Chapter Text
Riding home after work, was Ashlynn’s least favourite part of the day.
Oh true, she couldn’t stand the drunk patrons, nor did she enjoy how the floor was always tacky, and how the scent of beer, ale, cider, and other alcoholic drinks clung to her skin, hair, and clothes. But that she could deal with, she could ignore the sexist comments and ham-fisted attempts at flirting, and could kick her sticky shoes off before she entered her home, and she could shower the day’s grime away the moment she was through the front door.
But it was the trip home she hated most.
Admittedly her little e-bike made it quicker, reducing a forty-minute walk to a ten-minute ride, but when The Moon Under Water –a stupid name for a bar– closed at 1am, it meant Ashlynn didn’t get to leave the building till gone 2am. This meant she had an anxiety fuelled ten-minute ride through Watford streets after dark, avoiding the drunks stumbling home, hurtling through the underpasses in a bid to be too fast for anyone to jump out at, along with navigating the one-way streets –which when it was this late were two-way to her– before weaving through parked cars and potholes to reach her driveway. After that, she’d have a shower, a period of decompression after the day’s work, and Ashlynn would be in bed at an acceptable 4am.
Just in time for the school run to start a few hours later, and the street outside her house to be flooded with honking horns, irate parents, and screaming children.
So needless to say, when Ashlynn stepped out from The Moon Under Water, and found it utterly pissing it down, her already poor mood wasn’t much improved.
“Fuck sake.”
Could she duck back inside and wait it out? Of course.
But after the Shift From Hell™ the last thing Ashlynn wanted to do, was linger one second longer in that place. Especially since she’d already clocked out. If she stepped back inside, Richard would be barking orders at her to pick up her co-worker’s slack, and then she’d be working overtime. For free. Again.
Zipping the neck of her red raincoat up to her chin, Ashlynn flipped the hood up, and bolted into the downpour.
It went about as well as expected, work sketchers immediately splashing into what she really hoped was a puddle of water. But after a moment’s scramble, she was moving, darting to the bike rack, and hastily unlocking the chain.
After the day she’d had, she’d half expected her little e-bike to have been stolen. But no, it was still bolted in place, its white paint flaking and chipped in places. Fingers slipping across the combination thanks to the rain, it took her a moment to get it free. Shoving the chain into her coat pocket, she flung her leg over, turned it on, and zipped to freedom.
So to speak.
The ride back was as miserable as she expected.
Rain slanting into her face every time she turned a corner or checked a road was clear to cross. Her fingers were already growing numb and pale about the handlebars. The underpasses were dimly lit and populated by groups of drunks, or youths, or drunken youths. And to top it all off, a night bus rumbled past, soaking her with a horrible spray of road-water.
But eventually Ashlynn reached the relative safety of her street, and carefully dodged the potholes that littered the road. A little hop, and her bike made it to the pavement, carrying her the last few feet to home-sweet-home.
Dismounting hurt. It always did, as though the proximity of her home, of safety and warmth and calm and peace, only enhanced just how much her feet throbbed, her back ached, and her head thumped. Despite the rain, Ashlynn took a moment to securely lock the e-bike into the garage, before trudging towards her front door, and the promise of rest.
She didn’t make it that far.
‘I want to break free!’
With a startled curse and jolt to the side, Ashlynn’s heart plummeted.
Freddy Mercury’s voice floated from her coat pocket. Already she knew who was calling, mainly because she’d set that ringtone to one person, and one person only.
‘I want to break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied I don't need you!’
Grimacing, she fished her phone from her pocket. Yep, there was the familiarly unflattering picture she’d set as his caller ID, and above the candid image, ‘DICK’. For several long seconds, she remained frozen, staring down at her phone, in the pouring rain, and dreading to wonder why Richard was calling her.
‘I've got to break free, God knows, God knows I want to break fre—’
Swiping to answer, Ashlynn lifted the phone to her ear like it was a viper primed to bite. “Hey boss, wha—”
“Where the fuck are you!?”
As charming as ever.
“The bar is a god damn wreck, glasses everywhere, the floor is soaked, the fridges haven’t been stocked, and the garbage hasn’t been taken out!” Richard –aka Dick– hollered and screeched in her ear. “You’re meant to take care of this shit before you leave!”
