Sanguinis Vinculum - Chapter 2
Aug. 12th, 2008 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xxlucyferxxTitle: Sanguinis Vinculum
Rating: PG-13 (possibly bordering on light R...we'll see)
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Summary: The war against Miraz is over, but a new force is rising that could bring Caspian's kingdom crashing down around him. Now he and the Kings and Queens of Old must face an ancient evil that threatens to destroy everything they believe in.
( Chapter 1. Falling From Grace )
Rating: PG-13 (possibly bordering on light R...we'll see)
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Summary: The war against Miraz is over, but a new force is rising that could bring Caspian's kingdom crashing down around him. Now he and the Kings and Queens of Old must face an ancient evil that threatens to destroy everything they believe in.
( Chapter 1. Falling From Grace )
Thank you for the amazing feedback, everyone! Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
Chapter 2. Encounters
“How much did you tell them?”
“Nothing.” Peter rejoined his siblings in the Throne Room wearily, his face very grim. “I just told the minstrels they were off-duty for the night. Everyone was pretty eager to retire after that.”
“Good job, Peter.” Susan smiled wanly, before turning again to glance at the figure on the edge of the dais, elbows resting on his knees and hands cupping his chin. A thick curtain of dark hair concealed his face. “Oh, he’s really not taking this well.”
“What happened…I mean, why did she do it?”
Edmund grimaced. “She’s been going mad ever since Miraz died, I think,” he said seriously. “They found an empty bottle in her room just now…I don’t think she was quite herself tonight.”
“How’s the, ah…” Peter felt nauseous at the memory of what else he had found in Prunaprismia’s chamber. When he heard what had happened, he had sprinted up there to find her infant son lying in his cot with a knife in his gut, blood pouring onto the mattress and dripping slowly to the floor. Lucy’s cordial had stopped the bleeding, but he wasn’t sure whether it would be enough to bring the child back from death’s door. He was so fragile, and he had already lost so much blood…
“The child’s alive,” Edmund assured him, reading his thoughts. “Very weak though, and he’s in a right state. Lucy’s with him now.”
Peter nodded mutely, not quite believing it.
“Do you think one of us should…talk to Caspian?” Edmund asked awkwardly, shooting another glance at the Telmarine.
“Oh don’t, Ed, he needs some space-”
“I will,” said Peter, cutting her off sharply. “Half the court’s already in a panic. He needs to get up and start being a king.”
He strode purposely over, and clapped a hand on Caspian’s shoulder. “Come on, Caspian. We need you with us now.”
Caspian lifted his head, looking up at him blankly and showing no signs of even having understood.
“I know you’re in shock, but people are going to start panicking if you don’t do something to reassure them. You can’t grieve in public.”
Caspian bit his lip. “You’re right,” he said tonelessly, making no move to get up.
If Peter was frustrated by Caspian’s unresponsiveness then he had no chance to express it, for at that moment Lucy entered the room looking uncharacteristically pale and drawn. Caspian seemed to wake from his haze of shock and grief, leaping to his feet and crossing the room in several strides.
“How is Regalian?” he demanded, a wild note to his voice. “Is he alive? Is he okay? I don’t think-”
“He’s sleeping.” Lucy looked far too old for her childish body as she laid a soothing hand on his arm. “The healers had to give him a draught to knock him out – he’s badly frightened, but he’ll survive.”
Caspian took a deep breath to steady himself after his passionate outburst. “I will need to find him a nurse,” he said, making a feeble effort to think practically about the situation. It didn’t work. “By the lion, what is the matter with this household?” he all but wailed, shaking Lucy’s arm off roughly, his forced semblance of calm rapidly disintegrating. “Are we all cursed?”
