Returning at Last || Caspian/Open

[Edmund]

He was finally home. He honestly didn't think he would ever set foot in this place again. The threats made to his life were numerous and ugly, and he thought that he was going to die while in that captivity. He was supposed to be talking to the Calormen, and he was in the process of working on an alliance. Things had been going slightly well in their land, and Edmund was being as fair and as just as he usually is. He honestly thought he was going to make progress there, and they would have help in the war to come. He was on his way back to Telmar when he was ambushed. He should have known better. He should have never gone off on his own. Peter knew however, and Peter was supposed to tell Susan and Caspian. He was sure that everyone knew. But it hadn't mattered. They wouldn't know where to find him if they knew he had been taken. He hadn't given a time for his return, and he didn't doubt that they would think he was still in Calormen. So it was his fault. He wouldn't blame anyone for his mistakes.

Limping his way forward, he managed to get up the front steps to the main entrance of the castle. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He knew the nightmares would haunt him once more. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and entered the Keep. He was finally home. He was as safe as he could be for now, and now just needed to focus on healing. And finding the members of his family. Holding his newly broken wrist in his good hand, he limped gingerly forward, trying not to make that much noise. He didn't want to disturb anyone if in fact they were sleeping on that odd chance. It was fairly late, so he didn't think anyone would be up and about. Right now, he just wanted to eat something. He had lost a lot of weight in his captivity. Making his way down the familiar corridors, he found the kitchen rather quickly and helped himself tot he fruit bowl on one of the tables. Grabbing an apply, he ate hungrily, sitting down in one of the chairs. He had no idea where anyone was or if they were, but he became suddenly aware of footsteps. Jumping up from where he sat, he instantly regretted it because of the pain it brought him. Ignoring it, he grabbed one of the large butcher knives from the knife rack and held it in front of him. It was better than nothing. He was on edge, that much was true, but one couldn't really blame him. "Who's there?" His voice cracked from lack of use, but it still sounded like him. Hopefully the one coming would recognize him.

[King Caspian X]

The night was dark and foggy, its mist blanketing the castle grounds. Not a sound stirred the air. Not a movement stirred the mist. Not even the wind. The trees seemed to be all clumped together because their shadows were no longer visible. The water seemed to flood the entire lawn, though it didn't. There were only outlines, and silence, emptiness. And there the King sat at his window on this such night, over looking it all. Really, it was a beautiful thing, in its own way. He had never laid eyes upon so solemn a night. A depression that seeped its way through the walls and dampened the air.

It was so different from his room, where a the embers of a dying fire glowed in their keep. His wife lie in bed, harboring their second child within her dome-shaped belly. His son lay in his crib, dreaming what Caspian could only hope were happy dreams after all the poor boy had been through in his young life. And yet he could not sleep.

His stomach squirmed and ached with hunger, as it had the past few nights. His skin felt hot and feverish, though it bore no such temperature. He supposed it was the transition. His demonic blood stretching after its dormant state for over twenty-three years. He rose from the window and walked back to his bedside, bent slowly and quietly to kiss Susan's cheek, and pulled his cloak over his bare torso before heading out the door for the kitchen.

The castle floor was cold under his feet, though he stepped carefully through the hall until he was away from his bedroom door. Then he allowed his feet to shuffle a bit, though still quietly, as he often walked when he was tired. It was the same, night after night for every night this week. He scratched the stubble on his face and yawned. Maybe tomorrow night would be better.

As he came closer to the kitchens, there was a hurried scramble from within. He could hear the sound of metal being quickly drawn from its hold. His feet planted into the ground and he reached for his waist. He hadn't brought his sword. His lips snarled, but that's when he heard the voice. Edmund? "It's me, Ed." Caspian whispered, coming into focus as he entered the kitchen. There stood, or rather slouched, the younger King, butcher knife in hand. Cuts and wounds all over his body and face. Half-eaten apple on the table. "What happened to you?"

