milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

The Knight had meant to be going through to his Lady's sitting room. The door hadn't functioned as a portal to the strange tavern for days, and he'd almost given up on the place as a fever-dream, one of the hallucinations he gets during his hour. But here he is again.

He looks a little puzzled, then shrugs and moves further in so as not to block the door.

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And it is Lucy's turn to kneel, carefully pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping at Rilian's eyes.

"A king of Narnia does not beg, and a loving father," looking at Caspian, "does all he can to keep his son safe. And your father is a loving man, Rilian. No tears, my lord, not yet. There's yet an hour for us to figure something out."

Peter clears his throat.

"We could give you a room upstairs, and lock you in during the hours of your enchantment, though I fear that you would find some way to escape, in your passion to see your lady. Alternately, I could put you in the cells. They're far less comfortable, but utterly impossible to escape from."

Lucy gets a grateful look, and a warm press of Caspian's hand.

He nods to Peter.

"Aye, there are places for you to be. I--" he hesitates, and takes a breath. "I shan't see you, during the hours of your enchantment. Doubtless you will only try to fight me again. But--were you to stay--you'd not be a prisoner, not really."

He reaches out to touch his son, laying a hand on his cheek, on his shoulder. Real. Grown so tall and strong.

"What say you, Rilian? We'll not make a decision before you speak."

"I would not go back to Narnia merely to be an intrument of its downfall," he says quietly. One hand moves to cover Caspian's on his shoulder, and he steels himself. "Whatever the discomfort, being kept here will be an improvement on my lot. And you would be here."

His grip tightens, and he looks at Rilian for a long moment, before looking up to Peter.

"Would he be able to break out of the rooms? You would know best, I think."

"We could ask Bar for access to a room he couldn't get out of," Peter says slowly. "We might even be able to arrange it so that he is automatically freed for his hour of sanity, each day - or at least if enough of us have keys, somebody could always let him out. That might be the best option, really. The cells are secure, but not particularly comfortable."

Edmund has, as it happens, quietly slipped back into the bar, and returns now, with tea in hand.

Admittedly it's tea with a shot of whiskey in it, but perhaps this is understandable.

He drops to a knee beside Rilian, then, offering it.

"My lord Rilian," he says, quietly, "I swear to you by the Lion's Mane that should the worst happen, and under your enchantment you escape these environs to return to that one you know as your lady when under her spell, even then shall you not be Narnia's downfall."

He's still trembling a little, but not badly enough that he can't accept the tea with a somewhat shaky smile of thanks.

"I thank you, my lord. And release is not necessary, not until I can be sure that I pose no danger to anyone. Keeping me from returning to the Witch will suffice."

"I think you may only prove a danger to me, in your enchated state," Caspian replies, with a small smile, watching him.

After a moment, he looks to the others. "A room. I'll not see my son be caged like some criminal. I will take the responsibility of keeping the door locked, Peter."

Peter nods.

"I'll go see to it."

And he hurries off into the bar, intent on his task.

Lucy is mostly silent, only folds her handkerchief neatly and puts it away, before kissing Caspian's cheek gently, and then looking back to Rilian. "Are you hungry?"

He looks surprised for a moment, then nods.

"I suppose I am, at that. Thank you, my Lady."

Caspian takes Lucy's hand, and keeps his other on Rilian's shoulder.

"We'll find you some food, then, while Peter sees about the room. 'Tis getting too cold to stand about outside, talking. And there is much still to be said."

"There is, indeed, much to be said."

He stands carefully, eyeing his sword.

"--I'll not have that with me, not while I might do harm."

Caspian looks at it, warily.

"A good idea, I think. Edmund, would you--?"

"Of course," Edmund murmurs, picking it up from its place on the ground. He hesitates a moment, studying it, before looking up at Rilian.

"If you should like, my lord, I shall take it to my rooms in the House of Arch; you will not be able to retrieve it, then, without my aid."

"Thank you, my lord. Should the day come I require it again, I shall let you know." A small smile. "And preferably not with bleeding wrists this time."

Because he remembers Edmund, and is grateful for the help he'd given him even in his enchanted state.

Peter reappears now, a key in one hand. He hands it to Caspian.

"Room 27. There isn't even a door visible from the inside unless you have the key and know where the keyhole is."

Caspian takes it, and looks at it for a long moment, before smiling slightly at Peter.

"Thank you, Peter. I--it is a great help."

He smiles, a little.

"Thank you, sir."

Caspian pauses.

"Before we continue, I'd have my son know who is aiding us."

He points them out in turn to Rilian.

"My lord Peter, the High King. His royal brother, my lord Edmund." He brings up Lucy's hand with a small smile.

"My lady, the Queen Lucy. Her cousin, Eustace, and the lady Jill."

Rilian looks taken aback for a moment, then bows.

"My Lords and Ladies, I am in your debt."

The bit about Queen Lucy being his father's lady can wait to be properly thought about later. He's had enough shock for one day.

"Nonsense," Peter says firmly. "You're family. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Rilian. Please do call me Peter."

Edmund may or may not roll his eyes, but it is at least hopefully out of most people's view if he does.

"My lord Rilian," he says, far more formally than his brother and king, "please. Let there be no talk of debts owed between us." He grins. "And drink your tea, it really will help, I swear to you."

"He's right on that, at least," she says with a smile.

Not at all awkwardly.

No.

"And let's get you some soup, shall we?"