“I was in the kitchen today,” Ashlynn countered weakly, “its Carl who was on bar duty—”
“Carl’s not here!”
“Neither am I.”
With a wince, Ashlynn shut her eyes, already regretting the sharpness of her response. She was tired, she was drained, she just wanted to have a shower and sleep, but now she had Dick scolding her like she was a child rather than a grown ass woman who’d finished up her nightly duties.
For several long seconds, the silence stretched, and she could easily imagine the way Dick’s face would be turning pink, then red, before straying alarmingly close to purple. When he next spoke, his voice was dangerously low, and Ashlynn knew she was fucked.
“You get your ass back here, right now,” he snarled, “this bar needs to look shipshape and spotless.”
“Carl will be out back, under the awning having his eighteenth cig of the day,” Ashlynn replied, “I, am currently on my front door step. By the time I get back, Carl will be finished with his smoke.”
“I don’t give a shit where you are, get back here or els—”
“Are you going to pay overtime?”
Dick faltered.
She let the silence hang for a moment, already knowing the answer as she fished her house key from her coat pocket.
“Sure,” he ground out, and Ashlynn rolled her eyes at the blatant lie, “just get back here, and clean up this mes—”
“Text me.”
More silence.
“What?”
“Text me that you’re going to pay me overtime,” she repeated.
Shaking her keys loudly enough that she knew Dick would hear them, Ashlynn wrestled to get the right key with one hand. The front door key was an old looking thing, completely at odds with the keys for The Moon Under Water, let alone the sleek e-bike key. But it had a good weight in her hand, and was a nice match to the big old lock on her front door.
There was a satisfying clunk, as she pushed it into the lock.
“No?” she asked, when Dick remained quiet, despite having ample time to answer her request. “Then find Carl, he’ll be almost done by now—”
There was an actual snarl on the other end of the line.
“Ashlynn, I swear to God. I̷ ̶c̶o̶u̵l̷d̸ ̴ f̵̧̅i̵͠ͅr̵̰͌e̴͕͛ ̷̖͘y̶̫͌o̸͈̍ü̵̠ ̷̟͝ r̸̲̀̈ī̵͉g̶̲̃h̷̢͋͝t̴̡̪̽͑ ̸̱͍͐n̶̈́͛͜o̴̠̗̒̃ẘ̷̠̑͜ ̵̥͌á̵ͅͅn̴̜̭̓́d̴̦́ ̴̘̓͝ rẽ̸̳̉͘͘p̶͈͍̳̉̏̈́̿ḷ̴̉͑̾͠â̶̙͝c̴̻̜̾̑͘ê̷̡͚̯͠ ̵͓͙̈́y̵̥̝͗̐͜ó̷̠͇ṵ̶̲͋ͅ ̸̢͖̟̯̏ ̶̲̜̑͛͒͊̆̈́̆̊͒w̵̤̻̪̭̬͔͔͖͎͎̾̀͋̏̉̌͑͆̚͠ͅi̴̧̢̛̛̜̥̹̟͈̼͐͐̈́̈͊̽͆͝ͅţ̸̢͇͔̭̼͍̰̙͇͈̤̻̀̿̽̈́̌ḧ̷͉̮̥̪̰̣̻̬̟́̽̈́͂̍͜͜͝͠ḯ̴̡̪̮̥̼͌̀͌́n̵̟͓̼͔̥͉͕͍͉̅͑̉́͋ ̴͓͉͙͗̓̈̀̀̍̉̊̚͘͝͝à̸̛̬̝͍͈̭̼̉̓̋̂̓͊͌̋͘ ̴̹̠̀̕d̵̛͉͓͎̝̬̺̝̈́̆̆̋̈́a̸̧̱͈̿̑́̀̿͜y̷̧̜̟̭̞̲̝̖̝̳̓̈́͐!̶̡͔͙͙͇̠̓͗̔̋̆͌͆́͝͝͝”
The sheer amount of crackling static which slowly took over Dick’s voice had her wincing and holding the phone away from her ear. Squinting at the brightness of the screen, she eyed the timer showing the call was still going, before flicking the notification bar down to check her reception.
