(no subject)
Well, we've finally got the drabbles, and it's time to post them!
Hope you all enjoy them, and feel free to leave comments! :D
Thanks to everyone who took the time to write and submit their drabbles.
And please note, no voting will occur in this round.
peskywhistpaw
Title: What Dawn Brings
Word Count: 500 exactly
Notes: Shamelessly AU, post PC.
It is a Thursday morning that Susan Pevensie remembers how to laugh. So many days have passed without it, so many weeks, flying by without any traces even of its memory; yet, bubbling up from within her throat like liquid gold, it does not feel foreign to her. She welcomes it.
She has not forgotten, after all, and He has not forgotten her.
The sound echoes in the cold, quiet house, startling the stillness from every dusty corner. Outside, the grey dawn seems brighter, as if the sunrise fights through layers upon layers of heavy cloud simply for the chance of being seen. Beneath the floorboards, the tiny brown mice of Finchley twitch their whiskers and listen, and almost remember how to speak.
Lucy wakes first. She rushes into the adjoining room, shaking Peter and then Edmund out of slumber.
“Wake up,” she pleads, urgent, and when Peter’s bleary eyes meet hers, she starts toward her parents’ bedroom.
Peter catches her arm. “What is it, Lu?” he asks.
“It’s Susan,” she whispers.
He is to his feet quickly, Edmund behind him by only a beat.
“What’s happened? Is she all right? Why didn’t you wake us sooner?” they ask, and Lucy can hardly distinguish one panicked voice from the next. They know well how Susan has changed since they returned home.
“Listen,” is all Lucy replies.
And they do.
And they hear.
“But that’s…” Edmund looks bewildered.
Lucy nods.
“Come on,” Peter says, and they follow him to Susan’s room, their footsteps like murmurs upon the ground.
Her door is open by only a crack, outlined in soft light that flickers in the way that candle flames do-but perhaps, Lucy thinks, it is only their imagination. Peter knocks his hand against the wood.
“Su?” he calls. “Are you… all right?”
The laughter, which has been slowly fading, finally ends. “Oh! Yes, yes, I’m…” Her voice is broken by tears. “I’m quite all right. I’m… marvelous… I…”
The siblings exchange a worried glance, and Edmund pushes through the door.
Susan’s back is to them, strangely. She sits on the floor beside her bed, and it takes but a moment to realize that she is not alone; for someone lies with his head in her lap as she strokes his hair.
“Who’s that?” Lucy inquires.
Susan turns to look at her. She is smiling.
“I don’t know where he came from,” she says. “I only just woke up, and he was there.”
Lucy steps closer, and then leans forward to see.
And what she sees is the dark-haired boy they all know so well, his chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps. There is a scratch upon his cheek, but he is otherwise unharmed.
He looks safe, and comfortable, and home.
“Who is it, Lu?” Edmund asks.
Lucy grins. “It’s Caspian!”
Susan laughs again, and for a moment, they think they feel warm, sweet wind flowing in through the window and embracing their skin like breath.
Then it is gone.
vegetasbubble
TITLE: Her laughter was like a songbird
PAIRING: Susan/Caspian
RATING: PG
PROMPT: Laughter
WORD COUNT: 272
FOR: casue_ldws Warm-Up Challenge
NOTES: Written for the casue_ldws Warm-up challenge before the actual ldws start themselves. Cannot wait! Should be interesting. Here we go!
Her laugher was what made him want to get up in the morning. It was something that just made him want to live out his day, for better or for worse as the case may be. Days were getting longer in Narnia now, with more and more talk of war and then when it was finally over, when that crown was sitting on his head and he was at the banquet with the Kings and Queens of old, sipping wine with Peter to his left and Susan to his right, Prince , NO, King Caspian wanted to hear that laughter now more than ever.
Peter was speaking to him about something but all he could really think about was the beautiful Queen from the other side sitting beside him. She was wearing a beautiful white and blue dress that afternoon and he could smell lilies and something like jasmine. He reached for the water pail and his hand brushed hers before snatching it away quickly, excusing himself and retreating out of the hall.
He didn’t see her for a while, not until she was strolling with her brother and Aslan through the stone hallway. Aslan stopped and spoke to him and Caspian passed on the message that they were ready for them. After the horrible news that Susan gave him that she and her eldest brother would not be returning and after they shared that wonderful kiss and hug (the first and last of both), Caspian knew that he was no longer going to hear her laughter anymore.