Lucy shook her head. “Caspian, I know you’re-”
“I should have seen this coming,” he cried bitterly. “I am a fool, and all my family seem to drop dead at the mere sight of me. I should have interfered…I cannot raise an orphan!” He knew he was making no sense, but he was too distraught to care. “If I had only been paying attention…”
“Caspian!” He froze dead in his tracks, Susan’s voice cutting through his frantic thoughts like a knife. She was staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful, and he realised how deranged he must seem to her. Why, perhaps he really was deranged… “Caspian, it isn’t your fault. Please calm down.”
“I…” His hysteria evaporated as fast as it had come, replaced by a hollow, empty feeling. He needed to get away, to process what had happened alone. He couldn’t stand to be in company for another minute. “Please excuse me.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and hurried from the room.
Dead silence fell over the hall. The four Pevensies exchanged stunned glances. Susan was the first to react – she could only imagine how he was feeling right now. In their occasional private meetings since coming to the castle, she had seen glimpses of Caspian’s inner vulnerability that he would let nobody else see. She knew that what he needed was to be left in peace for a while to gather his thoughts and his decorum. She could give him that. She squared her shoulders, taking charge of the situation.
“We need to have the body dealt with,” she said briskly. “Have two men take care of it at once – the rest of the servants are to return to their work. Lucy and I will check on Regalian. Peter and Edmund…go to bed.”
Both boys stared at her indignantly, and she returned their gaze steadily. Please don’t fight me, those eyes were saying clearly. There was no arguing with Susan once she started falling into her old Gentle Queen routine. Sighing, Peter nodded at Edmund. There was nothing more they could do, in any case.
“Don’t you stay up too long either,” he said sternly. “Take care of Regalian, and then get some sleep.” Susan nodded, and the two brothers departed reluctantly.
---
When Caspian emerged for breakfast the next morning, he was calm and collected once more. At midday, amid a very formal and sombre ceremony, Prunaprismia was laid to rest beside Miraz’ coffin in the Royal Burial Chambers. Caspian and the Pevensies were barely out of their funeral garb when they were called on to attend an important meeting, which somehow transformed into a royal hunting party with the Archenlanders. And then…life carried on as normal. The emissaries returned home, and everybody else returned to work. The only noticeable change in routine was the addition of a new very small, very young person to daily court life.
Regalian had recovered some of his strength, but he was weak and sickly and very, very fearful. He cried endlessly, flinched away from strange touches, and seemed to totally distrust everyone around him. The only person he seemed to want anything to do with was Lucy. He clung desperately to the youngest Pevensie, screaming and wailing whenever he was parted from her. She spent hours sitting with him each day, rocking him and stroking his forehead while he alternately slept, cried and dribbled on her clothes. It took her all her skills in persuasion to convince the baby to trust the wet nurse Caspian had found for him, and even though he tolerated her care, he was never happy except in Lucy’s arms.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she had reassured her siblings when they expressed concern over the increasing demands Regalian was making on her time. “He’s a lovely baby, honestly. Why, I almost feel like he’s my son already.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Peter had muttered under his breath. He could not help but feel alarmed at the aptitude his little sister, in most respects still a child herself, was showing for the role of motherhood.
It was fast approaching summer, and the days grew steadily longer and hotter. One balmy evening, as the setting sun bathed the castle walls in orange light, Susan found herself aimlessly wandering the empty corridors in a part of the castle she had never visited before. She was somewhere in the west wing of the castle, and there was a great hall before her, wide and long and richly carpeted. Along one wall was a row of small glass windows, positioned so that she doubted the room ever got much sun. A few last rays of light still crept through, illuminating the dust motes in the air. And along the opposite wall hung many large gilt-framed portraits.
Intrigued, she moved along the gallery, studying the faces that loomed above her. There were men, women and children, all regal and imposing in silk finery and precious jewels. They were dark-haired, with dusky olive complexions and eyes that looked almost black. Even without the name plaques beneath them, it was impossible to mistake Caspian’s ancestors.
