to prove yourself noble?”
The entire council had gone quiet at that, and Peter stormed out before anything else could be said.
Eventually, the decision was made. Susan was to marry Caspian in two summer’s time, giving them plenty of time to get to know each other and prepare for the event.
Peter refuses to befriend the man, no matter the efforts Caspian goes to, but you overhear both Lucy and Susan telling him “he means nothing by it”.
*
He finds you, as you expected him to, wandering the dungeons.
“Your Majesty,” he says. “It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.”
“No,” you assure him. Then, smiling, “I’ve been avoiding everyone.”
He smiles, laughs. “How are you, Your Majesty?”
“Please,” you say, your voice quiet in the stone corridor. “Call me Ed.”
“Ed, then,” he says.
“I’m well,” you answer, and you gesture for him to join you as you walk. “I believe Susan is happy.”
For a moment, his face sinks. “Quite,” he says. “Or so I hope.”
“Trust me,” you tell him. “You’d know if she were unhappy.”
“May I speak freely?” he asks you, and you feel your eyes widen.
“Of course,” you tell him. “We’ll be family, soon.”
He says nothing for a while, just keeping pace as you stroll the halls. Then, after a few minutes, you hear him speak.
“I don’t feel like I know much about your sister at all,” he admits, and you turn to him, surprised.
“All these months I’ve spent with her,” he continues, suddenly filled with words he needs to let out. “And I know next to nothing about her. Not her favourite colour, not her favourite food. I’ve no idea whether she prefers white roses or red, and heaven forbid she ever treat me like something other than a creature to study.”
“Yellow,” you tell him. “And she’s quite fond of blueberries. She prefers lilies over roses, and so long as she studies you, she’s paying attention. That’s a good thing, trust me.”
He smiles at you, but then his face turns downward. “Forgive me,” he says, and you’re surprised to find he actually looks guilty. “I did not mean to speak ill of my betrothed.”
The line sparks a laugh in you, and it echoes around you in the tight space. “Please,” you laugh. “She’s my sister. If you can’t speak ill of her around me, you’ll never speak ill of her again, and that will drive us all insane.”
He blinks; laughs. He continues to walk the halls with you for hours.
“I should like to spend more time with you, Edmund, if you’ll permit my company,” he says, when one of you gets called away. Your heart does a spectacular leap at the words. “You’re the only one of your siblings not to speak to me of politics. Except Lucy,” he amends. “But she does ask a lot of questions about marriage.”
“I’d like that,” you tell him, and your voice is lower than you mean it to be.
Caspian smiles, and it feels like a promise.
You spend a great deal of time together, both in groups and alone, and you start to find a friend and confidant in the older prince. You war with your feelings for a time, worried not only for yourself, but for Susan, and though you know nothing will ever come of it, you start yearning for more time with him. When you are with him, you want only to stay with him, and when you are without him you are overcome with the desire to call him to you.
He understands you in a way others do not, and you find it so easy to talk to him that you often seek him out for advice. He seems to enjoy your company, a fact that warms you to the core, and for brief moments of time, the stress of royal life escapes you, and all that exists in the world is the two of you, wherever you may be.
“I enjoy spending time with you,” Caspian says one day, when the two of you have ventured outside the castle walls for a ride through the forest. “I’ve come to see you as a brother, of sorts.”
Something in your heart breaks, at that.
You host a masquerade ball, not long into the second year, to celebrate the upcoming marriage.
You have always known there would be nothing good for you in pursuing Caspian – though you’ve not exactly tried – and the ball confirms your theory that you are doomed to a life of loneliness and misery.
You dance when you are expected to dance, and you speak to each and every one of the dignitaries you are supposed to, and when you catch yourself able, you sneak upstairs to the indoor balcony and watch the proceedings from there. A weight settles comfortably in your chest and in your throat, and you watch the couples dance and long for something you can never have.
“The king has come to watch his pupils dance,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jump.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” the voice continues, smooth like silk and rough like wood, and you feel your chest rise and fall with the deep breath you have to take.
“Show yourself,” you say, and from between the shadows, a tall figure in dark clothing appears.
“Who are you?” you ask them, but they shake their head.
