Okay so TWHCL was supposed to be a one-shot, but it just kept tugging at my mind. So here's to a two-shot that tbh might go on to a three-shot if my writing brain cooperates. Happy holidays and happy new year! Do drop a review if you can :)

Rose has always prided herself on her practicality. When she first came to Telmara, she knew love had no place for her. If she's honest, Rose knew the moment Aunt told her of Tanssi Kuun. And just the same, love arrived. First, it came with Darin. Sweet, gentle, wonderful Darin who always stood by her without any questions. Darin was the only kind of man Rose could ever picture sharing Tanssi Kuun with, though he didn't end up being the only one. From the moment she met him, she trusted him. He helped her find the door; how could she not be grateful? And when she called him for aid, he ran to her side with unflinching loyalty. He never questioned her, never pushed her. He was her rock from the moment she met him. Now he is her star, winking down at her from the heavens as if to remind her that she will never truly lose him.

Some nights, she forgoes sleep just to stare up at him for those extra hours, as if looking up will take away the ache of sleeping alone. She grew used to his warmth over almost two decades, and after nearly a half decade of missing him she still can't get used to its absence. Rose makes sure to always notice the chill of empty space at her back, for if she forgets how warm he kept her it's like losing another piece of him, another memory tying them together.

On a very few of those nights, Rose remembers Caspian's warmth too.

During the quest for Rilian, Caspian ended up pressed behind her for warmth several times. Thankfully it was never in a bed and so Rose can convince herself that she didn't betray her husband. Yet, Bashar shows her that in her heart Rose hurts at the memory of someone else. If she and Caspian had not been more than friends all those decades ago, perhaps she'd think nothing of it. But they nearly fell in love, and so Rose cannot quite forgive herself.

In Darin's absence, Bashar becomes her rock. The faerie, the first she met, sees into her as no one else can. Much more than her heart, Bashar sees Rose's soul. They get in the habit of keeping vigil together at night and resting during the day when the moon's light drowns out the stars. This night, Rose is fighting a losing battle to stay awake, having gone without sleep for the past two nights.

"You need rest," Bashar says, encircling Rose with her ribbons. "Darin will still be there when you wake."

Rose draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin. "I know."

Bashar shifts, and a tickle starts deep in Rose's chest. It's a familiar strangeness – their souls are brushing, a skill they learned over years of closeness and accidental heart connections. Though at first Rose tried to keep her closest friend out, she's come to welcome this unique gift they have. Even Darin didn't know her as well as Bashar now does.

"There is no wrong in loving him, Rose."

Rose's breath catches. For years, ever since they realized Caspian's closeness at night meant a little too much, they've had a silent agreement never to speak of it. Bashar knows well how guilty Rose feels.

"I was vulnerable," Rose whispers. "It wasn't real."

"Yet your heart says otherwise." Bashar hesitates, and Rose's chest tingles again. "Go to him."

Rose jerks away as if burned. "And leave Darin again? No, Bashar. I'm never going back to Narnia."

"Narnia did not take him. Nor did Caspian. Don't punish him when he too lost his love."

Bashar's voice may be gentle, but the words cut deep into Rose's heart. The answering flare of pain Rose senses in Bashar is a mirror of her own.

Overwhelmed, Rose buries her face in her arms and trembles.

Three months later, Rose walks into the throne room at Cair Paravel.

Caspian's age shows as he rushes from his throne. His hair, only streaked with occasional grey during the quest, is now a more even mix of silver and black. Crow's feet extend from his eyes, and he moves a little slower than she remembers. Rose walks forward to make up the distance, though her feet hesitate to obey. When Caspian grasps her shoulders and looks her up and down, the new wrinkles of his hands draw her gaze.

"You're getting old," she says by way of greeting. "Your hands are wrinkled."

"It's good to see you," Caspian answers, as if she hadn't spoken so rudely. "How have you been?" Without waiting for a reply, he draws her into his arms, shaking as he holds her. Rose ignores his question; she doesn't trust herself to lie well enough.

"What about you? How is Rilian?" she asks in hopes of distracting him.

