Plot-locked to Caspian

[livingintrinity]

The pool opened into a bower of sun streamers and green in the shades of fading new spring and the whisper of promised emerald summer. There was a rock formation which jutted upward for twenty feet in the Northern area just beyond them, trees crowning onward from it, and just beyond westerly was a worn path with rivets from cart wheels which wound its way through the dappled grove.

"This," Marian said, with an awe and love that was never, and would never, be tarnished by time. "Is Sherwood forest."

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[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

He looks back over his shoulder towards the castle and the bustling workers, nodding as he dismounts to stand beside her. "Aye. The anticipation of a thing brings as much delight as the things itself." Or so his old tutor would tell him when the boy Caspian grew impatient for another trip to the top of the North Tower.

It's when he looks back at Marian that he can study the color in her cheeks, the brilliant joy in her eyes while she watches the arrangements. With her gaze turned away from him, he looks at her, and marvels that a chance walk in the woods had brought him to know such a girl as she. Sunlight gleams off the curls that spill down her back, glossy as the feathers of the ravens they had left behind.

"When will the fair begin in earnest?"

[livingintrinity]

"Two weeks," Marian said, grinning widely, as she started leading Lineave down the road toward the budding chaos which would magic become the first fair. "It'll be early into Maia's month of, right after the advent of my birthday, when it does begin."

She tied her horse up at one of the railings located off to the side of the main road. Making sure it was tied tight enough, she leaned in gently against her neck, whispering quietly of thanks and sugar cubes to her horse, before she looked back to find him staring again.

There was the small bit of blushing impulse which came, but this time there was the smallest shy smile in response. "Shall we go see what mischief we can find in there then?"

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

In two weeks, Caspian will be nearing the island of Terebinthia--mayhap. If the currents are good and the winds hold and they do not run into pirates.

For the first time, he's nearly disappointed that he'll not be simply at Cair Paravel, and able to see the festival that Marian so clearly takes delight it.

Not entirely, but nearly.

He hadn't truly realized how his eyes had been drawn to her face until she smiled at him, and he felt the color rising in his cheeks. "Aye, lady," he agrees, cheerfully tying Sorely up next to the mare, grateful for the excuse to drop his eyes from hers. "The day is fair and there are adventures to be had."

[livingintrinity]

There was some shifting in her head, trying to figure out whether that smile had been okay. Not with him, but with herself. But his voice stole her from that minor contemplation and she started walking with him into the frames.

She started pointing almost immediately. "The big corral over there will be for the horse lottery, races and sales. The booth over there makes the best of the best in weaponry. This one, with the purple banner, over here will be for the traveling dignitaries to purview the entire affair from the shade."

"And, and, and," she rounded a corner, "Over here would be the best tart seller in the world."

"She says that only to win free tart each year." A bear of a man called from behind a rather well set up tent in browns and greens. His eyes were a mismatched brown and green, but his smile was ready and true.

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

"Is it not true?" Caspian laughs, looking up at the man who towers above him, tall and slim though Caspian's own build is. There is something friendly and warm about, and perhaps it is the way his mismatched eyes look fondly on Marian.

She points things out quickly and Caspian tries to keep up, but her excitement is catching and he's beginning to feel the hum of busy life in this place. Food is cooking somehere beyond them; over his shoulder he can see men rolling kegs to another tent.

It looks to be quite a celebration.

[livingintrinity]

She gives them both a look of astonished mock hurt, sniffling very fakely while waving her hands to her face in a rather good affinity look of woman possibly wounded and about to faint. And at the head of it, suddenly looking over her hands with brilliant blue in her eyes, with a grin. "Does that mean there are tarts already?"

The man laughed, the sound like rolling claps of thunder, and waved them over. Marian looked up at Caspian and grinned crazily. "You are in for a true treat. You have no lived until you've tried Stanushes fruit tarts. Do you like any specific flavors best?"

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

He has to laugh at the shifting expressions on her face, even while he shakes his head. "Nay, lady, no particular favorites. With such high praise, I think I'd be pleased to try any one of them."

The man grins at them both, his teeth flashing white. Truth be told, the scent of fruit was very sweet and the walk and race had left Caspian a little hungry.

[livingintrinity]

Reaching the frame built and two-thirds covered spot, she relished a smile for the man who was still rummaging. There was a curtain which obscured the complete view into the interior room beyond the selling area, but what could be seen where large crates, barrels, and the beginning of a cot-like bed.

