Archive of Our Own

It was a small social media account where people found the video.

'The Pevensies': YouTube and Instagram accounts run by Susan and Lucy, a sister duo who post slice-of-life style videos. Susan had started the channel as an entry into journalism. Lucy had joined in for the fun of it. They were popular enough to have a decent sized fan-base, all of whom were friendly, but not so much that things got ugly whenever they went into town.

Their friends and family regularly featured in their videos. There was Peter, their eldest brother, who was studying medicine and could often be found in the background with at least three textbooks. Edmund, the brother between Susan and Lucy, was a great source of off-screen snark; he was at university. They had a cousin, Eustace, but he was talked about more than seen— he was a bit of a science prodigy, and disliked attention.

Then there was the couple. Cas and Thea, they were called on camera; their full names were Caspian and Ianthe. Neither of them were related to the Pevensies in the traditional manner, but blood mattered little in their family so the two were counted as their brother and sister.

Caspian was the better-known face. He was Lucy's guinea-pig, and could often be seen in an awful animal-ear headband being subjected to some new skincare or product she had found. Classically handsome, he was a popular guest, and clearly enjoyed indulging his friends' varied ideas— even the ones that included blue hair tint. There was a non-exhaustive stock of screenshots containing the strange faces he has pulled over the years; Lucy and Susan have them on hand whenever he causes mischief, which is frequently.

Ianthe liked the background. She was a voice in walking vlogs, a hand in museum trips, a blurry figure in the mirrors of historical houses; she had a sixth sense, Lucy joked, and knew exactly when to avoid the camera. What the audience did see of her, they liked— she was witty and kind, and could recite leagues of poetry off by heart. Just as mischievous as her counterpart, her gull-like cackles were a rare but beloved feature of the channel.

The occasional glimpses of the two together had them unintentionally collecting their own devoted sub-fan-base, a thousand or so hearts captured by the pair.

One day, at the beginning of October, The Pevensies posted a video. The title was 'Interviewing Our Friends,' and the basic premise behind it was Lucy attempting Susan's style of journalistic vlogging.

When played, the video starts with Lucy. She's in her usual state; windswept hair bouncing about her chin, glittery eyeshadow, princess sleeves flowing from her shoulders. She waves at the audience.

"Hi guys!" she says brightly, "So, this video is a bit of a different one. As you know, around this time last year, we teased the exact same premise before filming but ended up having to cancel posting it. Well… here it is! We had it all filmed, so most of this actually took place last year, but, yeah, surprise surprise… watch until the end and you'll see why it had to be postponed!"

The audience remembers that. They remember the disappointment— despite Caspian's regular appearances and Ianthe's presence, little was known about them; they had been looking forward to finding out more than the bits and pieces provided.

The video switches to a cosy set up. Susan's living room— impeccably aesthetic, as always, and decorated to evoke the Art Nouveau movement. This is usual thoroughfare for the Pevensie Sisters; any videos at home are filmed in Susan's apartment— it is the largest and neatest of everyone's, somehow perfectly lived in without being too cluttered.

As always, the lighting is low and warm with fairy lights, stained glass lamps, and a handful of electric candles on the coffee table (there were once real candles, but the potential for disaster quickly eliminated them). Seasonal, but tasteful, handmade pumpkin models are set around the candles. Everything is tidy, but there are plenty of blankets and cushions and decor so as to suggest being lived-in. A diffuser in the shape of a hare sends a lightly scented sandalwood mist into the air.

The camera is set up on the coffee table, zoomed out so the sofa— a lucky buy in an antique shop made of plush velvet and oak— is in frame. On that sofa, Caspian and Ianthe sit close together.

Caspian, as always, is dressed well: dark slacks, smart shoes, a comfortable cable-knit jumper. Ianthe is in an identical jumper— though where Caspian's is deep red hers is a purplish burgundy— with well-worn jeans and leather boots. The jumper fits Caspian well, but is loose and large on Ianthe; many comments guess that they swapped for the video, but it is more accurate to say that the two items of clothing are so regularly handed between them that its hard to say whose is whose any longer.

Caspian wears his hair long and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Ianthe wears hers down— loose, looping curls tumbling down her back, the length reaching her hips when she stands.

He has an arm around her shoulders, and she has laid a hand on his knee. Close in a way that cannot be performative; the same way a person sighs or blinks, they sit entwined together. Beady-eyed audiences members can see that they are wearing matching signet rings on their right forefingers.

"Please state your names for the camera," Lucy says from behind the camera, enjoying being able to play the serious journalist.