In the weeks that followed, Caspian ignored any woman’s laughter that sounded like songbirds.
lovesrogue36
Ghostly laughter floated through the leaves above her head. The trees rustled in outrageous silence, just another reminder that her life was gone, she had been nothing but a legend and a stone statue for centuries. But still the laughter rang in her ears. Mocking her and her memories. Susan’s fingertips brushed the trunks of birches and redwoods and trees that hadn’t had names in as long as she had been forgotten. Splinters stuck in her skin, but she didn’t feel them. She walked backwards, eyes boring into the dense foliage that was the big, scary forest full of empty shells that once were friends and allies. In their day, the trees had been formidable opponents and loyal companions. Yet the Telmarines feared them now, in their nothingness.
The laughter of days gone by filtered through the branches, mingling with the light that streamed in here and there. It danced just out of her reach, like the images and thoughts and sounds and smells in her remembering mind’s eye. The idea shouldn’t have confused her, she had seen women made of petals dance, why shouldn’t laughter be able to, but it did. It confused her to no end. That idea scared her to death. Was she losing it? Was she losing the trust it took to be able to stay here?
Susan was abruptly reminded of a story of a little boy who didn’t want to grow up and a little girl who couldn’t help it. There had been a magic kingdom and fairies and pirates and lots of adventure but the girl grew up and grew out of it. Susan didn’t want to be that woman who laughed off silly, children’s games; she wanted to be that little girl who danced and charmed and believed.
The laughter reached out its beckoning tendrils again, closer this time. Susan cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing. It was so real, so right. It was as though those laughs had been laughed seconds ago, not centuries. Slowly, so slowly, she turned around, her bare feet not even shifting the leaves beneath them. There, through the trees, was a field and a stream.
Peter and Edmund wrestled back and forth until they stumbled over into the water, doubled over laughing. Lucy listened intently as a squirrel recited a joke he couldn’t remember the punchline to; she chuckled and grinned and smiled with that tinkling, bell-like laugh she was so famous for. But it wasn’t Susan’s family that held her attention. It was the curious, wonderful man standing on the edge of the ruckus, peering in at all that laughter.
Susan’s lips tipped up in a smile, an honest to goodness smile. She ran through the brush, not even noticing the brambles that tangled her ankles and scratched her shins.
She ran until all she could see was him and his sweet smile and the laughter rang like tinnittus in her ears.
She ran until she laughed until she cried.
banee_noel
He sat idly as the merriment and revelry of the celebration continued around him. He didn’t notice the sound of the fauns talking near him, the Telemarine lords voicing concerns over the inclusion of the old Narnians in the kingdom; he did not even hear some of his friends making fun of the fact he looked strange wearing the crown. All he could hear was her laughter.
Her light, mezzo soprano laugh rang through the room, or it seemed that way to him. He was only conscious of her voice; all he saw was the smile the lit up her youthful face. When she smiled her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires to him; her laughter was akin to the most beautiful piece of music he had ever heard.
Laughter was not something he was accustom to hearing in the castle he had grown up in, not since the death of his parents. Miraz had not been one to partake in any type of activity that might bring forth mirthful laughter from those around him; he was more for laughing at someone else’s shortcomings or misfortunes.
He quickly brushed those thoughts from his mind; his coronation celebration was not a time he wanted to spend thinking about the past. There would be a time to deal with the problems his uncle had left behind, now was a time for celebration.
“Ask her to dance and be done with it,” a voice beside him said, the tone a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
He looked to his right to see King Edmund standing there, a slight smile gracing his youthful face. “Excuse me?”
“Caspian, you’ve been staring at my sister for the last thirty minutes, ask her to dance before your friends find even more things to tease you about. I am sure she’ll gladly dance with you,” he told the newly crowned king.
Caspian blushed slightly, not realizing he’d been that obvious in his admiration of the Gentle Queen. He quickly stood and walked over to her, asking her to a dance, an offer which she accepted.
A few moments into their dance, Susan asked him what had been so interesting to him that he hadn’t noticed anything going on around him. He smiled, admitting it was the sound of her laughter that had held him transfixed. At that, she laughed slightly at his answer. “What can be so wonderful about my laugh? My brothers insist it is a horrid sound,” she said, as he pulled her a bit closer to him.