This close to London, it was meant to be good, but even as she watched, the bars dropped from four, to three, two, one… and then… nothing.
The call ended.
Ashlynn wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
No doubt Dick was now ranting and raving, cursing her for hanging up, and making a bigger mess of the bar than it already was. And while Carl was a notorious slacker –even if he was a chill guy to work with– she sincerely doubted that Dick would be inclined to take up the dirty work himself.
No, she’d claim the signal went –which it had– and pray that he’d had distortions on his side of the call to better sell the truth.
Or maybe, just maybe, she’d finally get the balls to quit…
With a frustrated noise, Ashlynn thumped her head to the carved wooden front door. Screwing her eyes up didn’t help much, just meant that the tears of stress and frustration squeezed out from under her lids, hidden by the streaks of dirty London rain that had soaked her to the bone.
“God,” she breathed, “I wish I wasn’t here…”
A twist of the key, a solid clunk as the lock turned, and Ashlynn trudged inside.
Immediately the sounds of London, of the rain, of distant nightly traffic, faded. Dragging a hand down her face in exhaustion, she turned, pushing the heavy door shut. Before dropping her bag to the floor, Ashlynn all but slumped against the solid wood door, fighting back tears.
She hated crying, she always got so snotty and hysterical, it was a pain to clean herself up. As such, she just, refused, attempting to push the emotion down, away, for later.
Which would have been a lot easier, had an odd noise not interrupted.
Sssshink
Twisting about in alarm, three things rapidly became apparent.
Firstly, that this wasn’t her home. Instead of the usual narrow hallway and flight of stairs greeting her, it was instead a huge chamber. Pale stone, dark wood, double height ceiling. There was a massive fireplace, balcony doors, a lounge area. Even an honest to god four-poster bed, decked out in rich crimson fabric.
Secondly, that a man was stood scarcely ten paces from her. Dark hair, dark eyes, a burgundy shirt that looked like a knock off replica from Pirates of the Caribbean. His costume was unimportant, however, as he held the third thing of note.
A… knife?
A sword!?
A sword, which was pointed directly at her face, his glaring eyes almost black in the low light. “Who are yo—”
Ashlynn screamed.
It wasn’t a conscious decision, but this was not her house, not her hallway, and she sure as fuck didn’t have any room-mates let alone one with god damn fucking sword!
Apparently, her shriek was as startling for him as it was for her. Even as she pressed herself against the door, he took a step back, black eyes widening in alarm. A flick of the sword and it dropped from being pointed in her face, angling to the floor instead. It didn’t help much, since apparently Ashlynn still had an armed lunatic in her not-house.
But all too quickly he recovered. “Who are you?”
“What the fuck going on!” she yelled back, panic clawing in her chest, “what are you doing here! Get out of my hous—”
“Your house?” he repeated incredulously, “this is my home!”
“I don’t know you!”
“How did you get in here?”
“Get away from me—”
The rest of Ashlynn’s frantic protests were drowned out as the door to the chamber was flung open. A clatter of –was that chain mail?– as another man burst into the room, hand dropping to yet another sword and looking ten seconds away from running her through.
The second scream that left her was rather understandable, all things considered.
“Stop!” The first sword wielding stranger barked, hand coming up towards the mail clad… knight? “Find Erna. Now.”
The knight hesitated, looking between the pair, even as Ashlynn flattened herself further against the solid door at her back. But then his head tilted, and the knight moved away, backing up into the corridor, eyes fixed on them until he vanished from sight.
He did not close the door.
Already Ashlynn was debating on bolting for the door, and finding her way out of wherever-the-fuck-this-was. But then the man before her, spoke again.
“You… are a Daughter of Eve?”
Blinking at the strangeness of that question, Ashlynn stared blankly at him, gaze flicking from his sword, to his face, and back again. Apparently noting her –very valid– discomfort, he lifted his free hand in a placating gesture, taking a couple of steps back, before gingerly leaning over to set the sword on the floor. That done, both empty hands were raised towards her, almost in supplication.
Some of the fear in Ashlynn’s chest eased, albeit not by much.