Caspian withdraws, and she wishes desperately she didn't miss his warmth. "He shall be king soon. As you said, I'm getting old." The crow's feet deepen around his eyes.

Rose smiles in return. "He has much to live up to."

Warmth floods Caspian's eyes, still as rich a brown as in his youth. Rose has to look away before her familiar guilt consumes her. Even this small happiness of seeing Caspian again is painful.

"Come," he says. "I'll show you to your room." Looping her arm through his, Caspian begins to walk. Surprised, Rose follows along mutely at first. Only when they're passing through the throne room's side door does she come to her senses.

Digging in her heels, Rose jerks to a stop. "Caspian, I'm not sleeping here," she says in a sudden panic. "I can't, I have to…" Something, she's got to do something, or be somewhere, anywhere but here, because how can she sleep where she can't see the stars? Even a night sky without Darin is better than a dismal ceiling.

"Surely you can't mean to leave so soon?" Caspian asks, nearly stuttering over the words. "You've traveled so far, you must be exh-"

"I'm fine, I'll be just fine. I only came to say hello." Rose's hands shake, and a terrible throbbing stars in her head. Warm, wrinkled hands wrap around hers, stilling them. "There's a glass roof."

Rose stills. "A glass roof?" she echoes.

"So you can see the stars."

Moisture pools in her eyes, and Rose is powerless to stop the overflow. Embarrassed, she swipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "How did you know?"

With a heavy smile, Caspian begins to walk again, guiding her along with a gentle hand at her elbow. "I didn't."

When Caspian stops in front of a pale door painted with a moon mural, Rose tugs free once more. "It's a terrible bother, to prepare a room without notice – "

Caspian palms the door open. Before her is a room with a freshly made bed, wildflowers on the bedside table, and a polished glass roof. And the walls are covered in murals of pine trees. He's brought Tanssi Kuun to her.

"I wanted to be ready, in the event of your return."

Rose purses her lips to stop their trembling and fights the urge to face him. "You couldn't have known I would," she chokes out.

From behind, Caspian wraps a gentle arm around her shoulders and holds her so tightly she can feel his heartbeat. "I hoped."

Though she thought to stay only a few hours, Rose remains at Cair Paravel for well beyond a week. Bashar predicted as much; the faerie promised Rose she'd be fine looking after Tanssi Kuun for a week at least, and repeated several times that even a month was quite possible. Rose brushed off her friend's reassurances at the time, but now they soothe her worries when she lies in bed at night, staring at the stars.

Caspian rarely lets her out of his sight. She takes all her meals with him and Rilian, and after the a few days the three of them are as comfortable together as if they've been supping every day for years. Rilian is much like his father was in his twenties – measured, wise, too responsible for his own good. But he has a boyishness about him beyond what Caspian ever had. Even his time with the witch didn't dim the youth in his smile nor the mirth always twinkling in his eyes – blue, like his mother's. He laughs often, and Rose finds sadness impossible in his presence. Rilian lights up any room, and Caspian is never happier or more alight with youth than in his son's presence.

But after their dinners, Rilian excuses himself to his study, giving Rose and Caspian much-needed time alone although they never asked him to. He simply understood.

Every night since Rose arrived, she and Caspian spend hours in her room on ladders. Caspian holds the paint while Rose maps Tanssi Kuun's stars onto the glass in brilliant color. She asked Caspian for the paint on her second evening here, and ever since they've settled into a comfortable, silent ritual.

Now, on her seventh night, the mural is complete with every star she's memorized but one.

Rose pauses on her ladder, pushing the paintbrush handle behind her ear and resting her elbows on the ladder's tip. Beside her, Caspian fights a yawn. He always tries to hide it when he gets tired, and Rose always waits a few minutes after that telltale sign to fake her own yawn and descend back to the floor. Tonight, Rose glances over and smiles ever so slightly.

"It's all but done. Perhaps we should get some sleep." No matter that this is nearly an hour earlier than usual. Rose needs to put up that final star alone.

