Weekly Drabble (Time)
It took me forever to post this. I think it took me longer to post than to write it. Please, please let me know what you think. :)
Title: Closer to You
Characters/Pairings: Susan/Caspian
Rating: T for adult situations (violence and mild sexual content)
Summary: Caspian realizes that time is meaningless for healing wounds.
Disclaimer: Sadly, do not own.
Authors Note: Written in response to Weekly Challenge #9 at
susancaspian . First go so reviews would be excellent.
She was sitting above him, the moonlight shining through the curtain of dark hair that hung in loose curls down her shoulder. Her face was in pensive concentration, her lips pursed together, her sapphire eyes scanning his bare abdomen.
This was not how he had pictured their first night together.
His hands were laced behind his head and he let out a deep sigh as he stared at the deep maroon fabric that served as a canopy above his bed. She had come to him, her face earnest and a small smile haunting her features. He had opened the door and she was there, wrapping those perfect arms around his waist, her chin tilted up to his face, her depthless eyes pulling him in.
And she had kissed him. Tentative and shy, all the qualities of the Gentle Queen he had read about as a small boy. He could feel her trembling as her lips pressed against his.
Their gentle kisses had morphed into something else as he pulled her into the room, his strong arms coming around her tiny waist and picking her up slightly, her back hitting into the smooth wood of the door as it slammed shut.
She sighed his name as she inched the loose white tunic he wore beneath his formal dressings over his head, the pair of them both moving unconsciously closer to the bed. The back of his knees hit the grand four-poster and he tumbled unceremoniously onto the plush mattress, bringing her down with him. She laughed loudly and he pushed her long hair out of her face and cradled her cheek with his hand, searching for her eyes.
He kissed her lips softly as she ran her hand across his chest and down the plane of his flat stomach, over the ridges of his abdomen muscles. He flinched as her hand ran over his still bruised ribs from the battle weeks ago. She pulled back abruptly, a porcelain hand coming to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Caspian. I didn’t mean to-“ She had paused as her eyes moved down from his amber depths to his ribcage where her hand lingered, the moonlight illuminating his tanned skin.
She hadn’t looked back up at him since. And he didn’t need to look at her face to know what was painted there. He could feel it radiating from her in the waves that consumed them in the stiff silence.
No, this was not how he had pictured their first night together.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to glance at her and crumble. He didn’t want to become the scared little boy he was for so many years. He didn’t want to look at her and see the pain from his childhood etched across her face. He had enough of that before. He was done now. That child, that pain, was gone.
A finger traced the scar that he knew ran from his left collarbone to his third rib on the opposite side, ragged and ugly. He let out a breath. The finger was joined with another as they traced the matching scars down his ribcage, thin and deep. A thumb traced a scar that cut through his belly button and ended in a sharp turn upwards. Two lips pressed against the burn mark right above his heart.
His eyes opened as she lay completely on top of him, being careful to avoid the still bruised and battered ribs, her cheek warm against his chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as she nuzzled closer, inhaling deeply. He felt the shake in her lungs that he knew accompanied emotion as the breath left her.
“You’re much too young to have so many scars.” She whispered quietly. He ran a hand absently through her impossibly soft curls, letting it linger there. It seemed to anchor him, to keep him from floating away into nothingness, lost in the memories.
A boy, no more than nine, being held down as a scorching hot poker was pressed into his chest. A teenager falling to the ground, clutching his stomach as the blood seeped through his fingers. The same teenager, alone in his quarters, trying to dress his own wounds but unable to reach his back without tearing the suchers he had sewn himself on his ribs.
He shook his head slightly and saw two bright blue eyes looking at him intently, her chin resting on his chest comfortably.
He gave her a halfhearted smile as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, watching his fingers as they trailed a path down her jaw line. “Nay, my Queen. Each scar represents a lesson I have learned. And one is never too young to learn.”
“Then I wish you to learn no more, for the pain I see in your face is not a look I would like to be accustomed to.” She paused as darkness crossed his features and the hand that was caressing her face dropped to the bed. He looked behind her and placed his hands on her upper arms, carefully lifting her up and off him. He slid off the bed as she sat up, reaching out to him.
“Caspian-“ But her voice broke as he turned his back to her, reaching for the shirt that lay discarded by the door. More thin white scars covered his back. More than she could count. More than she could bear.
He pulled his shirt roughly over his head as a small sob escaped her throat. His anger dissipated at the small sound and he turned to see her tears shining in the moonlight. His eyes grew sad and he stepped closer to her, wiping away the moisture with the pad of his thumb.
He tilted his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’m sorry to bring such sadness upon you, my dear Queen.”
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “Do not apologize to me, Caspian. My heart hurts for the pain that has plagued you and your life. I wish for nothing more than to take that pain from you.”
Caspian let out a deep sigh and climbed into the bed with her, cupping her face in his large hands and resting his forehead against hers. “It was years ago. It is meaningless to me now. The wounds have healed.”
She mirrored his position, cupping her own hands around his face and tracing her fingers across the stubble on his chin. “The pain of which I speak is not the one that accompanies the wounds. I speak of the pain that comes with the wounds that time never heals. Time does not heal all wounds, my dear Caspian. Some scars will always remain.”
He had no response. Nothing to say to comfort her because he knew in his heart she was right. He had hidden away his pain for years. He had been satisfied that when the wound was healed, the pain was gone. But he was wrong, so very wrong.
He buried his face in her neck and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, again.
“Can you help me?” A broken whisper. The frightened boy and not the valiant King.
She bit her lip to stop the sob from echoing in the room. Her hands ran a pattern up and down his broad back as she lay down with him in his bed, their bodies clutching each other as if their lives depended on it. And in a way, their lives did.