“M-my mums called Mary,” she stammered.
For some reason, he seemed to find that amusing. A fleeting smile pulled at his lips, shifting the wariness in his features to something more relaxed.
“Very well, Daughter of Mary,” he said slowly, voice softening, “do you know who I am?”
“I don’t even know where I am!” Ashlynn retorted with a wild gesture. The panic in her chest was abruptly giving way to sheer and utter confusion, albeit still fuelled by fear. “I mean I know it’s been a long shift but this is insane! Am I dreaming? Did I get hit by a truck and knocked into a coma or something? Why isn’t this my home?”
“Because it’s mine.”
At that very unhelpful contribution, she levelled a glare at him, not that it earned much more than a quirk of his brow. Apparently she wasn’t very intimidating, not that she could blame him, being soaking wet, huddled against a door, in her bright red rain coat, squelchy shoes, and with strands of hair plastered to her face.
“Let us start from the beginning,” he suggested, “how did you come to be here?”
Ashlynn stared back at the weird question. She’d literally just finished riding home through the rain after the shittiest shift imaginable, and now this random man in that stupid outfit in this outlandish room was asking her how she’d gotten here? For goodness sake, she’d ridden up the street and stepped through her front door!
Her… front door.
Without so much of a word of explanation, Ashlynn twisted about, seizing the door handle, and unceremoniously yanked the door open. Tumbling through the archway, she all but staggered out of the massive chamber, and into—
“A wardrobe?” she demanded incredulously, only to pause, considering the size of it with mild annoyance. “Why is it bigger than my spare room?”
Moving further into the chamber, Ashlynn’s head was craning, as though if she checked every corner it might reveal another door and the way back to her front porch. But there was nothing. Nothing beyond ornate clothing hanging from rails, stacked folds on shelves, chests of draws, a low couch-thing, side tables, and a large arched stained glass window at the far end, with dark sky beyond.
“Are you quite done?”
The man’s voice made Ashlynn jump, hastily turning back around to resume eyeing him warily.
“Or do you want to keep riffling through my clothing?” he asked, looking far too amused by her actions, considering the situation they were both in. “By all means, please do continu—”
“No,” Ashlynn blurted, eyes still darting about the chamber as though her way back home would magically reveal itself to her. “No, no this, this isn’t how I got here.”
The guy stepped back, out of the doorway where he’d been watching her exploration with something dangerously close to curiosity. But at his beckoning motion, Ashlynn forced herself forwards, leaving the enclosed space of the wardrobe, and reluctantly entering the large main chamber once more.
At least this room had more space to get away, more doors to escape through, should it come to that. Two large sets of balcony doors were to either side of the massive four poster bed, then there was the door that the knight had burst through, and another door that was shut.
However the man had turned his back on her, heading across the room to the low sofa’s that were placed opposite one another before the humongously grand fireplace. There was nought but coals in the actual grate, but they glowed a dull red, any promise of warmth long since faded along with the flames.
“Take a seat,” he instructed.
Ashlynn, did not.
It didn’t stop him from settling in a chair, leaning back in a deceptively casual gesture, as though a strange woman hadn’t materialised in his rooms. Once again his dark eyes were on her, watching in outright curiosity, as though she was a weird bug that had somehow found its way into his home.
Which, Ashlynn supposed, she was.
Hell, if their places had been reversed, if Ashlynn had found a random stranger in her home, she doubted she’d be acting quite as civilly as this man was. No, she’d still be screaming, maybe she’d have attacked them with a frying pan or the nearest lamp, either way, she’d have chased them off or barricaded herself in her bathroom to call the police.
Her fingers twitched, resisting the urge to snatch her phone from her coat pocket and start dialling.
Not yet, at least, not with him watching her so closely.
Thankfully, the stare down didn’t last long, as the rattle of chain mail heralded the knight’s return, but this time he wasn’t alone. At the risk of being outnumbered Ashlynn tensed, shifting onto her back foot.
Only to blink as an older woman was shown into the room.
Dark hair heavily flecked with silver, a round face, lined with wrinkles, bright eyes that seemed to be in a permanent crinkle of a smile. Her clothing was simple, an ankle length soft brown dress without much volume, and a white apron…?
