seasons come and go.

           “Mm-hmm. Yes,” Caspian said, very intelligently. He looked at Drinian, who raised an eyebrow.

           “Your Majesty, I just said we’ll be docking at a new island soon, and asked you who we should send to explore it,” the man said. “You could at least pretend to pay attention.”

           “I was! I mean, I was pretending. I’m sorry, Drinian,” Caspian said with a sigh. His attention wandered back to Edmund, who ran a hand through his short dark hair. He really did look criminally good in the too-large shirt he was wearing, the dark crimson color in a sharp contrast to his pale skin. Wait a minute…is that my shirt?

           “Your Majesty,” Drinian said, waving a hand in front of Caspian’s face.

           “Oh. I’m sorry,” Caspian said.

           Drinian sighed, then looked behind him. He looked back at Caspian. “You could pretend to be a little less infatuated, Your Majesty,” he said.

           Caspian balked. “I’m not infatuated.”

           “Aren’t you? You haven’t been able to stop staring at King Edmund since he got on board the Dawn Treader.”

           “And?” Caspian crossed his arms, as if he could defend himself better that way.

           “And it’s been three weeks, Your Majesty. It’s become a bit annoying, really.”

           Caspian sighed again. “I really am sorry, Drinian. You said we’re approaching a new island?”

           Drinian nodded, stepping toward the edge of the deck. He pointed straight ahead, where a spot of crimson lay on the horizon. Caspian narrowed his eyes.

           “What is that?” he asked.

           “I don’t know, Your Majesty. No one has ever gone this far east before. This is an entirely new island.”

           Caspian raised his eyebrows. “Well, I suppose we’d better explore it then.”

           “Explore what?”

           Caspian jolted as Edmund and Lucy approached them. Edmund stepped up to Caspian and slung his arm around Caspian’s shoulders, which just made Caspian blush. Drinian looked like he was resisting rolling his eyes.

           “We were just discussing the new island,” Caspian said, as well as he could. He nodded towards the spot of crimson on the horizon that was growing larger by the second.

           “Huh,” Edmund said.

           “It certainly looks interesting,” Lucy said.

           “Sure. Let’s go,” Edmund said with a grin.

           “What do you mean, let’s?” Caspian said with a frown.

           Edmund laughed. “I mean, you and me. Who else better to explore a new island than Narnia’s kings?”

           “Oh, sure, leave me out,” Lucy said with a scowl.

           “Come on, Lu. You led the last expedition. It’s only fair that Caspian and I do this one.”

           To Caspian’s horror, Drinian nodded. “You two could lead the expedition, then the rest of us can follow if you say it’s safe. As long as there’s nothing dangerous, it should be fine. Besides, I’m sure you two could do some talking.” He said this with a knowing look at Caspian, who quickly looked down.

           “What’s he talking about?” Edmund said, removing his arm from around Caspian’s shoulders, as soon as Drinian walked away.

           “Dunno,” Caspian said, pointedly looking towards the island. Anywhere but at Edmund’s face. That seemed to cut off conversation, and Edmund and Lucy walked off. Caspian couldn’t help it, and turned around as they walked away. He swore the shirt Edmund was wearing was his own. He recognized the slightly frilled collar, the crimson color. Maybe he could ask Edmund? But how did one ask someone if they were wearing another’s shirt? Caspian blushed at the thought.

---

           Reaching the island took little time. Once they were there, Caspian’s jaw dropped. It was an island of autumn—trees with leaves in every shade of red, gold, and orange. A cold wind blew over the ship as they dropped the anchor, and the crew readied the rowboat to take Caspian and Edmund onto the island.

           “Beautiful,” Edmund said, standing beside Caspian.

           Caspian nodded. “It certainly is. Are you ready?” He turned to the other boy.

           Edmund nodded with a cavalier grin. “I’m game if you are.”

           “You know I am.”

           “Then come on.” Edmund hopped into the small boat, and Caspian followed suit. They were lowered down, and soon they were rowing toward the island. Edmund waved to Lucy, and Caspian waved to Drinian and the crew, as they started rowing.

           “What do you think we’ll find?” Edmund asked as he rowed.

           Caspian mused over the question for a moment, caught up in the motion of moving the oars back and forth. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Could be a monster. Could be nothing.”

