With Courage [King Caspian X OC]

Chapter 22

A/N: Three whole updates tonight because it was all supposed to be one chapter and then when I tried to edit it, it just.. grew. A lot. Apologies for any errors or repetitiveness, I've read over these chapters so much the past week I think my eyes are bleeding

Life trickled by as a steady stream, an undisturbed current that carried her through the seasons. From her perch in the attic, Amber watched as their vegetable patch bore lush cucumbers and neat pockets of peas underneath the springtime sun. She tasted summer on her tongue as the girls brought up freshly picked raspberries and admired the emergence of the scene on her canvas, the sun hot on her neck as she worked.

In a truly magnificent turn of luck, she secured herself a pair of loose trousers from one of Evelyn's cousins and spent many nights revelling in their freedom, trying her best to remember how it felt to run in her breeches across golden beaches and how they billowed when she climbed the rigging.

Remembering Narnia became an exercise both in the limits of her memory and her sanity. Thinking about those idle mornings spent braiding Lucy's hair or listening to Reepicheep's many stories ate at her the longer she thought about them, gnawing at her stomach until she felt bowled over with the pain of it. The longing was, in her loneliest moments, unbearable. But it was her reason to keep going and so she let it consume her.

During the day she would travel with Nellie to a depot in Merton where they sorted wastepaper from metal, rags from rubber, to be collected and repurposed for the war effort. It was mindless work, and after two seasons of organising, she was quick enough to sort them by touch alone, leaving her mind to drift through those happier memories and the far-off hope of a happier future.

Her evenings were spent in front of the canvas as Narnia slowly came to life by her hand, though it was rare to have more than an hour of uninterrupted painting before the sirens called them away. In the thick of night, they would herd themselves to Clapham South station and serve tea to those seeking safety. By the time Autumn arrived in a flurry of grey skies and crisp leaves beneath her boots, she could count on two hands how many nights they spent in their own beds. Those she spent working by candlelight through to the early hours of the morning, a cloth draped over the window. Her body would always suffer for it the following morning, but the work fed her soul like nothing else.

That wasn't to say Amber didn't enjoy her nights with the refreshments team – despite the unfortunate cause of their congregation. Now that she was an active participant in life underground, a stark comparison to those initial nights she spent huddled in the darkest corner available, it was a rather lively affair. There were often games or readings and on one fateful night in October: a gramophone.

Families huddled around as Evelyn and Jean set up a rickety table for it in the centre of the platform and set the first record underneath the needle. Amber and Nellie watched from the sidelines, smiling at the expectant faces as they gathered sweet buns and hot kettles onto their trays.

After a few moments of expectant silence, a warbling trumpet melody flooded through the station. The crowd settled back as one like a wave retreating from the shore and listened in contented peace as the song played.

"We'll meet again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day"

Amber's heart seized at the familiar song.

When it was first released it was her personal call to her parents, wherever they were in the world, and a promise of the future she pined for. She had stopped listening to it when she finally abandoned her search but as the lyrics flowed through her once more it took her mind to another land, a second promise made.