Towards the end of the gallery, Susan stopped in front of a picture that made her gasp. It was a lady, with black hair and heavy-lidded dark eyes. She was strikingly beautiful, dressed in a fine gown of red velvet, but it was not her to whom Susan’s eyes were drawn. Perched upon the lady’s lap, with wide brown eyes and a mop of curly hair, was a very young but unmistakeable Prince Caspian X. He could not have been more than three or four years old. Susan stared, fascinated.
Soft footsteps alerted her to the presence of another. She spun around to meet the eyes of none other than Caspian himself as he approached from the other end of the gallery. He bowed respectfully, shooting her a quizzical look.
“Queen Susan,” he greeted politely. “May I enquire as to what brings you to this part of the castle tonight?”
Susan suddenly felt as though she had been caught sneaking cookies from the kitchen. She shrugged, smiling slightly. “I was bored and restless. These are lovely.”
Caspian’s eyes rested on the portrait she had been looking at, and he groaned slightly. “Ah, my queen, you have found me out,” he said with a grin.
“You’re a lot like your mother,” mused Susan quietly. “There’s something in the set of your jaw, and your nose.”
“I do not remember her,” Caspian admitted simply, moving closer to stand by her side, facing the portrait. “She died a few months after this was painted…or so I am told.”
“I’m sorry,” Susan breathed. He took her hand, thumb running softly across her palm.
“Don’t be. It is long ago now.”
She was acutely aware of the fact that she had not been this close to Caspian since the day of Prunaprismia’s suicide. She met his eyes, sparkling even in the dim light, and smiled.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, teasing him, “I do not think Peter would like if he found us here. I mean, there’s nobody around to interrupt us if things got too…intimate. It’s really quite scandalous, when you think about it.”
Caspian obviously rather liked thinking about it, for he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, not quite as chastely as perhaps he should have. She squeaked in surprise, and then kissed him back enthusiastically. She had no idea how it happened, but she found herself quite suddenly pinned to the wall, her head leaning back against the gilt frame. She moaned slightly as his lips began trailing kisses down her jaw, sending pleasant shivers up her spine. He nipped at her neck, eliciting another moan, and she buried her fingers in his hair in wordless encouragement. Then, quite suddenly, he pulled back with a grimace.
“Bad idea,” he said, and Susan thought his voice sounded huskier than usual. “I fear I have put you in a compromising situation, my queen.”
“Oh…um, yes, of course,” she replied, willing her pulse to slow down. She was letting herself get carried away. “Perhaps…you would care to escort me back to my chambers? It’s getting dark.” She hadn’t noticed until now, but the last rays of sunlight had faded away and the faces of the portraits were all cloaked in shadows. Caspian offered her his arm and accompanied her out of the gallery and into the more familiar parts of the castle. It was tempting to ask him not to leave her when she reached her chamber door, but Caspian had had reluctantly extricated himself from their goodnight embrace before things got too heated.
As she combed out her hair, Susan’s mind drifted and she wondered exactly when and how her friendship with Caspian had turned into something that was quite obviously more. Their playful flirting and shared conspiratorial glances had changed seamlessly into long unchaperoned walks and chaste kisses across her knuckles and, when Caspian was feeling very bold, her cheek; now it had already developed into secret trysts and fervent kisses in dark corners, and yet Susan couldn’t pinpoint any period of transition. Things just happened when she was with Caspian, and it all seemed so natural that she never even thought to question it.
She wondered what the next step in their relationship would be, and a tingling heat began to rise in her stomach. “Oh, stop it Susan,” she told herself sternly. “It is high time you went to bed.”
If Caspian, alone in his own chamber, was having rather less success suppressing similar thoughts, then he felt no need to confide in Susan about them. The Queen’s honour came first.
---
The town was dark as the last shutters were drawn and people turned sleepily to their beds. A dark figure flitted stealthily through the streets outside, keeping carefully to the shadows. A curtain of dark hair cascaded down her back, unruffled by the wind. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead and she quickened her pace, seeming to glide inches above the ground. She knew what she was looking for – she could smell it.
