Drabble Challenge!!
Title: Consolation
Category: Chronicles Of Narnia: Prince Caspian
Character/Pairings: Susan/Caspian
Rating: T............maybe slightly more.
Word Count: 1,780
Prompt: 01 - Feast
Summary: Susan tries to find a moment of peace after the battle.
Notes: Okay, I started this for the drabble challenge and I guess it still fits. But I'm not sure it went where I wanted it to. I might be persuaded to continue it if there was enough interest.
He found her weeping.
She was hunched low to the ground, her body curled into itself, the laces of her leather bodice half-undone and the quiver of red-feathered arrows tossed in a heap on the riverbank. The river’s noise stifled the sounds of her sadness, but her thin shoulders shook heavily and one leather-braced hand covered her mouth, desperate and trembling.
She had not meant to be seen this way, had not wanted to be found or helped. What good would it serve for Queen Susan, the warrior-archer, to be seen half-undressed and sobbing? She had not always needed to respond fiercely in battle. But when the enemy called for it, she became a soldier, willing to bloody and be bloodied with those loyal to the thrones of Narnia. This day was no different. She’d become a general easily enough, saw friends and patriots fall to the sword and did not pause to mourn them.
But at the battle’s end, after giving a victory cry, she had walked away from the battlefield to be alone. This was her way. It always had been. She would shed the war pain with cleansing tears and immerse herself in the clean riverwater, emerging the Gentle Queen.
Her fingers had fumbled with the armor for only a moment before she’d sunk to the ground and allowed the mourning to flow from her. And then he had come, the soft lines of his face creased in worry.
She was weak now. Weak and tired and bruised. The strength to reassure someone just simply was not to be found. So as he took a step toward her, one hand reaching forward, she opened her mouth to stop him.
But the words did not come. He was not reaching out to embrace her, not even to touch her. He was kneeling behind her, his hands brushing against her back as he deftly loosened the laces before pulling them free of their loops. He pulled the armor from her shoulders and laid it with the quiver before hesitantly reaching down her torso to unhook the clasps of her maille tunic.
Dimly she was aware that this should embarrass her, that a man who, only hours before, had made her heart race, was steadily undressing her. She could not fool herself so as to ignore the way his palms had briefly pressed against her belly as he removed her armor or the way he’d leaned in close as he’d knelt behind her. But she was profoundly weary, weary enough to allow herself to just enjoy his ministrations without the restraints of logic or rationalization. She shivered as his graceful fingers threaded through her hair, subtly massaging her scalp as he loosed it from its plaits and fanned it over her back before reaching down her forearm to remove her bracer. His fingers traced the length of hers for just a moment, a heartbeat, a breath, but long enough to set her skin to gooseflesh. He was facing her now, his eyes questioning and deep, asking permission as his touch skimmed over her knee and down to her ankle, sliding her skirt upwards over her thigh to gently tug the calf-length boots off.
She sat armorless, trembling, in her bare feet, her naked toes somehow surprisingly revealing and locked eyes with him. What she saw there made her hands clench.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, the salt of long-dry tears tight on her cheeks. “I………need to be alone now.”
He nodded, a flash of sadness in his eyes for a moment, then stood and walked away.
She felt his loss like an ache the instant he left. But she was never one to question her own decisions, so she stood hastily, stripped off her gown and chemise and plunged into the cool water.
*******************
He had to tighten his hands to white-knuckled fists to keep them from trembling as he took hesitant steps away from her. Gods, what had possessed him to intrude on such an obviously private moment? Intrude?! He’d undressed her! But though the fact made his face hot, he could not bring himself to regret. The shapely circle of her waist had begged to be released from its armor. The long curve of her neck had been meant to be touched. The scent of her hair, the bend of her forearm, gods, even the wiggle of her toes had set him ablaze with want.
She was not the first girl……woman he had ever desired. But he was not fool enough to dismiss his feelings as a blaze of boyish lust. When he’d decided to help her undress, it had been out of a genuine need to ease her suffering, to comfort and soothe. He’d never seen her look so unbearably lost before and it had set his heart hurting immediately. What did it matter that what had started out so innocently had become something more? No matter how he searched, he felt only a total lack of remorse over his actions.
