Like you have now.

Once upon a time … there was a day Prince Caspian was NOT blonde? A brief drabble told by Caspian's Nurse, and written in support of The Blonde Caspian Rebellion.

~:~:~

A/N: Because I still CANNOT believe what they did to the film.

~:~:~

"In the coal cellar," said the man-at-arms, holding our young prince decidedly at arm's length.

I couldn't blame him, really. Not for the arm's length, nor for the strong overtones of disapproval. Much as I loved Caspian, I had to admit at that moment he was a fairly awful sight. The clean tunic I had dressed him in that morning was as black as the heart of the White Witch herself, his face was a nasty combination of coal dust and grimy tear streaks, with the hint of a few blue bruises beneath, and as for his hair...!

"Thank you," I managed at last, and the man-at-arms gave a surly grunt, a last shove to Caspian to send him through the doorway, and left us. "What happened?" I asked as the heavy footsteps died away, and I steered the small coal nugget gently into the room by my fingertips.

Prince Caspian sniffed slightly. "I wanted to find the Red Dwarves," he said, looking up at me with those blue eyes that always melted my heart. The soul that looked out of them was so young, so true – and so innocent. No shadow of knowledge of his parents' fate clouded those four-year-old eyes; only a firm belief in the 'stories' I could tell him. It tore at my own soul that I must teach him the secrecy that went with them, and even more the thought that I must, surely, one day, tell him of those blacker secrets.

But right now, that was not the problem. "Why didn't you stay in the garden?" I asked.

"There weren't any Red Dwarves," said Caspian earnestly. "So I went down the little hatch for the coal cellar, like into the caves you told me about – but I hadn't found them when HE-" Caspian pointed back at the door "-came in and dragged me out." He sniffed again. "I did want to find them."

The last little sad statement broke across my wild flurry of thought – thank goodness he had been found and that it had been one of the castle guard not one of the fat and foolish Queen's fatter and foolish-er Ladies in Waitingand that the Prince had been brought back here without any explanations being asked – with a jolt. If he had not been quite so dirty, I would probably have hugged him. I crouched down to his level instead, stubbornly ignoring the twinge of rheumatism I was Not having in both knees. "Caspian," I said gently, "I'm sure you will find a Red Dwarf one day, if you keep looking. But I don't think they're around the castle. Shall we get you cleaned up now?"

He nodded obediently, and I creaked up to standing again, and led him over to the hearth. The tunic would wash, so would the face, but unless we did something about about the hair before washing, I rather felt the sea would turn black from Narnia to the Lone Islands. I spread a sheet, set a low stool on it and fetched the comb. Caspian eyed that rather suspiciously.

"Shut your eyes, now," I commanded.

"Tell a story?" came the answer from the screwed shut face.

For a moment, I frowned at the thought of story telling while trying not to shower the whole castle with coal dust – and then suddenly I smiled at the thought of a very relevant tale.

"Once, long long ago," I said, taking the first gentle brush at the mop before me, "there were four kings and queens of Narnia. Two had golden hair, like you usually have, and two had jet black hair, like you have now..."