[Edmund]

He wasn't prepared for a fight. His broken wrist would be an easy target to whoever wanted him again, and he wasn't looking forward to that. He had just gotten home. He couldn't be taken away again. He would never be able to survive that again. Holding his breath, he tried listening to where the footsteps were coming from. Maybe if he was lucky and quick enough, he could sneak out the back door. But as the footsteps came closer, and grew louder, he knew it was a lost cause. That was when he had grabbed the butcher knife. Holding it in his good hand, he looked to where he had thrown his apple, and then looked to the doorway. He could always throw the apple in the intruder's face for a distraction, but the knife would do a lot more damage. And he had a whole drawer full of knives to throw. Biting back his fear, he steadied himself, even though the only thing he wanted to do was sit down and rest. He was weak from starvation and his wounds, and he honestly just wanted to sleep after his meal. He would find his family as soon as possible. But he couldn't go back to that prison. He would die before he returned there.

As he stood silently, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Chills ran up and down his protruding spine, and it was obvious he was a basket case. His ripped and tattered clothes were dirt and blood stained, and his face was covered with bruises. He didn't have very many fresh wounds on him however because of his escape, and it was easy to see that those he did have were healed or scarred over. He was thankful for that, although he really needed a bath, and needed someone to look after his wrist. But he couldn't think about that now. The silence echoed around him as he stood in wait, and finally heard a voice from the shadows. It was a whisper, but he recognized it immediately. Caspian. The butcher knife fell from his hand with a clatter, and before he could stop himself tears were falling down his dirty cheeks. "Caspian." It was a whispered breath, but the familiarity and comfort he received just from seeing Caspian was enough to break the little spirit he had left. Stumbling forward from where he stood, he limped to the King and didn't care about any formalities. He went to Caspian for comfort, because after all, Edmund was still a young boy. Hearing the question, he backed up from him and spoke quietly. "Things were good with the Calormen. They're thinking over what I have said to them, but on my way home, Lamont's men captured me." That's when Lamont was still in charge. He didn't go into details now for he was too exhausted. He was just relieved to see someone he knew. Then worry flew through him. "How's Susan, and Peter? Where are they?"

[King Caspian X]

It was an eerie sight, the young King and the butcher knife. Caspian watched it fall, didn't jump when it clattered. His eyes moved back to the boy, who was now limping up to him like a broken, beaten pup. He watched the tears flow from Edmund's face, all the while his own heart broke with pity for the youth. He was more like a brother to Caspian now. In truth, they technically were brothers. In-laws. He reached out to him and hugged him carefully, only as strongly as he dared for fear of hurting him. When Edmund backed up, Caspian finally got a proper look at him. His face was dark and blue. His cheeks thin and his ribs shown through his loss of muscle and fat. His wrist was furiously swollen and scarlet. Mud and dirt coated him and his fine clothes were terribly torn.

He said nothing when Ed mentioned his capture, but stifled a growl in the back of his throat. Anger and heated conversation could be dealt with later. "Sit." he told him, and set a fresh apple down on the table in front of him. Then he went to the ice box, in which he discovered deserts left over from dinner, and set them before the boy with a fork. "Peter and Susan are both fine. Susan is still pregnant, Peter is still strong and well. They're both sleeping." Caspian seated himself across from Edmund, and just watched him a moment, wondered what it was he should say, and decided in the end that it was best to say nothing at all and just let him eat.

[Edmund]

He was starving, but he didn't want to look away from Caspian, as strange as that sounded. He didn't want this to be a dream. He couldn't remember how many times that he dreamed he had finally reached home, just to wake up to beatings and shouts once more. Edmund had undergone a lot of harsh treatment in those chambers, and he just wanted this to be real. He wanted to know that he had escaped that place for good now. His brown eyes stared straight at Caspian, and it only took him moments to get to him. As Caspian took him into an embrace, Edmund finally felt as if he could be at ease. He was home. This was real. Everything was going to be alright now. He hugged the man that had slowly become a brother to him and took comfort from Caspian's strength. Right now Edmund was at his weakest point, and he was more vulnerable than ever before. He didn't let himself cry very often, and when he did it was always in private. Now however, the tears came strongly, and the relief he felt at being safe was overwhelming.