           Edmund laughed. “I’d prefer a monster.”

           Caspian raised an eyebrow. “Really, Your Majesty? You’d dive headlong into danger?”

           “How many times have I told you to call me Edmund? And yes, I do love a good adventure. Makes things so much more fun, don’t you think?”

           Caspian raised his eyebrows. “And you’re dragging me into this?”

           “Hey, you’re the captain. I’m just following you.” Edmund grinned.

           “I don’t think you could follow anyone’s orders if you wanted to.” Caspian realized the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He blushed, and said, “No, I mean, that is—”

           Edmund just laughed, long and loud. “No, you’re right. I couldn’t. Peter would certainly agree with you. Besides, I don’t want us to have that kind of relationship.”

           Caspian straightened. “And what kind of relationship would you prefer us to have, Edmund?” Again, he’d spoken without meaning to. But the words were out, and he kind of wanted to hear the answer.

           But Edmund didn’t answer. He avoided Caspian’s gaze, and said, “Oh, we’re here.” Their boat skidded onto the shore, and soon they were pulling it aboard and into the trees, which came practically up to the waves. Caspian couldn’t stop looking at everything around him. As they walked, leaving the small boat behind, it felt as if they weren’t on an island at all, but a new land unto itself. The forest was thick and clearly ancient, if the enormous, towering trees were any indication. Some trees were so tall Caspian couldn’t see the top, with trunks so large ten men couldn’t reach around them. Caspian’s gaze caught on a flash of movement, and he saw a doe scamper into the trees. He didn’t know if it talked, but he called to it all the same.

           “What? What did you see?” Edmund asked, stepping up close to Caspian. Caspian tried to ignore the heat of Edmund’s body against his, but it was so difficult what with him standing right there. Caspian swallowed and said,

           “A doe. But I don’t think she heard me. Either that, or she doesn’t speak.”

           Edmund shrugged. “That’s true. We don’t know if there are talking animals here. But let’s keep going, shall we?”

           Caspian nodded, and they continued walking. As they did, he kept sneaking glances at Edmund. He was definitely wearing Caspian’s shirt. But how to approach the subject?

           Edmund looked so comfortable in it. The sleeves were too long on him, but he just kept pushing them up so that the cuffs didn’t hang over his fingers. Though admittedly, it was adorable to see Edmund with his hands swallowed by the too-large fabric. Caspian wondered what it would be like to see Edmund wearing his clothes in a different context…

           Caspian blinked hard and shook his head. Now was not the time to be thinking like that. Besides, Edmund was right there. It felt somehow indecent to be having such thoughts around someone who was ignorant of them.

           Besides, it was unlikely that Edmund was as in love as Caspian was.

           As they walked through a perfect autumn forest, Caspian accepted that he was in love with Edmund Pevensie. Maybe he’d known for weeks, since Edmund had first arrived on board the Dawn Treader. He didn’t know quite what to do with this realization. Should he say something? Should he keep it to himself? Should he—

           “Woah,” Edmund shouted, putting a hand in front of Caspian. Caspian blinked, and found he was standing on the edge of a large ravine, and that he’d very nearly fallen in.

           “By Aslan’s mane,” he muttered, stepping backwards. “Thanks,” he said, turning to Edmund.

           “It’s no trouble. You know, just saving your life.”

           Caspian rubbed the back of his neck and gave a wry smile. “Sorry. I really should pay attention to where I’m going, shouldn’t I?”

           Edmund raised his eyebrows. “Yes, you should. You’re the king of Narnia, you know.”

           “So are you,” Caspian retorted.

           “Sort of.” Edmund kicked at a stone on the ground. He shrugged. “What were you thinking about? Must have been interesting.”

           Caspian flushed. He couldn’t very well tell Edmund he’d been thinking about how he was in love with him. What was he supposed to say?

           “Spoons,” he said, very intelligently.

           “Spoons,” Edmund echoed, dubious.

           “Yes.” Caspian was digging his heels in. He’d said it, and he wasn’t going to back down. “You know, since we’ve been on the Dawn Treader, we haven’t had the silver spoons of Cair Paravel. I miss those spoons.”

           Edmund was beginning to chuckle. “Okay. I miss them too, I guess.”

           Caspian grinned. “No, really. I do. I miss the spoons.”