“That would defeat the purpose of the mask, no?” they ask. There is something odd about the way they form their words, as if tinged by an accent, but it’s subtle enough that even you can’t determine the origin.
“You know who I am,” you point out.
“Yes,” the stranger admits, and you decide it’s probably a man. “But you are my king.”
“Not tonight,” you whisper, and you rest your arms on the balustrade, looking down on all your dancing subjects. “Tonight, I am only Edmund.”
“Edmund, then,” the stranger says, and you suspect he’s smiling behind the full-face mask.
“What should I call you, then?” you ask after a moment, when he joins you looking out over the crowd below.
“I believe I’ll let you decide,” he says.
You ponder for a moment, but you cannot think of anything. “Shadow,” you decide eventually.
The stranger laughs, the sound both familiar and not, and you find yourself smiling at the sound of it.
“For a king,” he says. “You are surprisingly unimaginative.”
“I’m third in line,” you point out. “There’s no need for me to be creative.”
“I beg to differ, dear Edmund,” the stranger says, but he laughs anyway.
*
The stranger keeps you company for most of the night, the two of you making commentary on the other people below, and you find yourself feeling more and more enamoured by the person beside you as the night drags on.
“Who are you?” you ask, and you feel as though nothing else matters in the world except the name of this stranger. You want to demand it from them, order them to tell you in the name of the king, but you feel as though it would ruin everything – the magic, the mood, the way sometimes your shoulders brush against each other and your skin is lit aflame. This whole thing feels perfect, as if from a dream. You’ve never known anyone who understands you so well, no one except Caspian, and yet on this night that promises so much misery, you have found it in a stranger. A stranger, you realise, that you may never see again.
“Please,” you continue, when the stranger says nothing, and it takes everything in you not to reach out. Then, quieter, “You must feel it, too.”
“I do,” the stranger confesses, and he’s whispering, too. “But I am promised to another.”
When he turns to you, his eyes, the only part of his face that you can see, are filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, Edmund.”
From below, Lucy calls for a dance, and a toast, for the happy couple.
“I believe we are being summoned,” the stranger says, gesturing to the other world beneath your feet.
“Please,” you say again, and this time you do reach out, catching them by the arm as he starts to step away. “Will I see you again?”
For a moment, the two of you are at a standstill, and then you feel something change.
“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do as you are told before you even think.
Your skin tingles. Your hands shake. Soft hands lift the mask from around your eyes, and before you can think to open them in shock, there is a gentle pressure on your lips.
Not a kiss, not yet, only fingers. The stranger - your Shadow - brushes his fingertips over your lower lip, and the shaky breath you drag in makes your lips part, causing the stranger to pull away.
“Don’t go,” you whisper, and you keep your eyes closed. You reach blindly, gently, and your heart swells when he catches your hand in his own.
“I should,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“Caspian!” Susan calls, her voice echoing up to your racing heart. “Come dance with me!”
“Edmund?” Lucy calls, not long after.
“We really should go,” he says.
“I know,” you say. Your blood is rushing past your ears, deafeningly loud, and you can hear the murmurs starting below at your absence.
You should go, you know, but you don’t want this moment to end. You have to squeeze your eyes shut for fear of scaring the stranger away.
“Edmund,” your Shadow whispers, and the distance between you gets smaller.
“Please,” you whisper, for the third and final time. Your fingers tighten in his.
Your next breath is cut off by his lips.
All at once, the world becomes light. There are no fireworks or bells or anything your sisters have carried on about, there is only light. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from your soul, as though the taint the White Witch left on you has become nothing more than a passing memory and you are suddenly whole again, and human.
When he pulls away, you chase him, leaning forward, but you do not open your eyes.
Carefully, he slides your mask back down over your eyes, and you run your tongue across your lower lip as if chasing the taste of him. He tastes of cinnamon and salt and joy.
“I am sorry, Edmund,” he whispers, and against your jaw, you feel his touch. “You must know that.”
When you finally bring yourself to open your eyes, there’s no one around, and the crowd downstairs is cooing at Susan and Caspian, dancing, mask-less, across the floor.
You see Caspian only a handful of times, after that. He is mostly caught up in wedding planning, and when you watch him from around far corners, it seems as though something is tugging at his soul. His smiles seem forced, and his interactions with Susan become less carefree than they did before.
