"I think it was because you sacrificed yourself to save them. The Kings and Queens, I mean. I think that was what made me like your story so much." Phoebe looked down at her feet. To her, it didn't seem like such an amazing act. She'd known she was going to die - didn't that take all the selflessness out of it? "Can I ask you something?" Phoebe nodded, looking over to him expectantly. "How are you here? How are you alive?"
"Aslan. That's the short answer." She didn't know why she felt so comfortable talking to him, but he was just as lost right now as she was. Something told her she could trust him, even if it wasn't in the same way as she could trust Peter. "He offered me a choice between staying in his country, or returning to England, my home." Even if she felt comfortable enough to tell him that much, she didn't want to tell him about her mother. That story was too personal. That was something for her to share with the Pevensies.
"You've met Aslan? What's he like?" Caspian's voice was quiet and curious, filled with awe. Phoebe didn't quite know how best to describe the lion. After all, she hadn't known him long, but what she'd seen of him had been strange. Aslan had seemed perpetually sad, a sort of deep-rooted sadness. He was old, and good, and he had a sort of aura which made you want to listen to him. Phoebe couldn't quite figure it out how best to articulate it.
"He's... he's fair. He's good. I don't really know how else to explain him. He's not a tame lion, after all." Phoebe genuinely had no clue how to describe the lion, and she felt like Caspian may have been let down by her efforts. Still, there was one question that had been playing on her mind for all the time they'd been walking. "Can I ask you something now?" He looked over at her, nodding slightly, almost imperceptibly. "What happened here?" Her voice was quiet, uncertain.
Phoebe had no idea what could've changed Narnia so drastically in the time she'd been gone, even if more time had passed here than in England. She didn't know what Telmarines were, or why the Narnians were hiding themselves, or even who Caspian really was. She didn't know any of it, and she felt helpless because of it.
"My people came from Telmar, centuries ago. I don't know the whole story, but I do know that we nearly drove the Narnians to extinction. My uncle, Miraz, is trying to take the throne. He hates Narnians, and hates the old stories. He hates me, too." Caspian sounded sad, as if telling the story pained him. "My parents died a long while ago. My father was a good king, from what I've heard. He wasn't like Miraz. He was like you." Phoebe raised her eyebrows at that, and Caspian's voice was becoming more choked up with every word. His father clearly wasn't his favourite topic of conversation, and Phoebe could sympathise. She'd never found it easy to talk about her mother. "I wish my people hadn't taken Narnia, you know. It wasn't right."
"For what it's worth, Caspian, I think you'd make a good king." He looked over to her then, a sort of hopefulness in his eyes, as if he'd needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing. He didn't remind her of Peter, not really, but something told her he would make just as good a king. "You can just call me Phoebe, by the way. I'm not exactly all that special."
"You say that a lot." Phoebe cocked her head to the side, and Caspian took in a breath to begin speaking. "That you're not special, I mean. But you are. You're a part of Narnia's history, Phoebe. That counts for something. The Narnians love you. They've passed the stories down, generation by generation. In their eyes, you're as special as it gets. I'd like to be like that someday. To be like you." Phoebe looked down at her feet, smiling a little. Perhaps everyone was in need of a little reassurance sometimes.
"You're already braver than I am, Caspian. You left your home behind for an army that might not even fight behind you. That takes something courageous at least." He laughed then, and Phoebe smiled a little more. "The Narnians will like you, don't worry. Me and the Pevensies were awful when we first arrived, and they loved us anyway." Caspian smiled down at the ground, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Phoebe knew Caspian would be a good king for Narnia, even if he couldn't replace Peter. Phoebe felt like she and Caspian could be good friends, at least. He could understand some parts of her better than Peter, but Phoebe one that if it was a choice, she would always choose Peter. Always. They'd been through too much together for her not to choose him.