“Ah, Erna, apologies for having you brought up here at this hour,” the man said, “thank you, Kest if you wouldn’t mind waiting in the corridor?”
The knight didn’t seem inclined to do so, but bowed his head and backed up, moving into a position where he could glare daggers at Ashlynn.
“And thank you, Erna,” he continued, “I hoped your presence would help miss…” He trailed off, looking to Ashlynn, but she remained quiet, not offering her name. He didn’t seem surprised, continuing easily but this time addressing her. “I hoped that Erna’s presence might make you feel more at ease.”
It did help, if only a little.
But now he was looking to her expectantly, patiently waiting for his offer of a seat to be accepted.
At a loss of what else to do, Ashlynn cautiously moved forwards, gingerly dropping into the seat opposite the man. Perched on the edge of its plush cushion, ready to bolt at any moment. Screwing her hands up, she pressed them into her lap in a bid to conceal the tremors which no doubt ran through them. She couldn’t panic, couldn’t let her fear and confusion take over, not when she had no idea where she was, what was going on, and more importantly:
How to get home.
As she settled opposite him the man’s expression had brightened, not a smile, but a look of… satisfaction? With the maid remaining behind him and to one side, and the knight glaring at her through the open door, Ashlynn weirdly felt like she was being interviewed.
And like all interviews she’d ever attended, it started with an introduction.
“I am Caspian,” he said, “may I know your name?”
A stubborn part of her was inclined to refused, but if she was to get out of this place, it wouldn’t do to be a problem. It was, however, an effort to move her tongue, let alone speak her name aloud.
“Ashlynn. Ashlynn Larkin”
“Ash-Lynn Larkin,” this Caspian repeated slowly, “an interesting name to say the least.”
Bold words coming from a man named after a sea.
“Very well, Ash-Lynn,” Caspian continued, his accent stressing her name in odd places. It wasn’t butchered –far from it in fact– it just sounded strange, like she’d gone on holiday to Spain and the locals were trying to pronounce her very English name. “It seems to me you’re a little… out of your depth—”
An understatement.
“—so I’ll do my best to answer your questions,” he was saying, “but would you be willing to answer some of my own…?”
She didn’t want to, didn’t want to tell him anything about herself, not when she didn’t know where she was, not when she didn’t know how to get home. But… it sounded like he’d only explain what was happening to her, if she shared things about herself. Maybe she wouldn’t need to give her full name, address, date of birth, national insurance number, and Instagram password, maybe he’d be content with the broader picture…
“Alright.”
Thankfully her agreement seemed to please him, as another fleeting smile tugged at his lips.
But then Caspian sat forwards, dark eyes intent on her, and Ashlynn couldn’t help but lean back slightly in alarm. It was unnerving, how dark his eyes were, almost black in the low light, and utterly fixed on her.
“You, are currently in Cair Paravel,” he said without preamble, and Ashlynn mentally scrambled to take in what he was saying. “Somehow, you’ve found your way not only into my home, but my own bedchamber. Any ideas what happened?”
“I, I don’t know,” she managed to answer, “where’s Cair Paravel?”
It sounded French, but his accent sounded Spanish, was she somewhere near the border? How had she been in north London, and then Europe?
“Narnia.”
The one word answer Caspian gave, meant nothing to Ashlynn.
“Is that in Europe?” she asked, praying it was, she couldn’t handle it if she’d ended up in… Gibraltar? Brazil? Fuck her D in geography was really starting to make itself known.
“Your-rope?” Caspian repeated, “what is that?”
The reveal that he didn’t know what Europe was, has Ashlynn swallowing thickly, forcing her to ask the question she was dreading. “This isn’t London… is it?”
“London?” he said in that odd accent, and her heart sank, “no?”
“London?” she repeated, as though saying the name twice would do anything to change the situation. “In England? Great Britain? The United Kingdom?”
Each version of England’s name, only received confusion and blankness.
The panic that Ashlynn had been doing so well at keeping under control, started to grow stronger. Her head was reeling. One hand lifted, pressing to her brow –finding it cold and damp with long forgotten rain– trying to marshal her thoughts and figure out where the hell she was, if this Caspian didn’t know what Europe was, let alone England or London.
