The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

Epilogue

"We could stop there first," he offered, "And then continue on to the port city."

Margaret watched the horizon for a long moment, then nodded.

"If the crew wouldn't mind... then I'd like that."

"They adore you, my love," Caspian said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "They would gladly do anything you asked."

She watched him with a fond smile as he moved to speak with Drinian.

After all these years... she was going home.

-

The port that once had adorned Cair Paravel had long since crumbled into disrepair, from the centuries of abandonment and weathering hardship, and so they took a longboat to the beach instead.

Just Caspian and Margaret, to give the Queen a private reunion with her old home. The crew stayed aboard.

The sky was clear and blue, just as she remembered it, on those warm summer days, taking long walks in the gardens after dreary council meetings, simply basking in the blissful afternoon of Narnia.

Looking up at it from the beach, it hardly even looked like the same place, save for the fact that she knew it so well.

She felt a hand take ahold of hers, and she looked to Caspian. Ever her rock, his presence was all the reassurance she needed.

Memory served her well, for even after all the years that had passed for her, and the millennium which had passed for the land, she remembered precisely where to find the winding little path which led to the castle itself. What remained of it, anyways.

"Lucy had an apple orchard here," she told Caspian as they walked. "Look, some of the trees still stand..."

There, amongst the ruins and the weeds, apple trees, long gone wild, stood proudly.

The two of them came upon the first remnant of a wall, the white stone faded to gray and black from the wear of time, and even green in some places where little beds of cool moss had made their home.

Margaret held a little tighter to Caspian's hand.

They passed by a little outcropping which had once been a balcony. They could see the Dawn Treader from there. Continuing on, they found a lone staircase with half an arch, lingering, covered in ivy.

At last, they found it. A wide area, with a raised platform. A dais... Five little outcroppings of stone, just a few inches tall, evenly spaced, hid among the grass which sprouted between the broken stones.

"This was the great hall," Margaret murmured. "The thrones stood here..."

As she spoke, she couldn't help but step up into the center space.

"Mine was here..."

Caspian looked around, somber, but curious.

"I'm certain it was beautiful," he said softly.

"It was," she replied, a small smile finding her face. "I wish you could have seen it, Caspian... White stone, stretching up to the sky... polished marble floors. Grand pillars, there, and there... and a roof made of colored glass that split the sun and shone upon the floor on a clear day. And another grand glass window here, behind the thrones..."

She pointed each memory out to him, as if by describing it, he might know the true beauty of Cair Paravel.

"I wonder..." she murmured. "Edmund said that the Treasure Room was untouched... He and Peter closed it back up when they all left, but I could probably find it again..."