“Your brothers surely have no idea how beautiful it truly is then; your laughter is like music,” he told her, earning himself a bright smile from her.
“If you insist,” she shyly answered.
“I do.”
0nce_up0n_atime
Well, here's my first attempt at a fanfiction and I rate it as being pretty shitty, ngl. But, I finished it and reviewed it and I hope some people like it at least...anyway..here it is.
Silent Laughter
Caspian watched in horror as Susan, his Susan, was hanging on to her life over the How. Caspian knew Trumpkin could no longer hold on to her for much longer. He could see her slipping. He acted fast. He ran to the base of the how…but not fast enough. He saw the love of his life fall and crumple at the base of the How. The young man went to the girl and with much care and gentleness brought her inside the How.
No one was around; it was just Caspian and his Susan. Caspian cried. He cried for his love and hers. He cried for the love they could never share with each other. He looked down at the young woman and saw her open her eyes and look at him.
“Soldiers never cry,” she said with a painted voice and a forced laugh that broke Caspian’s heart even more, “Don’t be scared, please, remember me.”
Caspian didn’t know what to say other than, “I love you.”
Before the Queen of Old could slip out of his word forever she managed give him one last smile and the last thing Caspian ever heard from Susan was the first and last time she told him, “I love you,” and Susan was gone.
Years later when Caspian would think about his Gentle Queen he would always remember the happy times they had. Though in the midst of a war they had found time for each other. He would remember the times when they would walk side by side and the times the spent running through the forest. But he will remember her laughter the most. Not only her happy laughter but that last forced laugh as she was dying. That last laugh haunts Caspian every night, when he visits Susan…in his dreams.
magneticwave
Can I just say this is sort of classic me? That is, taking a prompt like 'laughter' and kind of turning into . . . well, angst. My apologies.
~
There are moments, in the midst of doing something mundane like sorting through the history volumes in the library or going through her stretches in the practice yard, when she allows herself to imagine (never for very long, because she’s always been the practical one):
He comes home and they have tea on the Limoges china that her parents gave them for their engagement, the clink high and clear as the cup and saucer meet, his eyes catching hers over the lip of the cup. They waltz to the tinny sound of the gramophone in the kitchen, the noise filtering in from the parlor; his hand catches hers and presses it to his chest and his cheek is soft as it lays across the top of her head. She works at a shop or St. Simian’s or she writes in the cramped little room in the attic, where it is so cold that her fingers are numb in a pair of old mittens, and sometimes he drags her away from her work for breakfast and supper, and sometimes he lets her be, and sometimes he kisses her over the scraps of paper she is scribbling on. Every morning is damp and vaguely achy in her bones, the chill settling in like an old friend, but his arm is warm and he always hogs a bit of the blankets but she doesn’t mind because she knows he’ll wake up and feel recalcitrant enough to make her toast and tea in bed.
And-(here Susan is always finishing her final few stretches, or realizing that she has the last handful of books in her arms and she is walking towards the shelf)-Lu and Pete and Ed come over for supper and they sit around the table in the kitchen, laughing so loudly that the glasses in the yellow cabinets rattle a bit, and Lucy tells her funny stories and Pete looks terribly serious as he tells them about the absolute horror of the other fellows at the university and Ed is making faces at Susan’s cooking, even though it really is the best he’s had since their last family dinner, and sometimes Rilian wanders in from bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and demanding to know why they are having fun without him. She sweeps in and catches him in her arms and tells him quite seriously that they are considering selling him away to Africa, and he shoves his cold nose into her shoulder and scowls so seriously for someone so young, and Caspian’s fingers catch as they pet his hair, the expression soft and almost unbelieving at this normalcy.
Right about then, Rilian’s voice always explodes from the main hall or the corridor or the window of his room, and the exasperated lilt in his nurse’s reprimand tilts a smile in the corner of Susan’s lips. She stops sorting or stretching or wandering, and returns to the nursery the same time as Caspian, who is panicked at the thought of something having gone wrong, and together they comfort their son. And they laugh, but never at yellow cabinets or funny stories or university fellows, and the sound feels odd without the echo of her siblings’ trailing behind it, hollow and caught like a bird in a net.
kitoky
Word count: 479
----------------------------------------
----
Caspian never cared much for laughing.
