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Caspian stood on the balcony of his chambers, staring out over the sea. Watching the iridescent surface usually calmed him, eased the anxieties that weighed heavy on him. Seafarer, they called him now. The epithet a homage to the voyage that part of him wished he was still on. It was simpler aboard his ship, one focus, a clear mission. He hadn't felt so alone.
Loneliness wasn't something he was unused to. His upbringing had ensured that. Yet, this was a loneliness he couldn't shake. Surrounded by friends and subjects who he loved and who loved him; Trumpkin, Glenstorm, Doctor Cornelius, Trufflehunter - all dear friends and advisors and he would not be without them. But.
Being king. Ruling Narnia. The decisions were solely on his shoulders. The fault, the blame, the responsibility. Aslan had bestowed kingship upon him himself, and Caspian would never denegrate that by calling his rule a burden. Stars, it was just he was so lonely.
For a brief moment in time, out there aboard his ship, Caspian hadn't been lonely at all. He'd had Edmund and Lucy beside him, a King and Queen of Old, two of his dearest friends back. There had even been Eustace, though the dragon-boy had no understanding of the weight of rule. But he had lost them again. Like before. Aslan had sent them back to their England, and Caspian had been alone once more. Worse, really, losing Reepicheep to the next great adventure too.
Perhaps, in another life, Caspian would have heeded Ramandu on that island and brought Liliandil back to be his Queen and his wife. In this life, his heart wasn't in it, and he suspected that neither was hers. Her head turned by a Just King, perhaps. Caspian had brought her back - a life on a lonely island was not befitting someone such as her - and she fitted in seamlessly with the Narnians. A friend, an advisor, an ambassador, but nothing more.
She flitted about his palace, glowing with iridescent light of stars, much like the shimmering surface of the sea that calmed him and called to him so. Still Caspian longed for another. His heart crying out through worlds and time to the one he missed most. The Gentle Queen who hadn't returned to Narnia.
Susan.
It had been years since Caspian had seen her last. Since she had kissed him and taken his heart with her through that tree and into her world. Caspian had done his best for their people. Reunited Narnia, brokered treaties and made alliances. Rebuilt Cair Paravel stone for stone and transported the tree from Telmarine capital to Caspian's own.
In every law he enacted, every decision he made, Caspian tried to make her proud. To be a King worthy of loving her. A King worthy of the friendship of her siblings and of the legacy they all represented.
In public, by day, Caspian was content. He had his duty and his people and life in Narnia was never dull. At night, alone, when the performance of duty was done for the day, the loneliness crept in. For who could truly understand the weight of rule? There was no one left to share the load.
And so, exhausted to his core but unable to sleep, Caspian stood on his balcony. He watched the sea, waves lit by the glow of the stars and the moon, and hoped. The sea had returned Edmund and Lucy, the sea had returned the clarity of purpose Caspian had needed. But it was all so ephemeral. Like the iridescent light that shimmered off it's surface, gone through his fingers if he tried to catch it and make it linger.
Caspian sighed, leaning heavily against the stone railing. There was peace in Narnia. No enemies from without or within. No White Witch lurking for revenge. Just day by day peace where the Narnians got on with their lives.
There were some nights, where the moon was new and the night too dark to see, when Caspian almost wished for crisis. A calamity so large that he could not handle it himself, that he needed to blow Susan's horn and summon aid from the England world. He hated himself for it after; his people deserved better than a king wishing them ill just for his own selfish desires.
While he brushed his hand over Susan's horn every dusk and dawn when he entered his chambers, he never blew it. Simply trudged to his balcony and stared at the sea, wishing for a miracle that would never be.
Tonight, Caspian refused to let his thoughts stray to scenarios that would return the Kings and Queens of Old. There was too much of the future on his mind. An upcoming visit from Archenland, talks of stronger alliances in case the whisperings coming from Calormen proved true. Nothing pressing or urgent, but enough to keep Caspian focused on the weight of leadership and less the emptiness of ruling alone.