He knew that his wandering feet needed to take him back to Aslan’s How to prepare for the inevitable victory feast. But the woods beckoned him with their golden effulgence. Surely no one would deny their new King an hour’s respite after a fierce and bloody battle. He needed time to clear his memory of the gentle openness of her, the heart wrenching honesty in her gaze. When he saw her at table, he could not allow himself to betray his burgeoning feelings.
His thoughts drifted aimlessly as he walked, neither knowing nor caring where he was. He thought briefly on his coronation, on which lands would belong to his reign and which would be controlled by the Kings and Queens of Old. He wondered at the reappearance of Aslan and his newfound friendship with creatures whose existed he’d never really believed in. For nearly an hour, his thoughts were free of her. But when his booted feet sunk heavily into river sand and the roar of water beat into his senses, he realized with a start that he’d walked a slow, languid circle.
She was here, though not as he’d left her. Her eyes locked on to his and he could not look away though every fiber of his being told him he must. He waited for a sign from her but she made none until she sighed deeply and with a touch of mirth said,
“Oh, Caspian.”
***************************
She’d heard him coming as he neared the riverbank but there was nothing to be done about it. Water did not do much for cover and her clothes were too far to reach. She thought briefly about making a dash for them, but then she would look caught and foolish. Perhaps it was better to feign total confidence. So when he came into view, she dropped her body slightly lower into the water and then waited for his eyes to find hers.
When she said his name, it surprised even her. But it seemed right to say it. She watched his body tense at the sound of it and he took a step closer. She did not back away. Could not. Nor could she bring herself to cover her body when the heat in his eyes was like reverence and the warmth in her belly was a dull throb that ached so excitingly she could only gasp against it. She was embarrassed, shaking, but unable to tear her eyes from his. She stood from the water, feeling his eyes follow the rivulets of it as it poured over her skin, and walked toward him. The air was cool on her but she was burning. The trail of his gaze was like a caress and he did not seem ashamed at the way he openly outlined her body with his eyes. Her gown and chemise lay in a pile at his feet and he bent to retrieve them. There was no uncertainty in his face, no embarrassment or dismay. Only an emotion she was afraid to give a name to.
She stopped a hand’s breadth away from him and could only reach for her gown, pulling it quickly over her head. She remembered the confidence of being an adult but the shy doubt of fragile teenage years warred within her and she blushed. She could not bring herself to look at him but she slowly raised one hand and put it flat against his chest, feeling the heat and heartbeat of him. It intoxicated.
But his fingers pushed against her chin and raised her eyes. The warmth of his honey-accented words washed over as he said, “They will want us at banquet, my Queen.”
There was an edge to the words, hot and mellow, and her insides purred at it.
“So they will,” she whispered. “Shall we go?”
He smiled warmly and offered his arm. She took it, her hands clasping tight around it.
**************************
Hours later, the feast spread in front of them, she knew he was toying with her. Every movement of his hands, every word, every smile seemed meant for her. She was naked under his stare again, certain that he could see through the heavy layers of silk and velvet she’d so meticulously put on tonight. She’d worn forest colors. Secretly she’d hoped to match him.
He knew she was toying with him. Every toss of her hair, every pout, every graceful gesture seemed meant for him. She was trying to remind him of the spans of creamy skin he’d seen earlier, he was certain of it. The greens she wore brought out the freckles on her cheeks and the sun-touched red in her hair. He’d worn similar colors to table, to remind her of their moments together earlier.
She wondered absently if he would remember her tears or if he would only think of her as a silly girl with no modesty, playing at being a water nymph. She’d not gone to the river to seduce him. He had only chanced upon her. But she did not regret it. Not at all.
He mused silently over her delicate shyness and open emotion and wondered how she saw him. Was he the man who had chanced upon a moment of sadness and moved to ease it? Or was he the man who had ogled the body she had only inadvertently shown to him? But he did not regret it. Not at all.
She had to know what he thought.
He had to know what she thought.
Her eyes searched for his.
His eyes searched for hers.
She smiled slowly.
He nodded.
They left table as quietly as they’d come, leaving laughter and battle songs behind them.
