Remember to Forget [CASPIAN]

[Celta Meiru]

Flashes of fire inside of her head awoke Celta with a scream of pain and grief. Celta took in a few gasping breaths, not knowing where she was or what was happening. She did not know how much time had passed since she had been in this room, and she glanced around. It took her a moment to remember she was safe now, that she should be at peace. However, those thoughts failed to soothe her still, instead leaving her feeling even more bitter and sad.

Mustering up her courage and strength to face the day, she threw her legs over the edge of her bed and sat up, standing slowly so she wouldn't be dizzy. Throwing a makeshift dress over her, she walked quickly from the room.

"Thank goodness!" she sighed in relief, finding the room her clothes were in, and opened the door quickly, peering around before entering and shutting the door. The young woman looked around with a smile, looking at her only sanctuary away from everyone. It was where she came to hide from everyone and everything, where she could be alone and be herself while the brute of a king, King Miraz, ruled over her mind and thoughts and caused her to be cautious and wary even after she came to Aslan's Country.

She walked over to where she kept her clothing, looking through every piece until she found an outfit she can present herself with outside of her home. Slipping her lace up white riding dress on, she walked over to the mirror and looked at herself, taking a deep breath in and wincing, yet she held back the emotional pain and placed a smile on her face. She would not allow anyone to see her afraid, pained, or angry in any way while she went out riding.

She played with her hair and splashed some tepid water on her face, and then with a last approving glimpse of herself in the mirror, she slipped from her room, lifting her head high like the noblewoman she was, yet the new hard gleam in her eye was there to remind everyone she met what she had gone through and that she had toughened up even more than she had been. She was confused about the fact that she never found her family here. They did nothing wrong, so there was no reason to be denied Aslan's Country. Which made her think that something else was wrong. If she couldn't trust her own family, how could she trust anyone else she knew?

Walking outside, the sunlight hit her in the eyes, and it forced her to stand there for a short while to get used to the brightness before she could look around her. Celta took a few steps forward and whistled a long and sweet whistle that carried across the small hill near her home. Waiting was torture, but finally, a galloping figure came over the hill and towards her. A smile quickly replaced the sadness on her face as her beautiful dappled grey mare, Eolas, skidded to a stop next to her, and the young Telmarine woman grabbed all of her equipment before taking a few minutes to saddle up.

Only another second passed between her slipping the bridle on and Celta swinging gracefully onto Eolas' back. Eolas immediately took off at a canter without needing the prompting. The bond between this horse and rider was so strong it was almost clairvoyant, though neither of them were magical. They passed through the forest and for that while, nothing else mattered but the two of them riding together, free, unburdened, and comforting each other.

Celta glanced down at Eolas with a frown and furrowed brow as Eolas stopped, and then her eyes widened as she realized where they were. It was Aslan's How, the spot of the Stone Table, and it was also the place in Old Narnia where she lost her life fighting for Aslan. Celta stroked her mare's neck with a shake of her head before she slid off the side of her mare and landed on her feet, walking slowly, hesitantly towards the site. And once she was inside, she finally allowed herself to stop. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she shoved away the intense mixed feelings that this place arose inside of her.

It was also the last place she saw all of her old friends before she came to Aslan's Country, and she truly missed them. Tremelo, Caspian...her childhood friends had to watch her leave the world in a way that wasn't peaceful, yet it was the best way for it to happen. At least Celta fought for what was right, which was for the rightful king to take his place instead of the tyrant Miraz. Caspian deserved the shot to be one of the best kings their country had ever seen. And Celta would give up a thousand lives for that. And so here she was, staring at the walls and feeling memories resurfacing and sending tears into her eyes. And Tremelo, her faun friend, where was he? Did he ever make it to Aslan's Country? All of her unanswered questions bothered her, so Celta began to walk closer to the wall until she was touching it, closing her eyes and letting herself remember.

[caspian]

Caspian had awakened early that morning intending to take several hours of his day to ride his horse. He knew he would probably not be back until late afternoon at the earliest. He had already told his hosts, the four Pevensies, of his plans. Of course they had offered to go with him, but he had insisted that he needed the time alone to think. His memories were still clouded with his previous life, and he couldn't seem to make any sense of them. He had thought spending time alone and revisiting some of his old pastimes may help. After dressing for the day and packing food and water, and making sure that his horse had been saddled properly, he mounted the horse and took off towards Aslan's How. It was an important place for him, because he had fought many battles there and it was such a significant reminder of Aslan. He secretly hoped he may find the lion there, as he still had so many questions lingering that needed to be answered.

He rode for a good part of the morning towards Aslan's How. When he neared the sacred grounds, he slowed his horse and dismounted, as he planned on walking for the rest of the way. He let is horse graze on the grass near the how, and sat down near the entrance where the Stone Table was located. The sky was clear except for a few straying clouds that provided occasional shade. A few moments later he heard something and noticed a young woman standing near the wall, with her hand touching it, and her eyes closed. She looked strangely familiar to him, almost like a shadow in a dream. He stood to his feet and walked over to her quietly, not really wanting to disturb the moment she was having. It was obvious that she too, had come for some type of resolution, or at least he had that feeling.