Granted, Miraz never really had the reputation for running a joyous environment within the royal castle. The last time Caspian thought he might have really laughed was when his good nurse was here, but she wasn’t here long. Of course there were celebrations and happy occasions, but nothing had displayed such earnest joviality. There was always that menacing undertone of dirty politics and with the lords at such odds with one another, it would not have surprised the young prince if he ever stumbled upon a conspiracy between the entertainments of parties.
It puzzled Caspian then, how he could laugh so easily during his coronation. He could feel the muscles in his cheeks aching with renewed exercise but didn’t bother to think on it too much. The reflecting joys and smiles of the townspeople around him distracted him. And he had much to think on that. Had they known what atrocities Miraz had committed? Why did they support him now, when he had been made such a traitor in their eyes, and how could they be so happy to see that he had brought home foreign rulers.
What ignorant bliss they sit on now will soon be extinguished, Caspian knew. They were celebrating a prince coming home because it signified a war being over. They were celebrating their sons and husbands’ lives, not of Caspian’s.
He wasn’t quite deserving of their laughter.
“Why the slow trot, Caspian? It’s early, but there’s still so much to feast and to drink!” Peter strode up next to Destrier being the friendliest Caspian had ever received him.
Before he could respond, Lucy and Edmund pulled up at his other side and it was quite a tight fit along the stone way. “Don’t be so dense, Peter.” Lucy said. “It’s quite clear what Caspian’s doing.” Caspian gave her a baffled look, one that Lucy returned with a cheery smile.
“I say we go up ahead. Aslan’s already gotten so far, and I have questions,” suggested Edmund and the three urged their horses gently forward, exchanging knowing laughs.
Caspian was still contemplating the meaning of the little queen’s words until another horse came up beside him and it was Queen Susan now that accompanied him. He looked over and saw her bright smile and reveled in the image of her. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how beautiful she looked in her gown and the natural waves of her hair. The most noticeable thing, he finds, is how her laughter is infectious and how he finds himself grinning wider just watching her.
And then he sees the children running beside them and all the townspeople, and how their laughter and smiles seem truer when they saw her.
He imagines that she (along with the others) will show his people how to really laugh.
And maybe himself as well.
Delicious, weren't they?
So, looking forward to the first round?
The prompt for round one will be posted this Sunday.
Hope you all enjoy them, and feel free to leave comments! :D
Thanks to everyone who took the time to write and submit their drabbles.
And please note, no voting will occur in this round.
peskywhistpaw
Title: What Dawn Brings
Word Count: 500 exactly
Notes: Shamelessly AU, post PC.
It is a Thursday morning that Susan Pevensie remembers how to laugh. So many days have passed without it, so many weeks, flying by without any traces even of its memory; yet, bubbling up from within her throat like liquid gold, it does not feel foreign to her. She welcomes it.
She has not forgotten, after all, and He has not forgotten her.
The sound echoes in the cold, quiet house, startling the stillness from every dusty corner. Outside, the grey dawn seems brighter, as if the sunrise fights through layers upon layers of heavy cloud simply for the chance of being seen. Beneath the floorboards, the tiny brown mice of Finchley twitch their whiskers and listen, and almost remember how to speak.
Lucy wakes first. She rushes into the adjoining room, shaking Peter and then Edmund out of slumber.
“Wake up,” she pleads, urgent, and when Peter’s bleary eyes meet hers, she starts toward her parents’ bedroom.
Peter catches her arm. “What is it, Lu?” he asks.
“It’s Susan,” she whispers.
He is to his feet quickly, Edmund behind him by only a beat.
“What’s happened? Is she all right? Why didn’t you wake us sooner?” they ask, and Lucy can hardly distinguish one panicked voice from the next. They know well how Susan has changed since they returned home.
“Listen,” is all Lucy replies.
And they do.
And they hear.
“But that’s…” Edmund looks bewildered.
Lucy nods.
“Come on,” Peter says, and they follow him to Susan’s room, their footsteps like murmurs upon the ground.
Her door is open by only a crack, outlined in soft light that flickers in the way that candle flames do-but perhaps, Lucy thinks, it is only their imagination. Peter knocks his hand against the wood.
“Su?” he calls. “Are you… all right?”
The laughter, which has been slowly fading, finally ends. “Oh! Yes, yes, I’m…” Her voice is broken by tears. “I’m quite all right. I’m… marvelous… I…”
The siblings exchange a worried glance, and Edmund pushes through the door.
