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He’s barely three when he runs into his parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night for the first time, chubby cheeks tear-streaked and little body shaking from fear.
His mother hugs him when he gets into their bed, hides him in her arms and whispers reassuring words into his hair. His dad gets up to switch the light on and comes back with a glass of water, which his mom helps him drink. Caspian gulps the cold liquid as fast as he can, limbs tingling from anxiety, and tries to tell his parents about his dream. He wants to explain, but can’t find the right words – how could he? He’s three, a little boy barely knowing enough vocabulary to hold simple conversations, and the realization makes him burst into tears again.
He doesn’t sleep more that night.
He’s six when he asks a girl if she dreams of Narnia too. The name comes easily now after years of hearing it while he’s asleep, but the girl Caspian shares his toys with looks at him with a question in her eyes.
“What’s Narnia?” She asks and Caspian doesn’t know if he’s more surprised or amused. He grins, the gaps in his toothing showing.
“The land from my dreams. There are talking animals there and big trees that sing and a castle! And there is a sea with mermaids!”
The girl doesn’t show any signs of recognition, but she listens so carefully that Caspian can’t stop talking. They end up playing and pretending to be knights, jumping around the playground until one of the kindergarten teachers orders them to be careful.
Even then Caspian can’t shake off the impression that the stick he’s holding and swinging around like a sword feels rather familiar in his little hand.
He’s eight when he learns he has to stop telling other kids about his dreams.
It’s no different than usual when he explains to a classmate what Narnia is. The other boy seems rather interested and listens eagerly when Caspian describes what a Dryad is and how you hold a bow, and says his drawing of a unicorn looks pretty. What is different though is that as soon as his classes end, his mom doesn’t take him home. Instead she guides him through the school corridors until they walk into a room he’s never been in. The nice woman introduces herself as a school psychologist, asks him questions about Narnia, smiling so warmly the whole time that he doesn’t expect her to tell him it’s not real. She explains that dreams are something his brain creates, that the places and beings he’s so certain he knows don’t exist. He’s almost ready to argue with her, but then he looks at his mom and sees her wet eyes, and decides he doesn’t want to make her sad.
So he keeps nodding until the nice woman thanks him and gives him a lollipop, and then he stays quiet the whole time his mom drives him home.
He doesn’t speak of Narnia again.
He’s eleven when he remembers the names.
The siblings that are almost always present in his dreams have never introduced themselves. Although he’s memorized their faces long ago, he couldn’t recall what their names sounded like – until now. They come gradually as he shakes the sleepiness away, sitting up on his bed. It’s dark outside when he looks around, the clock showing half past five in the morning, but the only things he can focus on are the words flashing in his mind. He tears a page out of his school notebook and writes them down before sleep claims him back.
The paper is crumpled when his alarm blares at exactly seven o’clock. He slackens the grip he has on the sheet and stares at his crooked writing.
Peter
Susan
Edmund
Lucy
He can’t stop the smile spreading on his cheeks; his parents are positively surprised when he comes downstairs in such a good mood.
For some unknown reason, Caspian draws a circle around the second boy’s name when he goes back into his room to dress for school.
He’s twelve when he sees the ocean for the first time.
The cool salty breeze feels so familiar on his face. He leaves his parents when they say they need to find a good spot for their things, and runs straight into the water. It’s still rather cold at this time of the year – it’s still spring, after all. It doesn’t bother him too much. He breathes in and out through the nose, letting the scent fill him, letting the weak waves crash against his shins. He thinks about the Dawn Treader and the way it swayed gently, the murmuring of water like a lullaby, the noise of his crew a comforting sound when homesickness would haunt him. It’s a good thought – a good memory because he’s long ago accepted that his dreams are something more than just his mind playing tricks. That the school psychologist was wrong.
A crown of black hair flashes in his mind and his chest tightens with longing. The ocean sings a song his heart knows too well – he turns around and goes to find his parents.
He’s fifteen when the Lion visits him.
Caspian is standing on the beach, the ruins of Cair Paravel towering over him, and stares into the pink sunset. Wet sand clings to his bare feet and it feels so real he almost forgets he’s asleep. Waves crash against the shore, the sound so loud he doesn’t hear Aslan approaching. He turns to his left when the golden mane glistens in the dying sunlight.
“I feel so lonely,” he hears himself say out of blue. The Lion looks at him, his golden eyes wise and kind, and turns his gaze to the water as well.
“I know you do, my child, but it is not forever. You only need to wait.”
Caspian can’t tear his eyes away from him, feels himself nod. His lashes are heavy with wetness. Aslan looks back at him and his golden irises are a strange comfort for the boy’s sorrow.
“It is not long now.”
He wakes up with a wet pillow under his face and arms wrapped around himself. It’s odd, to feel happiness and grief at the same time.
