The next few days drag on. For the visitors to the still sleeping Crown Shield, at least. Though, Luna's mind strengthens by the hour, growing a strange awareness of her surroundings and of the people talking to her - despite a few healers thinking it doesn't make a difference to the patient. Fana, however, and Novice Tary - who holds herself to the head healer here – continue to encourage the visitors to pay these "naysayers" no mind, as Fana words it. Thus, Orion once again sits by his mentor's side, leaning as close as he dares to her ear.

» We can't be sure, but I don't like it, « the young Shadow toys with the hem of his jacket. They are alone right now, still he doesn't dare to speak in detail of the reports from the division that continue to roll in. He is not in charge, so despite his efforts, he does not learn of it all. He does know that the Shadows listen closely around when they are not on duty. More strange sightings are reported, and Orion is growing suspicious. Something is underfoot, something shady. The raven-haired tried to speak to the Council, though they are adamant these "stirrings" are merely caused by the king's return and the court adjusting. Unknown to him, Luna huffs inwardly. They have grown comfortable, too trusting of the new order in Narnia.

» If only Glenstorm was still in command, « and so she learns of her old friend's injury which forced him to step down as General of the Narnian forces. She cannot imagine the army and the guards functioning properly without the centaur and herself. Then again, a lot could have changed this year – not that there haven't been any suitable leaders around before. It just...leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

» Could really use your advice and these lords- « Orion cuts off his whispers as the door is opened.

Elrik's grin grows weaker every time he steps into this chamber, seeing his friend still unmoving, condition unchanged – or worse, if he trusts the healers. Jon and Fana ordered that the novice from the Seven Isles do exercises with the warrior every few hours now. Careful to not strain the healing wound, but the muscles must be moved, or they will recede and leave Luna weaker than she already is. Elrik doesn't pretend he understands much of the art of healing, this, however, makes sense.

At the sight of the boy, the sailor smiles gently,

» You two ready for another story? « Of course, he only expects an answer from one person. He barely receives that – no more than a small nod from a dark-haired head.

*

Caspian has his hands behind his back, staring at the sand drizzling over his boots with every step. It has become a regular route for the king, to walk along the beach at the foothills of Cair Paravel's grand gardens. Here, the salty air tickles his nostrils, more prominent than in and around the palace itself. Though, he doesn't come here for pleasure – not these days. How could he, with his heart laying in that wretched chamber, fighting for her life? Caspian is aware that his presence is little more than a shell, walking not quite in the real world with his thoughts entirely occupied. Heavens, if he can find sleep, he dreams about Luna waking up. How disheartening the end of these mares is as his hopes are shattered all over again.

» My son must be your age now, sire, « Cas blinks, remembering he is in the company of Lord Revilian. If the older noticed the king's wandering thoughts he does not comment on it.

» I wrote letters to anyone who might know his whereabouts, « Revilian fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, chuckling in anticipation. Yet, in his lightly wrinkled eyes stands concern. Rightly so, Caspian has barely heard of Lord Revilian himself, never of his remaining family nor son. The revolution changed this country – the four returning lords must barely recognize anything. The war was short and yet claimed many, the quarrels with Calormen and later with the North even more.

» I'd like to meet him, my lord, « Caspian smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes,

» Please let me know what I can do to help. « Lord Revilian bows his head, gaze lingering on the king's face.

» You speak like your father, and yet... I see your mother as well. « Caspian halts, arms falling to his sides. His parents... questioning the four lords about them was pushed into the back of his mind.

» Did- Did you know them well? « The corners of the lord's lips turn upwards, eyes saddening. Cas ignores the pity. He gets enough of that. All of Narnia knows of the bond the king shares with his Crown Shield, the trust and loyalty between the two exemplary. Yet, now, most people who pity him don't really know what for. They don't know how deep said bond is running, unaware of the queen in the making.

With a sigh, Caspian pushes all that aside for a few moments to listen what the lord shares of his parents – mostly his father. Timea disturbs the conversation, already awaiting the king to bring news of their friend. She has grown tired of the harbour and the gawking people, exploring the shore over the past days. Down here it is quieter, and she can hide in the deep or the grottos and alcoves while keeping an eye out. Today, Cas delivers the news of what the healers say, watching the mermaid strike the water with her shimmering tale in frustration before diving out of view. He closes his eyes, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. It surprises him that he still has tears left – he should not cry so much. A king should not but he doesn't truly fill that role properly anyway. Instead, he spends his time questioning himself. In the end, the same results awaits: Had he only gone after Pug, all could have been different. They wouldn't have been attacked and captured by the pirates, Luna would not- A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, a simple offer of comfort that cuts into his spiralling thoughts.

