Chapter Ten: And There Were Legends
An Epilogue for the Nurse (You hadn't forgotten about her, had you?)

Disclaimer: The story hasn't been mine from beginning to end; you surely didn't think that'd change now?

A/N: I tried to tie up most of the loose ends in the last chapter, but I had an idea that begged to be written; if you would, tell me what you think of it, and whether the story is added to or whether it should just be left without this epilogue?

OOOOO

The nurse walked back into the castle years after she'd walked down the road and left it behind. She walked into a courtyard of animals (talking), lords, and servants, readying things to move, distributing as needed, or waiting for an opportunity to see their king. It was chaos; so much more chaos than it had been when she left.

But she looked around and smiled. She was at peace where before there'd been pain, and the hopes she had cherished had become sight, and with sight, joy. She'd watched her Caspian rule Narnia like it was made for him, even if the throne itself was a bit big for him yet. An oversight she hoped would be rectified at Cair Paravel, since the four had begun ruling as children. After much debate, the council had decided to move there, the dryads helping to show ways paths could be cleared, and the dwarfs plying their skill to rebuild the ruin. Doctor Cornelius had been overjoyed at the crumbling library; Trumpkin reassured at the royal treasury ("We'll never be bankrupt, not with this lot"); and Trufflehunter satisfied that they were returning to the place most animals ("Especially badgers—we hold on") would remember.

She shook herself, looking around the courtyard for Caspian, who would be small among the teeming bodies. There, by the centaurs, listening. Listening politely, she was glad to see. He still had the manners of a prince. He looked so involved in the move. Caspian, whose fear of ghosts had vanished when he met the dryads, looked forward to it eagerly. His face had lit with the joy she remembered from her golden child, when he discussed the move with her after the council, and she'd chuckled and told him the story of it being built, during the reign of the third king, whose brother had fallen in love with a mermaid. The king had built the Cair near the sea to be near his brother, and because it looked towards the way Aslan came.

Caspian, turning, saw her and smiled-that golden smile. She hobbled over and walked with him; he went through the doorway and into the closest room, sitting down on the scarlet couch with a sigh, gesturing her to join him. For a just a few minutes, a few precious minutes he was her Caspian again, a child listening with a look of wonder and curiosity.

But then a squirrel bounded through the door, jumping on the dark wood of a dresser and sitting up at attention. The council had wanted to discuss how the roads in Narnia would be kept up, since Narnia wasn't populated enough for neighbors to maintain the roads they lived on. Caspian straightened, instantly less of a child, and she chuckled and bid him go. Her Caspian was a king now, and it did her heart good to see him becoming a true one, thank Aslan.

Thank Aslan indeed. She paused in a corridor, leaning against the wall and watching him walk away. She'd never thought about it much, since seeing him crowned (and how different that had been than she'd feared; she hadn't been sitting in the audience, trying to see if he still loved Old Narnia; she'd been one of the first to receive his kingly blessing, with a badger, dwarf, half-dwarf, and two lords who loved Aslan), but all her old fears, her worries that she hadn't been enough—they'd been proven untrue. Scared as she had been, timid as she had been, hushing Caspian's least whisper of Old Narnia outside their storytimes, it had still been enough. Enough to open his heart to Old Narnia, and to long for it to come back. Aslan had worked that, and from that, had come this. Narnia restored; free, full, and bursting with life. And the King of Narnia about to return to the Cair.

She turned away, going back through the once-familiar passages of the castle to his old nursery, one he hadn't set foot in, she didn't think. He wouldn't want much from it, but some things - the dragon toy his mother'd sent, the blanket traditionally given to a newborn prince, that she'd pack for him. She paused before crossing the nursery, and added the story chair to the growing pile in the middle of the room. She'd take that with her, even if it was just for her. And the stool was added to it a moment later, though it wasn't as easy to move as it had been. Aslan brought her back to life, but it wouldn't be forever, she thought with an inward groan at her aching joints.

And what was she to do, now that her Caspian was grown? Her hands froze over the gold circlet she was folding into a velvet navy cloth. She'd loved watching - it'd been so busy -

She hadn't considered that she hadn't a purpose anymore. Allowing Caspian to be a child again, sure, but that wouldn't last forever. He was growing up.

And glad as she was to see it, she was a nurse, and he'd keep her near, for his love, but love didn't give her something to do. People her age usually had grandchildren, but Caspian wouldn't be giving her grandchildren anytime soon. And Alissel and her siblings were even younger. What was she to do?

