deserved_it | (no subject)

(no subject)

Eustace may not be able to ride yet, but he's spent enough time in the stables that he figures he can lead horses capably enough.

He's exploring around the lake, looking for some of the escapees.

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He turns and catches just a glimpse of a tail, and his breath catches.

A moment later, he's pushing through branches, heedless and hurried and hopeful.

There are times when hope is rewarded, and as Eustace comes bursting through the bushes and into a small clearing, he might see that this is one such time.

For in the center of the clearing, great golden eyes turn unerringly toward him.

"Son of Adam, we are well met in this place, at long last."

He stops, standing very still, and lets out his breath slowly.

"Aslan."

He swallows; his eyes never leave the Lion.

"They said you came here sometimes." He sounds like he's reminding himself.

"I am seen here sometimes, they had that right enough."

Aslan's voice is deep, rumbling faintly in his chest.

"And how are you finding the universe's end, child?"

"I . . ."

Now he looks down.

"Through a stable door. Is how I found it. Now -- I don't know."

Aslan merely watches him, head bowed a little.

It puts him at about Eustace's eye level.

"Do you not, truly?"

He shakes his head.

"Truly."

There is another spell of silence.

"Then begin with what you do know, Son of Adam, and work from there."

He swallows again, and looks up.

"I know I'm dead."

"You are hardly alone in that, Eustace--here or elsewhere."

His voice is soft, golden eyes grave and a little sad.

"I know that."

He bites his lip. "But--"

They're not him.

It's not fair.

Of course it isn't.

"But that doesn't make it any easier, Aslan."

"And do you imagine that 'easier' is the anticipated outcome of anything you have accomplished?"

Aslan lifts his head, growl rumbling at the very edges of his voice.

He blenches slightly, and looks down at his hands.

"No. I suppose not."

"If you are not willing to seek answers, Son of Adam, you will forever fail in finding them."

And here, too, there is a warning.

"Then will you answer a question?"

The question is honest, and not as bitter as might be expected.

"You are always free to ask."

This is true.

"Why did you let it happen? In Narnia?"

Once started, he can't quite stop.

"They cut down the dryad's trees, and they captured Cair Paravel, and Tash -- you could have stopped it, Aslan, we couldn't, Pole and Tirian and I . . ."

He trails off, fists clenched, looking at the Lion with pleading in his eyes.

"Because it was time, child."

He looks into the distance, golden eyes gleaming bright.

"Though you had the opportunity to do what you could--and it was well done, you need have no doubt about that."

"It was time," he echoes.

"I wish it hadn't been," he says simply, and then covers his eyes with one hand, because he can't keep himself from crying any longer.

"No less than I, my son. And yet even the end of Narnia is not the end of everything."

He looks up at the sky, then, gaze piercing the trees and the false stars to see the exploding universe beyond.

"Still less is the end of the universe the end of everything. Not quite."

He scrubs at his eyes, looking up at him, and follows his gaze, even if he can't see as far.

Aslan's voice is deep and solemn, heavy like a bell in the stillness of evening.

"Further up and further in! That is the way of things, now."

His muzzle brushes Eustace's cheek, tongue rasping lightly against the last remainder of the boy's tears.

"You would do well to remember, when the time comes."

Eustace closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of Lion and lillies. When he opens them again, he's alone in the clearing.

Eventually, he heads back for the bar, after drying his face. And to his surprise, he's calm, and even smiling.

A time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh.

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