The lads at the end of the alleyway stopped talking when she approached, snickering and nudging one another as if sharing some private joke. The foremost boy, the leader, with thick curly hair and a stocky frame, stepped forward. “Good evening, miss!” he crowed. “My name is Rinard, and I place myself most humbly at your service-”
She pounced, and the boy uttered one piercing shriek before blackness descended upon him.
Chapter 2. Encounters
“How much did you tell them?”
“Nothing.” Peter rejoined his siblings in the Throne Room wearily, his face very grim. “I just told the minstrels they were off-duty for the night. Everyone was pretty eager to retire after that.”
“Good job, Peter.” Susan smiled wanly, before turning again to glance at the figure on the edge of the dais, elbows resting on his knees and hands cupping his chin. A thick curtain of dark hair concealed his face. “Oh, he’s really not taking this well.”
“What happened…I mean, why did she do it?”
Edmund grimaced. “She’s been going mad ever since Miraz died, I think,” he said seriously. “They found an empty bottle in her room just now…I don’t think she was quite herself tonight.”
“How’s the, ah…” Peter felt nauseous at the memory of what else he had found in Prunaprismia’s chamber. When he heard what had happened, he had sprinted up there to find her infant son lying in his cot with a knife in his gut, blood pouring onto the mattress and dripping slowly to the floor. Lucy’s cordial had stopped the bleeding, but he wasn’t sure whether it would be enough to bring the child back from death’s door. He was so fragile, and he had already lost so much blood…
“The child’s alive,” Edmund assured him, reading his thoughts. “Very weak though, and he’s in a right state. Lucy’s with him now.”
Peter nodded mutely, not quite believing it.
“Do you think one of us should…talk to Caspian?” Edmund asked awkwardly, shooting another glance at the Telmarine.
“Oh don’t, Ed, he needs some space-”
“I will,” said Peter, cutting her off sharply. “Half the court’s already in a panic. He needs to get up and start being a king.”
He strode purposely over, and clapped a hand on Caspian’s shoulder. “Come on, Caspian. We need you with us now.”
Caspian lifted his head, looking up at him blankly and showing no signs of even having understood.
“I know you’re in shock, but people are going to start panicking if you don’t do something to reassure them. You can’t grieve in public.”
Caspian bit his lip. “You’re right,” he said tonelessly, making no move to get up.
If Peter was frustrated by Caspian’s unresponsiveness then he had no chance to express it, for at that moment Lucy entered the room looking uncharacteristically pale and drawn. Caspian seemed to wake from his haze of shock and grief, leaping to his feet and crossing the room in several strides.
“How is Regalian?” he demanded, a wild note to his voice. “Is he alive? Is he okay? I don’t think-”
“He’s sleeping.” Lucy looked far too old for her childish body as she laid a soothing hand on his arm. “The healers had to give him a draught to knock him out – he’s badly frightened, but he’ll survive.”
Caspian took a deep breath to steady himself after his passionate outburst. “I will need to find him a nurse,” he said, making a feeble effort to think practically about the situation. It didn’t work. “By the lion, what is the matter with this household?” he all but wailed, shaking Lucy’s arm off roughly, his forced semblance of calm rapidly disintegrating. “Are we all cursed?”
Lucy shook her head. “Caspian, I know you’re-”
“I should have seen this coming,” he cried bitterly. “I am a fool, and all my family seem to drop dead at the mere sight of me. I should have interfered…I cannot raise an orphan!” He knew he was making no sense, but he was too distraught to care. “If I had only been paying attention…”
“Caspian!” He froze dead in his tracks, Susan’s voice cutting through his frantic thoughts like a knife. She was staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful, and he realised how deranged he must seem to her. Why, perhaps he really was deranged… “Caspian, it isn’t your fault. Please calm down.”