Not really wanting to frighten her by his presence, he thought it best to make himself known. “Hello …. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you...” He looked at her again, this time more closely, and realized who she was. Her name was Celta Meiru and she had been a friend of his long ago. She had died in a battle at the Stone Table. Of course it had saddened Caspian, but time acts as a salve on old wounds. It was surreal to him that he had actually planned his ride to Aslan's How on the same day that Celta would be there, but maybe it wasn't such a coincidence at all. “Is your name by chance, Celta? I knew a woman a long time ago and you remind me of her...” Caspian hoped he had recognized her correctly, but of course he wouldn't know for sure until she confirmed it.

[Celta Meiru]

Ambivalence. That's the only word one can use to describe everything showing on Celta's face. A fleeting smile for her old friends, hot, stinging tears for all of the pain from her previous life, and a confused tilt of her head and frown for the loss of her family. Nothing made sense to her anymore, ever since she got here to find her parents not waiting for on this side, like they should've been. Her beautifully haunted blue eyes roamed across the wall as she glanced over each painting. The wall showed tales of the bravest in Narnia, which included the four Pevensie siblings. Celta couldn't even remember if she had met them before she had died at the How. It was such a long time ago to be remembering faces she had only seen for a short time in her life.

Shaking her head, she was about to sit down to think when she heard a sound behind her. And because of the life she led before, nothing was too safe and everyone and everything gave her reason to be suspicious. It was a man's voice, and she froze, hoping that if he saw her unresponsive, then he would walk away and leave her be with her thoughts. That was, until the man truly spoke and she heard the familiarity of it. She didn't even have to turn around to feel the kindness and warmth pouring from him towards her. This was a man who would never hurt anyone unless he was forced to do so in self-defense or protecting those he loves.

The young woman listened to him as he apologized for disturbing her, yet she still never turned around to face him. That soft male voice...she knew it. She was terrified to turn and face him, but her courage finally forced her body to move until she was facing the man. Her eyes were on the floor, and one of her hands was pulling nervously at her white dress before she let her hand drop to her side. Her eyes lifted as she swallowed and stared right into the face of man she died for.

"Cas..." she spoke in a whisper almost too inaudible for human ears, but she managed the name she called him when they were children. Celta looked him over and a pang of sadness and concern hit her hard, leaving her speechless. The king was speaking again as he looked at her, asking if she was who he thought she was. She couldn't stop the gentle yet haunted smile that pulled her lips upward for the slightest moment.

"I am indeed Celta..." Her voice was louder this time. "I've missed you, Cas. It's been many years." Her tone wasn't accusatory, but instead held a longing for her long lost friend. Well, she was the one who was long lost, but she hated bringing up the painful reminder of her passing. Silent moments passed as Celta could only look at the handsome king, and she hesitated. She didn't know whether to cry, hug him, laugh and rejoice, or walk away...or even bombard him with questions. Many memories swirled around inside of her head before she couldn't help herself.

Pure instinct took over her body for an instant as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. The thought of him being king, of this being inappropriate for a noblewoman to do, flew out the window as she remembered their friendship in their previous life. She didn't realize just how much she missed him, didn't remember exactly who she died for. And now she did. She would die a thousand times over for her king and good friend. Tears formed in her eyes and threatened to run down her cheeks before she wondered how he would take her unexpected actions.

[caspian]

There seemed to be a few moments of awkwardness that hung between them before Celta spoke. She seemed surprised he was there, yet thankful for his presence, which relieved him. He didn't know why, but he had always thought those that died fighting for him would hold some bitterness for him in the end, but Celta was making those worries fade by her reaction. His friend threw her arms around him and hugged him, which surprised him. However, he returned the hug and breathed in deeply and let out a low, light-hearted chuckle. “I've missed you too, and it has been ages. You're the first person other than the Pevensies that I've seen and remember from …. the other Narnia.” It felt strange describing his past life as that, but he couldn't think of a better way. After a few short minutes of returning her hug, he gently let her go and looked at her, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

“How have you been...? You've been here longer than I have, so we have a lot of catching up to do. And you should visit Cair Paravel soon – I'm sure the Pevensies would welcome you. I'm visiting there for a while before going back to Telmar,” he explained. He was happy to have found a friend, probably happier than he should be. It wasn't that he had been unhappy in Aslan's Country up to that point, but just that it was good to see familiar faces. It gave him some hope that maybe he would run across his father and his wife one day. He just hadn't seen them yet – that was all – it had to be the reason they didn't seem to be there. Lucy had said perhaps Aslan had restored them to a younger age, and that's why they weren't so readily recognizable. Celta appeared to him just as he remembered though.

“Tell me, have you come across anyone else we know? I....I haven't seen my father nor my wife. I was hoping they would be here. For some reason I have this feeling I won't be finding them though...” his voice saddened as he mentioned it, and it obviously upset him. He was hoping she knew a little more about other people in Aslan's Country, or had seen them and knew where he could find them. He paused a moment and let all his questions sink in, realizing he had been speaking quickly.

ooc: So sorry for the wait!