Daughter of Nowhere || A Narnia (Prince Caspian) Story

15: Fare Well

The last time she was here, Susan didn't get to marvel at Telmar's beauty. But now that she could, she saw that it was a very charming city indeed.

A vast terrain of mountains stretched before her, their undulating peaks dotted with buildings of brick and sepia. Some of the cottages were blanketed with ivy, while town squares displayed blossoms of blue and purple, red and orange. There was a note of celebration in the gentle breeze that caressed her cheek, a distant song to which several townspeople were probably dancing.

Much to Susan's astonishment, the people had welcomed the Narnians with cheers and applause when they marched into the city yesterday. Perhaps they were glad that Telmar would now be reigned by the rightful heir to the throne, or maybe Miraz was simply a terrible king, and they had had enough of him. Either way, Susan didn't mind.

The Telmarine army had trailed behind them, heads lowered and shoulders hunched. Caspian was adamant that the defeated were returned to their families and not killed—another proof that he would make a noble king.

Caspian. She winced at the thought of his name. Susan was not worried about leaving Narnia in his capable hands, it was just...

She hated this part the most. The farewells. The tears. The sinking feeling in her heart, impossible to ignore, telling her she would not see the people she loved so dearly ever again. Narnia was the embodiment of all her most wondrous dreams, and so much more—but the pain of saying goodbye was almost not worth the adventure.

Almost.

"Susan!"

He skipped across the sandy flagstones and into the palace garden, kicking up white petals as he went, a light spring in his step. The gray jacket that he wore was emblazoned with gold, fine tailor-made trousers tucked into polished boots. His face was free from the blood and grime of war, and in the light of the setting sun, he seemed to glow.

"Caspian," she said.

He drew in a breath. For a moment, they simply stood there, staring. All of a sudden she felt very self-conscious—her hair hadn't been brushed since that morning, not to mention that her freckles had doubled after the blazing heat of yesterday.

But the smile on his face told her that he didn't care about all that.

"Do you have a moment?" he began, slightly breathless. "I thought we could go riding and—"

"Caspian."

Slowly, his face fell, a thousand possibilities dying on his tongue. She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions, and she knew that Caspian could read them now.

Susan turned, unable to watch his despair. "I'm not staying."

She could feel his gaze on her, questioning, searching, disbelieving. And finally, understanding. "When?" he asked quietly.

The word was a hollow shell of her voice. "Tomorrow."

A long, shaky exhale. Caspian's stillness seemed to last an eternity, and Susan wished that she could stop time, trap them both in this day and hour. But she knew that was wishful thinking.

He stepped closer, gently lacing his fingers together with hers. His face was in shadow, and bleakly, Susan was glad that she couldn't see it. "When... when will I see you again?"

Sharp pain sprung to her eyes, seizing her chest. Aslan's conversation with her and Peter drifted back into her mind, unwelcome. You have learned all that you can from this world. Now it is time for you to live in your own.

"Never."

Caspian said nothing, merely tightened his grip on her hand, as if by doing so he could stop her from disappearing and keep her here forever. How she longed for that to be true.