Let the Only Sound Be the Overflow
by Starbrow

Summary: The joy of World's End is found in the arms of the ocean. Lucy/?

Rating: K+

Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me
As before I went under
And it's peaceful in the deep
Cathedral where you cannot breathe
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under
And it's breaking over me
A thousand miles down to the sea bed
Found the place to rest my head

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
In the crashes of heaven for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean delivered me

Florence + the Machine, "Never Let Me Go"

Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colors. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave – a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall…And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterward. Lucy could only say, "It would break your heart." "Why," said I, "was it so sad?" "Sad! No," said Lucy.

C. S. Lewis, "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," Ch 16

Come.

She heard it calling, even before she knew who was calling her. She had heard the Merpeople's songs, the wild harmonies pouring from the Eastern Sea the night of their coronation. But when their songs at last slipped away into the night and Lucy slept at last, she heard the distant roar calling her name: Lucyyyy….

She heard it at the End of the World, in and around and beyond the Wave that led to Aslan's Country, in the music that she had never heard before or since. She ached, trying to remember it, the way it would break your heart to hear it, though there was no sadness there, only joy. It was the joy that she longed for most of all when she had to go back.

Sometimes in England, she thought she heard it, the faintest whisper on the wind, and then it was gone, before she could even tell where it had come from.

The night sky, full of its Stars that were closer and brighter than in England or even Narnia, beckoned softly. She heard it now, more clearly than ever before. Lucy...

I'm coming.

Toes sank into sand, powdery and fine over her feet, then firm and sloping, and finally wet and yielding. Little waves lapped at her ankles as she left footprints on the shore line, only to watch them wash away with the next breaker.

Lucy.

She closed her eyes. Arms stretched out to Sea, offering herself fully to the Call. She was flung wide, sweet breezes sweeping her bare skin, the only sound the whisper of the water.

It welcomed her.

Slowly she stepped into the moving waves. They shifted around her legs, rushing and billowing with every forward motion. She was calf-deep, knee-deep, thigh-deep in the overflow.

Further and further, she came, open and willing, into the Eastern Sea. The waters surrounded her, enclosed her, filled her, coolness against her heated skin, shocking and then soothing feverish points of need.

It was over her hips, whispering against her breasts, soft under her fingertips, caressing her body with an aching gentleness. She felt herself trembling, though she was not afraid, for here was what she had dreamt of, what she had felt tugging at her limbs in the depths of sleep and the expanse of voyages. A quick breath and she was engulfed in the depths of the Eastern Sea.

Darkness was around her, yet behind her eyes and all along her spine, points of light blossomed and tingled like tiny stars.

Then the voice she had heard in her dreams, the hushed roar of redolent memory, poured over her in a drenching rush.

Queen. Do you come willingly?

I come to you of my own will.

I am glad of your coming.

She felt invisible hands filling her own, fingers entangled in water and waves softer than any lover's touch. Breath like life rushed into her lungs, sweet and cold and clear. Then, slowly she began to see.

The darkness flickered and rippled as sheets of golden light cut through the thick curtain of water. Lucy gasped. It was as if a cathedral of blinding glory had opened up around her, so bright and wonderful she could hardly bear to look at it, though she could not bear to look away either. Great blazing spires and arches soared above her, crisscrossed with glowing beams that danced in the shifting waters. The light seemed to come from all around her, through watery prisms of glass dappled like stained glass windows. The shadows it cast below made the ocean floor waver as though itself in motion, rather than the shifting tides.

The Sea, her Sea, gleamed golden as though shot through with sunlight, or with Aslan's Breath.

She sobbed at the beauty.

Arms she could not see held her; the comfort of their embrace warmed her and drew her to follow where they led.

Will you come into my Kingdom, as I have come into yours?

I will…

She stepped further into the light, feeling it fill her as the water had. She could see figures emerging out of the glass prisms, some she had seen before, like the Merpeople and Sea People, and others who were wholly new and strange to her. But somehow she was not afraid. She did not have to try to be brave here; she knew that no harm could come to her, in her Sea, her light.