He steadied himself as he backed away from Caspian, and he knew that his words were coming out quickly. He wondered if they even made sense in all honesty. His eyes filled with worry though when he questioned the King about his sister and his brother. He just wanted to know that he hadn't lost anymore of his family members. He sighed in relief when Caspian explained their whereabouts. Susan was alright, and still pregnant. That was wonderful news. And Peter was sleeping, healthy and as good as ever. That was what he needed to hear in order to relax himself. As the man before him ordered him to sit, Edmund found it difficult to disobey. He didn't want to show his weakness, but as he had already cried, he supposed he ruined that for himself. Listening to Caspian for once, he settled himself upon the stool that was there for seating. That just went to show how tired and weak he really was. Biting his cracked lower lip, he stared at the apple in front of him. Not able to help himself, he grabbed it with his good hand, his shattered wrist completely useless and painful if he even moved it an inch. He ate the apple in matter of moments and saw the dessert placed in front of him. It wasn't the healthiest, but he didn't care at the moment. He ate it just as quickly as he had the apple, trying to keep his bad wrist out of the way. Finally feeling full for now, he looked up at the King. "I'm sorry Caspian. I should have never left. I should have fought harder to get back." He finished quietly, exhaustion covering his features. He wanted to sleep, but he was afraid to. He would have nightmares, and he would be afraid to close his eyes in fear that he would wake up in the cell once more with shackles on his wrists and ankles. He couldn't go through that any longer. Sighing, he stared at Caspian, guilt and sorrow flooding his face.

[King Caspian X]

Caspian watched him eat for a moment, quickly remembering his own hunger. He rose from his seat and walked to the counter, retrieved a slice of pie for himself, and returned to the table. He didn't eat as quickly as Edmund did, but refrained from eating to slow so that they at least could finish around the same time. He hated talking while he ate. At least when there was only one person to talk to. At dinner, he could eat and listen and talk less. Not that he minded talking to Edmund, of course. It was a shock to see him this way, though still wonderful to see him.

But he shook his head when Edmund apologized. "What are you apologizing for? Seeking aid? Being kidnapped? Don't apologize. You're fine." Caspian set his fork down. "It's Lamont who should be made to apologize. Not you." He glanced down at his wrist and grimaced a bit. "How, exactly, did that happen?" he asked, and wondered if a nurse should be awoken and consulted.

[Edmund]

He hadn't realized his true hunger until food was actually set down in front of him. He thanked Caspian as the man placed it in front of him, and ended up eating three slices of pie after his apple, as well as a piece of cake as well. He couldn't wait until breakfast however, for the cooks always did a good job with that meal. Then he would have some real food in him. He was thankful for the good that was given to him now, and it was obvious in his features. Looking up, he heard Caspian's words, and he felt himself redden slightly. He had finished eating and was looking down at his hands. His left wrist was twice the size of his right one, and it looked uncomfortable. He wasn't showing his pain because he had become used to hiding it. If he showed pain in the cells, it had only pleased his captors. So he hadn't cried out if he could help it, and he hadn't screamed when they burned him and hit him. He wished his shirt wasn't so tattered because if he turned Caspian would be able to see the scars from the lashes and the burns. That would only cause more problems.

Looking up from his broken wrist, he nodded slightly. "You're right. But I feel like he never will. He's so powerful, and he's not even that old. I feel like it's hopeless Caspian." He finished, voicing his honest opinions. He didn't know what else to think or to feel. The pain he had experienced down below in Lamont's prisons was almost unbearable. Little did he know that Caspian had undergone even worse torture than himself. Caspian would understand out of all people, if Edmund would just open up to him. As he questioned him about his wrist, Edmund grimaced slightly. He might as well tell him. "When they captured me, they dragged me back to the castle. Um..they, they didn't go very fast so I would s-still be alive, but they went fast enough. I...I got my right wrist free, but not my left. It....snapped when they dragged me up the rocks. I got caught because it was so uneven. It...it's fine though." He said honestly because he had grown used to the familiar ache. It had broken in the first day of his capture, and had been trying to heal ever since. But it wasn't going well. He ignored it however, and turned to look at Caspian. "I...I don't want Susan or Peter to see me like this."