When you talk to him, he confesses that he is worried that he and Susan might never truly love each other, and it’s all you can do to put a hand on his shoulder and smile.
“Who needs love when you can have friends like me?” you joke, and his smile, when you see it, looks pained.
When your birthday comes around, early in winter, you throw another masquerade.
Your siblings are beyond confused when you request the same guest list as the engagement party, but when you tell them it’s in the interests of strengthening alliances, they let you go ahead with it.
You dance for what feels like decades, turning this way and that, always with another woman in your hands, and then without any warning you are caught up in a swirl of black fabric, being led away to a distant corner of the room.
“Edmund,” your Shadow whispers.
You stare, for a moment, and then smile.
“I didn’t recognise you,” you tell him. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so… beautiful.”
Your Shadow laughs, twirling just once to show off the magnificent dress he’s wearing, and once he’s facing you again, he reaches out to hold your hand.
To anyone else, it might look like you are simply spending time with a woman. You are grateful for the peace that will afford you. These kinds of things are not as dangerous as they were, back in England, but they aren’t as common as you would have thought.
“Anything for you, my king,” he says.
“I’ve missed you,” you tell him, after a time. “It’s so strange to miss someone you don’t even know.”
The stranger steps closer, his hand reaching up to settle against your neck. “You do know me, Edmund,” he says. “As I know you. I am your Shadow. We know each other better than anyone else in this world could ever dream.”
“Why can’t I see you?” you ask.
“It isn’t safe,” he says.
“We could go somewhere,” you plead. “Just the two of us.”
“You of all people should know there is nowhere in this kingdom that we can be truly alone.”
You feel tears, suddenly, against your cheek. You know he speaks the truth, but it hurts, damn it, in a way nothing has since you were a child being called to death.
“Meet me somewhere,” you tell him. “Please. Wear the mask, if you must. But, please – I cannot bear the thought of only seeing you in dark corners.”
He reaches out with gloved fingers to wipe your cheek, and you cannot help but lean into the touch.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” you confess.
“Nor I,” he says. “But I am still-”
“-promised to another,” you finish. “I know.”
You stand there for a moment, the two of you close enough to breathe each other’s air, and then Lucy and Susan start calling for a dance.
“Your sisters are awfully fond of dancing,” he whispers, and you laugh despite your tears.
“Dance with me,” you say. Then, “Please?”
“Of course,” he says. “You only had to ask.”
You take his hand and lead him to the open spot in the centre of the hall, and immediately you hear whispers and rumours being formed on the sharp tongues of the court.
When you dance, it feels as though you are the only people in the room. You want to kiss him, even here, but you know that you cannot.
When it ends, your Shadow has to leave.
“Meet me at the Northern point of the river,” he tells you in a rush, and he squeezes one of your hands in both of his. “At noon, in one weeks’ time.”
Later, when you watch Caspian and Susan spin across the floor, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.
You learn of Susan’s affair the afternoon before you are to meet your Shadow.
You watch her leading a foreign dignitary around the garden maze, as you have watched her do with Caspian many times, and you feel every inch of yourself fill with rage when you watch the two of them kiss.
“How could you?” you demand of her later, when she’s seated at her vanity, combing her fingers through her hair.
“How could I what, Edmund? Use your words.”
“You know damn well, what,” you shout. “What would Mother think?”
She stares at you, reflected in the mirror, and she glares. “Mother isn’t here, Edmund.”
“How could you betray the kingdom like this?”
“It isn’t betrayal,” she says. “I’ll still marry Caspian, come summer.”
“What about your lover? Will you keep seeing him?”
“I love him, Edmund. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I know what it feels like to love someone,” you tell her, and your growl comes from behind clenched teeth. “I know what it feels like to want what you can’t have.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Edmund? What you felt for the Queen wasn’t-”
“Not her!” you scream, and Susan jumps at how positively feral you sound.
“Then who?” she asks, and for a moment she sounds like the old Susan – the one you could talk to; the one you could trust.
“It doesn’t matter,” you tell her, because it’s all you can. “Nothing can come of it.”
“You’re the king,” she says. “You can marry whoever you-”
“I can’t,” you say. “You know that. And I couldn’t marry – I couldn’t marry them, even so. They’ve been promised to someone else.”
