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13 August 2011 @ 04:48 am
Fic: ‘An accidental moment.’  
Title: An accidental moment.
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movie)
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During the Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Summary: An accidental midnight tryst.

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while but not until I wrote No regrets did I feel able to write it.


Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of C. S. Lewis as well as Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely & Michael Petroni (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by his estate.

_______________________



Leaning against the railing, a tear slides down her cheek, followed swiftly by another and then another. She sniffles and listens to the waves as the ship slices easily through them. Her gaze is upon the stars, wheeling in their orbits. Familiar and yet not; they are far from Narnia and Cair Paravel.

A hand reaches for her through the night ...

... and she jumps when it lands on her shoulder. Quickly, she wipes her eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse. A deep breath.

Then she turns to face who had found her.

“Caspian!”

“Queen Lucy!” He is equally surprised as she. “I will leave you to your thoughts, your Majesty.”

“No! Wait,” she asks, laying a hand on his arm. “You aren’t disturbing me.”

By the light of the stars, he sees the tracks upon her cheeks and, with his thumb, smears them as he dries her cheek. “You’ve been crying,” he murmurs and she looks away, back to the rolling ocean. “I have already seen, and felt, the evidence, your Majesty,” he quietly adds. “Why the tears? Are you not glad to be in Narnia?”

“This isn’t my Narnia,” she softly begins. “Everything, everyone, is gone or changed. We’re not even on Narnian soil,” she looks to him. “This is your ship, your quest. We’re uninvited guests.”

He moves closer, a hand on her shoulder once more. “Why do you say this? This isn’t the Queen of Narnia I know.”

“And who do you know?” She chokes. “The Queen of legend or are you imagining me to be Susan?”

He steps back, shocked. Embarrassment colours her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I’m homesick.”

“Homesick?” He asks, curious.

“I miss the Narnia I knew,” she explains; a breeze lifts night-darkened hair from her neck. “When we came back last time, Cair Paravel was in ruins and the friends we’d made were centuries dead.

“I miss,” she turns back to the ever-changing waves, “Mr and Mrs Beaver and Mr Tumnus. Especially,” she whispers, “Mr Tumnus. He was my friend,” she looks over her shoulder, “and he’s gone. Dead and ... and ... gone.”

He approaches again and lays his hand once more on her shoulder. “I am sorry, your Majesty,” he, too, whispers. He doesn’t know what else he can say, or what he can do, to ease her pain. This, truly, isn’t the Queen he knows; she’s always cheerful and her faith in Aslan, he remembers, was second-to-none. So he stands, his hand on her shoulder and tightens his grip.

She shakes her head with a shaky smile. “Call me Lucy.” A deep breath and she tilts her head; in the moonlight, her tears glisten on her cheek. “Why are you awake and prowling the ship?”

“I cannot sleep,” he simply explains. “And yourself?”

“The same,” she replies and, without thought, rubs her upper arms. He takes his cloak and wraps it around her. “And I’m sorry, Caspian. I’ll be all right in the morning but tonight ...” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It is easy to forget you and Edmund are not always here.” He stands beside her; his fingers flex against her shoulder. “You belong in Narnia. More than I do, I feel.”

“Aslan wouldn’t have allowed you to be King if you didn’t belong.”

He looks to her; their gazes meet. His breath catches and he reaches to cup her cheek, gently brushing those not-quite-dried tears with his thumb. He leans closer, his forehead resting against hers. “You have strong faith, Lucy,” he huskily whispers, “when I do not.”

“Someone must have faith, Caspian, when you do not.” She reaches for his hand, and it rests on the one cupping her cheek.

Under the moon and stars, her heart is beautiful and this is what he sees when he looks into her eyes. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, half under his breath. She frowns, confused, until his lips brush lightly and, just as softly, press against her lips. She gasps. He steps away. Her hand rises, lying against her mouth.

“There,” she reaches out and her hand sits in his arm, “is nothing to forgive. Just be the King I know you can be, and trust Aslan. He knows what is right, for Narnia.”

He nods and she unwraps the cloak from about her shoulders, offering it to him. “Keep it,” he stays her hand before taking it and replacing it around her shoulders. “Stay warm until you return to your cabin.”

She nods and he turns, disappearing into the night.
 
 
 
Armchair DMarmchairdm on August 13th, 2011 02:11 pm (UTC)
Lucy was always more at home in Narnia; more so than any of them - so she would have been the worst affected by the various changes over the years.
F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on August 13th, 2011 07:54 pm (UTC)
But you never really see the effects.
Angel... Dark Wings Descending...: riyochuchicloseupangel_in_tears on August 13th, 2011 02:39 pm (UTC)
You know, I could see this happening in the movies. It's so beautiful, and Lucy would have been struggling so much - especially with the loss of so many old friends.
F. J.: Lanterns: Warmmorethanacandle on August 13th, 2011 07:55 pm (UTC)
You know, I could see this happening in the movies.
Thank you.

Lucy would have been struggling so much - especially with the loss of so many old friends.
As mentioned to armchairdm, you never really see tht in the films, which was why this story was written.
A burning tyger (is on fire)hungrytiger11 on August 15th, 2011 11:49 pm (UTC)
Lovely moment. How shattering that moment of realization of the deaths must have been for all the Pensvies and then its sense of grief coming back once back in Narnai feels right....
F. J.: Golden Candlesmorethanacandle on August 16th, 2011 01:11 pm (UTC)
Thank you.

Those moments are never touched upon that it felt right to write this.