Caspian meets her gaze. Though his eyes are as gentle and warm as ever, Rose has never felt so exposed in front of him. Silently, he descends the ladder and sets the golden paint on the floor. Rose is moments behind him on her own ladder, struggling to come up with their usual goodnight.

But Caspian plucks the dirty brush from her ear the moment her toes touch the floor and drops it into the small pail of water on the dresser nearby. He picks up a clean brush, the same size, returns to her, and wordlessly places it in her hand. For a moment, their hands clasp together with the brush between their palms, then Caspian's hand is gone and so is he.

"Thank you," Rose whispers to the empty room.

She moves her ladder just a bit and ascends to the ceiling once more, a cup of green paint in her hand and the clean brush held between her teeth. Rose sets the paint on top of Caspian's ladder, dips her brush, and fills in the final star.

Rose does not sleep until dawn, but her heart is somehow lighter. She clasps the two pendants around her neck to her heart all night, and her eyes never leave Darin's star.

When at last she awakens the sun is glaring through her ceiling, announcing midday mercilessly against her eyelids. Though her stomach complains, Rose does not join Caspian and Rilian for lunch. Instead, she drinks in the warmth of the sun and stares at the emerald green star, the last piece of Tanssi Kuun's sky to finish the map. She's never seen him during daylight before, much less under Narnia's sun.

Rose always loved the moonlight, but Darin longed for the sun. Summer sun was his favorite, though his smithing was most miserable in the muggy heat. Darin didn't care; his most treasured moments were stolen afternoons with her in the plains outside Telmara, soaking up the summer heat and snacking on fruit and bread beneath a cloudless sky.

Rose slips between daydreamed memories and naps until the sun sinks to the horizon, emblazoning the Narnian sky in brilliant reds and oranges and purples. Rose rises at last from bed, stretching as she considers the skyscape. This is one thing Narnia has over Tanssi Kuun – sunsets. Moonsets are stunning, but Narnian sunsets are richly colored in the way only sunlit worlds can be.

When the sky above darkens to more blues and purples than rusts and reds, Rose changes and makes her way to the small dining room where Caspian and Rilian await her.

She pushes the wooden door open quietly and finds father and son buried deep in discussion – something about Ettinsmoor by the sounds of it. Rilian glances up with a smile as she enters, but he finishes his conversation with Caspian as she closes the door and takes her usual seat. By then, they've agreed to send a well-armed diplomatic team to the Giants and greet her with reserved hellos.

Rose returns their greetings, but her stomach announces itself far too loudly and the uncertainty in the room breaks into mirth. For all the complicated workings of her heart, Rose can't help but laugh with them.

"Perhaps the next time you skip a meal, I shall deliver it to you and appease your poor stomach," Rilian laughs, his shoulders shaking as his rich blue eyes dance.

Rose chuckles gratefully. "Perhaps you shall," she agrees.

The trio passes a gentle evening together. For all the lightness Rilian brings, tonight a fragility hangs in the air, something all of them seem to sense. Rilian's laugh is a few moments shorter than usual, and Caspian doesn't smile as easily. And Rose, Rose can hardly decipher herself. She chuckles and smiles and nods and hums when she should, but something winds tighter in her chest with every tender bite of pheasant that passes her lips. The knot tugs tighter whenever she meets Caspian's soft eyes across the table.

When the meal is done and they all lick the last of the honey from their sticky bread dessert off their fingers, Rilian lingers.

"I believe I should draft the diplomatic points for our team," Caspian says through the napkin patting the stickiness from his lips. "I won't be long." Caspian hugs his son and squeezes Rose's shoulder on his way out. Rose watches him leave, careful to school her face into vague curiosity.

When she turns back to Rilian, the blue-eyed prince is offering her his arm and smiling those six inches down at her. "A turn in the gardens, my lady? I believe the poppies have just begun to bloom."

Rose accepts his arm. Now that her painting is finished, she'll welcome the variation in routine. She chatters with Rilian about the state of the royal gardens and debates the merits of red versus yellow poppies as that brittle thing in the air starts to fade.