"I'm Caspian."

"And I am Ianthe."

Their full names and ages appear next to their faces on-screen in a legible yet elegant script: Caspian Douglas Marcet, and Ianthe Marie-Anne Lynch.

Lucy whispers, "I forgot it was with a 'yuh' sound."

Ianthe laughs, hiding her smile behind a hand. Caspian smiles, too— more a reflex in response to her laugh than genuine amusement.

"Okay," Lucy says, "before we get into it, how about you tell the audience a little about yourselves?"

"Um—"

"Well—"

The both of them start at once. They laugh again, then Caspian nods for Ianthe to go first.

"Well, I've just finished a Master's Degree, and am currently working as a lecturer with the same uni. I grew up in Cumbria but moved to Lancaster when I was eleven. That was where I met Cas."

As the video plays, it shows pictures of Ianthe— graduation with Caspian; on the top of Scafell Pike; sat reading in a window seat.

"And I work my family business. I hope to travel, soon, but I'm waiting on Annie so we can go together. I like astronomy and history. I grew up in Lancaster."

The pictures of Ianthe are replaced by ones of Caspian— looking at a statue in a museum; with a telescope and a meteor shower in the background; his first charity dinner, Ianthe in a matching suit beside him.

Lucy asks, "You guys have been friends for years and years, right?"

"Eleven years last month," Caspian confirms.

"How'd you meet?"

"We, um… we actually met in high school," Ianthe says, "Cas went to this fancy, private place. I got in on a scholarship. We were in the same form."

"She caught my eye straight away. Mostly 'cause she was reading a book I liked— which one was it?"

-

"Are you reading Redwall?"

Ianthe looked up. She made to hide the book in her hands, afraid that the question was going to lead to her being teased, but the bright and honest— if a little shy— smile on the boy's face had her hesitating.

"Yes?" she said.

"I love those books. They're brilliant, aren't they? No one else has ever heard of them."

"Yeah, they're great." She smiled shyly. "I love them."

"Which is your favourite?"

"Um… probably Taggerung. What— what about you?"

"Redwall. I love the fated warrior thing. Like Arthur or Aragorn. That's a really nice copy, where'd you get it?"

"My uncle gifted it to me."

The boy screwed his nose up. "My uncle would never."

"I'm… sorry?"

"It's alright. My name is Caspian. You?"

"Ianthe."

Caspian smiled. "Pretty name."

-

"Redwall, by Brian Jacques."

"Oh, I love those," Lucy says.

"They'd started trialling study partners, and we were lucky enough to be paired," Caspian recalls.

Ianthe says, "The trial didn't last, but we carried on together. Neither of us liked any of the other students. We made some other friends along the way, but we… clicked. He made sense. More than anyone else ever did."

"She started coming over to mine for my tutoring sessions. Not because she needed them, mind you. Because I wanted her there." Caspian looks over at her and smiles. "I wanted more time with her."

"You needed tutoring?" Lucy asks, incredulous— Caspian, to her, has always seemed so smart.

"Oh, yes. I was… well, I was falling behind. Family situation." Something sad flickers in his eyes, before he pushes it away and jokes, "Then, I was able to leech off of Annie's genius."

"Genius? Don't be ridiculous."

"Sure, Ms PHD."

"I've only just finished my Master's, Cas."

The camera turns to Lucy's unimpressed face; her hair is much longer in this video than the one at the start, emphasising her point that it was all filmed a year prior. Susan is sitting beside her wearing a grin, the list of interview questions and notes— most notably, in Lucy's handwriting in red pen, the phrase 'LOVESICK IDIOTS' underlined twice— held up to her face to conceal her expression.

"See what I have to deal with?" Lucy stage-whispers. "They're awful."

"We're delightful," Ianthe says, grinning when Caspian laughs.

"Right! Moving on. Uh… what about during high school? It's quite common for friendships to split, how come you two were different?"

"Like I said, there was no one else. Not that it was a desperation thing, we had other friends that came and went. But… well, kids didn't like me because I was weird, and Caspian didn't like them because all they cared about was his family."

-

"Annie?"

Ianthe sniffled, hiding her face in her arms.

"Oh, Annie."

Squeezing into the little gap in the library shelves where she had hid herself, Caspian fit his limbs— long and lanky and far too awkward thanks to his fourteen year-old body deciding to go through a growth spurt that summer— around her in a tight hug.

"Was it them again?"

She nodded.

"Want me to beat them up?"