“So this person is allowed to run around in the shadows with you? But when I do it, it’s-”
“You’re the Queen, Susan! You have a responsibility!”
“We all do, Edmund! But why should we have to sacrifice our own happiness for the sake of the kingdom?”
“Because it’s what we have to do,” you tell her, and for a moment you stand, bonded by your broken hearts.
You escape to the river with barely enough time to spare.
When you arrive, you stand on the edge of the cliff and stare through the forest.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” someone calls from behind you, and you turn to see a familiar masked figure leaning against one of the trees. Nearby, at the edge of the sunlight, a picnic has been laid out.
You smile, walking forward until you can pull him into a tight hug.
“Hello, Edmund,” he says, and he’s laughing. He stops, though, when he pulls back and sees you crying.
“What’s wrong, my king? Are you not happy to see me?”
“No,” you say quickly. “No, I am. It’s just-”
“Talk to me,” he whispers, and he reaches up to hold your cheek. “Anything you tell me, I won’t repeat. I swear it.”
“It’s Susan,” you say, after a moment’s deliberation. “She – she’s seeing someone else, in secret. She’s supposed to marry Prince Caspian, come summer.”
Your Shadow stills, his entire body going tense.
“Are you certain?” he asks.
You nod. “I saw them together. She says she loves him.”
“Does she not feel this way for her betrothed?”
“No,” you say. “She’s only marrying him for the sake of the kingdom.”
“And she intends to go through with the marriage?”
“Yes,” you tell him. “She knows her duty. Even if she still seeks out her own happiness.”
“This… Caspian,” he says. “Does he love Susan?”
You shake your head, unable to speak of him when you are with your Shadow.
“Perhaps you should tell this Caspian of the affair, then,” he says quietly. “So that they might call off the wedding.”
“It would break his heart,” you whisper. “And war would break out between our two kingdoms.”
“Would it not break his heart more if he found out later, after he was entered into a marriage built on lies?”
You nod, slowly, after a moment.
“If Caspian is your friend, and you care for him as much as it appears you do, I believe you should tell him. It might be easier coming from a friend than from a stranger. But come,” he says, after you have nodded. “We are not here to discuss politics and sordid affairs. I’ve brought you an entire basket of fresh fruit, and I intend to stay here until we’ve eaten every piece.”
He leads you to the picnic, giving you a hand to sit down, and you find yourself beyond confused when he pulls out a long strip of black fabric.
“What’s that?” you ask.
“I can’t enjoy fruit if I’ve a mask covering my face,” he says. “So I’ve thought of a solution. You will wear this fabric around your eyes so you cannot see my face, and we will both be able to enjoy the day.”
You smile, entertained, but you agree – if only because your stomach growls at the thought of such a good meal.
*
You both lay there for a while, enjoying each other’s company, and you feel your heart breaking because you know it isn’t forever.
He feeds you pieces of fruit, laughing when your guesses as to what it is turn out horribly wrong, and you hate yourself for feeling the way that you do about someone you can never have.
It’s all going fabulously well, when suddenly a horse’s whinny and shouts of your name echo from further into the forest.
“It’s Lucy,” you realise, and you start to panic. You can’t see, and you fear anyone seeing you and your Shadow together. It could be worse than reprimand, you realise – their situation might be so grave that they are in danger if caught with you. It scares you that you aren’t worried about what that means for their identity, but you don’t care.
“Should you hide?” you ask, but it’s already too late.
“Edmund!” Lucy shouts, and you hear the horse approach. “It’s Susan, come quickly!”
You hear the horse’s hooves on the ground in the clearing, and you know that she has seen you. You rip the blindfold from your eyes, hoping that she doesn’t notice it, and look only in her direction.
She stares at you, lying there on the grass, a strange smile on her face. Then, after a moment, she speaks.
“Caspian?” she says, and you feel your heart stop.
When you turn, following her line of sight, it’s to see Caspian beside you, a scared doe look in his eyes.
You can’t breathe. You can’t speak. You feel as though every part of your already shattered heart is breaking, tearing your apart from the inside out. You fear having to say anything, because there’s a lump in your throat the size of a wardrobe.
Thankfully, Lucy does it for you.