"Yellow most certainly catches the sunlight best," she insists with a grin that pulls at her chapped lips. "And the sunsets too!"

"Ah, but red mirrors the sky at sunrise!" Rilian tosses back. "What better color than one to match the sky's most brilliant hours?" He smiles toothily, as if he's won the debate.

Rose shoulders open the doors to the garden, comforted at once by the babble of water fountains. "Perhaps both are best," she compromises. "Red at the edges and radiating into the center, and yellow everywhere in between."

Rilian taps his index finger against his chin as he follows her into the castle's corner of paradise. He suddenly beams, clasping her hand where it rests on his arm. "A brilliant plan, my lady! I shall ensure the gardeners do just that next season."

"Rilian, how many times must I remind you," Rose asks with a playful shoulder nudge. "It's just Rose."

Rilian chuckles and says nothing as he guides them to a simple stone bench amid a smattering of flowering ivy. Rose sits after he does, and something somber settles between them.

"Rose," Rilian begins, wetting his lips as he stares into the setting sun. He hesitates, his knuckles white on his right knee as he clutches at his pants.

Rose slips her hand from his arm to rub soothing circles into his back. "Some things don't need to be said," she offers gently. She knows too well what it is to say things one doesn't want to; she wishes Rilian did not have to know.

But Rilian shakes his head vigorously, his blond curls dancing across his broad forehead. "No, but this does." He shakes out the hand grasping his knee and clears his throat. "I never got to thank you, for questing to find me. My father was seeking his child and heir, Jill and Eustace were here by Aslan's command. You didn't have to seek me with them. But you did." Rilian's voice trembles, skittering into the air between them on fragile wings. "My father told me, what it cost you. I…I'm so sorry."

At once, the guilt in Rilian's young face is too much to bear. Rose's heart trips over painful beats of grief, but she turns Rilian to face her and speaks past the bubble in her throat. "Finding you cost me nothing," she tells him firmly. "I did not lose my husband because I was seeking you."

Rilian opens his mouth, but she stops him with a firm shake of her head. "I didn't, Rilian. He was lost to me for other reasons entirely." Rose softens in spite of the ferocity with which she would purge him of this sorrow for her. "You have nothing to feel guilty for," she murmurs with wet eyes.

Caspian's son breathes shakily once, twice. But at last the weight behind his eyes lightens, and he swoops forward to hug her. "I thank you."

Rose's tears spill over, but she smiles as the iron cage of grief slowly weakens around her heart.

When she returns to her room, Rose finds Caspian waiting for her by the door. To most anyone, he hides his nerves well; but Rose sees his too-straight shoulders and lightly puckered brow straightaway.

"I told him he has nothing to feel guilty for," she says the moment she's within earshot. "And he doesn't."

Caspian's shoulders visibly relax as relief slackens the tight lines in his face. "Thank you. He needed to hear as much." With quicker steps than she's come to expect, Caspian strides forward and sweeps Rose into a tight hug, squishing her almost to the point of pain. Regardless, she squeezes him just as tightly.

When he releases her, both their eyes are swimming. Silently, Rose takes his hand and leads him into her finished room. She stops right beneath that final green star, the brightest of them all and dares to look at him.

"I finished, last night," Rose whispers. "Thank you."

Caspian's hand is warm and steady in hers, but when he tears his eyes from the painted replica of her Darin, his cheeks are wet. He brushes her cheek with tender fingers, reverently, as if the moment will shatter when either of them breathes.

His fingers are warm. A warm shiver rushes up Rose's spine as her heart reaches for…something. Something grand and frightening and far beyond what Rose will name right now. But she finds herself smiling as she breathes in the moment, and for all their apprehension, it doesn't crumble when she exhales and Caspian follows suit.

They spend the evening lying on Rose's bed and staring at the ceiling, tracing constellations with their fingers in midair and naming the ones they know. Caspian knows the ones she painted, too.

In the deep hours of the night when Caspian snores beside her, Rose wonders if it is finally time to bring Caspian back to the world that brought them together. And when she wakes to an insistent sunrise and Caspian's hand clasping hers, she decides.