Whilst Caspian was really quite angry, and did really want to beat them up, he made sure to keep his tone light; he knew Ianthe hated the thought of him getting into trouble for her, and so if he kept it a joke then she would feel better.

Comfort, not anger, was what was needed.

With a wet giggle, she shook her head. "No. This helps more than that would."

Tilting her head into his shoulder, she managed to manoeuvre her arms— just as awkwardly long, she also was still growing into herself— around his middle. Her tears started to soak into his uniform jumper.

"You know, I was wondering," he said, "how about, instead of tutoring this evening, we go for one of our walks?"

"You just want to get out of grammar lessons."

"Cornelius won't mind."

"He will. He's asked me to keep you in line, you know."

Caspian snickered. "We'll say I persuaded you."

In truth, it would not take much if he did try. It never did.

"Come on, Annie. You know you want to."

She sighed. "Fine—"

"Yes!"

"— but I'm not helping you with catch-up."

"We can negotiate."

-

"We were both too grown-up and not grown-up enough for the others. We read fairy tales, and went for walks and talked about history."

Caspian smiles, "We um… we had this fictional world we made up and built together. I was a Prince, running away from his terrible uncle who wanted his throne."

"I was a magician," Ianthe laughs, "discovering my gifts and pursuing my lineage."

"Aw," Lucy coos.

Lucy loved stories, especially fairy tales; her wardrobe, to her audience's delight, was mostly comprised of Pre-Raphaelite style gowns and tunics. Her outfits regularly appeared on Pinterest.

"It's what gave me the idea for my undergrad dissertation," Ianthe adds.

Susan cuts in with, "For the audience, Thea did her dissertation on… what was the full title… ah, Imagination and Children's Literature: How Early Reading Leads to Later Writing."

Caspian says, "See? Genius. It got a ninety-percent—"

"Eighty-nine," Ianthe corrects.

"Anyway!" Lucy says. "So, after high school, you sort of went your separate ways, didn't you?"

Caspian's smile fades. "Yes. My uncle had me enrolled in a private sixth form. He was my legal guardian, so I didn't have much choice."

"Luckily, I got into a place in the same area as him. We took the train in together. So, not so separate after all. Lots of early mornings, though." Ianthe takes his hand in hers and squeezes it. "There weren't many days where he didn't fall asleep."

"I am not a morning person."

"Yeah, we know," Susan jokes.

In the video, a picture of Caspian on a camping trip from a year or so beforehand is displayed— a Polaroid scanned in with 'Anglesey Holiday Summer 20XX' written in the corner.

With outrageous bedhead and still wrapped up in his sleeping bag, Caspian is sat propped up against someone— Ianthe, if the jumper was any indication— and sipping from a tin mug of coffee. A second picture then appears. It was taken five minutes after the previous one; in this one, Caspian is out like a light, snoring open-mouthed against Ianthe's shoulder.

"If you include that picture in the edit, I will strangle you," Caspian says in the background as the two pictures cover his face.

In response, the edit zooms in on his open mouth. The photos disappear.

"What about after your A-Levels? University and all that?" Lucy asks.

Ianthe snorts. "You know all that, Lu. You were there from then on."

"For the camera, Thea, come on. It's an interview."

"Annie actually met the Pevensies first," Caspian says to the camera, "we'd both started university at a London campus. Far from home, but we, um… wanted to have a change of scenery, to get away a bit."

"Ooo, wait, actually, let me tell the story!" Lucy chirps.

Susan sighs. "Lu—"

"Oh, come on, Susan, please."

"It kind of defeats the purpose of an interview."

"It's background info!"

"Let her, Su," Ianthe says with a fond grin, "she'll probably tell it better than us."

"Speak for yourself," Caspian mutters, earning a laugh from Ianthe.

"Okay, cool, so—" Lucy turns the camera around so it is facing her, "when I was fifteen, I started to struggle a little bit in school. Bit too much daydreaming, head in the clouds, missed out a chunk of the content… normal things, you know.

"So, Mum and Dad decided we better get a tutor. I tend to do better with one-on-one, and the others all had their own work so it wouldn't have been fair to ask them to do it."

"We would have," Susan says.

"Yeah, but Mum didn't want you all getting swamped. I was a handful."

Susan replies with a warmth that belays the teasing, "You still are."

"Right. Okay, um… oh, yeah. So, Mum and Dad looked into getting a tutor. Now, as it happens, this was when Thea and Cas were in uni. They had moved in together in a flat, and Thea wanted to be able to cover her half of the rent and bills and whatnot—"

'Family money,' mouths Lucy, motioning to Caspian.