Thoughts? I'm a comment whore.
Category: Chronicles Of Narnia: Prince Caspian
Character/Pairings: Susan/Caspian
Rating: T............maybe slightly more.
Word Count: 1,780
Prompt: 01 - Feast
Summary: Susan tries to find a moment of peace after the battle.
Notes: Okay, I started this for the drabble challenge and I guess it still fits. But I'm not sure it went where I wanted it to. I might be persuaded to continue it if there was enough interest.
He found her weeping.
She was hunched low to the ground, her body curled into itself, the laces of her leather bodice half-undone and the quiver of red-feathered arrows tossed in a heap on the riverbank. The river’s noise stifled the sounds of her sadness, but her thin shoulders shook heavily and one leather-braced hand covered her mouth, desperate and trembling.
She had not meant to be seen this way, had not wanted to be found or helped. What good would it serve for Queen Susan, the warrior-archer, to be seen half-undressed and sobbing? She had not always needed to respond fiercely in battle. But when the enemy called for it, she became a soldier, willing to bloody and be bloodied with those loyal to the thrones of Narnia. This day was no different. She’d become a general easily enough, saw friends and patriots fall to the sword and did not pause to mourn them.
But at the battle’s end, after giving a victory cry, she had walked away from the battlefield to be alone. This was her way. It always had been. She would shed the war pain with cleansing tears and immerse herself in the clean riverwater, emerging the Gentle Queen.
Her fingers had fumbled with the armor for only a moment before she’d sunk to the ground and allowed the mourning to flow from her. And then he had come, the soft lines of his face creased in worry.
She was weak now. Weak and tired and bruised. The strength to reassure someone just simply was not to be found. So as he took a step toward her, one hand reaching forward, she opened her mouth to stop him.
But the words did not come. He was not reaching out to embrace her, not even to touch her. He was kneeling behind her, his hands brushing against her back as he deftly loosened the laces before pulling them free of their loops. He pulled the armor from her shoulders and laid it with the quiver before hesitantly reaching down her torso to unhook the clasps of her maille tunic.
Dimly she was aware that this should embarrass her, that a man who, only hours before, had made her heart race, was steadily undressing her. She could not fool herself so as to ignore the way his palms had briefly pressed against her belly as he removed her armor or the way he’d leaned in close as he’d knelt behind her. But she was profoundly weary, weary enough to allow herself to just enjoy his ministrations without the restraints of logic or rationalization. She shivered as his graceful fingers threaded through her hair, subtly massaging her scalp as he loosed it from its plaits and fanned it over her back before reaching down her forearm to remove her bracer. His fingers traced the length of hers for just a moment, a heartbeat, a breath, but long enough to set her skin to gooseflesh. He was facing her now, his eyes questioning and deep, asking permission as his touch skimmed over her knee and down to her ankle, sliding her skirt upwards over her thigh to gently tug the calf-length boots off.
She sat armorless, trembling, in her bare feet, her naked toes somehow surprisingly revealing and locked eyes with him. What she saw there made her hands clench.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, the salt of long-dry tears tight on her cheeks. “I………need to be alone now.”
He nodded, a flash of sadness in his eyes for a moment, then stood and walked away.
She felt his loss like an ache the instant he left. But she was never one to question her own decisions, so she stood hastily, stripped off her gown and chemise and plunged into the cool water.
*******************
He had to tighten his hands to white-knuckled fists to keep them from trembling as he took hesitant steps away from her. Gods, what had possessed him to intrude on such an obviously private moment? Intrude?! He’d undressed her! But though the fact made his face hot, he could not bring himself to regret. The shapely circle of her waist had begged to be released from its armor. The long curve of her neck had been meant to be touched. The scent of her hair, the bend of her forearm, gods, even the wiggle of her toes had set him ablaze with want.
She was not the first girl……woman he had ever desired. But he was not fool enough to dismiss his feelings as a blaze of boyish lust. When he’d decided to help her undress, it had been out of a genuine need to ease her suffering, to comfort and soothe. He’d never seen her look so unbearably lost before and it had set his heart hurting immediately. What did it matter that what had started out so innocently had become something more? No matter how he searched, he felt only a total lack of remorse over his actions.
