Lucy Pevensie, The Valiant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
called_lioness) wrote2006-09-15 12:05 am
called_lioness) wrote2006-09-15 12:05 am
the joy would break your heart
They fall asleep, and they wake up, and the day is spent loving each other.
(Sometimes this consists of kisses, and sometimes this consists of Caspian bringing her tea, and sometimes it consists of them curling up and her reading a fairy tale, voice soft, and each act means the exact same thing.)
They fall asleep, and wake up, and Sunday is one of the best days of Lucy's life, even if she's not alive, really, and her smile is wide as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest that night.
And nothing lasts forever.
It's a rock she's sitting on, legs against her chest, as her eyes open, and Lucy breathes deep.
It's only been a night she didn't dream of this place, but she'd already almost forgotten what it was like to have her eyes open.
(Sometimes this consists of kisses, and sometimes this consists of Caspian bringing her tea, and sometimes it consists of them curling up and her reading a fairy tale, voice soft, and each act means the exact same thing.)
They fall asleep, and wake up, and Sunday is one of the best days of Lucy's life, even if she's not alive, really, and her smile is wide as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest that night.
And nothing lasts forever.
It's a rock she's sitting on, legs against her chest, as her eyes open, and Lucy breathes deep.
It's only been a night she didn't dream of this place, but she'd already almost forgotten what it was like to have her eyes open.
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(fly to the edge of the world with me)
and the glittering sea behind them in the other. All around them there's the green, green of the grass, dotted with wildflowers. Susan's fingers tighten on Lucy's, and the fog-gray eyes are clear and steady as she says softly,
"Then thee'll have need of a guide, won't thee?"
Green, green grass rustles with the breeze as she speaks -- and then there's something more, as well, off to the side. A large red rock, suitable for sitting, not dissimilar to one that's been seen elsewhere.
Maybe more than one elsewhere.
(other worlds than these)
A white cloud crosses over the sun, and when it moves on, sunlight flashes brightly from something that's lying on the stone.
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Her fingers drift through the sunlight again as Lucy lets go of Susan's hands and drops carefully to pick the object up, cradled in her palms like something precious.
(man? course he's not a man!)
"So you found your way here, too," she breathes to it, but maybe even a compass has a journey it had to make and even if it didn't walk it on its own--well, being carried you travel the same distance.
(and he's not tame, but he's still good)
All compasses point north, but this one doesn't seem to know that, as she opens it carefully to watch the needle.
North east north east north east north east north--north--north--east it goes.
She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Even the damned compass doesn't seem to know which way's home for her.
"No further," she says, without rising or looking up from the arrow that keeps moving between two letters
(Narnia and the North)
"tonight, Su," and the thing is that for all it had been sunlit a bit ago, it's the moon that's shining brightest on the two sets of golden hair now
(to the glistening eastern sea I give you)
as she kneels in the sweet grass. "We'll go further in when I see you next," and it's painful to say, in a way, because she's still on the shoreline, even with the sea behind them, and in this place you can still hurt. That's what she brings with her.
"But not tonight."
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Ever clever was Pat Delgado's daughter, and here in this place --
(a dream and a memory and so much more beside)
-- the Girl at the Window is often wise, as well, and sometimes knows more than she can yet say.
"It'll wait until I see thee again, Lu." With a quick movement, she's stooped down, arms wrapped tightly around the other girl and her golden hair smelling sweetly of sun-warmed grass as Susan hugs her.
"Long days and pleasant nights--"
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Someone once asks, "What need has a Lion for a compass?"
Nothing, is the answer, but a Lioness may have great need of it to find her way home, because sometimes home is your mate, and sometimes--
Sometimes it's not.
And now you know, whether you really wanted to or wish you'd never asked.
Her eyes open slowly, and Caspian is warm and solid at her back, his arm draped across her chest, and she stares for a long while straight ahead at the dim room.
Her fist is clenched around something cool and metal and she slips out from under his arm, making a soothing, quieting noise as he protests in his sleep and promising she'll be back in a moment. The bathroom's tile is as cool under her feet as the metal is in her hand, and she flips the lights on to look at it for a moment, lifting the clasp. East to north to east to north to east again, and Lucy lets out a small sigh of resignation before the compass is shut and put gently in a drawer that has been dubbed hers.
And then she splashes water on her face and goes back to bed, murmuring, "Here I am," and watching Caspian smile as she pulls the covers over them both again. She'll keep no secrets from him. It was a promise, and she'll keep it.
But some things can wait, and this week there are no compasses, and there are no dragons, and when she dreams, she knows, it will be alone, without another girl to hold her hand. Because this week is for him and for her, and dragons and compasses and dreams and choices will all have to come back, but they can wait.
For at least a little while longer.