"For my best customer," he said coming back out.

"That's Stanush speak for you-should-buy-a-crate-of-these," Marian said, in a most unquiet, but quite affectionate, whisper to Caspian, as she looked over the tray of fruit tarts.

"This, Stanush, is--" she paused, because she had been about to say my good friend. "--Caspian. He has traveled a grand distance to visit our little beloved realm."

That was at least mostly the truth.

"Any compatriots of our lady's," the man said, wiping his forehead of beaded sweat and giving a rather generous nod. "Would you like your plain, sugared, or creamed?"

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

"Sugared, I thank thee."

Stanush nods and sugars the tart generously--apparently, any friend of Marian's is well-deserving of fine treatment, and offers it to Caspian with a grunt at his thanks. The mismatched eyes watch carefully, though, as he bites into the tart, he looks pleased at the unmitigated delight on the younger man's face.

For his part, Caspian was busying himself with the tart so as not to think more on Marian's pause--what would she tell people, if pressed?--and it proves more than equal to the challenge. It is a delicious tart.

[livingintrinity]

She grinned proudly, for her own world and for Caspian enjoyment equally, while watching him. She turned back to comment to find him already holding out one topped in cream.

"Thank you," she said with a laugh.

There was an expression of gratitude though she received the same grunted, followed up by a gentle and ironic grin, "I have to get back to unloading. Don't you two spread the rumor too wide the tart shop is own. Enjoy the pre-fair, Sir."

Looping her arm into Caspian's to draw him away, from the shop if not his new devotion to the wonderful tart, she lead him in a new direction.

Pointing to a pole which spired a good distance beyond them, she said, "Oh! That'll be the May Pole. The people dance in a rythymed patterned around it with ribbons to gather good blessing for the harvest throught the summer."

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

He has time for a single nod and grateful look to the tart-seller, who waves him off with a laugh as Marian pulls him onward, her hand tugging at his elbow. As she speaks, he looks up at the pole and the brightly colored ribbons which wait, tied around it.

It brings an image of dancing fauns, laughing to the lilt of pan-pipe and drum, of graceful dryads and Maenads. He has a visions of Marian dancing with flowers in her hair, and it makes him smile. "Will you dance there, lady, when the time comes?"

[livingintrinity]

Marian looked at the poll over the tent tops, nibbling at the edge of her tart as she did. "Tis a rarely a year I do not. At times, tis an an enjoyment of choice and other betimes it is a act of face which is needed for the people."

She wondered if that made sense, but she continued to feel oddly compelled to just tell him the truth.

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

She's said something like that before, and now seems as good a time as any to ask what he had been meaning to for some time now.

"What sort of face is it that the people need to see, lady Marian?"

He looks down at her, studying what he can see of her face. "It seems a shame to hide away such a one as yours, even for propriety's sake."

[livingintrinity]

There was a flicker of a smile, but it was somewhere far beneath a cloak which had settled on her at his question. "There is rarely hiding."

Liar!, her mind cried, even if for a different topic.

"The act of face is being there for them even when I'd rather not." She ate her tart, walking them in that direction. After a bite, there was a strange sigh, "They need very much. Sometimes it is a great need-"

(like food or money)

"-other times, like these are festivals, tis a simple. A beacon of laughter and light, being as one people. Something true, something spring, full of hope, noble, for them to hold in their hearts during the hard months."

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

There's something heart-wrenching in her voice--no one so young should ever have to sigh so wearily.

"That is the role given to leaders of Men," Caspian says while they walk, wiping his hands clean of the sugar that had stuck to his skin. "My old tutor and dear friend taught me that. He said that to be a good and fair leader, you must love your people and be willing to do whatever it is they need. But it isn't much of a sacrifice if you really love them, is it? Whether it is some great need, or if it is merely to be one voice laughing when no one else feels as though they can."

His eyes follow the folk walking back and forth--the women chatting over the food, the men working to set up the tents and stalls. "You love them very much, don't you?"

[livingintrinity]

Marian stood watching the people that he chose. She could have named each of their siblings, their children, their businesses, if not who they were to their communities beyond it.

There was no gentleness to the words when they came.

It might have been quiet, but that did not betray the ferociousness of the statement.

