A Caspian/Susan story: "Under the Radiant Southern Sun" (Prompt 7, picture)
Title: “Under the Radiant Southern Sun”
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG (for Caspian’s boyish desires)
Pairing: Caspian/Susan
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended and I’m not gaining any profit from this story, I’m only having fun with C.S. Lewis’s fantastic world and characters. I also credit William Shakespeare for his extraordinary sonnets and skill with the quill.
Author’s Notes: Written for Challenge #7 at susancaspian; prompt word was “picture” which I interpreted by using extensive descriptions and comparisons to create a detailed and as vivid as possible image of Susan as seen through enamoured Caspian’s eyes. Hopefully that explains the first-person style (which is clearly not my strongest side). Late but I still hope you enjoy this. I certainly had a blast writing it while repeatedly listening to New Age music. Very inspiring let me tell you :D!
Movie-verse. Not beta’d.
Summary: “She was radiant, dazzling…”
* * *
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
~
On my account, this wondrous world has yet to show me something more dazzling and impossibly breathtaking as the Gentle Queen dancing merrily; her feet trotting in patterns on the turf to no music but to the breathing and beat of her lands. Such a sight I encountered yesterday when the High King asked me to escort the Queens on that day’s pleasure recess. The three of us, Queen Lucy, Queen Susan, and I, rode past the woodlands, capes and skirts swishing through the greenery until we led our noble mounts down a yellow road at a steady pace. Rows of grassy blue hills spread endlessly ahead of us sprinkled with the yellow dots of blooming flowers. It is high summer and so the blazing sun casted golden and silver halos of light around the Queens’s heads.
Queen Lucy, circlet discarded, dismounted first, her small feet now at home between the warm heather. She laughed, the sound reminiscent of tolling little bells, as she rolled down the slope in a mess of green grass, dirt, and fair tassels. Queen Susan and I shared a laugh as we hurried downhill to rendezvous with the little Queen. The eve flew by in between laughter and blissful admiration of the scenery. By the hour the sun was at its highest point in the clear, azure dome, and when dearest Queen Lucy had busied herself picking flowers, that Susan (she insists that I call her that when we’re alone) greeted me with a smile and began to dance to the song of the wind on the grass and the accompanying chorus of the blue jays. I marvelled at the sleek, rapid pace of her bare feet (a clear distinction as to why she is Queen of Narnia) and the lolling of her pale, green dress. Her hair flashed red in the evening sunlight and her lively, dreamy eyes coloured as bluebells, as well as her turning figure, were but a riot of colour in the stillness of the glade. She danced in such a way that my senses were dulled for a brief moment and tricked into believing mirages and confusing her with a mystical being; lively and sure-footed as a Faun and yet as graceful and attractive as a Naiad. It must have been the flowers braided on her rippling and wavy hair, no more beautiful than lilies floating on sweet seawater. Or it was perhaps the sickeningly enthralling perfume of her skin as she strode across the grass to the ethereal music of stillness, of life, of breath. Of Narnia. And laughing sweetly, momentarily arousing a fluttering spur of wings in my stomach, she spun to the last invisible notes of the Sylphs’ mysterious and golden aria and brought her feet to rest before my perplexed expression. Clearly she was blushing I could tell when the cinnamon freckles dotted about her face disappeared beneath the curtain of heat.
“I apologize…” she spluttered in a low, melodious voice, “I simply could not contain the joy I felt.”
I was quick to smile reassuringly, though in my mind it felt more like a taunting smirk.
“Why, you have no need to keep that energy to yourself.”
“Oh stop it, Caspian. I know you had a good laugh.” She frowned, placing her hands on her hips and pursing her lips.
“Nay My Queen, I had no such thing as I was not aware of the dexterity of your feet. As it is I must confess I am a terrible dancer.”
She smiled, settling on the grass beside me. “Are you not lying?”
I frowned, mocking offense. “Why, My Lady! I am distraught on how poorly you think of me!”
The heat rushed back to her face. Her displeasure was endearing.
“You do know that is naught but a lie.”
“How so?”
She straightened herself, her brow furrowing.
“Well, it is perfectly clear that I hold you in very high esteem, enough to have allowed you to witness such an outburst from my part.”
“If that is so, and as to settle our debts, would My Lady ever grace to teach me to dance in such a fashion?”
“Most certainly.” She replied, breaking into a delightful and radiant grin, so much like the sun’s, and to my further amazement she heaved herself up and pulled me along with her.
“Now”, she added, coyly placing my hand on her waist. She looked so small between my arms and still so warm and shiny… “Take a good hold of my waist and give me your other hand…” The closeness made me dizzy and her sweet, flowery scent was too much for me to bear. Her smooth fingers brushed my calloused ones; such a shocking contrast of textures! She beamed, resting her free hand on my shoulder while explaining how I should move my feet and body to a missing rhythm but at this point I was hardly listening. Her warmness, and her lips; plump as roses so tempting, so close… I’m not so sure when she stopped talking or if it was the effect of summer in my head, but I know I could finally hear music. A slow waltz commanded my senses and I danced and followed the steps instinctively, stooping down against those fresh wild roses and pressing them back on the grass in a whirlwind of colours and heat.
“Oh Caspian…”
I woke from my trance, and met her bluebell eyes staring up at me like flowers seeking the light. I soon noticed my hand was pressing hers against the soft turf. Her lips lingered dangerously close to mine and she ran her fingers across my cheek lovingly. She was radiant, dazzling with her hair pooled around her face carpeted with daisies, and lilac, and buttercups, and snowdrop, and rhododendron, and her soft cheeks and cherry lips glowed brighter than earlier during her dance.
“I did warn you, My Lady.”
She sighed, “Caspian, do stop being so modest. You are such a good dancer…”
With a smile, music in my ears, her glowing face in my eyes, and Narnian summer in my head, I leaned down to kiss her.