Her hands resumed folding the cloth. This, at least, she could do. And maybe she'd become Narnia's storyteller, she thought to herself, though she couldn't picture actual Dwarfs, Fauns, and Talking Beasts listening to her tales about them when they surely had their own renditions. Who would she even tell her stories to?

A call from the hallway interrupted her; her Caspian's voice, calling "Nurse!" She moved (slower now than ever, she really was getting old) and pulled herself up the step into the hallway. He was far down it, something cradled in both arms, and a worried look on his face.

A look that melted into relief when he saw her. "Nurse," he called, his voice not quite so loud, and he rocked the bundle of blankets in his arms; she realised it was a baby. "I—wasn't sure what to do with him," he said, looking down at the bundle in his arms. "When I found out about him, I asked King Peter and the other three, and they said to make sure he's taken good care of. And I did, I gave him to a motherly badger, but she's got her own kits now, born yesterday, and I don't know who else to ask. They—might not like him. After his father..." He trailed off, and the nurse peered more closely at the baby. She started.

He had dark red hair. Dark red, like a certain unpleasant former queen. She looked back up at Caspian.

"My aunt didn't want the bother of raising a baby," he whispered, his voice sad as he looked down at his cousin, and the nurse wondered if he remembered the love his own mother had shown him, once she'd finished grieving. And she remembered Prunaprismia's disdain for children, and ceased to wonder that she'd leave the child behind. "She wasn't queen anymore, no one took care of the baby for her. So she left him." He looked at his nurse. "Can you care for him? Like you did me?"

There were so many objections to that. They flashed through the mind of Caspian's nurse at once. She was too old. (She was, now. She'd been dying before Aslan healed her.) She already raised a child. She'd then helped to raised an entire brood. She was a grandmotherly age now.

The baby started to cry. Well, a grandmother could do this, at least. She held out her arms for it, Caspian hastily giving his cousin up, though he stayed nearby with his eyebrows drawn in concern.

He'd already started to love the child, the nurse realised, and looking down, thought she might be too. It was, after all, just a child. "Come into the nursery, then, and help me pack for him. If your majesty has time?" she added quickly, remembering that, after all, her Caspian was her king. But he grinned up at her with his familiar, golden grin, and darted into his old nursery. By the time the nurse had hobbled through the doorway, he'd pulled the story chair away from the pile and had it ready for her to sit in. She sat, rocking the baby, then looked back at Caspian. He had an expectant look.

"Yes, my king?"

"I remember Mother told me, one time, that she whispered to me of Narnia when I was born," he said hesitantly. "Maybe you could do the same for my cousin? Tell him stories?" Her mouth twitched in a well-hidden smile. "I'll pack while you do," he added quickly. "Just tell me what you need, if I forget anything, and you sit and tell Edmund stories."

"Edmund?" she asked, surprised. Caspian nodded.

"I named him that because he'll be the closest thing I have to a younger brother," he added seriously. "And I think my younger brother should know about Narnia, don't you Nurse?"

She looked down at the baby in her arms. "Very well, Edmund. Once upon a time, a young prince was born, tenth in his line. He had a father and mother who loved him—not that, your majesty, he won't need that many toys. Pack tunics instead, babies need quite a lot of them. And then, little prince, this boy's mother whispered to him, Welcome, my next king of Narnia…"

OOOOO

Response to Anonymousme: I made it to page 100. The OCD part of me is very happy the story stopped there! I'd left myself a note about the Lords of Beaversdam; I might have forgotten about them myself otherwise. But the more I wrote them, the more I loved them, so I'm glad I had the note! This particular story was built around the theme of legends, and I'm not sure I could keep that up through The Voyage. But it'd be fun to try, so maybe? I have three or four one-shots I'd like to write first, and I'll probably do one a week, so if I did work on a sequel it wouldn't be for another month. (That way I also have time to work on the novel I'd like to get published in a couple of years.) But once those prompts are taken care of, I'll consider it, I promise. Thank you, so much, for sticking with this story till the end, and catching things. That was incredibly helpful.

Response to Guest: Thank you, for all your reviews. I'll admit, I was closely concerned with the story keeping to the canon, so I'm glad it succeeded! And I'm glad you liked Grittlekir, she was someone I enjoyed as well. I'm also impressed by your reading; the reviews were left over the period of at least two hours, so thank you for taking so much time! And thank you for reading and reviewing.