This is the tale of a journey that takes Luna not only to discover the world beyond Narnia's borders; she will find a purpose that goes deeper than protecting her king.
» That's why. I can't protect you the way I should... « As she looks into his ey...
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He must have fallen asleep right here, sitting at the bedside. Speaking of what he found unburdened him in a way, and yet made it all too real. But it needed to be said, he needed someone to trust. Of course, he has friends here, brothers and sisters among the Shadows. Yet, with what they discovered, he found it increasingly difficult to open up to someone. Who knows how deep this conspiracy against King Caspian runs, who is involved – willingly or caught in its net by accident. Usually, the boy would tell Luna everything. Since he first met her he knew, deep down, that he could trust her unconditionally. And he can, always has – he never thought there would come a day where she won't be there to listen, won't rise for their king against whatever force. General Glenstorm would be next, but he has been injured and needs to rest. Orion knows the centaur would endanger himself if it meant to protect his people. Trumpkin has aged considerably this past year, the burdens of being regent adding to the worry for their friends aboard the Dawn Treader. Despite his office, his influence at court has diminished. Gradually, unnoticed. The council and the lords are uneasy, have been since the king's departure. At his return, something stirred in the ranks, in the entirety of Narnia. Orion should have seen it, should have been paying more attention instead of wallowing. In Luna's absence, he should have taken responsibility for the tasks so important to her, should have done the things she always did despite others' disregard or telling her it is futile in times of peace. Jared knows, at least. The Captain of the Guard has been a brother figure since he enlisted and trained under Glenstorm and Luna for the united forces of a new Narnia. Though, without solid proof, even he cannot simply arrest a suspect of a crime – especially not persons of high rank. This helplessness and desperation follow the darkhaired into his dreams, denying him rest.
A soft squeeze of his arm makes him stir from his slumber, then jump to attention. Scolding himself for falling asleep at all, he straightens, ignoring the protesting muscles in his back and arms. Eyes roaming through the chamber, they finally settle on Luna's form. She lays on her back still, pale. He stops short, his heart takes a startled leap. Eyes wide, he stares at her face. Dark swirls of brown stare back at him.
*
Luna stirs, blinking against the afternoon light filtering in through the window to her left. Needing a moment to orientate, she recognizes not a cabin on the Dawn Treader nor her room but one of the healing chambers. Right. Her brow creases as vague memories set in. Taking a deep breath, she leans onto her arms to sit up. Her muscles ache under the stretch, a hollow pain shoots through her abdomen. She hisses while her mind brings back that night on the Dawn Treader and the Devil's Tide, the rescue, the battle. The scent of herbs here lets fractures of images flicker before her eyes. Jon's med bay, white searing pain, voices soothing her, hands holding her. Then nothing, and yet...
» You know you cannot stand up yet. « Luna's head swivels to the right, finding someone next to her reading in a leather-bound book. She catches sight of the drawing of a flower. Timea grins, she has passed the time with flitting through the pages. As she cannot read human letters, she only looks at the pictures.