           Edmund was full-on laughing by now. “Of course, you do,” he said, bending over.

           “I could write a song about them,” Caspian insisted, putting a hand to his chest. He took a deep breath in, as if he was about to sing at the top of his lungs.

           “No!” Edmund cried, still laughing. He gripped Caspian’s hand. “If you do, I’m afraid I shall die of laughter.”

           “As you wish then, Your Majesty,” Caspian said, giving an exaggerated bow. “I will stop talking about spoons.”

           Edmund chuckled, his breath calming. “You are ridiculous, you know that?” He kept a tight hold on Caspian’s hand.

           “It’s one of my more endearing qualities,” Caspian said with a nod. He was still riding the high of Edmund’s joy, so he barely noticed when the other boy stepped closer. But he did notice when Edmund leaned his forehead against Caspian’s and said softly,  

           “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

            The air seemed to still. Suddenly, the autumn trees around them faded into the background of Caspian’s consciousness, as all he could think about was Edmund Edmund Edmund. He was standing so close.

           “Edmund,” Caspian said, almost under his breath. “May I—”

           “If you don’t, I’m afraid I really will die this time,” Edmund said, matching Caspian’s tone.

           So, Caspian kissed him.

           It was meant to be a soft, chaste kiss. But when Caspian’s lips touched Edmund’s, all caution went out the window. Edmund stepped backwards, and Caspian followed his lead until Edmund’s back was against a tree. Caspian wasn’t sure what he was doing; Edmund had just invited him to kiss him. Did this mean his feelings were reciprocated? What was going on?

           Caspian lost track of his thoughts, lost track of all time, as he kissed Edmund. At one point, Caspian bit down softly on Edmund’s bottom lip, causing the other to gasp in pleasant surprise. Caspian could do this forever.

           But finally, as all good things must, it ended. They came up for air, looking at each other even as the wind blew around them. Caspian noticed that Edmund’s pupils were wide, taking up almost all of his irises.

           At some point, Edmund had wrapped his arms around Caspian’s neck, and was gripping onto Caspian’s shirt. Caspian didn’t want to move; he didn’t dare. Instead, he said,

           “Um, Edmund, I have a question.”

           “Yeah?” Edmund said, barely above a whisper.

           “Are you wearing my shirt?”

           Edmund looked surprised for a moment, then he laughed. “Yes, of course, it is. It took you this long to figure it out?”

           “No,” Caspian said. “I just never asked you until now.”

           “So, it took us kissing to get you to ask.”

           “Maybe,” Caspian muttered, looking down.

           “Hey.” Edmund placed a finger under Caspian’s chin and tilted his head up. “Do you regret it?”

           Caspian instantly knew what Edmund meant. “No,” he said in a rush. “To be honest, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks, and—”

           “So have I,” Edmund said, a warm smile on his face.

           The world rushed back in. Caspian was suddenly hyper-aware of the wind on his face, of the leaves crunching beneath his feet. “What?” he asked.

           “Did you not notice?” Edmund said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve hardly been able to stop staring at you since Lucy and I arrived.”

           If it was possible for Caspian to blush more than he already was, he would have. “What? Really? How did I not…”

           Edmund grinned. “Whatever the case may be, I’m happy we got it sorted.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose I’d better ask it, then.”

           “Ask what?”

           “If I can court you,” Edmund said, biting his bottom lip.

           Caspian smiled wide. “If you don’t, I shall be eternally miserable.”

           “Oh, we wouldn’t want that.”

           “No, we wouldn’t.” Caspian shook his head.

           “What shall we do to remedy the situation?” Edmund said, leaning back in.

           “I suppose I could allow you to court me, then,” Caspian said. As Edmund was a hairsbreadth away from kissing him again, Caspian held up a hand. Edmund frowned. “We’re going to have to get back to the ship again eventually, you know,” he said.

           “I know,” Edmund said, pouting. “But let me have one more kiss?”

           “Fine,” Caspian said, and indulged him.

---

           They finished exploring the island, and eventually returned to the Dawn Treader, holding hands all the while. If Drinian noticed, he didn’t say anything. Lucy certainly did, though. She wouldn’t stop gushing over how adorable Caspian and Edmund apparently looked. She then revealed that not only had she known about Edmund’s theft of Caspian’s clothes, but she’d helped him do it.