Trying to remember her breathing techniques, she forced the air in through her nose, out through her mouth. Slow and steady. Slow, and, steady. She couldn’t afford to panic, couldn’t afford to freak out. She just had to breathe.
“Miss?”
A pained noise left her throat.
“Ash-Lynn?”
“Stop, talking,” she barely managed to grind out, “just, give me a minute. Please.”
Caspian’s voice was too strange, too unfamiliar, too accented. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know how she was meant to get home. And now this stranger was interrogating her and not giving her chance to breathe.
A soft clink of something had Ashlynn’s head whipping up, visions of him picking up the sword and using it to run her through now she’d become useless to him filled her mind.
But what greeted her wasn’t a sword, but a crystal glass.
Caspian was stood barely a foot away, holding it out to her and watching with something dangerously close to concern. Her eyes dropped from his, to the clear liquid.
“Water,” he said, seeing her uncertainty. “Although I do have whisky if that’s more your sort thing.”
Ashlynn snorted, the sound harsh and tearing at her throat. “No. Thanks.”
She stunk of alcohol enough as it was. Did this Caspian think her a drunk? Maybe that was what he was telling himself, that a drunken woman had gotten so badly lost as to wander into his bedroom and start screaming.
But it wasn’t wariness on his face, but worry.
Gingerly reaching out, they both pretended not to notice how badly her hand was shaking, as Ashlynn accepted the glass to cautiously sniff and then sip, at the clear liquid.
It was water.
Small mercies.
It was only after she’d drank half the glass, that Caspian moved away, resettling on his sofa to resume watching her. And to resume the interrogation it seemed.
“Where were you before you found yourself here?”
Was it her imagination, or was his voice gentler than before?
“I-I was on my doorstep,” Ashlynn managed to say, managed to force her thoughts into a semblance of coherence, gripping the crystal glass like a lifeline. “It about… two-thirty at night? I’d finished work, ridden home in the rain, and then—”
Had a very irate phone call with her Dick of a boss.
“—unlocked my front door, and here I was.”
Caspian nodded slowly, brows frowning and darkening his eyes alarmingly. “That was it? Did you hear anything, like, I don’t know… a horn?”
That was too specific to be a casual suggestion.
“No,” Ashlynn answered slowly, wondering why he’d suggest that of all things. Had she been hit by a car? Honestly at this point, it wouldn’t surprise her. “I mean, there was some distant honking, but nothing near me.”
With a low hum, Caspian leaned back on his sofa, fingers of one hand smoothing across his chin and the subtle beard that framed his jaw. He was clearly weighing her up, considering her words, as though trying to solve a puzzle she’d posed. Rather than trying to meet his black eyed gaze, Ashlynn’s own dropped to her hands, studying the glass as though it was the most fascinating thing.
It was rather pretty, a good weight to it too. Was it expensive? Everything in this room looked expensive, or at least well made. Hell, even the rug beneath her soaked shoes was beautifully woven, patterns and colours she couldn’t quite make out in the low light.
They’d certainly put a lot of effort into making this place historically accurate, down to the lanterns on the walls and candelabras on the table.
“Well, you’ll be relieved to know this isn’t the first time someone’s stumbled into Narnia,” Caspian said abruptly, and Ashlynn’s head whipped up at his words, “but it’s been… at least ten years, since that last happened—”
“Wait what?”
“—although as far as I’m aware, it is the first time someone's arrived within Cair Paravel itself,” he was continuing despite her exclamation, even as she rocked back in her seat. “You’ll be less pleased to know that it’s not easy to return, many folk end up living here—”
“No!”
Her outburst had Caspian falling silent, his body tensing and eyes narrowing in wariness. Beyond him, the maid and the knight had both jumped, and while Erna remained still, the knight took a very pointed step forwards. Eyes locked on her and hand resting on his sword.
“No,” Ashlynn repeated, voice wavering, “no I can’t, I have to get back.”
“I understand,” Caspian said slowly, “and I know that this is all very confusing for you. The problem with Narnia is that it tends not to give up its visitors lightly, not unless they have a purpose to fulfil. But usually, people that arrive here, don’t tend to leave.”