“I…” His hysteria evaporated as fast as it had come, replaced by a hollow, empty feeling. He needed to get away, to process what had happened alone. He couldn’t stand to be in company for another minute. “Please excuse me.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and hurried from the room.
Dead silence fell over the hall. The four Pevensies exchanged stunned glances. Susan was the first to react – she could only imagine how he was feeling right now. In their occasional private meetings since coming to the castle, she had seen glimpses of Caspian’s inner vulnerability that he would let nobody else see. She knew that what he needed was to be left in peace for a while to gather his thoughts and his decorum. She could give him that. She squared her shoulders, taking charge of the situation.
“We need to have the body dealt with,” she said briskly. “Have two men take care of it at once – the rest of the servants are to return to their work. Lucy and I will check on Regalian. Peter and Edmund…go to bed.”
Both boys stared at her indignantly, and she returned their gaze steadily. Please don’t fight me, those eyes were saying clearly. There was no arguing with Susan once she started falling into her old Gentle Queen routine. Sighing, Peter nodded at Edmund. There was nothing more they could do, in any case.
“Don’t you stay up too long either,” he said sternly. “Take care of Regalian, and then get some sleep.” Susan nodded, and the two brothers departed reluctantly.
---
When Caspian emerged for breakfast the next morning, he was calm and collected once more. At midday, amid a very formal and sombre ceremony, Prunaprismia was laid to rest beside Miraz’ coffin in the Royal Burial Chambers. Caspian and the Pevensies were barely out of their funeral garb when they were called on to attend an important meeting, which somehow transformed into a royal hunting party with the Archenlanders. And then…life carried on as normal. The emissaries returned home, and everybody else returned to work. The only noticeable change in routine was the addition of a new very small, very young person to daily court life.
Regalian had recovered some of his strength, but he was weak and sickly and very, very fearful. He cried endlessly, flinched away from strange touches, and seemed to totally distrust everyone around him. The only person he seemed to want anything to do with was Lucy. He clung desperately to the youngest Pevensie, screaming and wailing whenever he was parted from her. She spent hours sitting with him each day, rocking him and stroking his forehead while he alternately slept, cried and dribbled on her clothes. It took her all her skills in persuasion to convince the baby to trust the wet nurse Caspian had found for him, and even though he tolerated her care, he was never happy except in Lucy’s arms.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she had reassured her siblings when they expressed concern over the increasing demands Regalian was making on her time. “He’s a lovely baby, honestly. Why, I almost feel like he’s my son already.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Peter had muttered under his breath. He could not help but feel alarmed at the aptitude his little sister, in most respects still a child herself, was showing for the role of motherhood.
It was fast approaching summer, and the days grew steadily longer and hotter. One balmy evening, as the setting sun bathed the castle walls in orange light, Susan found herself aimlessly wandering the empty corridors in a part of the castle she had never visited before. She was somewhere in the west wing of the castle, and there was a great hall before her, wide and long and richly carpeted. Along one wall was a row of small glass windows, positioned so that she doubted the room ever got much sun. A few last rays of light still crept through, illuminating the dust motes in the air. And along the opposite wall hung many large gilt-framed portraits.
Intrigued, she moved along the gallery, studying the faces that loomed above her. There were men, women and children, all regal and imposing in silk finery and precious jewels. They were dark-haired, with dusky olive complexions and eyes that looked almost black. Even without the name plaques beneath them, it was impossible to mistake Caspian’s ancestors.
Towards the end of the gallery, Susan stopped in front of a picture that made her gasp. It was a lady, with black hair and heavy-lidded dark eyes. She was strikingly beautiful, dressed in a fine gown of red velvet, but it was not her to whom Susan’s eyes were drawn. Perched upon the lady’s lap, with wide brown eyes and a mop of curly hair, was a very young but unmistakeable Prince Caspian X. He could not have been more than three or four years old. Susan stared, fascinated.