[King Caspian X]

Caspian nodded and said nothing. It was hopeless. Or at least it seemed that way. But perhaps, now that Caspian could tap into his bloodline, things would be different. But he wouldn't say anything out loud. Neither about failure or success. He stared back at his wrist. "You'll have to get treatment for that in the morning. Or now, if you want." But it was so far along into its awkward healing that the result would be the same in either case. He guessed they would have to re-break it, but he wouldn't say that aloud, either. He could be wrong, and there was no need to be scaring the boy. "Peter, you could probably hide from. But Susan," he said, pausing a moment to think. "She'd want to see you first before anyone, you know that. And its going to be a while before you really look any different, save for a change of clothes and a good bath." He took the empty plates from the table and placed them in the sink, taking his time so that when he sat down again the change of subject might not be so abrupt. "When a man is captured, he dreams of home. When he is home, he dreams of his capture." he said sympathetically. He knew not to press into all of the details. Those questions would have to come later. "What do you intend to do about that tonight?"

[Edmund]

Edmund still couldn't believe that he was here. He couldn't believe that he was alive. There were some nights that he didn't think he was going to make it out of those prisons. Lamont's men had told him over and over again that he would be with his sister Lucy soon. And at that time, he had wanted death. He had wanted to be put out of his misery. There were times when he didn't think he could overcome the pain and the agony. The hopelessness that had swarmed him was an awful emotion, and he did his best to push it away now. He had felt it for far too long and he didn't need to go through it now. Sighing to himself once more, he looked to Caspian as he spoke out. He needed to get treatment for his wrist. He knew that, but he didn't want to face anyone else on this night. He shook his head a little. "I'll have them look at it tomorrow. I don't want to see anyone else. And..if I lived this long with it, I can handle it for one more night."

He said honestly and quietly. He offered Caspian the first smile since he had gotten back, and wiped at his eyes with what was left of his shirt. He wasn't going to cry any longer. He glanced towards Caspian after a moment and listened to what he was saying. It was true. He couldn't hide from Susan. When it came to finding her family members, she was like a relentless mother. He was never going to hide from her. And what Caspian said was true. It was going to take him a while to gain weight and to get the bruises and cuts to fade. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "You're right. I just don't want to make her upset during her pregnancy." He said quietly, and then heard what the now wise Caspian spoke. It was true. All that he had thought of in prison was home, and now that he was home he kept reliving his captive moments. That had to stop. Hearing Caspian's question, he thought for a moment and then responded. "Stay awake I supposed. I'll probably go to the stables to visit Alehan. If he still remembers me." He said about his horse, not knowing if the black stallion still remembered him. It would be sad if he didn't. But at least that would keep him awake for a while. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid to sleep, but he had a feeling Caspian knew that. He would bathe and clean up as well, but that wouldn't take very long. He needed to think of something to keep himself awake.

[King Caspian X]

Caspian shook his head again. He seemed to be doing that a lot, recently. "You won't upset her any more than you would when she next sees you. And I think it's good to let her care for you a little. Takes her mind off of other things." He scratched his chin again as he had when he was walking to the kitchen and looked into Edmund's face. "You have circles." he said. "Here, and here." He touched his first two fingers to his own eyes so that he could see him. "You need sleep. Go and see your horse if you like, and bathe. Afterward, you are welcome to rest beside your sister if you like. That should help with the nightmares. You won't wake her, and Galen won't wake you. He sleeps through the night. I'm awake now, I won't be going back to sleep." He itched his forearm. Why did everything itch so badly? It seemed as if his blood was really the cause of it, as if where ever it came closest to his skin it irritated him. Caspian looked up at Edmund again, realizing truly how young he was. Or at least how young he looked. He couldn't be more than twelve or fourteen, maybe fifteen. And yet after his trip to Calormen -and elsewhere - he seemed about fourty. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of any more help to you."

