Title: Velvets & Reds
Author: Kitoky
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
Characters/Pairings: Caspian, Peter, Lucy, Susan, OC; Susan/Caspian
Rating: K+
Summary: There was a lot of red.
Disclaimer: All rights go to CS Lewis, Walden Media, etc. SERIOUS FLUFF
Author's Note: Written for
susancaspian weekly drabble challenge #24: celebration. Writing this? I am convinced I am crazy, but oddly enough it's given me my sanity back. So... hey, win? Also. No Edmund. D: This saddens me immensely.
Velvets & Reds
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There was a lot of red.
Like, bright red.
And velvets. Lots of velvets.
Something glittered at the corners of his eyes and the columns must be dancing because he knew for sure that he was sitting quite comfortably against his chair. One foot was hiked up on the edge of the seat and his other leg swung easily over the arm.
More glittering.
He squinted a bit, taking another swig of his mug. Scarlet velvets. Yeah, those were hanging around the columns, off the ceilings. And it wasn’t the columns that were dancing---it was the fauns surrounding them, weaving in between each stone pillar. And the glitter---well, he needed another glass to figure that one out.
“You---,” hiccupped the High King next to him, and he felt the clumsy pat on his shoulder. The motion caused a bit of wine to spill out of Caspian’s goblet and he frowned, contemplating how much was left. Half full… half empty?
Hmm. Half-empty.
“You,” Peter tried again, waving his goblet towards the Telmarine. “You are a dashing man.”
Something in Caspian told him he should go refill his drink before it was too late.
“Mind, you’ve still got loads to learn---remember when the Duke of Galma came and---,” he hiccupped, grimacing and fisted his chest. He paused to recollect himself but no synapses were firing… correctly.
“You’re dashing.”
“Thank you, King Peter.”
Peter took another good long swig and shook the cup. His expression was something akin to a pout and plopped the empty goblet down on the table in front of him. “Say,” he started and his eyes lingered on a passing dancer who glided across his line of vision. “Do you recall… what this is for?”
“My King?” Caspian inquired, head tilted slightly and blinked at the blond monarch.
“You know,” said Peter. “All of this.” He waved his hands above his head to accentuate… something, Caspian didn’t know.
The glittering was back.
Caspian used the same hand that gripped his goblet to scratch the side of his head. “I don’t know.”
“… Hmm,” thought Peter out loud. “Maybe it’s for a foreign caravan.”
King Caspian pondered this, but all he could come up with was that he could now vaguely see the bottom of his glass. There were so many people around… and the heat that suffocated them would be more uncomfortable if he was aware of it----well, he was aware of it but he---
“Caspian?” He jerked and if he had a glass half-full, it would be empty… like it was now.
“Oh, hullo, Su.” Peter greeted the person who had called his name.
Susan, Caspian thought, turning his head to face his beloved queen. He liked Susan. Much more than he liked wine.
Actually, he’d like them both even more so together.
“Haven’t you had enough, Peter?” Her sweet voice rang through his ears and apparently it didn’t have the same effect on Peter as it did on him. How many cups did he have? Susan’s cheeks were rosy red, which complimented all the red that he had been seeing. Red and red.
They matched, right?
“When there is good wine to be had, Sister,” answered Peter. “Never.”
Caspian swirled his empty cup in response to that. “This is for a Yule-tide,” he finally announced. That was it. All this glittering and dancing and colors and wine. It was definitely for a festival.
“It’s summer, Caspian.” Said Susan.
He frowned.
“I knew it!” Peter exclaimed. “A diplomat has come.”
“We’ve received all our foreign allies a fortnight ago, Peter.”
He saw Peter’s mouth turn upside down.
“You two cannot possibly be saying you’re so besotted that you’ve forgotten what the celebration is all about,” Susan scolded and Caspian spotted the no-nonsense stance she had taken. Her feet were set, her gorgeous gown (because he had to note, the color did such things to her complexion that his thoughts turned to those that would require more drink to voice out loud) flowed straight down to the floor, and each fisted hand was propped on a hip. “Caspian!”
“Of course not,” Caspian replied hastily, his crown falling slightly lopsided upon his head. “It’s a grand celebration. It’s of great import.”
Susan continued to stare him down expectantly.
“… Of great import.”
“You’ve forgotten.”
“Yes.”
“Should it truly matter, Su?” Peter interrupted them and Caspian could’ve kissed the man for taking those glaring eyes off of him. Almost. Give it a few more glasses. “It’s clearly a success. You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Don’t think flattery will you get out of this,” Susan folded her arms.
Peter scoffed, “If it were Caspian, it would’ve worked quite well.”
Caspian did not like being thrown back under scrutiny again and decided Peter was not worthy of a kiss, not even from a Minotaur.
Susan decidedly ignored any truth to Peter’s comment. “Caspian, it’s Sirian’s first birthday! All the nobles from Archenland, Galma, and even the Calormenes have come to give their blessings.”
Sirian. That sounded oddly familiar. Caspian’s sure he knows a Sirian.
A relative, maybe. He was sure his father only had one brother. What was his name? Mortian? Murisian? Moe?
He liked his name. Caspian. Just like his father’s. It was simple and easy to remember. What’s the use of having such different names? You’d have to keep track of them all.
“Susan! I think he’s getting a bit irritated.” The hushed voice of Lucy came into range.
Yes, he was getting irritated. Sirian, hmmm.
“Oh, is he?” He heard Susan’s tone go soft again and he turned to see Lucy hand over something small to the Gentle Queen. “Poor boy, he probably got too excited earlier.”
Caspian stared. Sirian.
Of course, Caspian berated himself. Great Aslan, how could he forget his own son’s birthday?
He peered down at his empty goblet.
Quite easily.
“Oh, Caspian,” He turned up to Susan again who proceeded to push the infant into his lap. Caspian quickly discarded the goblet in order to secure the baby with both hands. Both awkward hands. “Please take him for just a bit. I had promised Lord Pyus a dance earlier and it seems he is stalking his way here to make sure I keep my promise.”
Caspian nodded, but he disapproved quite readily. In his state, he didn’t remember if he knew Lord Pyus, but he definitely knew that he did not like him right now. He watched as an elderly fellow came to sweep his Queen away and settled back into his chair after letting the prince roll over and lay flat on his belly against Caspian’s.
The boy watched his father’s disheveled state through curious blue eyes, a finger stuck in his mouth. Any sign of irritability and discomfort for Sirian disappeared the minute he had been plopped in his father’s arms.
Caspian thinks he might be sorting out the glitter.
“So…” he began, and was glad Peter had gone to occupy himself with the dryad. “You’re growing up now, son. I think it’s time I tell you something important. It’ll probably be the most important thing you will learn from me --- and by relation, from your mother. Don’t tell her I said this. She would get all miffy about things like courting women, or riding a Horse bareback properly, or the archery stuff she’d like to show you. Swords are better, by the way.”
Caspian paused and made sure the boy’s attention was still on him. He unconsciously rubbed the prince’s back with his hand, patting him on the bottom with the other.
“Now, really. Don’t say a thing to your mother. She’ll have my head. Let’s keep this between us. Man to man.” Caspian continued and slipped his hands underneath Sirian’s small arms to lift him up slightly to meet him eye to eye.
“You, my boy, are going to have beautiful hair.”
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End