He’s nineteen when he moves out of his family house and starts a new life at the campus.
His head is full of ideas and heart open when the new school year starts. At first, he chooses only Political Science, but something in him aches for Linguistics, so he applies as well. Taking two courses is more challenging than he thought, yet he manages somehow and he’s starting to feel more like himself for the first time since he can remember. His parents call every other day and he misses them, of course, but he likes the life he lives now. His experience from being a King of Narnia comes in handy during debates; hundreds of journeys to foreign countries make it easier to learn different accents.
When he looks in the mirror, he sees Caspian the Tenth, Caspian the Seafarer again.
He’s twenty when he comes to another free political debate held in a lecture hall and sees a familiar face in the crowd.
High King Peter is older than he was in Narnia, his face slimmer and blonde hair trimmed shorter. He’s wearing a comfortable jeans jacket that makes Caspian smile in amusement. He’s never imagined Peter wearing anything besides Narnian clothes, but it’s only logical to see him in an ordinary outfit now. He waits for the debate to end before approaching the blonde man and can’t help the grin from spreading when Peter jumps at the sight.
“I wish I had Rhindon with me. I promised to hand it back to you, didn’t I?”
Peter crushes him in a bear hug the second the words leave his mouth. He’s almost as strong as he was back then in Narnia, and it’s a comforting realization. He hugs him back equally as hard.
Later he learns that Peter is studying medicine just as he wanted before – just as he told him in Aslan’s How. It makes Caspian feel a painful sting in his chest, but it’s gone as soon as it happens and he doesn’t dwell on it. He listens eagerly when Peter tells him that they’re all here – all Pevensies, the four of them, and that they all remember. It feels like dreaming again, yet this time it’s real, just like Aslan told him. He’s not alone anymore, he realizes, and Peter smiles when Caspian hugs him again.
He’s not alone.
He learns Peter lives on the other side of the campus, in a medical dormitory that is a lot quieter than the one Caspian shares with other students. They stay up until late hours, talking about past and present, and Caspian feels as if nothing has changed between them – except it’s not Narnia anymore; except they don’t have any kingly responsibilities now. Peter tells him Susan is here too, at the same university they both attend, and watches Caspian’s reaction closely. The dark-haired man smiles widely at that and asks what she’s studying, which calms Peter down for some reason.
“History of Art. She always had her eyes for paintings and sculptures in Narnia, and it never faded.”
“I’m glad she found something she likes,” Caspian replies and cradles his tea closer to himself. He sees Peter lean back in his seat, looking out of the window at the starry sky.
“Lucy has told us about Ramandu’s daughter. Liliandil was her name?”
Caspian nods, a frown painting over his face. He has a faint idea where this is going, but something in his chest tightens at the thought and he squirms in his chair.
“Is she here too?”
Caspian shrugs, muses. He’s never seen her, yet the truth is he was never looking for her. His dreams of her were rare and with a slight surprise he realizes he doesn’t miss her. She’s not the one his heart longs for, but he doesn’t have the courage to say it out loud.
“I don’t think so,” he says instead, glances at Peter. The blonde is staring at him thoughtfully, but doesn’t respond.
Caspian can see High King in him when he looks closer. The way he holds his shoulders and back straight, head high, blue eyes steely and strong. The way his jaw clenches when he’s thinking, just as it did when they were discussing plans for the battle with Miraz’ army. He can see High King, but there’s also Peter in him, Peter Pevensie who is not only a King, but just a boy as well. Who loved and still loves his family more than anything else, who was ready to sacrifice himself for a land he wasn’t born in. This Peter is still the same Peter Caspian remembers, and he wonders if the rest of them are the same as well.
He thinks of Lucy’s cheerful laugh, Susan’s gentle smile and Edmund’s kind eyes, and hopes.
He’s still twenty when he meets Susan again.
It’s two days after the memorable debate when Peter catches him in the afternoon. Caspian’s sitting under his favourite tree in the campus’ park, a thick book in his lap and a paper cup with cheap coffee in his hand. He grins freely when he sees the blonde man, greets him with a one-armed hug. He doesn’t notice the girl standing behind him until Peter moves aside.
Susan wears her hair longer here than in Narnia, chocolate waves hanging loosely over her hips, and her eyes are framed with eyeliner. She has a flowery dress on that looks like Narnian meadows, making Caspian’s throat clench with a strange feeling of longing, but her arms wrapped around his middle soothe the pain.
“You’re taller,” she says when they move apart, and his shoulders shake with laughter for a second. Her smile is as tender as he remembers and he reciprocates it with ease.
“There has been some time since we last saw each other, after all,” he replies softly. Peter snorts with amusement at that and the moment is broken, but it feels fine in the end.
His dreams get more and more detailed with time.
He’s twenty one when he has a chance to meet the younger Pevensies.
