Independence Day fic
This is "Independence" from that table I said I'd try and finish. :P
Title: Independence
Rating: K
Warnings: Young!Caspian. Blonde!Caspian. Book!Caspian.
King Caspian X, High King of Narnia and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, had the sniffles. His advisors had told him that he was overworked and overtired, which made Caspian feel more like a naughty little boy and less like a king. "You are young, sire," they had said, looking a bit revolted by the fountain of fluids that Caspian had once called a nose. "Your Majesty is not used to such trouble."
This made Caspian sound like a weakling - which he most certainly was not! He was only sixteen, yes, but had run for his life, raised an army, defeated the Telmarines, and become high king of Narnia, and all that before his fourteenth birthday. That was hardly the mark of a weakling.
Nevertheless, they sentenced him to bed rest, and even had the gall to bar him from the throne room and cancel all his appointments. Caspian was sorely tempted to have them all ejected from the kingdom until they agreed to submit to his wishes, but that would hardly improve their judgment of his maturity. (Be that as it may, he did feel miserable, and a soft bed and warm soup was just what he needed.)
He wouldn't have minded as much if he had been ill any other day. But this - this was a special time of year. It was late May, when the trees surrounding Cair Paravel were in full, colorful bloom and the newly-birthed foals gamboled in the nearby pastures, and the kingdom celebrated the anniversary of his coronation and their liberation from his uncle, Miraz. Usually, the week of the event would be full of festivals and concerts and grand feasts, with the merry-making culminating on the last night with a ball and spectacular fireworks.
But Caspian was too ill to attend these festivities.
So it came to pass that Caspian found himself curled up under a mound of blankets as distant strains of music wafted their ways up to his lonely ears. Night was falling, which meant that the fireworks would very soon be commencing; this, in turn, made Caspian significantly upset.
"Thank you for sitting in with me, my good friend," the golden-haired king said with a sigh.
"Oh, think nothing of it, sire," replied his greying tutor Cornelius. "I am too old for such toing and froing."
"Rather...but I am perturbed!"
"And why is that, good sire?"
Caspian rubbed at his nose and turned to look out the window, where the Sea was already dark as the sun set behind the castle. "If only my chambers were on the west end of Cair Paravel. They always set off the fireworks in the west."
"It was as my king commanded."
"Well, I realize now that it was a foolish command to make. They're probably all gathered on the battlements as we speak, waiting for the dratted things to go off. And I shall miss it all."
"Perhaps not, my good sire."
Caspian sat up, his head throbbing miserably. "Oh, but things are always done as I say," he fretted. "And I do dislike it, because I make very daft decisions sometimes."
"Have no fear, Your Majesty," Nimien said with a chuckle, standing up and going to the window, his cane tapping the cold stone flooor. "I think your daft decisions are sometimes ignored more often than you'd like to think."
Caspian was about to say "Why, whatever do you mean?" but before he could get the words out, a distant shriek sounded from outside, and the room lit up in bright hues of greens and purples and reds. He leapt to his feet and pressed his dripping nose to the window, eyes wide at the sight, and colors exploded in fantastic patterns over the dark waters of the eastern Sea as Narnia celebrated their king - sick or not.
Title: Independence
Rating: K
Warnings: Young!Caspian. Blonde!Caspian. Book!Caspian.
King Caspian X, High King of Narnia and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, had the sniffles. His advisors had told him that he was overworked and overtired, which made Caspian feel more like a naughty little boy and less like a king. "You are young, sire," they had said, looking a bit revolted by the fountain of fluids that Caspian had once called a nose. "Your Majesty is not used to such trouble."
This made Caspian sound like a weakling - which he most certainly was not! He was only sixteen, yes, but had run for his life, raised an army, defeated the Telmarines, and become high king of Narnia, and all that before his fourteenth birthday. That was hardly the mark of a weakling.
Nevertheless, they sentenced him to bed rest, and even had the gall to bar him from the throne room and cancel all his appointments. Caspian was sorely tempted to have them all ejected from the kingdom until they agreed to submit to his wishes, but that would hardly improve their judgment of his maturity. (Be that as it may, he did feel miserable, and a soft bed and warm soup was just what he needed.)
He wouldn't have minded as much if he had been ill any other day. But this - this was a special time of year. It was late May, when the trees surrounding Cair Paravel were in full, colorful bloom and the newly-birthed foals gamboled in the nearby pastures, and the kingdom celebrated the anniversary of his coronation and their liberation from his uncle, Miraz. Usually, the week of the event would be full of festivals and concerts and grand feasts, with the merry-making culminating on the last night with a ball and spectacular fireworks.
But Caspian was too ill to attend these festivities.
So it came to pass that Caspian found himself curled up under a mound of blankets as distant strains of music wafted their ways up to his lonely ears. Night was falling, which meant that the fireworks would very soon be commencing; this, in turn, made Caspian significantly upset.
"Thank you for sitting in with me, my good friend," the golden-haired king said with a sigh.
"Oh, think nothing of it, sire," replied his greying tutor Cornelius. "I am too old for such toing and froing."
"Rather...but I am perturbed!"
"And why is that, good sire?"
Caspian rubbed at his nose and turned to look out the window, where the Sea was already dark as the sun set behind the castle. "If only my chambers were on the west end of Cair Paravel. They always set off the fireworks in the west."
"It was as my king commanded."
"Well, I realize now that it was a foolish command to make. They're probably all gathered on the battlements as we speak, waiting for the dratted things to go off. And I shall miss it all."
"Perhaps not, my good sire."
Caspian sat up, his head throbbing miserably. "Oh, but things are always done as I say," he fretted. "And I do dislike it, because I make very daft decisions sometimes."
"Have no fear, Your Majesty," Nimien said with a chuckle, standing up and going to the window, his cane tapping the cold stone flooor. "I think your daft decisions are sometimes ignored more often than you'd like to think."
Caspian was about to say "Why, whatever do you mean?" but before he could get the words out, a distant shriek sounded from outside, and the room lit up in bright hues of greens and purples and reds. He leapt to his feet and pressed his dripping nose to the window, eyes wide at the sight, and colors exploded in fantastic patterns over the dark waters of the eastern Sea as Narnia celebrated their king - sick or not.