           “Am I to expect more clothing theft in the future?” Caspian said to Edmund as they leaned against the rail.

           “Oh, absolutely,” Edmund said with a nod. “I mean, I am king.”

           “So am I,” Caspian said.

           “I suppose that gives you leave to my clothes then. If you can fit.”

           Caspian gave a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

           Edmund leaned his head on Caspian’s shoulder. “You know something Caspian?” he said.

           “Hm?”

He always admired the Valiant Queen’s tenacity. In every story he was told, she threw all of herself into what she did. She cared little what happened to herself, as long as those she cared about were taken care of. The tales he heard of her in and out of battle always left him breathless. How he had admired the courage that went into protecting those one loves, even when they themselves seem against you.

Meeting her… he had never expected her to be younger than him. She seemed ageless in the stories. Just like her siblings, she had been through so much. But her laughter still rung true. The smallest of gestures to those who came across her…The pure selflessness she radiated warmed his heart. After everything, she still smiled. She had welcomed him as one of their own, holding his hand in her own, holding him in a tight embrace as if he were one of her brothers. When he would comment on it, she would just laugh and tell him, well of course, you are a brother to me. Just as the dryads and dwarves are my siblings, they are yours too.

The Just King had always held his rapt attention, maybe even more so than his younger sister had. His story had taken his heart and tore it. He saw the young boy who had just wanted to be seen, to be taken seriously. He had felt the hurt and betrayal. Not for one moment did he doubt that he wouldn’t redeem himself, but he still breathed in relief when he was told of how he worked so hard to protect their kingdom.

It didn’t take him even a second thought to know who the dark haired king was when they met. Although he had never seen him before, there was something about his eyes that seemed to pierce right through him; mind, body and soul. He could almost feel how he was sizing him up, his soul being weighed by the man who was known for being just above all else. None of it prepared him for how a smile slipped onto his face so easily as they spared. The young king's laugh had bellowed into the night air, catching him off guard. He fell to the ground from a blow, and instead of being berated he found a hand being offered to him instead. C’mon don’t be so serious, he had said with a smile on his lips. Let’s go again, you’re doing good.

As a young prince, diplomacy and the intricacies of monarch relations had always been at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in. As he grew older, as he began to see the cracks and flaws in his own family’s government, he gained a newfound respect for the Gentle Queen. She handled everything with poise and grace, never stuttering or stumbling. Even in her mistakes, she rectified them and made up for it tenfold. She was everything a monarch could hope to be in the realm of royal company.

The tales in which he grew up on, had spoken much about her beauty, but nothing had compared to seeing her in front of him. It made sense why in seemingly every story, she had suitors falling at her feet, begging for her hand in marriage. In the same vein, it made sense why she had rejected each and every one of them. She had no greater love than the love for her family and country. How could she focus on suitors, when she already had everything she wanted? He felt shallow, for a while, thinking about how he had dismissed her beforehand for taking on the traditionally more feminine role in government and even now for focusing on her beauty. He had always admired her younger sister for her ferocity in battle, in protecting their family. But seeing her now, he knew she was just the same. Her deadly accuracy coupled with her wit… it was enough to make anyone wary to anger her. In fact he went out of his way to make sure he never got on her bad side. Others may have thought he would ask her to train him in archery, instead he opted for reading quietly in the same room as her. The atmosphere was comforting, it had always felt like a welcoming space. You know you don’t have to be afraid of me, she spoke quietly once. Even if you are, I’ll still hold you dearly all the same.

The High King…. He always held respect for him. Maybe it was more intimidation, maybe it was jealousy. The tales of the Magnificent King always left him with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was a good man, a man who cared for his country just as he cared for his siblings. Was this who he was supposed to model himself after as a king? Would he ever live up to this standard? The way he led his country, the way he leaned on his siblings for support while protecting them and their kingdom, was this who people expected him to be? The same weird feeling came back the moment he realized the boy who held a sword to him was the same as the man from the stories. This… arrogant, angry boy was the magnificent king of Narnia? They had argued, they had fought. Anger bubbling beneath the surface of both of them. But time changes things. He began to understand the man that he had been, the standards and expectations he had for himself. Somehow he would find the two of them staying up into the wee hours of the morning talking about nothing and everything. Of politics of this time, to stories they both had been told as children, to their own insecurities as leaders of their people. Don’t sell yourself short, the king had told him softly one evening, You are already a better man than I.

