(Untitled)

[treading_dawn]

The night is cool and clear, stars twinkling above, reflected cleanly in the lake below.

And in that soft light there is another light, brighter, if more contained.

The Lion is here, pacing out of the forest.

There is something solemn about him tonight.

Solemn, and perhaps a little sad.

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[the_seafarer]

Caspian is weary.

He has not felt so tired since the day he arrived back at Cair Paravel, sick and aged and weary of the world in which he had lost his son.

The night air is cool and refreshing, but Caspian walks, troubled, his hands clasped behind him, his mind on his thoughts, and not on the figure pacing so silently in the dim, cool moonlight, though perhaps they, who had been walking alone, are now walking together, and pressure in Caspian's chest grows.

He wishes he could weep.

He wishes--

"Oh, Aslan," he says, unhappily.

[treading_dawn]

"Oh, my son."

The voice is deep, and gentle, and full of so much sorrow.

"You have borne so much, and here, at the end of all things, you must bear a little more."

There is the brush of warm golden fur against his fingers, and the air smells heavily of lilacs, of violets--of summer.

[the_seafarer]

Of lilies, and gold that is not sickened by what lies beneath, and Caspian lets his fingers sink into the rough fur, as if he were no more than a boyamanakinganorphan and he stops his walking, to look up at the sky.

"Aye. I must."

His voice is heavy, with sorrows and regrets. Too heavy for the boy he appears to be.

"There was no other choice to make. And yet--

I accept

"And yet I feel so sad, Aslan."

[treading_dawn]

"I know. It is what comes with love, and duty, and honor."

That great proud head turns, watching Caspian out of solemn golden eyes.

"They are worth much."

[called_lioness]

If there's a Lion, there's likely a lioness, but she certainly doesn't feel like one, sitting with her knees pulled as tightly as she can by the lake and sobbing against them.

And she's crying for Aslan, and she's crying for Caspian, and she's crying because she's selfish and doesn't want to see it again, and it's always the same, even when the details are different.

[treading_dawn]

Silently he pads toward her, velveted paws light on the earth.

And then there is a heavy warmth pressed to her side, and the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg and clover.

"Oh, dear heart. That you should have cause to weep so."

Sorrow is heavy in his voice, and his tongue rasps lightly against her face, against her tears.

[called_lioness]

"Why?" It's pleading and it's not just one question and it's the only question she has.

[treading_dawn]

"Because you are a Daughter of Eve, and because he is a Son of Adam, and because the both of you are Queen and King in Narnia."

His breath is warm, and sweet against her face.

"Even here, at the end of all things."

It is not an answer, and it is all the answer that matters.