» If you'd allow me, « Lord Revilian speaks after a long silence,

» Questioning oneself over what could have been does not bear healthy fruit. « Caspian turns his head to the side, meeting his gaze,

» Then what would you suggest? « His words are sharper than intended, yet also defeated. The lord smiles gently, squeezing the king's shoulder,

» There is always a silver lining, Your Majesty. Your father believed that, and so did we seven setting sail. « As Caspian doesn't answer, the lord continues,

» Also, I hear that trust in this Aslan has never been misplaced. «

*

Caspian returns to the healing chambers, deep in thought. At Luna's bedside he finds Elrik asleep and Orion quietly whispering to her. Jon tinkers with a few vials and herbs at the table along the wall. The ship's doctor sends the king a wary look as he remains standing in the door. Both, Jon, and the novice from the Seven Isles, are keeping an eye on him – probably concerned about his health. Caspian has noticed, his grief does not blind him entirely. Though, with Luna in the state she is in, he cannot bring himself to really care about himself. His heart stings every time he looks at her sleeping form, barely moving. At least her breathing has evened.

He doesn't know how long he has stood there, simply watching the scene, as Fana and the novice enter. In mere heartbeats, the men are complemented out.

So, Cas is forced away and to rest. His steps lead him down the halls and upstairs. The door to the small library creaks lightly – despite the palace being only a few years old. Maybe doors to libraries tucked away at the top of a tower must creak. He breathes deeply, relishing in the smell of books and parchment, and candles with closed eyes. This room is his sanctuary, has been since he first came up here when the building wasn't even completed. A small smile flickers over his lips as he strolls around the shelves lining most walls of the round room. He barley remembers when he has read the last time. In passing, the tips of his fingers brush over the one or other back of a book. Here is one about plants, there one speaking of Narnia's history. He has been meaning to sort through his personal collection, separate them into topics properly. A sigh escapes his lips, and he turns away from the books, standing by the window for a while. His thoughts are clear for the first time since Luna's injury. Yet, he cannot help but question Aslan. Why have his own wounds pretty much healed, but the same does not seem granted to her? In a sleepy haze setting in, the clearest thought springs on him: He must get a hold of himself. He must take the reins. Of his life, of his country. He blinks at his reflection in the glass, something seems to shift beside him.

» You will face challenge, Son of Adam, you must face who you are, « a deep voice echoes through the library. Caspian whirls around to find no one. He is alone. And yet...

» Aslan? « His whisper fades. Was it an imagination? Tired eyes wander over every nook and cranny. Nothing out of place, not even a brush of air. But his heart warms, heavy thoughts feel lighter. Following his instinct, the king bows his head before settling on the chaise in front of the unlit fireplace. He doesn't fight against the coming sleep. Though he remembers well the nightmares haunting him, he rests peacefully, knowing the Great Lion is near. The nightmares will return, they are a warrior's constant companion after seeing war and battle. Yet, in the past weeks, fears have hunted him more than memories. For now, however, he allows himself to drift off, trusting Aslan.

*

Swift steps carry him back to the healing ward, fingers working to straighten his hair and clothes. Caspian has only a vague idea of how long he slept – it doesn't matter, for once, he feels rested and more himself. In front of the door to Luna's chamber he finds Trumpkin pacing, hands clutched behind his back. As the dwarf notices the king, he halts. Concern is written on his bearded features. With few words they agree to walk together. The current regent of Narnia has already informed Caspian of the feast organized to welcome the king back properly and introduce him to the newest additions in court. This, however, entails a few young ladies who – so the Council hopes – will pique his interest and finally get him to marry. No one was prepared for the king's total refusal of participation, locking himself away in his quarters or the healing chambers – as if he didn't return at all. Trumpkin would have laughed, weren't the reason for said refusal so very dire. Now, however, the feast must wait. An urgent message has reached them.

» A few months ago? « Caspian's brow is furrowed. The dwarf nods, face grave. Indeed, it began a while back. With reports of sightings of a ragged group, maybe two dozen men and horses. They lurk for travellers on the roads, armed to the teeth. So far, they have evaded every troop of soldiers sent out to arrest them.

» And now they have raided a village. « Trumpkin watches the young king. His eyes are still duller than he knew them to be, yet something seems to have shifted. Hands buried in his frock; his jaw is set. Caspian knows the people need a strong leader now, a king who sets out to protect them. Conflicting emotions battle in his heart. With a sigh, he lowers his head, nodding. Trumpkin raises a brow as his king speaks,

» Prepare a troop of forty men. We set out at dawn. «

A few minutes later, Caspian enters Luna's chamber. The novice sits by her side but rises, curtsies and leaves as the king nears. He nods at her before turning his attention on his beloved. What would he have given for her eyes to open! His heart is heavy to leave her in this state – but she will be taken good care of. Plus, she would certainly scold him for putting her over the people of Narnia. A quiet chuckle bubbles over his lips, accompanied by a sigh. Taking her hand, he presses a kiss to the back. Then he tells her everything this day has held.

» I hope to track the bandits quickly, but... « Eyes trailing her features for any sign of understanding, he places a hand on her cheek,

» Please wake up, please keep breathing. « He cannot fathom what he would do if she was to pass in his absence. Pushing these dark thoughts away, he lets his fingers dance over her cheek. A silent farewell before he leaves for the mission.