They were not born of this land, he had been told.

His uncle and those in his company would sneer and jeer at even the slightest mention of them. They were not from here, why would we still hold them in high regard? This was not their land, after all. It always confused him. How could they say the kings and queens of old had no right to this land? This land that they loved and cared for with every fibre of their being? He had seen it with his own eyes. In the younger queen’s smile, in the older’s patience. He had seen it within how the younger king held himself, and how the older let his flaws be seen. They belonged to this world, just as much as any of them did. This world had changed them, and they had changed this world. In every action, every word, every glance, this world was part of them, just as they were part of the world.

It made sense, hearing how the people had loved them. They had loved the people just as much as they loved each other. Just as much as he loved them.

Just as much as they loved him.

He knew that they would leave Narnia at the end of all of this. He knew from the moment he met them. Every moment was bittersweet. From laughing with the youngest, to arguing with the oldest. From sitting in companionable silence with the younger brother, to training with the older sister. There was an ache in his chest almost every moment But one day they would also return. This was their home, just as it was his, just as it will be his children’s, and their children’s.

Eustace just hummed in agreement.

“Do you think we’ll reach the end of the world soon?”

Eustace’s eyes were glued to the horizon, his mind far away, and he didn’t move to answer.

Edmund closed his eyes once more, content in Eustace’s unspoken desire to be silent.

“Ho, boys!” Lucy’s voice came from the other side of the ship, a cheerful whistle in the calm air. “Caspian wants us to gather below, in his cabin. He has made us dinner.”

Edmund sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he did. The muscles in his arms and back were tight from hard work, but they loosened as he walked behind his cousin, down into the bottom of the ship, and into Caspian’s cabin.

Caspian’s eyes quickly found his as he shut the door, and Edmund smiled slightly at him. Caspian merely nodded, the hint of a smile playing on his mouth, before turning towards the others. “Hello, friends,” he said, jovial. “I believe we will reach the end of the world tomorrow, so I have prepared us a special feast for tonight.”

“Oh, stars above,” Eustace said, a quick, fervent phrase he had picked up during his travels on the Dawn Treador. He peered at the food before looking up again, his eyes wide. “What is this?”

Edmund almost grimaced when Eustace pointed directly at a familiar sweet that had once cost him so dearly, so long ago.

“Turkish Delight,” he heard Caspian say as he felt himself begin to shut down, or perhaps fall into a nervous fit of some kind—he wasn’t sure. He took two deep breaths.

Lucy turned and gave Edmund a worried look.

Edmund merely shook his head, not wanting her to worry.

They all sat together around the small table in the cabin, the sweet seemingly forgotten by everyone else, and began to eat, recounting their adventures with joy and, for Eustace particularly, with a great deal of embarrassment and shame.

“Come, friend,” Caspian said, laughing over Eustace’s protests, “we were all young and foolish once. You do not have to be ashamed of who you once were.” His eyes cut across the table and into Edmund’s for a moment.

His heart jumped into his throat and he hastily put more stew into his mouth, swallowing it as a metaphorical act of pushing his heart back where it belonged.

“Do you think…” Lucy hesitated.

“Yes?” Caspian asked.

“Do you think we are truly absolved of whatever we have done?”

“Yes,” he said, staunchly, a smile growing on his face. “Yes, I believe that there is hope for any who did anything that was not kind, or respectful, or honoring to someone else.”

“Even major lies?” Eustace asked. “Or betrayals of some kind?”

“Or murder?” Lucy suggested, a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she took a sip of her stew.

“Murder?!” Eustace sputtered, turning towards her. The two immediately began bickering with warmth in their voices and food splattering slightly as Eustace gesticulated.

Edmund smiled as Caspian’s eyes met his.

He didn’t know what they were moving towards, but it was something significant, and that knowledge.... For today, it was enough.

His fingers ached to stretch towards Caspian’s, just for a moment, but he restrained himself. He could wait.

***

Edmund lay flat on his back in his hammock, rocking gently back and forth, straining his eyes to see the wooden ceiling in the dark room he shared with Eustace. “Hey,” he whispered.