Susan’s back is to them, strangely. She sits on the floor beside her bed, and it takes but a moment to realize that she is not alone; for someone lies with his head in her lap as she strokes his hair.
“Who’s that?” Lucy inquires.
Susan turns to look at her. She is smiling.
“I don’t know where he came from,” she says. “I only just woke up, and he was there.”
Lucy steps closer, and then leans forward to see.
And what she sees is the dark-haired boy they all know so well, his chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps. There is a scratch upon his cheek, but he is otherwise unharmed.
He looks safe, and comfortable, and home.
“Who is it, Lu?” Edmund asks.
Lucy grins. “It’s Caspian!”
Susan laughs again, and for a moment, they think they feel warm, sweet wind flowing in through the window and embracing their skin like breath.
Then it is gone.
vegetasbubble
TITLE: Her laughter was like a songbird
PAIRING: Susan/Caspian
RATING: PG
PROMPT: Laughter
WORD COUNT: 272
FOR: casue_ldws Warm-Up Challenge
NOTES: Written for the casue_ldws Warm-up challenge before the actual ldws start themselves. Cannot wait! Should be interesting. Here we go!
Her laugher was what made him want to get up in the morning. It was something that just made him want to live out his day, for better or for worse as the case may be. Days were getting longer in Narnia now, with more and more talk of war and then when it was finally over, when that crown was sitting on his head and he was at the banquet with the Kings and Queens of old, sipping wine with Peter to his left and Susan to his right, Prince , NO, King Caspian wanted to hear that laughter now more than ever.
Peter was speaking to him about something but all he could really think about was the beautiful Queen from the other side sitting beside him. She was wearing a beautiful white and blue dress that afternoon and he could smell lilies and something like jasmine. He reached for the water pail and his hand brushed hers before snatching it away quickly, excusing himself and retreating out of the hall.
He didn’t see her for a while, not until she was strolling with her brother and Aslan through the stone hallway. Aslan stopped and spoke to him and Caspian passed on the message that they were ready for them. After the horrible news that Susan gave him that she and her eldest brother would not be returning and after they shared that wonderful kiss and hug (the first and last of both), Caspian knew that he was no longer going to hear her laughter anymore.
In the weeks that followed, Caspian ignored any woman’s laughter that sounded like songbirds.
lovesrogue36
Ghostly laughter floated through the leaves above her head. The trees rustled in outrageous silence, just another reminder that her life was gone, she had been nothing but a legend and a stone statue for centuries. But still the laughter rang in her ears. Mocking her and her memories. Susan’s fingertips brushed the trunks of birches and redwoods and trees that hadn’t had names in as long as she had been forgotten. Splinters stuck in her skin, but she didn’t feel them. She walked backwards, eyes boring into the dense foliage that was the big, scary forest full of empty shells that once were friends and allies. In their day, the trees had been formidable opponents and loyal companions. Yet the Telmarines feared them now, in their nothingness.
The laughter of days gone by filtered through the branches, mingling with the light that streamed in here and there. It danced just out of her reach, like the images and thoughts and sounds and smells in her remembering mind’s eye. The idea shouldn’t have confused her, she had seen women made of petals dance, why shouldn’t laughter be able to, but it did. It confused her to no end. That idea scared her to death. Was she losing it? Was she losing the trust it took to be able to stay here?
Susan was abruptly reminded of a story of a little boy who didn’t want to grow up and a little girl who couldn’t help it. There had been a magic kingdom and fairies and pirates and lots of adventure but the girl grew up and grew out of it. Susan didn’t want to be that woman who laughed off silly, children’s games; she wanted to be that little girl who danced and charmed and believed.
The laughter reached out its beckoning tendrils again, closer this time. Susan cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing. It was so real, so right. It was as though those laughs had been laughed seconds ago, not centuries. Slowly, so slowly, she turned around, her bare feet not even shifting the leaves beneath them. There, through the trees, was a field and a stream.
Peter and Edmund wrestled back and forth until they stumbled over into the water, doubled over laughing. Lucy listened intently as a squirrel recited a joke he couldn’t remember the punchline to; she chuckled and grinned and smiled with that tinkling, bell-like laugh she was so famous for. But it wasn’t Susan’s family that held her attention. It was the curious, wonderful man standing on the edge of the ruckus, peering in at all that laughter.