Spring comes with plants blooming and days getting warmer. Peter and Susan say they’re going home for the two-week spring holiday everyone is getting, invite him over and Caspian feels something pulling him to them. He agrees and calls his parents to let them know about his plans. He tells them vaguely about Peter and Susan, says they’re his new friends, and promises he’ll be back for summer holiday when his mom comments on how long she hasn’t seen him. They seem content with that and he packs his things in a quarter.
Pevensies’ hometown is rather small and cozy, so different from the lively city Caspian grew up in. It’s surrounded by miles of forests, cut in half by a narrow, shallow river, and their family house is placed on the outskirts, close to the woods’ entrance. The air here is fresh and crispy when they get off the bus in the early morning and Caspian can’t help the crazy grin from growing when he sees a familiar figure.
Lucy is as radiant as in Narnia, but she’s slightly taller, more slender, her hair shorter and tied in a messy bun. She’s wearing a jeans jacket like Peter, sleeves rolled up and washed-up dungarees pants on, and Caspian can’t help but think she belongs with nature. She embraces him with so much force the air is pushed out of his lungs, but he doesn’t mind; he squeezes back almost just as hard.
He spends the entire way to their home listening with contentment to the siblings’ cheerful bickering, Aslan’s How flashing in his mind.
Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie are friendly and warm, both smiling when Caspian is being introduced by Peter. They don’t ask too many questions and seem comfortable with him around, which is a nice change from distrust present in people from bigger cities. He’s just being told by Susan that unfortunately they don’t have enough rooms to accommodate him and he’ll have to sleep on the couch – which he waves off, says it’s fine, says he doesn’t mind – when Peter laughs and greets someone behind Caspian’s back. He knows who it is even before turning around.
Edmund is much taller than he was on the Dawn Treader, but so is Caspian, so the height difference stays almost the same. His hair is dark as a night, honey brown eyes slightly squinted with a gentle smile, and he’s wearing the softest looking sweater Caspian has ever seen. The blue of it reminds him of the royal clothes the boy, the King would wear in Narnia.
He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t have to; Edmund pulls him into a hug without a word and Caspian’s arms wrap around the smaller boy instinctively.
And only then does he realize how much he missed him.
He catches Lucy’s smile when they step away from each other, sees Susan’s knowing look. Peter seems to be the only one who doesn’t notice anything, and it makes Caspian nervous for some reason. Edmund is still watching him when he glances back, watching him like he’s afraid Caspian might disappear the second he would take his eyes off him, and Caspian somewhat understands the fear.
At the end of the day, he ends up sandwiched between Edmund and Lucy on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate Susan insisted on making in his hands. Peter is lounging on a beige plush chair opposite from them, Susan in her own one beside him, and it’s much better than Narnia, Caspian thinks.
And then he feels Edmund’s hand creep into his own one laying in his lap, feels their fingers tangle. It’s so much better than Narnia.
He’s still twenty one when he learns Pevensies’ are not alone here.
The next morning he seems to be the first one to wake up. The house is still peacefully quiet when he slips out of the covers, the couch dipping with each his move, and he tugs his hoodie tighter to himself. It’s not cold per se, but mornings are still chilly. He walks around the living room for a bit, glancing at the books and the framed photographs hanging on the walls. There are a lot of them picturing little Pevensies and he can’t help but smile at all of them.
He missed them so badly.
A picture draws his attention, a watercolour painting hanging between a photograph of Susan at her graduation and one of Lucy with a horse. He’s almost convinced he’s imagining things when he gets closer because it can’t be real, there’s no logical reason for it to be–
It’s a sunset that one might call an ordinary one, but Caspian recognizes the gentle pink sky and wild ocean waves. The Dawn Treader is barely a finger long on the canvas, but it’s unmistakingly the same ship Caspian the Seafarer had commanded for such a long time. The same ship that Edmund and Lucy had seen once, in another lifetime.
“Eustace has taken to painting some time ago.”
Caspian spins around and comes face to face with Edmund. The raven haired boy is staring at him intently, clothed in an oversized long sleeved shirt and grey sweatpants, his arms around himself. He wears a soft smile on his face, one that seems reserved for Caspian and Caspian only. The freckles on his nose and cheeks are slightly less visible than they were on the Dawn Treader, in the full sunlight.
“He’s quite brilliant at it, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t know Eustace was here too,” Caspian admits and watches Edmund duck his head before he meets his gaze again.
“Susan wasn’t sure how you would take it so soon after seeing me and Lucy. I kind of hoped you’d see his painting before Lucy told you.”
Caspian nods at that, feels unruly strands of too long hair fall back on his face. He reaches out to brush them aside and hears a quiet chuckle.
“I kind of hoped you would have long hair here too,” Edmund says and comes closer until they’re maybe a foot apart. Caspian stares at him in surprise, stares into his brown eyes that are exactly the same as always, and smiles back.