"— so, she took up a tutoring job."

"He did offer to cover for me," Ianthe says, "I'm just stubborn about these things."

"I whittled you down about food shops, though."

"You bribed me with good baking stuff."

"Your baking is really good," Susan says.

"Speaking of," Ianthe adds, "I've got a present for you lot at the end."

Edmund's voice suddenly appears in the background, "Oh my god, did you bring cake?"

The camera spins to reveal Ianthe's grin as she answers, "I brought cake."

"I'm replacing you both," Edmund says to Susan and Lucy.

"I literally cook for you every day," Susan protests.

"And? Do you make cake?"

"Off topic! Way off topic! Right, back on gear." Lucy clears her throat and turns the camera back to her. "So, I needed a tutor, Thea needed a job. Surprise, surprise! Thea's my tutor!

"She was absolutely brilliant. She understood how I learned, helped me adapt, taught me techniques. We became really good friends, and we planned to stay in touch even after I finished school, cause Mum and Dad really liked her, and we liked a lot of the same things and I didn't have many friends otherwise."

"Too weird for the other kids," Edmund says, his hand popping into frame to ruffle Lucy's hair.

"Then, one day, I noticed Thea was a little off, and she told me and the others that a really good friend of hers was having a bad time of it."

-

Film night was a non-negotiable in Caspian and Ianthe's flat.

It was a tradition started when Ianthe picked up her tutoring job. Every Friday evening, she would get home at around seven, drained from a morning at uni and an afternoon navigating London's public transport system to reach her students. Caspian took to putting on one of her comfort films— usually a fantasy film from before the year 2000— and plying her with snacks until she looked more like herself again.

From then on, it grew; one week, Ianthe came home with a working projector she found in a charity shop, the next, Caspian had set up the living room with fairy lights. No phones were allowed, except for absolute emergencies, and comfy clothes— usually one of Ianthe's band t-shirts, that Caspian liked to steal because the art was pretty, and the high-end cotton pyjama trousers Caspian got, that Ianthe liked to steal because they were just the right sort of soft— were mandatory.

(The tradition has, in fact, carried on through the years, except now it is Ianthe, Caspian, the Pevensies, Eustace and occasionally his friend Jill, all crammed into their flat's tiny living-diner).

When Caspian's phone rang halfway through The Dark Crystal one week, he instinctively went to hang up. Picking up the phone, he turned it over to decline the call. He saw the number. His heart dropped.

"Annie. I've got to take this."

Ianthe glanced across at him. Pale, he was staring down at his phone screen with the expression of someone about to go to the gallows.

Oh. A family call.

Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. "Want me to pause this?"

"No. No, um, I'll just— I'll just go into my room."

"Sure."

Standing, he retreated into his room and closed the door.

Ianthe turned the volume down on the TV— not to listen in, there was no need for that, just to keep an ear out.

Family calls were hard for him.

Caspian's home life was difficult; his father had died when he was born, and his mother passed soon afterwards. Orphaned, he was adopted by his uncle. Miraz was not a kind man. Ianthe had the misfortune of meeting him once or twice, and if she had not hated him for the things he had done to Caspian, she would have despised him from those interactions alone.

Still, Caspian felt obligated to stay in the family. Some people would accuse him of wanting the money that came with the old name. Those who knew him knew that it could not be further from the truth. He was a noble man, and refused to give up on the legacy his father fought to protect even as it was being tainted by Miraz.

Those ties, however, choked him. Ianthe could see it in him; see the way his shoulders tightened when a man raised his voice, the way he went quiet for days after these phone-calls, the way he constantly doubted every piece of himself.

She tried to help. Just as he helped her. But, as they both knew well, healing often had to come at your own hands.

It was just nice to have someone to heal with.

"Annie?"

Caspian's voice came from the doorway. He sounded awful— her name alone was laden with a dredge of unnameable emotions.

Ianthe immediately paused the film. When she turned to look at him, he had already crossed the floor to collapse beside the sofa, his head landing heavily in her lap.

"Cas?" she asked shakily.

Something was wrong. Really wrong, more wrong than usual.

"It's over," he said, choking on the words, "it's over."

"What's happened?"

"Miraz. Sudden accident. Dead on arrival. I'm— I'm free, Annie."

"Oh. Oh, Cas."

Blinking, reeling from the news, Ianthe laid her hand on Caspian's head and began to stroke his hair. A great sob wrenched through him. She felt him wrap his arms around her legs.