[Edmund]

He couldn't sleep. No matter how much Caspian told him he needed to sleep, he just couldn't do it. The sights that plagued him during his sleep were too much to bear right now. Looking down once more at his agitated wrist, he furrowed his brow. He couldn't feel the pain that much. It should be agonizing because of the shape it was in. It was trying to heal crookedly because of the treatments he had experienced, but it didn't hurt him. It was like he was numb to everything except the visions that he kept seeing over and over again. Taking a deep breath yet again, he exhaled softly and looked to Caspian. He saw the man point to his own eyes and Edmund knew that he was just concerned. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't sleep. "I can't Caspian. I can't close my eyes because I see everything all over again. Please, understand. I can't face it yet." He hated admitting his weakness, but he had no choice now. Shaking his head in disgust at himself, he looked up as the man spoke once more.

Edmund felt as if he aged a hundred years. He was told things and he was tortured beyond belief. The things that he was told were almost worst than the physical torment he underwent. He was told Susan was dead, and her unborn child was ripped from her tender belly. Caspian was hanging, dead after seeing his wife and children dead. And poor little Galen had been tortured into death after all of it. And then there was Peter. He was made to watch until he had nothing left. Edmund was told everyone was dead, and he had started believing them because he didn't know what else to think. He couldn't tell between what was reality and what was a lie any longer. A part of him still felt as if this wasn't reality. The fear filling his tired eyes was apparent as he looked to Caspian. "You've been more help than you can ever know. I really appreciate it. Thank you." He finished, looking sincerely at his brother in law. Sighing, he figured he would make his way to the stables. He didn't want to go alone, but he wished Caspian would go to sleep. "You should sleep Caspian. I'm sure you could use it more than me."

[King Caspian X]

His eyes locked onto Edmund's and sincerity filled his voice, and not unsympathetically, he spoke, "I do understand. Completely, and more than you know." Caspian inhaled, his lungs pressing against his ribs slightly before he exhaled. Every one of his ribs. All there. In place. Good. And his heart still beat in his chest. He couldn't tell Edmund that it would go away. It wouldn't be true. The poor boy would remember his torture for the rest of his life. Is was a matter of what he did with that remembrance, though, that made the difference. And he couldn't stop him from having nightmares. Caspian himself still had nightmares. But staying awake was far worse. He knew from experience. When the mind gets tired, things start to become real. Things that aren't there. The hallucinating was far worse than any nightmare that Caspian had ever had. Because you never wake up. You just sit there and hallucinate until you fall asleep, and you only fall asleep once you grow to tired to keep yourself from it any longer. "Yes you can. And you better. Just trust me on that one." He could see the fear in Edmund's eyes. He knew that he might not sound very comforting now, but after the fact, it would be better said. "Courage, man. Courage. And you're welcome." He wasn't asking him not to be afraid. He couldn't ask him to do that. But he was asking him, the poor boy, even in his weak state, to face his fears. Because he knew the consequences would be far worse. Caspian laughed, "No one needs sleep more than you right now. And I am awake till morning."

[Edmund]

As he sat there, he understood that he needed to sleep. He was growing more and more tired as he sat across from Caspian, and he didn't think he would even be able to make it up to his room. He would never admit that to Caspian, for he didn't want to look even weaker than he already did. As he said that he understood more than he would ever know, Edmund gave him a questioning look. What did that mean exactly? But he knew that the King would tell him only when he was ready, and he wouldn't push it. He nodded slightly in response though, wanting to give him some sort of answer, some sort of response. He knew that Caspian was only trying to help, and he felt badly that he was being so negative about it. He wasn't trying to be, and he felt as if he was dealing with things as well as he possibly could. And he hadn't even been back a day yet. As Caspian told he could go to sleep and he better, he grinned slightly. "Yes sir."

