A/N: Hello. I am back. I am the Daddy, hear me roar.

Well, obviously I'm not the Daddy, as I am a) female and b) not a parent, but that just sounded cool. It's 3:00am, Some guy is txting me saying he can see my bedroom from his house and I've run out of martini.

To make this a/n into something that actually has anything to do with the fic, I must point out now that this isn't the promised sequel to Sooner Or Later. I was reading through the CS Lewis section and noticed Saicho had updated with the Felimath chapter. So I think it's fairly safe to call her my official muse, as this fic deals mainly with that episode. I've changed a few things to include a bit of a harsher/more realistic view on the slavers, but the main reason is because I want an excuse for Lucy to be in dire moral danger so Caspian can go all Forties Heroic. Damn it, that sounds terrible; does this mean I have to revoke my feminist card? Good job, Rumms!

Also, I think we've caused a Lucian explosion on the CS Lewis section. Look at them all! All those lovely Lucians floating around. One day we should all indulge the minority and start a Jill/Rilian craze, obscure as it is, because people keep emailing me and telling me it'd be ace. That's reason enough in my book.

One more thing; the title of this fic is fairly nonplussing to the innocent reader, so purely to indulge myself I shall explain, whether you like it or not. If you have the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, then you have undoubtedly heard a track called 'El Tango De Roxanne'. It's the song that's played during the scene where Satine is attacked by the duke. Apart from the context being relevant, I just always pictured Caspian bursting through the door at the orchestral crescendo ready to AVENGE. For some reason. Can't imagine why.

Anyway, Enjoy.

xxx

El Tango De Lucian

Foolish. So foolish.

Why hadn't he expected this?

Felimath was the picture of beauty, and Caspian couldn't fault Lucy for wanting to abandon the tedium of life on deck for a few hours to walk in the open moorland. No; what he hadn't thought to fathom was that in the Golden Age, the Lone Islands were as harmless as they were scenic. Not so in these more troubled times. It was little more than three years since the rule of his Uncle Miraz had collapsed, and a mere three years was not time enough for all the wrongs to be righted. Hence, Caspian should have realised that slavery in the Lone Islands was not quite as illegal as he would have liked.

A tall, unkempt man in front of him tugged at the rope which bound Lucy's wrists, and Caspian saw her stumble. He cursed the slaver, and himself for his naïvety.

Their only hope of rescue lay with Drinian and the Dawn Treader, but the ship was now on the other side of Felimath and a good ten miles away. So, they were on their own. If only he could have just a few minutes alone with the others...! He felt sure that between them they could plan some means of escape. He had always recognised and greatly respected Lucy and Edmund's resourcefulness, and sooner or later, Eustace had to be able to convert that ingeniousness for worming out of deck chores into a formidable strategic intelligence...

Jolted out of his reverie, he realised they had reached the shore and descended to a levelled-off area sheltering a small village. Over the quiet green-grey gulf, Caspian could see the white streets of Narrowhaven glinting in the afternoon sun. Pug tied their ropes to a fencepost and disappeared with his five companions into an inn, taking Reepicheep with him, the Mouse clearly in a transport of rage. One slaver stood guard outside the inn door, watching their prisoners from across the road.

Lucy, Edmund and Caspian immediately moved close and began to debate in low, quick voices.

"Is there any way we can alert Drinian and the rest of the crew?" Edmund asked desperately.

Caspian shook his head in frustration. "The Dawn Treader is likely to be round the other side of the island by now," he speculated. "Out of sight, out of hearing. And a long way to walk."

"But surely, They'll be suspicious when we don't meet up with them? They must come looking for us..."

"But the problem is, we couldn't tell Drinian exactly how long it would take to reach the south of Felimath," Caspian said. "It'll be hours before they know for sure that something's wrong, and by then we could be anywhere. On our way to Calormen, even. If only one of us could slip away..."

As if on cue, the guard by the inn door swung his heavy mace idly.

"I don't like the idea of us splitting up," Lucy said warily. "There's no way of contacting eachother; it's just adding an extra risk, and makes us harder to find."