“Both of you,” she says. “Come quickly. It’s Susan. She wants to call off the wedding.”
There isn’t enough time to think, and you are grateful for it. You simply climb onto your horse and follow Lucy back to the castle, Caspian on his own steed behind you.
When you arrive, you find yourself in a warzone.
*
When you enter the room, Susan throws a glass platter at you, and you just barely manage to dodge it.
“I’ve had enough, Peter!” she screams, and you realise she was aiming for your sibling, who stands not far in front of you. “This isn’t the life I wanted! I don’t want to marry Caspian!”
Peter yells back, though you hear nothing from him, because Caspian steps out from behind you and his fingers brush gently over the back of your hand.
“It’s alright, Peter,” Caspian interrupts, and most of the room’s occupants turn to him in shock.
“But the alliance is-”
“Strong,” Caspian interrupts again. “We don’t need to marry to ensure our kingdoms stay at peace. We’ll sign a treaty, instead.”
“A marriage is-”
“Obviously not what either party wants,” Caspian continues, and you can’t help a small smile at Peter’s steadily growing anger. “We should not have to sacrifice our happiness for the sake of our kingdoms if we’ve no need to do so.”
Susan voices her agreement, raising another platter threateningly when Peter turns his glare in her direction.
“You don’t want to marry Susan?” Lucy asks, and you flinch a little as she steps out from behind you.
“Not because of Susan,” Caspian assures her, and when he turns to Susan she nods in understanding. “It’s only that I…” he starts, and trails off. You don’t fail to notice how he refuses to look at you.
Susan, from across the room, gives him a sad smile. “You love someone else,” she guesses.
Caspian nods solemnly. “I intend no disrespect,” he says. “It was… beyond my control.”
“I’d still prefer a marriage,” Peter grumbles. “I want to ensure the peace lasts long after we all die.”
“Is your – is your lover Narnian, Caspian?” Lucy asks, and it’s quite funny how she stumbles over the word. “Perhaps you could be married instead!”
“I-” he starts, and he finally glances at you. “They are, yes. But I’m not sure a marriage is possible.”
“Nonsense!” Susan calls. “You may marry whoever you please, Caspian. If they are Narnian, it would create a bond between our kingdoms. We could not ask for more.”
“I don’t believe they want to marry me,” Caspian confesses.
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” you whisper, speaking only to him.
He goes still at your words, turning slowly to meet your eyes, and when he does, you nod.
“Thank you, Edmund,” he says.
“Wonderful,” Peter says, after a strange silence. “Go,” he tells Caspian. “Propose. We’ve already planned the wedding – we only need two people to be married.”
Caspian nods slowly, bowing at each of you in turn, and he leaves the room.
Not long after, you follow.
You find him in the tombs below your castle, his fingers running over inscriptions in the wall.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask him, and he jumps at the sound of your voice.
He turns, his gaze turned determinedly to the floor, and you watch his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a steadying breath.
“I feared you would no longer want my company.”
“Of course I do, Caspian. I – you’re one of my dearest friends.”
Caspian smiles, though it seems forced. “As are you,” he whispers. “But at times I want more from you than brotherhood. I desire you in ways that are not… the ways one might desire a friend.”
Your heart feels as though it is ready to climb out of your chest, right through the skin.
“I do believe I love you, Edmund,” Caspian confesses, and for the first time, his eyes meet yours.
You stare at him for what feels like years. You swallow. You blink.
“Oh, fuck it,” you mutter, and before Caspian has much chance to react, you stalk forward the few steps between you and pull him to you, pressing your lips against his and holding on for dear life.
Caspian flounders only a moment before kissing you back.
You marry in the summer, the two of you smiling so hard your faces start to hurt, and when the ceremony is over, Susan finds you eating cake.
“I’m glad it was you,” she says.
“That married Caspian?”
“That Caspian chose,” she corrects.
You stare at her, brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I saw you, when you were together. Even before you knew it yourselves, I could see it. The two of you belong together.”
“Is that why you found someone else?”
“No,” she says. “But it’s why I let things happen the way that they did.”
She smiles, then, and goes to leave, but you reach out and touch her shoulder, making her turn back.
“Thank you,” you say quietly. “For everything.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Ed. Now go find your husband.”
Laughing, you do as you’re told.