"They are my people; there is nothing I would give for them."

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

He looks down at her, at the force of her words, but her eyes are fixed on the people beyond, and he raises his head, focused on some patch of air.

There is no gleam of gold save sunlight, and no white flash but that of a cloud passing by, but all the same he sees, as clearly as though He were standing right there, Someone dearly loved.

"Good," is all he says, and it's quiet, but firm--and if Marian is listening, it is even fierce.

[livingintrinity]

Marian's eyes shifted to him, from watching the throng, wonderingly at his singular words which resounded as quite a many and caused a shiver down her spine.

A smile wound across her face, shaking her head. Her tone is amused, though the undercurrent of soft gratitude is beneath it. "Tis ironic that it would take a king to be one of the few people who did agree." There are not many here that would."

As simply. As easily. For a woman.

"Tis not much more set up, as of yet, it looks," Marian observed.

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

A smile toys at his mouth. "It ought to be a king, I'd think. How many others might have the need to understand?"

Apparently many of the nobles here disagree. It's a horrifying thought, and he sends a quick thanks to the sky, for the peace and happiness in Narnia and the good folk that he knows so well.

Her other comment catches at the smile and sets it flashing. "You said that it isn't for days yet, though? It must be quite a sight when the tents are all up and the flags are hoisted into the air."

[livingintrinity]

"Aye. Tis a river of rainbow colors which wander through one's whole day, like a parade of flowers and exotic newness, which then at night blazes with the fires winter could never touch."

Marian was looking upward at the sky, her smile softened, spreading the glow of thoughtfulness into her whole expression. With a graceful, but amused shrug, she turned, drawing off another piece of her tart as she walked back the way they came.

"Perhaps, in your absence, I could bring you something from it."

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

"I'd like that."

He keeps pace beside her, the tall graceful girl who rode so well and who felt so deeply for her people.

"Though I haven't any idea of how often I may soon come to the woods. We sail at dawn in one week, and it isn't likely we'll sight land for some time."

He's almost wistful, but the urge to be aboard the Treader, to weigh anchor and run with the tide runs through his blood like rich wine, bright and warm.

All the same, he isn't terribly worried. The wood is magic, after all--and magic has a way of bringing you back to it once you are part of a place.

[livingintrinity]

Did she almost wince at that thought of him being long gone?

No. Of course not. She did not press her lips together a little tighter. Or look off a little further into the distance. Poke, metaphorically, at that place in the center which gave the unapproved queer tiny ache.

But there, undeniable, was sound of longing and love in his voice was clear and true as he spoke of his places to go. It was an interesting vision to make in her mind. Caspian, of the gold and sunshine, whom she watched from the corner of her eye, upon an endless make of waves.

"To where and for what do you sail, exactly?"

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

Until the waves grow sweet and sky and water meet.

Aye, if the Dryad spoke true.

"We sail East, lady, as far as our ship will carry us and as long as the winds will blow us--or until we find the very edge of the world."

He half-turns to her as they walk along, and smiles at the question. "I made an oath, you see, to find seven friends of my father who my uncle had exiled, and they were sent out over the Eastern Sea. That is my first reason, and I thought if I were to find them all I might count my voyage complete--until my dear friend Reepicheep told me of the prophecy spoken over him by a Dryad, a wood-woman, while he was still in his cradle. It speaks of finding the Utter East itself, and he has sworn not to rest until he has reached it. We sail with him as far as we may."

[livingintrinity]

What did one buy a King, even a boy-King, who planned to sail to the end of his own world?

He talked of it in such a way that she could almost feel how long time that might be, in days and weeks. She had not seen it, but enough tales of their own sea going on and on until it's end.

"Has anyone gone over the edge and returned?" It a was a doubtful, but worthy question, after all. They believed there was an edge but no one had returned in their's.

[fortuneoftarva.livejournal.com]

"Nay."

He shakes his head. "None. There are few enough sailors among Narnians these days, and none of the seven lords ever returned to tell us if they reached so far. Some say that the ocean ends and drops off in a mighty fall; others say that the end is too far for Man to reach. There are those who say we might even find Aslan's Country there."

Though the words are calm and cheery, he feels the familiar flaring joy, thinking of the great Lion, and for a moment the sun seems brighter, the air clearer and the scent of grass and woodland sweeter.