If he’d been trying to reassure her, it had the opposite affect.
“You don’t understand!” she pleaded, voice straying dangerously close to hysterical, “I have to get home! My grandma, she, she’s ill, if I don’t see her regularly she gets confused. I hav—I have to go b-ack.”
Ashlynn’s voice cracked on the last word, all the hysteria, panic, fear, and worst of all, tears, springing forth.
Yeah, sure it was terrifying and shocking to find herself in a strange place. But what was truly upsetting, truly the root issue that Ashlynn had with being here, was that her grandma, her Nana, wouldn’t know where she was. Already she was in a nursing home, but with her dementia the longer Ashlynn went without visiting her, the more confused and irate she’d become.
What would happen, if Ashlynn never made it home…?
The crystal glass slipped from her fingers, thudding to the floor. Not that she cared, not that she could find it in herself to be concerned. Not when her hands were pressing to her face, trying to stifle the noises of panic that were tearing free of her throat.
She had to get back.
“I… I’m sorry Ash-Lynn,” she distantly heard Caspian saying, sounding alarmed and worried at her display, “but I no more have the power to do that, then I do to stop the sun from rising.”
A desperate keen was building in her chest, little more than a whine. Body doubling up, Ashlynn’s fingers were digging into the skin of her face, as though the harder she gripped, the better she could contain her fear.
It didn’t work.
Shoulders heaving with choked sobs, the stress and frustration of the day had built up, weighing her down, until this… this fucking… teleportation to the back end of beyond, tore down her resolve and left nothing in its wake but sheer and utter despair.
There were voices, discussions, people talking. But none of it made sense to her, none of it sank in through the miasma of panic.
A hand touched her shoulder, and Ashlynn didn’t so much as flinch.
“Here now, lass,” an unfamiliar voice with that strange lilting accent was speaking gently, “drink some of this tea. Deep breaths now.”
Through the cage of her fingers, Ashlynn found Erna crouched before her.
Where the maid had managed to produce a cup of tea from, was beyond her, but it looked warm, a light trail of steam, and a soothing scent. All too easily it was pressed into Ashlynn’s trembling hands, and so deep was her exhaustion, that she didn’t hesitate to down the lot.
It tasted like tea.
Not that she’d have cared, had it turned out to be something else.
“There we go, my deary.”
The cup was spirited away from Ashlynn’s fingers, and she found herself staring down at the space it had occupied. She could sense movement, hear voices, but everything seemed… Distant. Unimportant.
“Will you be alright here, Erna?”
“Of course sire, no doubt I’ll have Kest watching over me, will I not?”
There was a laugh, low and masculine, but strained sounding. “Very well, I’ll leave our guest in your capable hands.”
Footsteps, coming closer.
“Miss Ash-Lynn?”
It felt like a great weight was on her head, struggling to lift it enough to find that Caspian had drawn to a stop before her. Apparently seeing the effort it took, he sank into a crouch, rather than force her head to crane at an awkward angle.
“I’m very sorry, that this has happened to you,” he said gently, peering up at her with dark eyes and concern writ into every line of his features. “Please believe me when I say I’ll do everything in my power to get you home, to your grandmother. We’ll talk more come morning, once you’ve rested. Alright?”
“‘Kay…”
It wasn’t much of an agreement, but it seemed to mollify him enough. With a gentle pat to her knee, Caspian rose to his feet once more, and took his leave.
Almost immediately the maid was back by her side.
“Come now, lets get you in to bed,” Erna was soothing, “it’s been a frightfully long day for you, by my guess. Get some sleep now, dear.”
In the face of such maternal concern, Ashlynn was powerless to resist.
Sodden shoes were removed, her raincoat gently peeled from her arms. Blindly following the nudges and coaxing, Ashlynn found herself been shepherded across the room. A soft seat, a warm blanket, a plush pillow. All but bundled into bed, the maid didn’t go far, perching on its edge, warm hand rubbing her shoulder as she hummed a gentle yet unfamiliar melody under her breath.
Ashlynn’s last thought before exhaustion claimed her, was she wasn’t in her own bed, but his.