So, as Caspian watched the Dawn Treader sway in her moorings, he tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. Glenstorm and Doctor Cornelius would give him safe advice and of course he could always count on his dear little friend Trumpkin to tell him things as he saw them. Aslan, what Caspian would not give to have others at his side, those who knew what questions to ask of their advisors, who knew how to navigate the sinking sands of diplomacy.
He thought of the stacks of parchment on his desk. The countless letters and missives he went through every morning. The council sessions, his rigid training schedule, the open council he started on advice from Trufflehunter. More work than there was hours in the day, worth it even if he did second guess himself at every turn.
A heavy sigh escaped him, his breath misting in the cool night air. The effort of will was exhausting. His gaze, which had been sharply focused on the ship's rigging, blurred in protest of the sleepless nights he'd been enduring as of late. Inthestillness,adeeper,morefamiliarachesettledinhischest - notoftiredness, butofaquestionhehadfoughtfor months.
Aslan had given him his rule, the lion would never have done so if he thought Caspian would be unequal to the task.
Perhaps that was the true lesson of the voyage he had taken. Caspian could rule easily alongside the Pevensies, but he had the strength to bear the crown alone. Aslan had been disappointed in him once before, Caspian would not court that again. Caspian had endured, and he would continue to do so.
“I trust you,” Caspian said to the stars, knowing Aslan would hear him. A promise that he would abide by Aslan's wishes and his plan no matter what it took. As a true King of Narnia ought.
As if in response, a warm breath of air ruffled his hair.
Caspian didn't turn. Aslan would not be seen at his side. Comfort enough in the knowledge that he had been heard. That Aslan knew he was still striving to be better. He closed his eyes, letting the comfort settle deep into his bones.
When he opened them again, something was new.
On the dock before the Dawn Treader, the air began to glow. Light, iridescent and golden, swirled.
Caspian had seen something like it only once before. When Aslan had created a portal from a tree, opening the door between worlds.
“Aslan,” Caspian breathed. Surprise, shock, plaintive hope.
Leaning forward, almost toppling over the railing, Caspian strained his eyes to see. Was this light a test? Was Aslan trying Caspian's resolve to remain vigilant for Narnia? Or had the great lion granted one more miracle?
Caspian held his breath. The whole world did.
Then, the iridescent light rippled. A figure slowly stepping through to the dock.
No distance would be too great to mistake the sight before him. Tall, proud, golden haired and garbed in the same strange clothing as Edmund and Eustace had arrived on the Dawn Treader. Peter the Magnificent, high king before Caspian had accepted the mantle.
Before he thought, he was in action, dashing through the chambers, sprinting through the corridors of his palace. Guards called after him, concern loud in their voices. Caspian could pay them no mind. His goal was the dock.
Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Caspian made impossibly good time. He skidded through the courtyard, nearly tumbling over his own feet as he careened through the passageway to his dock. His ship.
Peter stood by the portal, looking up at the castle in surprise. Awe. The same hope Caspian felt shone in his eyes. Peter did not stand alone. By his side, looking back at the hull of the Dawn Treader, stood his brother. Edmund's hair had grown a little longer, the man a little taller, but it was Edmund. The brother Caspian missed more than he had admitted.
Neither brother noticed Caspian, frozen at the head of the dock, both were processing the sights before their eyes. As Caspian was himself.
The portal shimmered again, Eustace stumbling through. More comfortable in his skin, Eustace seemed, though his mouth fell open in lax surprise. Caspian couldn't fault him; the first time he had looked on Cair Paravel, it had taken his breath away too.
Quickly after Eustace, Lucy emerged. She, alone, giggled, spinning around and whispering thanks to Aslan. Always the readiest to believe their return to Narnia, the Valiant Queen.
Caspian longed to rush to them. To clap Peter's shoulder, to accept a bear hug from Edmund and a handshake with Eustace. To hug Lucy and tell her how much Narnia missed her.