Soft footsteps alerted her to the presence of another. She spun around to meet the eyes of none other than Caspian himself as he approached from the other end of the gallery. He bowed respectfully, shooting her a quizzical look.
“Queen Susan,” he greeted politely. “May I enquire as to what brings you to this part of the castle tonight?”
Susan suddenly felt as though she had been caught sneaking cookies from the kitchen. She shrugged, smiling slightly. “I was bored and restless. These are lovely.”
Caspian’s eyes rested on the portrait she had been looking at, and he groaned slightly. “Ah, my queen, you have found me out,” he said with a grin.
“You’re a lot like your mother,” mused Susan quietly. “There’s something in the set of your jaw, and your nose.”
“I do not remember her,” Caspian admitted simply, moving closer to stand by her side, facing the portrait. “She died a few months after this was painted…or so I am told.”
“I’m sorry,” Susan breathed. He took her hand, thumb running softly across her palm.
“Don’t be. It is long ago now.”
She was acutely aware of the fact that she had not been this close to Caspian since the day of Prunaprismia’s suicide. She met his eyes, sparkling even in the dim light, and smiled.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, teasing him, “I do not think Peter would like if he found us here. I mean, there’s nobody around to interrupt us if things got too…intimate. It’s really quite scandalous, when you think about it.”
Caspian obviously rather liked thinking about it, for he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, not quite as chastely as perhaps he should have. She squeaked in surprise, and then kissed him back enthusiastically. She had no idea how it happened, but she found herself quite suddenly pinned to the wall, her head leaning back against the gilt frame. She moaned slightly as his lips began trailing kisses down her jaw, sending pleasant shivers up her spine. He nipped at her neck, eliciting another moan, and she buried her fingers in his hair in wordless encouragement. Then, quite suddenly, he pulled back with a grimace.
“Bad idea,” he said, and Susan thought his voice sounded huskier than usual. “I fear I have put you in a compromising situation, my queen.”
“Oh…um, yes, of course,” she replied, willing her pulse to slow down. She was letting herself get carried away. “Perhaps…you would care to escort me back to my chambers? It’s getting dark.” She hadn’t noticed until now, but the last rays of sunlight had faded away and the faces of the portraits were all cloaked in shadows. Caspian offered her his arm and accompanied her out of the gallery and into the more familiar parts of the castle. It was tempting to ask him not to leave her when she reached her chamber door, but Caspian had had reluctantly extricated himself from their goodnight embrace before things got too heated.
As she combed out her hair, Susan’s mind drifted and she wondered exactly when and how her friendship with Caspian had turned into something that was quite obviously more. Their playful flirting and shared conspiratorial glances had changed seamlessly into long unchaperoned walks and chaste kisses across her knuckles and, when Caspian was feeling very bold, her cheek; now it had already developed into secret trysts and fervent kisses in dark corners, and yet Susan couldn’t pinpoint any period of transition. Things just happened when she was with Caspian, and it all seemed so natural that she never even thought to question it.
She wondered what the next step in their relationship would be, and a tingling heat began to rise in her stomach. “Oh, stop it Susan,” she told herself sternly. “It is high time you went to bed.”
If Caspian, alone in his own chamber, was having rather less success suppressing similar thoughts, then he felt no need to confide in Susan about them. The Queen’s honour came first.
---
The town was dark as the last shutters were drawn and people turned sleepily to their beds. A dark figure flitted stealthily through the streets outside, keeping carefully to the shadows. A curtain of dark hair cascaded down her back, unruffled by the wind. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead and she quickened her pace, seeming to glide inches above the ground. She knew what she was looking for – she could smell it.
The lads at the end of the alleyway stopped talking when she approached, snickering and nudging one another as if sharing some private joke. The foremost boy, the leader, with thick curly hair and a stocky frame, stepped forward. “Good evening, miss!” he crowed. “My name is Rinard, and I place myself most humbly at your service-”
She pounced, and the boy uttered one piercing shriek before blackness descended upon him.
