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He can't help the tiny flinch as his attention is brought to the portrait. It's not that he isn't glad to have it--to have a piece of what's otherwise been taken. It's just that, with another visitor from Near London here, well...

Things hurt a bit more.

"...Susan. That's... Queen Susan. The Gentle."

Normally, she'd take back the query as soon as she noted the flinch on his face. But this time, she can't help the open curiosity that has her attention completely riveted on the portrait. She knows that face. It's a far younger face than the one she'd seen almost every day prior to her coming to Narnia, but she knows it.

"She's-- one of the ones that visited and-- went back, yes?"

"She is."

And Rachel usually is quite kind about backing down from hard questions. She hasn't pried much into his connection to the Pevensies--hasn't even pressed beyond what he was willing to tell about the Telmarine dynasty before him. So Caspian takes a deep breath and forces himself to look properly up at the painting of the dear, lost Queen of Old.

"She came twice to Narnia. Once... as a child. Far before my time. And... and then, more recently." His fingers are often in the habit of catching at the Horn, but now it's a far more pronounced action. "When Narnia needed her and her siblings to return just... one last time."

There's a thoughtful hum, her hand almost reaching out to touch the portrait before she reigns herself in, brow furrowing in contemplation as she shifts her gaze at him.

"If she was here-- before your time." Long enough, apparently, for the nurse who had brought her generally up to speed on things to call them the Kings and Queens of Old, "How was it she was able to return again?"

There's an almost rueful smile as his head ducks, fingers tightening unconsciously.

"I called her. Called-- all of them. The High King and his siblings. And Aslan... Aslan willed that they be allowed to come."

However painfully briefly.

She doesn't know the myth behind the Horn, but she can make a connection between his words and the grip on the object. There's questions she has about that, and about Aslan, but that's not actually what she's thinking about at the moment.

"But she must have been-- quite old, by that time. Didn't they rule for years when they were here-- the first time?"

"...they did." His sigh is somewhat defeated as he looks properly up at the portrait again. "They grew up properly here. And then-- were just the same, they said, when they... returned to your world. As if they hadn't lost a minute from the life they'd lived before."

"So it's-- not the same. Time, I mean. Between the two worlds."

Which, well. Would explain a lot.

"Do you know-- from when they were from? In our land?"

"It isn't. It moves-- very strangely."

Maybe Susan was still exactly the same. Maybe she had aged decades. Maybe she was--

His head shakes very suddenly, just a little roughly. "How d'you mean, Lady Rachel?"

"It's just--"

And she's biting her lip in a way she hasn't in ages, but this is a moment that makes her need it.

"I... believe I may-- know her, your Majesty. But if-- she is who I think she is, then it's-- been quite some time for us, in our land. She'd have come to you-- much longer ago than she should have been able to, to help you at-- this age."

A helpless gesture to the portrait.

It hurts. It rips. It aches somewhere deep in his gut and tears somewhere at his heart.

"You've-- seen her?"

It doesn't matter how. It doesn't matter what strange shiftings of time have occurred. It doesn't matter that it's dragging a knife into his heart.

He has to know.

There's a hesitant nod, another glance at the painting.

"It's been-- decades, for us, your Grace. But it's-- I would know that face anywhere. I've been in her service for a few years now."

"In her service?"

Of course she would be a Queen. Of course people would flock to her and look to her as a leader. That doesn't mean his heart doesn't lurch.

"She-- she's well?"

"My Lady has-- had her sorrows." More, Rachel's certain, than the Queen had ever deigned to share even with her mentee. It was clear enough that her real name and so critical a part of her past as Narnia had been hidden from her. She wonders what else may have been, for all she thinks she knows. "But-- she is well. I believe she's even-- happy, most days. And she is well-loved by us all."

Not that that was particularly difficult, knowing now her Queen had loved a kingdom so much it had called her the Gentle and called her back a thousand years after she had left it.

She's happy.

It's not a complete happiness, it sounds like--but then, how could it be, ripped from her true home of Narnia? How could she and Peter not have lived with scars?

But there are days when she's happy. There's a nation, however indistinctly he understands it, that loves her.

His smile is shaky as he nods, looks again to the portrait. "She... she deserves happiness."

"I agree," she murmurs instantly, her gaze following is thoughtfully, fondly, now that she is certain of the woman's identity.

"She has been far kinder to me than many. I consider her to be-- like a mother to me. There is nothing I nor many others would not do for her."

The laugh that escapes him is just a bit hollow. Imagine it--standing here, aching acutely for the presence of a woman thousands of years older than he, listening to a woman who had been her 'daughter' say she was gentle.

"It... must have been a great comfort to her. To have... family."

"I like to think so," she agrees softly, "She's always seemed... so lonely, when she thinks people aren't looking."

Which is even worse to think about, considering she knows that her mentor was once on of four.

"She was always more inclined to bear others than to suffer them to bear her."

There's something shaky as he turns away properly from the portrait now, fingers painfully tight around the horn he wears at his side to this day.

"It's-- I'm glad to hear she's well."

"And I imagine she'd be just as glad to hear you are, as well, Your Majesty."

Her voice is quiet, a little questioning.

"Is there-- should I tell her? When I go back? Is there anything you'd-- like me to let her know?"

The laugh is as instant as it is overwhelmed. The chance to send something, some thought, some reassurance, some continued profession of devotion...

"...let me write it." And he's not certain she can bring it back with her, but the impulse is intense. "Be... certain I know what-- it is I mean to say."

She nods easily at that, instinctively dipping into a light curtsy at the words.

"As you wish."

She knows he must need time to think on what to say, for all she doesn't really know much of his relationship with the Queen beyond the whispers she's heard.

It will be difficult to write. It will seal him off from the world for the rest of the day, run him through draft upon draft upon draft as he tries to breathe through what he needs to say.

In the end, when he goes to find Rachel again, the letter will be short enough for her to remember even if she can't bring it with her.

Susan--

There is not a day I do not miss you. There is not a thought of you that does not bring me peace.

There is not a moment I do not love you and know I am stronger for loving you still.

Caspian X

She'll accept the letter reverently, keep it tucked safe on her person in the hopes that she'll be able to bring it back with her.

Will, every so often and which much tentativeness, tell the King what she knows about her Queen. About her kindness, about the land that she rules, about how the woman is such an inspiring guiding force to Rachel and many others.

It hurts to hear. It hurts to recognize more and more very day that this woman is truly Susan--truly the Queen Narnia had lost not so long ago, who had lived a full life far from these borders. Rachel will have to forgive him the occasional need to clutch her hand, breathe deeply in himself.

She won't mind it. She'll give him the time she can, let him breathe or cling her hand or know more about the woman who had helped shape her life as it was now.

It seemed to her, after all, that the Pevensies had come to Narnia for a purpose both times they'd been brought there. Perhaps her own purpose was this.

Besides. He wasn't the only one gaining something. She'd ask her own questions about the Queen as well, after all. Try to understand her mentor better.

He'll answer all her questions honestly. He'll tell the old tales faithfully, and recollect his own memories in faltering tones.

And, when he can, he'll smile as he speaks of the woman they both love. He'll tell her, most importantly, the little things that had made Susan so much more than just a Queen.

She'll take them all to heart. Will understand Susan better when-- and Rachel's certain there's a when. It's impossible for there not to be-- she finally returns to her own world.

Will be able to serve her better, as well, for both the Lady's sake and for that of the King she spent so much time with.