Yet, something stopped him. That flickering hope in his chest. Peter had returned when Aslan said he never would. So had Lucy and Edmund. The rules had been broken, the door opened once more. And yet…
The portal didn't vanish behind Lucy. It deepened, a glow reminiscent of dawn. A fifth figure walked out. She didn't stumble like Eustace or spin like Lucy. She stepped onto the wooden planks with the grounded, quiet grace of a woman who had walked these shores in her dreams every night since she’d left them.
Susan. The Gentle Queen.
More beautiful than Caspian remembered, every bit the graceful queen.
Aslan himself could not have stopped Caspian in that moment. He ran, not slowing until he was halfway down the dock and all eyes were on him.
“Caspian.” Peter's voice was warm, happy, more friendly than Caspian remembered.
“Peter, Edmund, Eustace, Lucy,” Caspian nodded at each of them in turn, amazed. “Susan.” He stilled, taking comfort in the glow of Susan's presence. “How?”
Peter smiled, looking at his siblings and cousin for a moment. “Aslan asked us if we wished to come home and remain. We accepted.”
Thank you, Caspian thought with his whole heart. A smile blossomed on his face. To such a statement, there was only one way Caspian could reply. A courtly half bow, his gaze flickering more to Susan than any other. “Welcome back to Cair Paravel.”
Lucy beamed, craning her head to look up at the white palace. She was not alone, her brothers did the same. “You rebuilt it?”
“Stone for stone,” Caspian assured them. “Your chambers ought to be as you left them. Your DLF was insistent on having them furnished and stocked.”
“Narnia?” Peter questioned, ever the king.
“Peaceful and well,” Caspian replied, hoping to allay whatever fears the king had brought with him. “There are always matters to attend to, but we can discuss that in the morning.” Caspian looked to Edmund and Lucy and Susan. “All of us.”
Edmund stepped forward, pulling Caspian into the bearhug he had hoped for. “Good to see you,” he muttered, clapping him on the back. He pulled away, winking at Caspian. “I'm starving. Pete, Eustace, shall we see if palace nosh is still up to scratch?”
“You'll find Trumpkin in the kitchen this time most nights,” Caspian offered, sweetening the pot a little. “And Glenstorm ought to be up by now. You can eat and I'm sure they'll bring you up to date with what's been happening.”
Mollified, Peter let Edmund and Eustace drag him away.
Lucy feigned a yawn and tripped off after them, calling eagerly for them to wait. She wanted to see her DLF too!
And then it as just the two of them.
Caspian ducked into a deeper, more formal bow. “My Queen.”
Susan half-curtseyed, smiling softly. “My King.”
Caspian's smile threatened to spread out of control. Though the silence remained almost awkward. What were you supposed to say when the woman you loved returned with no warning when you never thought she would again? What were you supposed to say when you'd been given a miracle you didn't deserve.
“Susan-”
“Caspian-”
They spoke at the same time, breaking off in a soft laugh.
“You are back for good?”
Susan nodded, her gaze flickering towards the castle. “We are. I am.”
“I am glad,” Caspian fidgeted in place. He hadn't felt so awkward since the day Susan had left. “Ruling without you has been harder than I ever imagined.”
Susan blinked, pleased surprise filling her eyes. “You have no queen?”
Caspian shook his head, meeting her gaze evenly. “There was only one who ever mattered.”
Susan stepped forward, brushing her lips gently across his cheek. “I feel the same way,” she whispered, her breath ghosting over his ear.
And that was enough. For now. Caspian had his miracle. He was no longer to rule alone. No longer to have a heart longing for something forever out of his reach.
Tonight he'd been given more than he could ever have asked for. And Aslan's patience had taught him one thing: he was not going to rush for his forever.
Instead, he offered Susan his arm, his other hand waving towards the castle. “May I escort you inside, my Queen? Your home awaits.”
Susan smiled and took his arm, falling into step beside him.
Tomorrow was soon enough to think of the future and everything awaiting them. Tonight, the Pevensies and Eustace were home, Caspian was no longer alone, they had food to dine upon and friends to catch up with.
All was well in Narnia. And all would (hopefully) be well for a long, long time.