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Debut
He closed his eyes and listens to the rushing of impossible waters. He could not remember his father; he could not even picture his face. The idea that he could be there, just out of reach, was maddening. For a moment, he teetered on the brink, toes of his boots digging into the sand, but then he realised: he knew that he could never justify leaving everything that he had been given behind to chase after a dream. To make himself feel better. Narnia deserved better from her king.
And, so, trailing his fingers through the sweet water, Caspian took a breath and turned away from the possibility.
What Narnia needed, more than anything, was a better King.
He listened without listening, too aware of the painful beating of his heart. So many goodbyes. But he had grown used to missing them, in the years that had gone by. He might not have been Narnian, not truly, but, still, he had come to understand - the world was as Aslan willed it. So be it.
And yet, they were the closest thing that he had to family, and those partings were always hardest, in the end.
He held onto Edmund for a long time.
And then he let him go.
He stood at Aslan's side as the went through the tunnel, knowing that they were journeying not to Aslan's country as Reepicheep had, but further. He set himself to remembering their details, commiting them to memory, because he knew that he would never see them again. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes. Caspian turned away, about to say something to Aslan, to try and find some comfort...
And found himself alone on a narrow spar of sand, swordless, shipless, friendless and entirely too startled to shed a tear.
Wondering, he walked back towards the ocean. It wasn’t so surprising that he couldn’t see the Dawn Treader from here; they’d rowed through the floating lillies, after all, each stroke of the oar through up perfume with the splash. But the long boat was gone, too. There weren’t even footprints in the sand to find. For a brief, foolish moment he thought that, somehow, he’d ended up in Aslan’s country after all.
An idea struck him and he crouched, reaching down to trail his fingers in the water.
Salt. Just salt.
“How very strange,” he murmured.
And, so, trailing his fingers through the sweet water, Caspian took a breath and turned away from the possibility.
What Narnia needed, more than anything, was a better King.
He listened without listening, too aware of the painful beating of his heart. So many goodbyes. But he had grown used to missing them, in the years that had gone by. He might not have been Narnian, not truly, but, still, he had come to understand - the world was as Aslan willed it. So be it.
And yet, they were the closest thing that he had to family, and those partings were always hardest, in the end.
He held onto Edmund for a long time.
And then he let him go.
He stood at Aslan's side as the went through the tunnel, knowing that they were journeying not to Aslan's country as Reepicheep had, but further. He set himself to remembering their details, commiting them to memory, because he knew that he would never see them again. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes. Caspian turned away, about to say something to Aslan, to try and find some comfort...
And found himself alone on a narrow spar of sand, swordless, shipless, friendless and entirely too startled to shed a tear.
Wondering, he walked back towards the ocean. It wasn’t so surprising that he couldn’t see the Dawn Treader from here; they’d rowed through the floating lillies, after all, each stroke of the oar through up perfume with the splash. But the long boat was gone, too. There weren’t even footprints in the sand to find. For a brief, foolish moment he thought that, somehow, he’d ended up in Aslan’s country after all.
An idea struck him and he crouched, reaching down to trail his fingers in the water.
Salt. Just salt.
“How very strange,” he murmured.