He knew that his wandering feet needed to take him back to Aslan’s How to prepare for the inevitable victory feast. But the woods beckoned him with their golden effulgence. Surely no one would deny their new King an hour’s respite after a fierce and bloody battle. He needed time to clear his memory of the gentle openness of her, the heart wrenching honesty in her gaze. When he saw her at table, he could not allow himself to betray his burgeoning feelings.
His thoughts drifted aimlessly as he walked, neither knowing nor caring where he was. He thought briefly on his coronation, on which lands would belong to his reign and which would be controlled by the Kings and Queens of Old. He wondered at the reappearance of Aslan and his newfound friendship with creatures whose existed he’d never really believed in. For nearly an hour, his thoughts were free of her. But when his booted feet sunk heavily into river sand and the roar of water beat into his senses, he realized with a start that he’d walked a slow, languid circle.
She was here, though not as he’d left her. Her eyes locked on to his and he could not look away though every fiber of his being told him he must. He waited for a sign from her but she made none until she sighed deeply and with a touch of mirth said,
“Oh, Caspian.”
***************************
She’d heard him coming as he neared the riverbank but there was nothing to be done about it. Water did not do much for cover and her clothes were too far to reach. She thought briefly about making a dash for them, but then she would look caught and foolish. Perhaps it was better to feign total confidence. So when he came into view, she dropped her body slightly lower into the water and then waited for his eyes to find hers.
When she said his name, it surprised even her. But it seemed right to say it. She watched his body tense at the sound of it and he took a step closer. She did not back away. Could not. Nor could she bring herself to cover her body when the heat in his eyes was like reverence and the warmth in her belly was a dull throb that ached so excitingly she could only gasp against it. She was embarrassed, shaking, but unable to tear her eyes from his. She stood from the water, feeling his eyes follow the rivulets of it as it poured over her skin, and walked toward him. The air was cool on her but she was burning. The trail of his gaze was like a caress and he did not seem ashamed at the way he openly outlined her body with his eyes. Her gown and chemise lay in a pile at his feet and he bent to retrieve them. There was no uncertainty in his face, no embarrassment or dismay. Only an emotion she was afraid to give a name to.
She stopped a hand’s breadth away from him and could only reach for her gown, pulling it quickly over her head. She remembered the confidence of being an adult but the shy doubt of fragile teenage years warred within her and she blushed. She could not bring herself to look at him but she slowly raised one hand and put it flat against his chest, feeling the heat and heartbeat of him. It intoxicated.
But his fingers pushed against her chin and raised her eyes. The warmth of his honey-accented words washed over as he said, “They will want us at banquet, my Queen.”
There was an edge to the words, hot and mellow, and her insides purred at it.
“So they will,” she whispered. “Shall we go?”
He smiled warmly and offered his arm. She took it, her hands clasping tight around it.
**************************
Hours later, the feast spread in front of them, she knew he was toying with her. Every movement of his hands, every word, every smile seemed meant for her. She was naked under his stare again, certain that he could see through the heavy layers of silk and velvet she’d so meticulously put on tonight. She’d worn forest colors. Secretly she’d hoped to match him.
He knew she was toying with him. Every toss of her hair, every pout, every graceful gesture seemed meant for him. She was trying to remind him of the spans of creamy skin he’d seen earlier, he was certain of it. The greens she wore brought out the freckles on her cheeks and the sun-touched red in her hair. He’d worn similar colors to table, to remind her of their moments together earlier.
She wondered absently if he would remember her tears or if he would only think of her as a silly girl with no modesty, playing at being a water nymph. She’d not gone to the river to seduce him. He had only chanced upon her. But she did not regret it. Not at all.
He mused silently over her delicate shyness and open emotion and wondered how she saw him. Was he the man who had chanced upon a moment of sadness and moved to ease it? Or was he the man who had ogled the body she had only inadvertently shown to him? But he did not regret it. Not at all.
She had to know what he thought.
He had to know what she thought.
Her eyes searched for his.
His eyes searched for hers.
She smiled slowly.
He nodded.
They left table as quietly as they’d come, leaving laughter and battle songs behind them.
Thoughts? I'm a comment whore.