The High Queen II

Head over Heals

As dusk fully enveloped the ancient caverns, Eleanor wandered alone through the shadowed halls, her fingers brushing along the rugged stone walls. Flickering torchlight illuminated faint carvings etched into the stone: scenes of battles, creatures, and half-remembered dreams, echoes of her past life in Narnia. She knelt by a carved scene, her fingers tracing a familiar shape—her own likeness, axe raised against the White Witch in a pose of defiance. A faint, almost wistful smile crossed her face.

"I never thought I'd end up carved into stone in some ancient Narnian temple," she murmured to herself. "Then again, I never thought I'd be queen of a magical kingdom."

She felt the air shift behind her, aware of another presence before she even turned. "How did you know I was here?" Caspian's voice broke the quiet, warm and surprised. He stood just within the torchlight, one hand resting naturally on the hilt of his sword.

She smiled slightly, glancing over her shoulder at him. "The same way I know Peter is pacing back and forth upstairs. I can feel when someone's near," she replied, almost casually. "Once, the earth and trees guided me—more clearly than now. They'd whisper to me of any creature nearby, tell me who it was, how far away. Now, though... the land's quieter. I can only sense humans a short distance away."

Caspian moved forward and knelt beside her, his eyes on the carvings she'd been examining. She felt the warmth of his presence, grounding in a way that surprised her. "I promise you, Eleanor," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that caught her off guard. "We will free Narnia. One way or another."

Eleanor looked up at him, her gaze steady but tinged with something like disbelief. "I hope you're right, Caspian. But Telmarines don't exactly yield easily."

Caspian chuckled, though there was a seriousness underneath his smile. "Telmarines are no White Witch," he reminded her. "You defeated her—what's a few Telmarines?"

She turned to fully face him, a small smirk playing at her lips. "You're different from any Telmarine I've met."

A warmth flickered in his gaze as he looked at her. "And you're different from any Narnian I've known."

Eleanor huffed a small laugh, her gaze drifting back to the carvings. "I've always been... different. Never quite fitting in, no matter where I was. Growing up, books were the only place I felt I belonged. They were my way of escaping." She traced the ancient lines carved into stone, her voice softening as she added, "When I came to Narnia, I finally felt like I was somewhere I truly belonged."

Caspian watched her quietly, the depth of her words resonating with him. "I never belonged in Telmar," he admitted, his voice thick with his own memories. "Everything was about war, power, and conquest. My professor was the only one who showed me there was something more. He told me stories of Narnia. Stories of you and your family."

A gentleness softened her features as she looked at him. In the flickering torchlight, Caspian could see the vulnerability she so rarely let others see. "I'm used to reading about heroes," she said, a hint of irony in her tone. "Not being one. Sometimes, it still doesn't feel real. Back home... there's no magic, no Narnia. Only reality." Her voice was tinged with both nostalgia and sorrow.

For a long moment, he said nothing, simply watching her, feeling a strange warmth stir within him as he took in her quiet sadness, her longing for a world they shared. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so bare, so open in front of someone. It reminded her of her first day back in England after their last adventure, when she'd broken down, heart aching to return to Narnia, and her brother had promised her they'd find their way back someday.

"Will you leave again, once this is over?" Caspian's question was soft, barely audible.

Eleanor drew in a deep breath, the thought of leaving Narnia tugging painfully at her heart. "I don't want to," she replied firmly. "I don't think I can handle leaving again." She met his gaze, her eyes shadowed but resolute. "But that's for later. Right now, we have more pressing matters to think about—like breaking into your uncle's castle."

She rose, brushing dust from her trousers, and held out a hand to him. "Care to join us?"

Caspian took her hand without hesitation, his grip lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity she hadn't seen before. She glanced down at their joined hands, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. In fact, maybe she didn't mind.

"Queen Eleanor!" A voice echoed down the tunnel, and they quickly pulled apart as Aelwyn appeared, the soft glow of his scales illuminating the darkness.

"Yes, Aelwyn?" Eleanor asked, clearing her throat as she composed herself.

"The sun has set, my lady. It's time to leave for Telmar," Aelwyn said, bowing his head as he lowered himself to the ground, ready for her to climb onto his back.

Eleanor turned back to Caspian, her smirk playful, masking the apprehension she still carried within her. "See you on the battlefield, Prince Caspian," she quipped, her tone laced with sarcasm and challenge.

He smiled, shaking his head. "I look forward to it, Queen Eleanor."

Eleanor climbed onto Aelwyn's back, settling between his powerful wings as his feathers rustled beneath her. She glanced over her shoulder at Caspian, her gaze lingering. "Try not to get yourself killed before we get there," she added, sarcasm disguising the genuine concern that stirred within her.

Caspian chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with confidence. "You think I'd let a few Telmarines do me in? I plan on keeping up with you, Eleanor. And," he added with a slight bow, "if you ever need a rescue, just give a shout."

She raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "I think I'll manage. You'd best keep up if you want to be there at all."

For a heartbeat, they simply held each other's gaze, the noises of the caverns falling away. Caspian, usually so composed, felt his heart quicken. Eleanor's strength and wit stirred something deep within him. She had a fire, an unyielding spirit that he couldn't resist—one he admired, perhaps more than he should.

As she gave Aelwyn a gentle nudge to signal takeoff, Caspian took a step forward, almost reaching for her. "Eleanor..." he started, his voice barely a whisper.

She glanced back, caught by his tone. The way he looked at her—intense, unguarded—made her heart skip. She thought she'd left her days of dreaming behind, but with him, all of that felt strangely close again.

"Yes?" Her voice was steady, but a warmth rose within her, a vulnerability she wasn't sure how to handle.

Caspian swallowed, then met her eyes. "If things go wrong... you're not alone here. You'll never have to be alone."

Her expression softened, defences melting away. She hadn't expected that from him, this prince fighting to win back his kingdom. He'd lost so much, yet here he was, offering her a comfort she hadn't thought she needed.

"Thank you, Caspian," she said softly. "For... being here." She looked down, regaining her composure. "But I'd better go. I have a tendency to break things if I stay still for too long."

He grinned, nodding in understanding. She turned forward again, tightening her hold on Aelwyn's feathers as he crouched, preparing to take flight. With a powerful beat of his wings, the gryphon surged into the air, her laughter trailing behind her like music in the ancient darkness.

Caspian watched her silhouette grow smaller in the torchlight, her laughter echoing in his mind. At that moment, he couldn't deny it any longer: Eleanor Pevensie had already woven herself into his heart, and in a way he couldn't fully understand, he knew he was hers—if she'd have him.