There was no response from the other hammock.

Edmund sighed and stood up, adjusting his twisted bedclothes, before walking out of the silent room. He made his way down the short passageway, past Lucy’s cabin, and found himself heading up to the deck of the ship. He walked towards the dragon’s head, stopping short when he saw a figure already perched there.

Caspian turned at Edmund’s quiet footsteps, a guilty look quickly replaced by his wide, infectious smile. “I hoped it was you,” was all he said before turning and facing the sea again.

Edmund carefully picked his way onto the top of the dragon’s head, settling himself close to Caspian so he didn’t fall into the dark, murky waters. “What are you doing up?” he asked.

“I just keep thinking about the end of the world. We’re coming up on it—we’ll probably be there tomorrow.” Caspian’s gaze was wistful as he looked out across the ocean, the moonlight dancing on his high cheekbones.

“And then what will you do?”

He shrugged, knocking his shoulder into Edmund’s briefly. “I suppose I’ll go back to Narnia and really rule. I’ll know what happened to the lords, and I’ll have seen the end of the world, and… it’ll be time for me to really make some significant changes and make sure everyone is okay.”

“I’m sure they will be,” Edmund said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. “And if they aren’t, you’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

Edmund nodded, knowing Caspian could feel it, even if he couldn’t see, with how closely they were pressed together. “You’re Caspian the tenth,” he said, fumbling for words as he spoke. “And you are kind and good and intelligent. You’re…” He took a deep breath.

Caspian turned and looked at him, his eyes wide, his face vulnerable and open. “Yes?”

“You’re… you’re a good king, and a better man. And…” Edmund huffed out a laugh, turning from Caspian—their faces were too close together for comfort—and staring out at the sea. “And you terrify me, if I’m honest.”

“Why is that?”

Caspian was still turned towards him, and Edmund was afraid that his neck and face might be turning a pinkish hue. He said a quick prayer that the moonlight would obscure his blush. “You’re so… You’re a natural at everything you do, and you still try, and you’re beautiful, and overwhelmingly good, and…” He stopped, realizing what he said and biting his lip, hard.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Caspian’s tone was clearly teasing as Edmund fervently avoided his face.

“And terrifying,” he muttered.

“And beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

They were silent for a moment.

Edmund couldn’t stop a small smile from his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Caspian asked. His voice was low, fond.

“Just thinking about how terrifying you are,” Edmund said, hoping he came off as flippant.

Caspian threw an arm across his shoulders and pulled him tight for a moment before releasing him. “I hope you aren’t actually terrified of me,” he said quietly.

Edmund turned and looked him full in the face. “Oh, I am,” he said, just as quiet, hoping Caspian could hear how genuine he was being. “I am terrified of you. You are… magnificent.”

“I thought that was Peter.”

Edmund wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t bring up my brother when we’re talking like this.”

Caspian laughed.

“But. I’m glad I know you.”

“I’m glad you care.”

Edmund felt the urge to tear his eyes away, but something about the way Caspian was looking at him… He blinked once, twice, slowly, before looking away, down, towards their legs stretched out on the dragon’s head.

“Do you think you’re going to leave tomorrow?”

“It seems likely. The quest is over.” Edmund sighed.

Caspian nodded slowly before swinging his legs around and standing on the deck of the ship. “I’ll be right back,” he said, before disappearing down the stairs into the bowels of the ship.

Edmund sat, quiet, watching the waves, trying to keep his mind clear. Caspian and he were… whatever they were, and they both knew it, and no matter what happened at the end of the world, there wasn’t—

“Ah, you’re thinking very hard, I can see.” Caspian dropped down beside him again.

Edmund smiled.

“I brought ale.” He lifted a cup and handed it over.

“Oh.” Edmund took it gingerly. “Whatever for?”

“A toast.” Caspian smiled. “To friends, to family, to loved ones. To moments of joy. I hope we seize them whenever we can.”

Edmund lifted his cup, tapping it against Caspian’s gently. “To moments of joy.”

They both took a drink, eyes meeting as they did.

Edmund smiled.

***

“Well. I suppose we’re leaving.”

Caspian looked at Edmund, a smile on his face but sorrow in his dark eyes, and nodded. “I suppose you are.”