Behold, your Kingdom.

Please, may I not behold its King as well?

The roar in her ears died away. Lucy held her breath. There was utter silence.

Oh Aslan. She had asked the wrong question.

Then…

You will see me when you know me as I know you.

Her faith might not be great enough to see yet, but it was great enough to believe.

Lucy closed her eyes, and grasped the invisible hands tighter.

All around her she felt ripples coming from the figures around them. They were welcoming her. Embracing her. Singing to her.

She could not make out their words, but she heard the joy in their voices and the love they gave to her.

You are welcome here, Queen.

Was the roar coming from the Kingdom or its King? She couldn't tell anymore, couldn't bring herself to open her eyes for the brilliance of the light surrounding her. Simply listening was enough.

Song after song carried her deeper, further into the bosom of the Sea. Lucy felt herself gathered into its gentle cradling arms, hearing the rhythm of its tides, the harmonies of its people. As they grew dimmer in her ears, the songs sank into her skin and lingered there, just under the surface, humming in her blood. She had never felt so alive.

Come.

She should feel like she was floating, weightless. Instead, when she opened her eyes, feeling the blinding light fall behind her, Lucy found that she was flying over the great cathedral, the expansive hills and valleys beyond, the winding roads and waving forests of the ocean floor, all the while drawn by the hands she still clung to. She could see almost to the bottom of the depths where the light disappeared into purply-grey shadows, while the waters around them grew pale once more as the golden glow burned away.

Cities, mountains, towers and castles passed before them, a whole world to explore, but not now, not when she was being drawn by the irresistible Call.

They flew ever swifter now, for how long she could not tell exactly, but it didn't seem to matter anyways. She took it all in, as much as she could, though she could not have told all the wonderful things she saw along that journey.

At last they came to a place where the Sea became silvery and opaque. Lucy thought at first it looked like moonlight, but as it grew lighter and lighter and finally became white, she put a hand to her mouth, realizing.

Whiteness spread round her on every side. Curtains of white petals drifted from the surface above, following the streams of moonlight. She breathed in deeply.

Lilies.

How did you know?

The lilies were mine, Lucy. This is my Sea.

She felt a gasping sob well up inside her. And the water?

I make it sweet.

She had finally come home, then, to the place she had longed for, even more than Aslan's Country; the place just before it, the ecstasy of the anticipation of it, with all its wondrous senses. The tingling smell of the Last Sea and the fresh lonely scent of the lilies were all about her, just as she remembered it from the Dawn Treader. Through the curtains of light and blossoms, she heard the whisper of the music she'd heard at the End of the World.

And when she opened her mouth and tasted the water, it was sweet on her tongue, haunting, wild.

May I drink it?

Drink your fill, Queen.

Lucy swallowed mouthfuls, remembering. Yes, this was all she would need, now. She could live on this water.

She knelt among the lilies, or what felt like kneeling, surrounded by the fragrant sea of blossoms, and gathered armfuls of them.

Is this your home, then?

It is one of many places I call home. She thought she could hear a smile in his voice. But this is your favorite of them, and so it is mine as well.

It was simple, here, to open her arms, wet and full of lilies, and welcome the invisible King of the Eastern Sea. The joy of the World's End was here, all around her, and a wild smell she both remembered and could not recall. Lucy felt wonderful, delicious laughter rise up in her. She was home, at last.

What should I call you?

What name will you give me?

I don't even know you.

You have known me as long as you can remember, Lucy.

And slowly, she began to see.

..

..

A/N: The title of this story comes from another Florence song, "What the Water Gave Me," and the picture is of St. Lucy of Narnia, who saw visions and served the poor in 15th century Italy. You can read all about her in the Yahoo article "Blessed Lucy of Narnia" (FF, as usual, is being stubborn about links), then let me know in the comments if you think she was our Lucy.