"I'm here," she said, curling over him, holding him as if she could protect him from everything that he was enduring; grief, anger, joy, relief, guilt. "I have you."

-

"Family situation, I won't go into it," Lucy says, shrugging. "So, I say to her, 'look, if your friend doesn't mind, we could all help you organise something for him,' cause she was struggling to do it all on her own with uni and with work. Thea said that she'll check, and Cas didn't mind, so we had a bit of a get together."

Susan adds, "Not like a party. Mum and Dad had practically adopted Thea at that point, and 'cause Cas was kind of an extension of her—"

"Still is," Edmund mutters.

"— they had adopted him, too, even without having met him. When they heard he was going through it, they said, and I quote, 'get that poor boy over here right now.' We had food, played games, it was great, all things considered."

"Though I still think Pete could have throttled me over UNO," Caspian says.

"TLDR, Cas got the Pevensie Family treatment and never wanted to leave." Lucy beams into the camera. "Now we have an extra annoying elder brother. Ta-da!"

There's a giggle from everyone. Lucy fiddles with the camera, and sets it back up so it is facing the sofa again.

Caspian is subtly misty-eyed, and sniffles when he says, "As if you would let me leave."

Ianthe gives the camera a wide-eyed expression and mouths, 'Help!'

"Okay, next question," Lucy announces, "uh… okay, tell me about the rest of uni."

"I think I speak for us both when I say that it was easier with our family nearby," Ianthe says, grinning when Lucy coos again.

Caspian nods. "Yeah, yeah, it was. I mean, we got to cash in on Sunday dinners, so that was nice."

"Studying with Peter was fun. Though I always got second-hand stress just looking at those anatomical tomes he has to crawl through."

Peter's voice now enters from the kitchen, "But they're so much fun, Thea!"

Lucy turns the camera to Peter, whose hair is standing on end from how many times he had ran a hand through it during his study session that evening. He smiles a wide, sarcastic smile, before it softens into something more genuine. She turns the camera back to the sofa.

Caspian says, "Mrs Pevensie really helped with my dissertation. I honestly had no clue, I'd gone for a general History degree so there was… the entirety of human history at my disposal. She'd studied History, too, so she helped me narrow it down."

Ianthe adds, "Susan and I started our book club in third year. Really helped with reading, and it helped with my Master's, too, my book list for it was huge."

"We were lucky. Still are, really."

"Oh— I should mention— Lucy helped me design my first tattoo," Ianthe says, smiling at Lucy, "I got it to commemorate graduation."

"She did, didn't she?" Caspian recalls. "The… bladder-wrack right here, wasn't it?"

As he speaks, he reaches out and traces a finger over Ianthe's shoulder-blade; it is plain to everyone watching that the question is just an excuse to touch her. They share a look. Ianthe's cheeks go pink. She nods.

"Yes, um… I have a few others that Lucy helped with, too. She's— she's drawn most of mine, actually. For my spine piece I had everyone choose a plant for her to draw. Caspian helped me with my latest, though."

"Ivy," he says, "on your ribs."

"That one hurt. It was worth it, though."

"Mm… my hand might disagree. You practically mangled it."

Ianthe eyes him with a coy, conspiratorial air.

"You've had worse," she says.

Caspian grins.

"Ew," Lucy stage-whispers again, "they're flirting again."

"Yeah, please, not in front of my cuppa," Edmund pipes up.

Caspian and Ianthe both laugh, sheepish; they were shy individuals, Ianthe more so than Caspian, and their tendency to get lost in one another often challenged their introverted leaning.

Lucy clears her throat. "So, what was Thea's Master's like? The Great Separation?"

The name makes Ianthe laugh.

Caspian groans. "I hate it when you call it that, you make us sound so co-dependent."

Peter snarks, "You kind of are, Cas."

"A couple that likes one another. Astounding."

"I think it's sweet," Susan says, "and it really wasn't that bad."

There's a snort from Edmund. "He moped for a week."

Behind the camera, Susan pretends to think about it, then wrinkles her nose with a teasing grin. "He did."

"I was excited." Ianthe smiles. "Not to be apart from everyone, but… well, it's going to sound a little silly, I'd never had anyone to write to before. Then, I had five. Six including Eustace."

"It was fun," Caspian agrees, "we agreed not to text or anything. Just to write, with the occasional call."

"Thea's letters were, like, masterpieces," Lucy says, "she did the whole thing. Fountain pen, enclosed dried flowers or leaves or feathers. She even sealed them!"