Edmund took in a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Caspian’s eyes quickly went to the others, who were a good twenty yards away, before coming back to Edmund’s. “For what?”

“For the moments of joy.” Edmund nodded. “I found a lot of them with you.”

“Edmund.” Caspian smiled sadly. “You’ll be back at some point.”

“No, I won’t. You heard Aslan.”

“But I believe…” Caspian lifted his hand and gingerly placed it on Edmund’s chest, right above where his heart would be. “I believe that I will see you again. Maybe not in this lifetime, but in the next.”

Edmund put his hand over Caspian’s quickly, for one heartbeat, for two, and then let go. “I have loved spending time with you.”

“And I, you.”

Edmund looked over his shoulder at his sister and cousin. “Well. It is time to go.”

“Thank you as well,” Caspian said as Edmund began to walk away.

“For what?”

“The moments of joy!” he called out.

Lucy turned and beamed. “Thank you, Caspian!” She waved eagerly.

Edmund smiled as Caspian ran over to give Lucy and Eustace both hugs. “Farewell, my friends,” he said, his smile wide.

Lucy squeezed him back and Eustace’s arms came up to encircle both of them after a moment of hesitation.

“Ed, join us!” Lucy demanded.

Edmund laughed and, trotting over, wrapped his arms around all of them.

This was a moment of joy he could capture and hold onto forever.

She was a queen, now, but she was also still a kid. Peter and Susan handled most of the important things with the help of advisers, which left her a lot of time to frolic about Cair Paravel and the meadows surrounding it. Of all her royal activities, she found that speaking with the Narnians was her favorite. She was learning their lilting speech day by day, how it was English but not quite, how it had mixed with the strange tongue of the spirits of nature, how it felt wild and free and like wild vines encircling everything. She learned their customs and their stories and their folklore, all of it tangible, and she let her hair grow into strawberry blonde curls which flew in her face without abandon as she ran to greet the next talking creature or laugh with the naiads in the streams. There had to be something she could do for her siblings and the Narnians alike to make the onset of winter just a little cheerier.

She was running, running, running, feeling the breeze in her face and in her skirts, allowing the morning air to revitalize her, when suddenly her foot caught on something. She felt her legs go out from under her and soon she was sprawling in the dirt, wondering what on earth she’d tripped on. She sat up and looked behind her only to see that the offending object was a rather plump looking pumpkin. She let her fingers play across the looping ridges and thought about how she’d missed pumpkin pastries and trick-or-treating and… and there it was! Everyone needed a bit of autumn cheer back in their lives! It was time for Narnia to have its first Halloween celebration in 100 years.

The next few days were a bustle of book-reading and decorating and spreading the word. Lucy found that the Narnians had celebrated Halloween, although a little differently than they did in England. Their traditions felt older to her, more mysterious, as for them Halloween welcomed winter and honored the souls of the dead. The fauns would dance in the forest and the tree spirits would sing a solemn song as their leaves left them. Lucy thought it all seemed very nice, so she arranged for pumpkins to be picked and fires to be prepared. She was sure Susan thought her a bit mad to be putting so much effort in for a little holiday, but it was all for a good cause.

When the night came, there was something eerie about it. The tree spirits’ song sent a chill down her spine, or maybe that was the wind. Or maybe both, she couldn’t know. The fauns began their dance, but it wasn’t strictly cheerful, it spoke of change and death and rebirth again, and all the Talking Beasts bowed their heads in reverence as they prayed for their long lost loved ones. Lucy didn’t know if she could call it cheerful, but it was beautiful. This was the Narnians’ own. They were their own again, and that was all that mattered.

“How do you mean?”

“Peter promised at the last hearing of grievances that we’d spend the first day it snowed making sure everyone had whatever they needed for the winter, and that’s today. He and Edmund are already at breakfast.”

“Oh, of course,” Lucy says, sliding out of bed. “Does everyone seem to be doing alright so far?”

“As far as I can tell, yes, but it's hardly as though I’ve left Cair Paravel. Peter wants to set out right after breakfast.”

“Or...we could leave now,” Lucy says. “I promised Mr. Tumnus we’d have tea the first day it snowed, even before Peter made his promise to the people. I want to be able to keep both. We’ve been friends nearly a year now, you know, and we want to celebrate.”

“It’s been a good year,” Susan smiles warmly. “Come on, let’s go and have breakfast.”