Susan’s lips tipped up in a smile, an honest to goodness smile. She ran through the brush, not even noticing the brambles that tangled her ankles and scratched her shins.
She ran until all she could see was him and his sweet smile and the laughter rang like tinnittus in her ears.
She ran until she laughed until she cried.
banee_noel
He sat idly as the merriment and revelry of the celebration continued around him. He didn’t notice the sound of the fauns talking near him, the Telemarine lords voicing concerns over the inclusion of the old Narnians in the kingdom; he did not even hear some of his friends making fun of the fact he looked strange wearing the crown. All he could hear was her laughter.
Her light, mezzo soprano laugh rang through the room, or it seemed that way to him. He was only conscious of her voice; all he saw was the smile the lit up her youthful face. When she smiled her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires to him; her laughter was akin to the most beautiful piece of music he had ever heard.
Laughter was not something he was accustom to hearing in the castle he had grown up in, not since the death of his parents. Miraz had not been one to partake in any type of activity that might bring forth mirthful laughter from those around him; he was more for laughing at someone else’s shortcomings or misfortunes.
He quickly brushed those thoughts from his mind; his coronation celebration was not a time he wanted to spend thinking about the past. There would be a time to deal with the problems his uncle had left behind, now was a time for celebration.
“Ask her to dance and be done with it,” a voice beside him said, the tone a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
He looked to his right to see King Edmund standing there, a slight smile gracing his youthful face. “Excuse me?”
“Caspian, you’ve been staring at my sister for the last thirty minutes, ask her to dance before your friends find even more things to tease you about. I am sure she’ll gladly dance with you,” he told the newly crowned king.
Caspian blushed slightly, not realizing he’d been that obvious in his admiration of the Gentle Queen. He quickly stood and walked over to her, asking her to a dance, an offer which she accepted.
A few moments into their dance, Susan asked him what had been so interesting to him that he hadn’t noticed anything going on around him. He smiled, admitting it was the sound of her laughter that had held him transfixed. At that, she laughed slightly at his answer. “What can be so wonderful about my laugh? My brothers insist it is a horrid sound,” she said, as he pulled her a bit closer to him.
“Your brothers surely have no idea how beautiful it truly is then; your laughter is like music,” he told her, earning himself a bright smile from her.
“If you insist,” she shyly answered.
“I do.”
0nce_up0n_atime
Well, here's my first attempt at a fanfiction and I rate it as being pretty shitty, ngl. But, I finished it and reviewed it and I hope some people like it at least...anyway..here it is.
Silent Laughter
Caspian watched in horror as Susan, his Susan, was hanging on to her life over the How. Caspian knew Trumpkin could no longer hold on to her for much longer. He could see her slipping. He acted fast. He ran to the base of the how…but not fast enough. He saw the love of his life fall and crumple at the base of the How. The young man went to the girl and with much care and gentleness brought her inside the How.
No one was around; it was just Caspian and his Susan. Caspian cried. He cried for his love and hers. He cried for the love they could never share with each other. He looked down at the young woman and saw her open her eyes and look at him.
“Soldiers never cry,” she said with a painted voice and a forced laugh that broke Caspian’s heart even more, “Don’t be scared, please, remember me.”
Caspian didn’t know what to say other than, “I love you.”
Before the Queen of Old could slip out of his word forever she managed give him one last smile and the last thing Caspian ever heard from Susan was the first and last time she told him, “I love you,” and Susan was gone.
Years later when Caspian would think about his Gentle Queen he would always remember the happy times they had. Though in the midst of a war they had found time for each other. He would remember the times when they would walk side by side and the times the spent running through the forest. But he will remember her laughter the most. Not only her happy laughter but that last forced laugh as she was dying. That last laugh haunts Caspian every night, when he visits Susan…in his dreams.
magneticwave
Can I just say this is sort of classic me? That is, taking a prompt like 'laughter' and kind of turning into . . . well, angst. My apologies.