In the video, a picture of a pile of letters appears. The letters are, true to Lucy's word, 'the whole thing': sepia cartridge paper, black ink, sea-blue and autumn-red seals impressed with a familiar signet ring.

"You gave as good as you got, Lu," Ianthe says. "I've still got that illuminated manuscript you made for my birthday."

"Oh, that was fun. I should do it again. The viewers loved the progress video."

Lucy's next question comes with a mischievous gleam to her eyes and a waggle of her eyebrows, "So… when did you start dating?"

Their relationship had not been officially publicised at all, but anyone who saw Caspian and Ianthe in one another's proximity for more than a second could tell that there was something going on between them. They were known as 'the couple,' for a reason. Even so— the comments reveal equal amounts of surprise and adequate anticipation.

Ianthe and Caspian both blush.

"Um…"

"Well…"

Ianthe clears her throat, "If you want specifics, then… last year, on the first of September at—"

"Midnight," Caspian finishes. "Almost on the dot."

-

"Can't sleep?"

Caspian settled on the sofa next to Ianthe, offering her the mug of tea he had intended to take to bed but was very willing to relinquish to her once he saw her baggy eyes.

"Mm," Ianthe grunted.

She took the tea and sipped at it. Peppermint— a shared favourite of theirs. She held it out to Caspian. He took it back and had a drink; a normal behaviour for them that often earned them knowing looks and teasing words from the Pevensies.

Those looks were not entirely unfounded.

Unbeknownst to the other, they had each confided to their family of the feelings that had begun to grow for their counterpart.

Love— wrought from years of friendship now changed into a quiet yearning.

Ianthe came to terms with her own feelings about a week beforehand. 'Came to terms,' because she had had a sneaking suspicion ever since she seriously considered asking Caspian to move with her for her Master's but had quickly shoved herself deep into denial and forgot about the matter until then.

Then, they were on a theatre trip with Susan and Mrs Pevensie to see a performance of Othello, and Caspian had leaned over to whisper in her ear something about the set. What she felt for him rocketed through her, undeniable and factual. She coughed far too loud and tried not to think about his breath on her skin. Susan asked her if she was alright afterwards in the ladies' bathroom, and it all came spilling out.

Caspian had realised just before one of the Pevensie family game nights the previous month. He had had to pretend to be sick to get out of going.

Ianthe had bought a new dress— nothing fancy, but it was pretty and fit her terribly well, and the way she absently twirled the skirt about her legs made him dizzy with affection— and the thought of looking at her all night in it whilst battling off his newfound feelings had actually made him feel ill. It was not helped by her having stolen one of his jumpers to keep the chill away. Peter got it out of him the next week at rugby. He never let him live it down.

"Another nightmare?" Caspian nudged, setting the tea aside.

"Yeah. Overactive imagination. I blame our games as kids."

"Sure. It can't be a busy mind chewing over things, it has to be our childhood fantasies at fault."

"Oh, yeah. Where else would I have gotten the dream the other week of you getting shot with an arrow?"

Caspian chuckled affectionately. He reached out to indulge in tucking a curl behind Ianthe's ear.

"Were you going to bed?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"You don't need to keep me company."

"I want to."

Ianthe's face turned thoughtful. The atmosphere suddenly shifted.

"Why?"

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why do you still take care of me? You do so much— I can't make sense of it." She sighed, tucking her nose into her bent knees. "I was afraid of losing you when uni started, when we became proper adults, but you stayed. You're still here. Most people would have moved on by now but we haven't."

Caspian considered her. His hand drifted from her hair to her cheek. She lifted her face to look at him.

"Back then, it was because you were, are, my dearest friend. Now…" he swallowed, summoning the courage to say what he wanted. "I think I'm better off showing you?"

They stared at one another for a long while. Ianthe had to take a moment to think through his hint. He waited, patient and ever so fond of her; but when a minute passed pointedly glanced down at her lips. Her eyes widened. She nodded slowly.

"Please."

He smiled and bent to kiss her. It was a small, sweet thing; a pressing touch of the lips. Enough to say all he needed to without words, but not so much as to overwhelm her.

"Oh," she said when they parted.

"Oh?" He grinned, all saccharine affection. "Is that a good 'oh' or a bad one?"

"Good. Very, very good." She smiled with a blush. "Can we do that again?"