"I don't like it either, but it would give us a chance to warn the crew," Caspian reasoned. "If only we could find a way to free Reepicheep! He's the fastest of us by far, and the least likely to be caught a second time."

"Caspian." Lucy's voice was calm, but he had the feeling she'd made an effort to do so. "How do they… treat… slaves in this place?" Something about the way she said it made him remember how quite early on one the slavers had taken her cloak, leaving her in just a thin white bodice. Edmund's lips thinned. Caspian's fist tightened around the fencepost.

"I'm not sure, Lucy," he said calmly. "But you may take heart that I and whoever stands by me will fight to the death for your honour."

Eustace, who had been tethered some way off and had been ranting furiously to himself, looked up in fear and indignation at the words 'fight to the death'.

"I don't want anyone fighting to the death for anything," Lucy said with that same calmness, though Caspian wondered what it was costing her to appear so composed. "We just need to be careful, that's all-"

She cut herself off as they saw Pug emerge from a side-street, trailing sulkily behind a well-dressed man who looked both stern and mild, and whose hair was silver under the sun. He was obviously agitated.

"Filthy practice!" the well-dressed man exclaimed angrily. "Traffic of human flesh! I've told you that Cathmar wants none of your wares."

"But just passing, Lordship, just passing through..." weedled Pug, as close as his gruff voice would allow. "Surely you'll allow a trader to mind his own and get on with his job..."

The well-dressed Lord made as if to retort, but his eyes fell on Caspian first. And then his anger ebbed away and there flickered in his face the strangest expression, as if he were remembering something from the distant past. He paused for a moment, evidently struggling, and then said sharply; "How much do you want for that boy?"

Pug stopped short; having been content to settle with merely being allowed passage through the port village, evidently the last thing he had expected was for the Lord to make an offer. He broke into a sly smile.

"Your Lordship knows good wares when he sees them," he gloated. "No deceiving your Lordship with anything second-rate. That boy, though, I've taken a liking to him myself. Got rather fond of him; wouldn't like to let him go for a pittance. I'm that tender-hearted I didn't ought to have taken up this job, but-"

"Tell me your price, carrion," said the Lord sternly. "Do you think I want to listen to the rigmarole of your filthy trade?"

Caspian's heart was pounding. There had been something of a recognition in the Lord's glance, and now he thought of it, he about fitted the ages of those whom his Uncle Miraz had sent away from Narnia. Could it be...?

Pug and the Lord were haggling. It was only when Lucy's voice broke through, and she was close enough that he could hear the tremble, that Caspian realised what was actually going to happen. His mouth went dry. They would be split up.

"Please," Lucy said steadily. "I beg of you. Don't separate us."

"A hundred and fifty crescents, then," said the Lord. "As for you, maiden, I am sorry I cannot buy you all. Unrope my boy, Pug. And heed: treat these others well while they are in your charge, or I shall have word of it, and it will be the worse for you."

She's strong, Caspian reassured himself. He couldn't look away from her, her fair hair, her cloud-grey eyes. She's strong, she'll fight. And Reep and Edmund and even Eustace, they-

"Well!" said Pug, adopting an official manner. "Now whoever heard of a gentleman in my line of business who treated his stock better than what I do? Well? Why, I treat 'em like my own family."

"That's likely enough to be true," the Lord said grimly.

The guard moved to untie the rope wound round the fencepost, but left secured the loops round Caspian's wrists. The Lord counted out his money; Caspian could only see Lucy. He wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but the knots binding him were unmerciful... He lurched forward, and not being able to put his arms round her he simply pressed his body against hers, the sides of their heads touching, almost like the way cats will greet each other. Her hair, trapped between them, was hot from the sun.

It only lasted a moment before he was roughly pulled away.

"Now missy," Pug said airily, seeing the tears in Lucy's eyes, "don't you start taking on and spoiling your looks for the market tomorrow." His grin was predatory, unnerving. "You be a good girl and there'll be nothing to cry about, see?"

Caspian twisted savagely in the guards grasp, but as he was restrained with the utmost ease he realised the truth - next to these seven men, all huge and well armed, he was just a boy, king or no. Suddenly limp and icy-cold despite the midday sun, he was lead away through the village.

Lucy watched him go, her face blank and grim.