It was back to being ordered for his own good, and he was perfectly alright with that. He welcomed it, and he had missed it. He smiled once more and then sobered as he heard him speak once more about courage. He was trying to find it, he really was. "I'm trying to find it again Caspian, I really am. I just never knew it would be this hard. I just keep seeing everything all over again when I close my eyes. The prison, the guards, the things they used. I can hear the screams of the other prisoners and it's just....awful. But I will try. For the sake of everyone else around me." He didn't want pity. He knew that he would need to take care of himself sooner or later or he would fall apart. He also knew that he needed to talk to someone about what had happened, and who better than Caspian? He had been tortured, and he would understand the best out of everyone. He listened once more and laughed shortly as Caspian did. But his laugh was forced and unnatural, and he was surprised to hear it. But he responded anyway. "Well thanks for being so honest. You deserve to rest too however." He said with a grin, but knew he needed to sleep. And he would spend the night next to Susan after he cleaned up. He just didn't have the energy.

[King Caspian X]

Caspian nodded. "For your sake." he said. "Not for anyone else's. For your sake, you sleep." He saw his questioning look. He pondered about telling him, but to go into detail would only bring him more nightmares. And yet, he couldn't leave him wondering about it. "You're not the only one Lamont has scarred." was all he said on the topic.

"I will rest. Tomorrow. But I'm awake for the night. I need to get up and stretch my legs, I guess." He scratched his chin again and yawned. He ducked his head a bit when Ed thanked him for his honesty. He wasn't completely honest. He hadn't lied, but he wasn't telling the whole truth. Not about his own torture. And he hadn't mentioned anything about his "ability". He got up and got two glasses of water, one for himself and one for Edmund. He drank his rather quickly, and filled it again. He was thirsty.

[Edmund]

The last meeting he had had with Caspian hadn't been the best one. He had run into the King in the stables late one night, or early one morning, however way a person looked at it. He had been determined to go and find Lucy, and was tired of the ones who cared about him telling him that he couldn't. So he had acted out. He had done what he wanted to do, and paid for it in his opinion. He felt like his rash and stubborn actions had led him into his capture and torture. But he couldn't think like that now. Caspian had told him to get back to the castle that night. He had grabbed Alehan's reins and the stallion had balked, but stood still after that. The stallion knew it wasn't right to run off like that, even though he wanted to for Edmund. Edmund had been forced back to the castle, and things with Caspian had been a little strained after that. That was one of the reasons Ed had gone to Calormen. He needed to do something that wasn't completely dangerous, but still helped his people. He had gone with guards, but he hadn't left with them. It had been stupid, and he would never do that again.

Turns out ten against one didn't leave him with very good odds to get out safely. He had been lucky that he hadn't been killed on the spot. Or, he might have been unlucky considering the torture he went through. Ignoring those thoughts, he listened to Caspian. For his sake he needed to sleep. He felt selfish when there was so much work to be done and so much to plan for. But he knew Caspian was right. The circles were darkening even as he sat there fighting the sleep that just wanted to overpower him. Stifling a yawn, he looked to the man in surprise as he spoke of Lamont not only scarring Ed. Furrowing his brow, he was about to speak, but he knew it wasn't his place. Edmund was intelligent when it came to that sort of thing. Caspian would tell him in time, just as Edmund would tell Caspian in time. They would talk about what they went through when they were ready. Hearing his next words, he just shook his head. "You always need to stretch your legs...from what I remember." He finished with a grin, and then thanked him for the glass of water. He forgot about his wrist for a moment however and reached for it with the broken limb. He did all that he could not to cry out, but the grimace passed his face nonetheless. That had hurt. "I forget sometimes because I'm so used to it." He admitted with a sheepish grin. Looking to Caspian, he had another question. "How do you make it through the night? If Lamont hasn't scarred only me that is?"