“I will always be here to help you.” She kissed the spot beneath his ear as his breathing evened out and he fell into a deep sleep. “Always.”
Title: Closer to You
Characters/Pairings: Susan/Caspian
Rating: T for adult situations (violence and mild sexual content)
Summary: Caspian realizes that time is meaningless for healing wounds.
Disclaimer: Sadly, do not own.
Authors Note: Written in response to Weekly Challenge #9 at
susancaspian . First go so reviews would be excellent.
She was sitting above him, the moonlight shining through the curtain of dark hair that hung in loose curls down her shoulder. Her face was in pensive concentration, her lips pursed together, her sapphire eyes scanning his bare abdomen.
This was not how he had pictured their first night together.
His hands were laced behind his head and he let out a deep sigh as he stared at the deep maroon fabric that served as a canopy above his bed. She had come to him, her face earnest and a small smile haunting her features. He had opened the door and she was there, wrapping those perfect arms around his waist, her chin tilted up to his face, her depthless eyes pulling him in.
And she had kissed him. Tentative and shy, all the qualities of the Gentle Queen he had read about as a small boy. He could feel her trembling as her lips pressed against his.
Their gentle kisses had morphed into something else as he pulled her into the room, his strong arms coming around her tiny waist and picking her up slightly, her back hitting into the smooth wood of the door as it slammed shut.
She sighed his name as she inched the loose white tunic he wore beneath his formal dressings over his head, the pair of them both moving unconsciously closer to the bed. The back of his knees hit the grand four-poster and he tumbled unceremoniously onto the plush mattress, bringing her down with him. She laughed loudly and he pushed her long hair out of her face and cradled her cheek with his hand, searching for her eyes.
He kissed her lips softly as she ran her hand across his chest and down the plane of his flat stomach, over the ridges of his abdomen muscles. He flinched as her hand ran over his still bruised ribs from the battle weeks ago. She pulled back abruptly, a porcelain hand coming to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Caspian. I didn’t mean to-“ She had paused as her eyes moved down from his amber depths to his ribcage where her hand lingered, the moonlight illuminating his tanned skin.
She hadn’t looked back up at him since. And he didn’t need to look at her face to know what was painted there. He could feel it radiating from her in the waves that consumed them in the stiff silence.
No, this was not how he had pictured their first night together.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to glance at her and crumble. He didn’t want to become the scared little boy he was for so many years. He didn’t want to look at her and see the pain from his childhood etched across her face. He had enough of that before. He was done now. That child, that pain, was gone.
A finger traced the scar that he knew ran from his left collarbone to his third rib on the opposite side, ragged and ugly. He let out a breath. The finger was joined with another as they traced the matching scars down his ribcage, thin and deep. A thumb traced a scar that cut through his belly button and ended in a sharp turn upwards. Two lips pressed against the burn mark right above his heart.
His eyes opened as she lay completely on top of him, being careful to avoid the still bruised and battered ribs, her cheek warm against his chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as she nuzzled closer, inhaling deeply. He felt the shake in her lungs that he knew accompanied emotion as the breath left her.
“You’re much too young to have so many scars.” She whispered quietly. He ran a hand absently through her impossibly soft curls, letting it linger there. It seemed to anchor him, to keep him from floating away into nothingness, lost in the memories.
A boy, no more than nine, being held down as a scorching hot poker was pressed into his chest. A teenager falling to the ground, clutching his stomach as the blood seeped through his fingers. The same teenager, alone in his quarters, trying to dress his own wounds but unable to reach his back without tearing the suchers he had sewn himself on his ribs.
He shook his head slightly and saw two bright blue eyes looking at him intently, her chin resting on his chest comfortably.
He gave her a halfhearted smile as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, watching his fingers as they trailed a path down her jaw line. “Nay, my Queen. Each scar represents a lesson I have learned. And one is never too young to learn.”
“Then I wish you to learn no more, for the pain I see in your face is not a look I would like to be accustomed to.” She paused as darkness crossed his features and the hand that was caressing her face dropped to the bed. He looked behind her and placed his hands on her upper arms, carefully lifting her up and off him. He slid off the bed as she sat up, reaching out to him.
“Caspian-“ But her voice broke as he turned his back to her, reaching for the shirt that lay discarded by the door. More thin white scars covered his back. More than she could count. More than she could bear.
He pulled his shirt roughly over his head as a small sob escaped her throat. His anger dissipated at the small sound and he turned to see her tears shining in the moonlight. His eyes grew sad and he stepped closer to her, wiping away the moisture with the pad of his thumb.
He tilted his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’m sorry to bring such sadness upon you, my dear Queen.”
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “Do not apologize to me, Caspian. My heart hurts for the pain that has plagued you and your life. I wish for nothing more than to take that pain from you.”
Caspian let out a deep sigh and climbed into the bed with her, cupping her face in his large hands and resting his forehead against hers. “It was years ago. It is meaningless to me now. The wounds have healed.”
She mirrored his position, cupping her own hands around his face and tracing her fingers across the stubble on his chin. “The pain of which I speak is not the one that accompanies the wounds. I speak of the pain that comes with the wounds that time never heals. Time does not heal all wounds, my dear Caspian. Some scars will always remain.”
He had no response. Nothing to say to comfort her because he knew in his heart she was right. He had hidden away his pain for years. He had been satisfied that when the wound was healed, the pain was gone. But he was wrong, so very wrong.
He buried his face in her neck and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, again.
“Can you help me?” A broken whisper. The frightened boy and not the valiant King.
She bit her lip to stop the sob from echoing in the room. Her hands ran a pattern up and down his broad back as she lay down with him in his bed, their bodies clutching each other as if their lives depended on it. And in a way, their lives did.
“I will always be here to help you.” She kissed the spot beneath his ear as his breathing evened out and he fell into a deep sleep. “Always.”