A part of her would always be grateful to Caspian. It had been him who had called her back to Narnia, back to her home, even if it had changed in the time she'd been gone. It had been him who had started all this, and likely him who would end it. In the back of her mind, Phoebe wondered what the Deep Magic said about him. She and the Pevensies had all had their own destinies (arguably some better than others). What was Caspian's? The silence, broken only by their footsteps continued for a long while, allowing Phoebe a moment to fall back into her reverie. She heard Nikabrik and Trufflehunter start up a conversation up ahead, although she couldn't quite hear what was being said. She was curious, until Nikabrik turned around to wait for her and Caspian.
"Hey, little prince." Nikabrik's tone was still mocking as the dwarf crossed his arms over his chest. Trufflehunter stopped as well, watching the exchange with wary eyes. Clearly, the badger was aware of his friend's not-so-pleasant attitude. "How'd you know so much about us? Did your dad read you stories to help you sleep?" The dwarf's tone was still patronising, and Phoebe almost wanted to tell him to shut up. Still, it was Caspian's question to answer.
"My nurse and professor, actually. About Narnians, and Aslan, and the Kings and Queens of old." Phoebe could see his face light up with boyish wonder as he talked about the stories. She supposed it wasn't entirely different to when the Professor used to read her bedtime stories, all about mermaids and fairies and magical lands. She wouldn't ever have expected any of it to be real, but here she was. "Do they all exist? Minotaurs, and centaurs, and elves, and talking cats?"
"Minotaurs, yes. They're big and extremely grumpy." Trufflehunter chuckled at his own joke. "Centaurs, yes, though in small numbers. No one has heard from the elves in years, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were still out there somewhere. And cats? There might be one or two." The badger turned around, ready to continue walking. "You won't ever meet them if you keep moving at this place, though! It'll take us years to get to Aslan's How at this rate." With a sigh, Phoebe began to walk after the badger. Phoebe had forgotten just how boring it was to walk for a long time. At least the scenery was nice, and she wasn't trekking through endless plains of white snow anymore.
However, almost as quickly as he'd started walking, the badger stopped and turned his nose to the air, sniffing. "Human..." He muttered to himself, surveying the small clearing in which they stood. Phoebe stopped, a tense silence filling the air as the badger looked around. All of a sudden, a noise came from her right, and Phoebe whipped her head around to see soldiers emerging from the trees, swords drawn. Before she could properly process it, Caspian had grabbed her arm and was practically dragging her after him as they ran. She heard the all too familiar whistle of arrows releasing as they ran. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through her. The leaves of the forest passed by her in a blur, her breathing quick, and she didn't have enough mental capacity to even begin to fathom how she hadn't tripped over a tree root yet.
Caspian released her arm and she pushed her legs faster. Surely they would've lost them by now. She shot a glance over her shoulder, and stopped dead in her tracks, nearly falling over from the shift in movement. Trufflehunter had been hit. Sparing a look for Caspian and Nikabrik, Phoebe ran back to the badger, dodging arrows left and right. She had no idea how she was still alive. By the time she reached the badger, the soldiers had emerged from the trees and they were taking aim. Trufflehunter held Susan's horn up to her, a silent instruction, but Phoebe shook her head. They were going to make it out of this.
A sudden rustling in the ferns at Phoebe's feet began to echo all over the clearing, and then Phoebe heard a startled cry, looking up with wide eyes to see the Telmarine soldiers falling, one by one. Caspian reached her then, crouching down and picking up Trufflehunter while Phoebe took the horn. Taking the chance they'd been given, she and Caspian began to run back towards Nikabrik, who seemed just as confused as they were by the turn of events.
Almost too quickly for her to notice it, something came flying out of the ferns, and Phoebe felt a sudden pressure on her chest. Then, she was on her back, all the wind knocked out of her, facing down the end of a - remarkably short - sword. Phoebe squinted, trying in vain to regain her breath. She had no idea what was going on, but she doubted it would end up going well for her and the others.
✳︎✳︎✳︎
yay narnia fun times wild we love this
until next time (wednesday)
all the love, k xo
YOU ARE READING
unforgettable. || peter pevensie || complete
Fanfiction❝she'd gone from being irrelevant to being unavoidable, and what wouldn't peter give just to see her one more time❞ [book 2] ✳︎✳︎✳︎ good people always get second chances. at least, that was what aslan had told phoebe the last time she'd seen him. no...