“I had a feeling you liked them,” he replies and watches as Edmund’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, watches as he ducks his head again. He’s adorable, Caspian thinks, and reaches out to brush his fingers along Edmund’s jaw. The boy looks up at that.
“I just liked you in general. Your hair was a bonus.”
Caspian laughs at that, the sound rumbling in his chest like a storm in the sky. Edmund looks so happy to see him laugh, so content. There’s still the same drop of darkness in him as before, sadness and sorrow and shame weighing on his shoulders like huge stones, but here he’s more relaxed. There’s no stiffness in his joints, but a hesitancy in his moves. It’s plenty different to see him uncertain before he reaches out as well and settles his hand on Caspian’s bearded cheek.
“How did you know I liked your beard as well?” He asks in mock musing, mirth gleaming in his dark eyes like stars and Caspian immediately understands why he’d chosen Liliandil to fill the gaping hole in his chest. Who she had reminded him of.
“A feeling,” he murmurs back and leans into Edmund’s touch, watches the boy’s eyes water. He feels a painful pang tearing him apart and knows well Edmund feels it too.
It’s the second chance he didn’t think he would have.
He leans in when Edmund straightens his back, meets him halfway. It’s a new sensation because they have never done this in Narnia, no matter how much they both wanted to. He lets his arms wrap around the boy’s middle, feels Edmund’s hands on his face and the side of his neck – they fit perfectly, he realizes. Edmund’s lips are full and soft, and willing when Caspian presses slightly, and it takes him less than a second to sigh into the kiss. He feels a puff of air on his face, feels Edmund smile against his lips. The raven haired boy is still grinning when they part.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the Second Battle of Beruna,” he suddenly admits and Caspian’s eyes widen in shock. Edmund giggles – honest to Aslan giggles – and drags his forefinger along Caspian’s nose. It tickles slightly.
“I didn’t know,” he manages to say. Edmund’s thumb brushes against his cheek in a comforting manner.
“I know. There wasn’t much time and I knew Aslan was going to send us back soon,” he explains, watches his face for a moment as if looking for something. His smile softens when his gaze settles on a mole under Caspian’s right eye, where the man knows it’s placed. “I didn’t know if we’d see each other again. I wouldn’t be able to leave you after confessing, so I didn’t.”
Caspian thinks of the kiss Susan gave him in front of that tree and his stomach twists at the memory. He knows it must've hurt Edmund badly, to see it happen and be so close, and places a small peck on the boy’s forehead.
“But then you were back.”
“You knew it couldn’t happen. We both knew.”
Caspian did know and still does, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing it wasn’t like that. Who knows what could’ve happened if Aslan let Edmund stay after the third time? He doesn’t like what-ifs and has learned a long time ago that they’re no good, but this one never lets him rest.
“I can make you waffles if you’d like.”
He gazes down at Edmund, sees his shy smile. He looks so young and so alike the Edmund Caspian remembers from Narnia that he leans down and kisses him tenderly.
“Won’t your siblings want some too?”
“They will, but it’ll be worth it if you like them.”
Caspian grins at that and nods. “But only if you let me help.”
Their bickering is somewhat different now – still lighthearted, but they don’t carry the same weight they did in Narnia. They’re no kings now, only Edmund and Caspian, and the simplicity of their new lives makes it easier to crack jokes. Just as expected all of Edmund’s siblings demand waffles too when they see Caspian munching on one, and so the two of them end up cooking for them all.
Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie are clearly surprised to see all of their children get on so well with a man they barely know and Caspian can see that, but they put enough trust in them not to question it. He’s grateful and sends a silent thank-you to Aslan when no one is looking.
Or so he thought – Edmund squeezes his hand under the table and he squeezes back with a smile.
He’s still twenty one when he finds a roommate, but Edmund is nineteen.
They’re quite different when it comes to their methods or hours of studying, but they make it work surprisingly well in the end. They agree to eat at the same time and even adjust their sleeping schedules to each other, which allows them to cuddle a lot more. Edmund decided to get a degree in Psychology and Caspian has to admit it fits him really well. He seems to be in his element when Caspian sees him talking with his fellow students and it makes him so happy to see that. Makes him so thankful for being in a place where they both clearly belong.
Where all of them belong.
He knows it’s still two years before Lucy can join them here, but there’s no rush. She still calls twice, thrice a week, Susan and Peter still meet them every other day for lunch. Lucy comes for weekends sometimes, sleeps over at Caspian and Edmund’s place, tells them about Eustace and his searching for Jill. They’re all close, so much closer than Caspian has even been to them before, and one day he realizes he doesn’t miss Narnia that much anymore.
The dreams fade to a pleasant shade of what has once been, and Caspian lives on.