Caspian laughed. Overcome— he was utterly overcome by her. Taking her by her waist, a rush of boldness had him gently pulling her into his lap and cupping the back of her head. Ianthe's smile widened. Her trembling hands settled on his ribs. She was utterly undone by him, and could only be thankful he was there to pick up her pieces.

"As many times as you like," he said.

"It'll be a lot."

"What a pity."

Guiding her to him, he pressed his mouth to hers, stealing her breath and her ability to concentrate all in one motion.

-

"It just happened, I guess," Ianthe says, "it wasn't like an earthquake or anything. Just… our next step."

Lucy sighs, displeased. Ianthe had been sparing enough with the details when she first told them the story the previous year; if that was bare bones, the on-camera version was the air where the bones had been.

With a laugh, Ianthe continues, "We're not airing out all the details on your very public channel, Lu."

"'It just happened, I guess,' isn't the most romantic, though, is it? I thought you were the literary one."

"We all kind of are," Susan mutters— true enough, all of the Pevensies, unrelated included, liked some form of literature.

"What do you want me to say?" Ianthe pretends to swoon against Caspian, her hand draped across her forehead, making him laugh as he catches her. "He swept me off my feet and kissed me in the rain under a solitary lamppost as autumn bloomed around us! My heart was all a-flutter, I could barely breathe for its beating. Oh, his eyes as stars of twilight fair, like twilight's, too—"

"Alright, alright. Point made." Lucy giggles, cutting Ianthe before she could recite Wordsworth's entire works— it was a legitimate threat.

Ceasing her swooning, Ianthe stays, happy as anything, leaned against Caspian. He smiles and tucks his head against hers.

He says, "What Ianthe is trying to say is, we've been friends for so long that… well, fireworks weren't ever going to be our thing. It was like coming home, you know?"

"Aw," Lucy and Susan say.

"Ew," is the boys' contribution from the kitchen.

"Leave, then," Caspian retorts.

"It's our house!"

"No?" Susan says.

"Well, Lu?" Ianthe asks. "Any more prying into our personal lives?"

Lucy smiles. "One more question. What do you like most about one another?"

There is a drawn out silence. The video stays with it; stays with the pair on the sofa as they dwell on their answer. After fifteen or so seconds, Ianthe is the first to speak.

"His passion." She talks with a soft, distant smile— as if there is no one but him listening. "He's… full of this boundless enthusiasm. Everything is everything to him. I watch him watch the stars, and his eyes are full of them even when he turns away."

Caspian then speaks, quiet but steady. "Her joy. There's a deep well of it in her, and it itches to get out. No matter what she's doing, she's finding joy in it. Her internal world is just… so rich. It's beautiful."

They stare at one another. All at once, it feels as if everyone is watching a very private moment. Lucy thanks them quietly, her smile audible, and the video fades to black.

The camera then fumbles and spins into the familiar ending of all of the Lucy-led videos; a behind-the-scenes blooper reel style handful of moments, usually capturing the immediate aftermath of a filming session. A fan favourite is the one for a 'making medieval recipes' video— a slow, solemn zoom in on the fallen remnants of a marzipan swan with Enya's Only Time playing in the background.

(Enya features regularly on Lucy's videos; Susan's music of choice is a collection of vintage classics; if Ianthe has a say it will be folk; the boys never get a say because the one time they did it was a Rick Roll.)

"Thea," Lucy says, voice drawing out in an appreciative croon, "this is amazing!"

She flips the camera to reveal an impressive tiered chocolate cake with four slices already taken out of it and currently in the hands of the Pevensies.

Peter and Edmund are sitting together at the kitchen table with a pile of books between them— mostly Peter's nursing content, but with a few of Edmund's history and politics volumes. Susan is at the head of the table writing in a puzzler (most likely a cryptic crossword, which she races through). Caspian and Ianthe are on the other side of the table to the boys; they are both a little fidgety and nervous, exchanging secretive glances and holding one another's hand.

The camera wobbles and returns to its handheld position pointed towards the ceiling with Lucy's face popping in and out of frame.

"Your earlier grossness is forgiven," Edmund quips.

Peter asks, "What's the occasion?"

Susan hums, agreeing with her brother's question. "You never do a proper cake unless there's something on."

"Does there have to be one? Can't I just treat you?" Ianthe says. "I mean, you have all been working really hard lately."

Caspian adds, "But… there is something we want to tell you."

"Uh oh."

"'We?'"

"Is everything alright?"

"Thea's leaving. The Great Separation is happening again, PHD edition."

There is an unmistakable smile in Ianthe's voice as she says, "Quite the opposite, actually."