Lucy blinks the rest of her sleep away as they enter the dining hall.

“About time you woke up,” Edmund greets her around a mouthful of bread. “The snow’s almost finished falling, and Peter’s been wanting to leave for half an hour.”

“Don’t you want to?” Lucy frowns at him.

“Of course I do, but we might as well wait for you, and until the snow’s done falling.” Edmund explains this as though it were obvious.

“It’ll be done in a moment and we ought to be ready to go when it is,” Peter says shortly. “We have to reassure everyone that spring will come, and make sure they all have whatever is needed for the winter.”

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lucy says quietly to the tension in Peter’s shoulders, his voice and hands.

“It isn’t,” Susan insists gently. “Of course, we’ll do whatever we can, but we’re part of how Aslan ended the winter. You can’t take responsibility for everything, Peter.”

“Even the raid on the--” Edmund begins, and Lucy gives him a look. “The girls are right,” he concludes. “Come on, Peter, we can get ready and leave as soon as you think we should.”

“Right,” Peter stands and nods to them. “Thank you all, and I’ll see you in the stables soon.” He leaves; Susan smiles and follows him, putting a hand on his arm as they head down the corridor. Lucy finishes breakfasting hastily and they head outside, taking the shortcut through the courtyard to the stable.

“They’re the oldest and we’re the youngest,” Edmund says, seemingly from nowhere.

“Yes,” Lucy says. “As it should be.” She pauses before going on. “Would you like to have tea with Mr. Tumnus and I later?”

“If you think I’d be welcome…” He trails off, and a shadow passes over his face.

“They sound like vows”, says Eustace, with soft hands and soft teeth and a spilling, trembling voice. Underneath his hands, Reepicheep shifts. His ear flicks.

“They might have been”, he says. He doesn’t reach for Eustace’ tears. He doesn’t grip his sword. “A long time ago, perhaps they were vows. We don’t know, now. I fear we’ve quite forgotten.” Eustace’s hands are wet and sticky with the juice of a peach, his trousers and his shirt stiff and rough with salt. Reephicheep looks at him, with big, black eyes. “I thought they might know, when Narnia first called them home. But it is older than them, too.”

Behind Reepicheep, the sea is still and clear as glass, blooming in the light of the eastern sun, and if Eustace leans forward enough, he can see the bottom of it lined with pearls. Next to him, Lucy is crying. Big, fat tears that leave angry red marks on her cheeks, her freckles already fading even under this sun, she buries her face in Edmund’s tunic and Edmund-

Edmund looks like he might be sick.

With trembling hands, he holds onto Lucy. With his pale skin and his back hunched and the world on a needle’s point, he looks at Eustace.

Eustace looks at Reepicheep. Beneath their little boat, something moves. Eustace’ skin aches. It’s soft and smooth and raw and-

 -

          where is your scream, Son of Adam?           where is your voice?           don’t tell me it’s still drowned in these waters           fashioned from paint           fashioned from want

          open your mouth           is it not your mother’s voice nestled within it?           is it not your father’s chill           all the way within your hollowed bones?

     we are both      half Beast, half hope.

where is your fight, Talking Mouse? can you still feel the rope on your teeth? there is a table beneath your feet - it’s cracking, see? does not the cavity within you still taste like hemp?

open your eyes is it not a human pup, with human terror and human aches holding you so gently as though you might break?

the sun catches in his hair, see. it’s in the tears on his cheeks.

 -

my sweet. my dear thing. the sea is so quiet now. so still as though it does not fall off the edges of this world in front of your disbelieving eyes. your friend’s fur is soft against your skin. his eyes are a starless night, as is the sky stretched above you. the stars have not yet reached this corner of me, you know. they are not yet enough to fill me whole. this mouse wasn’t born Speaking. you were not born with heat in your guts and tears in your eyes. if you tilt your head, can you see yourself in his eyes? do you think he can see himself in yours?

it isn’t enough to love him. it isn’t enough to hold him. you, undragoned and afraid, must be that which buries him. with human hands that have once known divinity you must send him East. do this, not for a lion or a cousin with a dripping tunic. not for a Star so hungry for the world she took herself out of it. do this, wailing, with the earth moving beneath you, because there has never been a Talking Mouse this far East.