~
There are moments, in the midst of doing something mundane like sorting through the history volumes in the library or going through her stretches in the practice yard, when she allows herself to imagine (never for very long, because she’s always been the practical one):
He comes home and they have tea on the Limoges china that her parents gave them for their engagement, the clink high and clear as the cup and saucer meet, his eyes catching hers over the lip of the cup. They waltz to the tinny sound of the gramophone in the kitchen, the noise filtering in from the parlor; his hand catches hers and presses it to his chest and his cheek is soft as it lays across the top of her head. She works at a shop or St. Simian’s or she writes in the cramped little room in the attic, where it is so cold that her fingers are numb in a pair of old mittens, and sometimes he drags her away from her work for breakfast and supper, and sometimes he lets her be, and sometimes he kisses her over the scraps of paper she is scribbling on. Every morning is damp and vaguely achy in her bones, the chill settling in like an old friend, but his arm is warm and he always hogs a bit of the blankets but she doesn’t mind because she knows he’ll wake up and feel recalcitrant enough to make her toast and tea in bed.
And-(here Susan is always finishing her final few stretches, or realizing that she has the last handful of books in her arms and she is walking towards the shelf)-Lu and Pete and Ed come over for supper and they sit around the table in the kitchen, laughing so loudly that the glasses in the yellow cabinets rattle a bit, and Lucy tells her funny stories and Pete looks terribly serious as he tells them about the absolute horror of the other fellows at the university and Ed is making faces at Susan’s cooking, even though it really is the best he’s had since their last family dinner, and sometimes Rilian wanders in from bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and demanding to know why they are having fun without him. She sweeps in and catches him in her arms and tells him quite seriously that they are considering selling him away to Africa, and he shoves his cold nose into her shoulder and scowls so seriously for someone so young, and Caspian’s fingers catch as they pet his hair, the expression soft and almost unbelieving at this normalcy.
Right about then, Rilian’s voice always explodes from the main hall or the corridor or the window of his room, and the exasperated lilt in his nurse’s reprimand tilts a smile in the corner of Susan’s lips. She stops sorting or stretching or wandering, and returns to the nursery the same time as Caspian, who is panicked at the thought of something having gone wrong, and together they comfort their son. And they laugh, but never at yellow cabinets or funny stories or university fellows, and the sound feels odd without the echo of her siblings’ trailing behind it, hollow and caught like a bird in a net.
kitoky
Word count: 479
----------------------------------------
----
Caspian never cared much for laughing.
Granted, Miraz never really had the reputation for running a joyous environment within the royal castle. The last time Caspian thought he might have really laughed was when his good nurse was here, but she wasn’t here long. Of course there were celebrations and happy occasions, but nothing had displayed such earnest joviality. There was always that menacing undertone of dirty politics and with the lords at such odds with one another, it would not have surprised the young prince if he ever stumbled upon a conspiracy between the entertainments of parties.
It puzzled Caspian then, how he could laugh so easily during his coronation. He could feel the muscles in his cheeks aching with renewed exercise but didn’t bother to think on it too much. The reflecting joys and smiles of the townspeople around him distracted him. And he had much to think on that. Had they known what atrocities Miraz had committed? Why did they support him now, when he had been made such a traitor in their eyes, and how could they be so happy to see that he had brought home foreign rulers.
What ignorant bliss they sit on now will soon be extinguished, Caspian knew. They were celebrating a prince coming home because it signified a war being over. They were celebrating their sons and husbands’ lives, not of Caspian’s.
He wasn’t quite deserving of their laughter.
“Why the slow trot, Caspian? It’s early, but there’s still so much to feast and to drink!” Peter strode up next to Destrier being the friendliest Caspian had ever received him.
Before he could respond, Lucy and Edmund pulled up at his other side and it was quite a tight fit along the stone way. “Don’t be so dense, Peter.” Lucy said. “It’s quite clear what Caspian’s doing.” Caspian gave her a baffled look, one that Lucy returned with a cheery smile.
“I say we go up ahead. Aslan’s already gotten so far, and I have questions,” suggested Edmund and the three urged their horses gently forward, exchanging knowing laughs.
Caspian was still contemplating the meaning of the little queen’s words until another horse came up beside him and it was Queen Susan now that accompanied him. He looked over and saw her bright smile and reveled in the image of her. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how beautiful she looked in her gown and the natural waves of her hair. The most noticeable thing, he finds, is how her laughter is infectious and how he finds himself grinning wider just watching her.
And then he sees the children running beside them and all the townspeople, and how their laughter and smiles seem truer when they saw her.
He imagines that she (along with the others) will show his people how to really laugh.
And maybe himself as well.
Delicious, weren't they?
So, looking forward to the first round?
The prompt for round one will be posted this Sunday.