"Oh!" Susan exclaims, a delighted giggle slipping out. "Oh! Really?"

"Su?" Peter asks.

There is a shuffling sound— Susan shaking her head as she grins behind her hands.

Lucy frowns, confused. "What's going on? Guys?"

"We, um," Caspian laughs, "we're engaged. Annie and I are going to get married."

Lucy's mouth drops.

A pause takes the room. Then, it explodes into activity— a chorus of cheers and joyous laughter. A clatter in the background sounds as Susan goes to hug the two of them, knocking her pencil onto the floor. Edmund says something along the lines of 'better late than never.' Peter congratulates them, and out of frame he reaches over and claps Caspian on the shoulder with a proud, brotherly smile.

"No!" Lucy exclaims. "No— really? When? Where? How come? No— oh my goodness, yes! This is brilliant! Why didn't you tell us, we could have done something!"

As she speaks, she hurries towards the engaged couple to throw her arms around them and hug them tight. The video is a blur of unflattering angles, smiles, and tears from Lucy.

"Last week. Caspian surprised me," Ianthe says, laughing, patting Lucy's back, "but we'd talked about it before, enough to know it's what we wanted."

Caspian grins, "I was waiting for the right time. It was the right time."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Lucy beams. "Wait— where's the ring? You're not wearing a ring."

"Not everyone does, Lu," Susan says.

"Cas?" Ianthe asks.

"Here."

A ring box clicks open. Behind the camera, the Pevensies gather to stare at its contents; two rings, nestled together in purple velvet. A photo pops up on screen to reveal the details. They are matching, but not identical. The smaller one— Ianthe's— is a slender band with eleven water lilies connected by filigree motifs engraved into it. Caspian has a wider band; a single water lily sits at the top, cradled by two wave shapes that connect into a single thin line that intersects the ring. Inside of each is engraved the phrase, 'to the ends of the earth.'

Caspian retrieves one band, and Ianthe takes the other. They slip the rings onto each other's left hand.

"We knew it'd be a dead giveaway to wear them, so…"

"Let me look, let me look, let me look," Lucy squeals.

The camera is set down upon the table— at a lucky angle for the viewers; the family is framed in landscape, Caspian and Ianthe at the centre and huddled together with a chaste pleased-ness to their features, Susan and Lucy on one side and Peter and Edmund at the other. Susan is seated and smiling gently, a bit wistful, and Lucy clings to Ianthe's arm. Edmund is stood, cake still in his hand, a genuine grin on his face, and Peter sits back, watching his siblings with the surveying air of an eldest sibling— matched in that aspect by Ianthe.

(Later, a viewer finds a social media post from a small jewellery smith— dated a day or so after the proposal— of them making the two rings whilst narrating how they got an identical order from both halves of a couple and waited patiently until they heard back from the fiances about the unintentional collaboration.)

Lucy takes each of their hands and peers closely at the rings. "Oh, they're beautiful. They look like something out of a fairytale!"

"Was the matchy-matchy planned?" Edmund asks.

"No, actually. We both got the rings separately, I just beat Annie to it, she surprised me with it afterwards."

"Okay, guys, that's almost too much."

The video cuts at Edmund's remark. A moment later, a photo appears in its stead— a Polaroid, naturally. It is almost a perfect reflection of the last shot of the video.

At the centre are Caspian and Ianthe. Caspian is in dark trousers and a billowing poet blouse, and Ianthe is in a Rossetti-esque dress. To Caspian's right, Peter, Edmund, Mr Pevensie, Ianthe's brothers and his old tutor, Dr Cornelius stand together. To Ianthe's left are Susan, Lucy, Mrs Pevensie, her mother and her sisters. No one is matching, but all are cohesive in tones of purple, green, and orange umber, floral accents and leafy motifs giving bursts of life to the display. Autumn graces the background with similar colours.

Everyone is smiling in their own way. Lucy has been crying, from the glitter trail down her cheeks, as have all the parents, though they are more subtle about it. Edmund is doing an awkward double thumbs-up (he dislikes weddings). One of Ianthe's brothers is in the middle of smacking another. Peter is eyeing them with medical intent. Ianthe's sisters have just said something that has Susan in fits. In the middle of it all, desperately happy and besotted with one another, Caspian and Ianthe are laughing into a kiss.

Accompanying the photo is the caption, 'Mr and Mrs Strand*, 23rd September 20XX.' The date is two weeks prior to when the video was posted. Below the caption in red pen is scribbled 'LOVESICK IDIOTS.'