(no subject)

[called_lioness]

She doesn't, actually, want to tell him this.

But she is, because--well.

Wives do things like that, she's certain, tell their husbands about magic compasses.

...Maybe. There isn't a book. She rather wishes there were.

But there isn't, and it's been a week, and it's harder to make herself dream apart from the woman she knows is waiting for her, and so she pulls the silver object out of its drawer and sighs as she goes to find her husband.

Lucy supposes the honeymoon had to end sooner or later.

Comments

[the_seafarer]

Today, Caspian had gone out to check on the stables. He'd follow'd the advice of friends and left the horses' care to his employees--but he'd been fidgeting increasingly and finally excused himself.

He looks, therefore, rather rumpled and far more relaxed when he comes back through the portrait door, and more than that, he comes bearing tea and scones, his smile triumphant.