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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.
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Alone, except for Honour, who padded along the sand on great paws beside his human. It was more than passing strange to Edmund how the direwolf would stay out of sight most any day of the week, but he knew when he was most needed. Edmund was grateful for it.
Edmund kept his gaze down as he walked, but of course even when you are quiet and introspective, you have to look up every once in a while to see where you are going. He did so now, noting the young man at the shore, but thinking little of it. At first. Something about him caught Edmund's attention however - his height, his hair, the cut of his clothes, whatever was he doing at the water's edge? - and he frowned, looking closer.
Very quickly he realized who he was looking at. He had known Caspian too well, both in Narnia and on the island, not to remember his form, to know with certainty that his friend and royal brother had returned. His heavy thoughts quite forgotten, Edmund sprinted across the wet, packed sand at the water's edge to reach his friend, Honour trotting along at a slower pace behind. "Caspian!" he bellowed, grinning.
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