Victory had been a shaky thing. Victory had been fought and clawed for with heavy sacrifices on both side. Victory had taken the lives of many brave sons and daughters of Narnia. Victory had taken multiple warships from the invaders; just one from the Narnians.
When he finally regained consciousness on the shore of Galma, his first fleeting thought was for the Dawn Treader. She, thankfully, wasn't a warship--was still safely back in the harbour. His second thought was for the fleet. Pushing himself up onto his elbows to scan the horizon confirmed what he had desperately wished--the line of the sea was clear of enemy ships, patrolled only by silhouettes he knew well.
His third thought was for the promise he had made to Anne.
It took hours to find enough strength to stand. It took nearly another to find a fisherman along the shore who would bring him across the sound to the Cair. It took another still to travel to Narnia's seat of power.
Perhaps Anne would hear the shouting down in the courtyard when he dragged himself finally into his home again, exhausted beyond belief, slick with blood and soaked with salt water. Perhaps Anne would hear the clamour through the halls of the Cair as half the castle came running to see to the returned monarch.
If not, Anne would hopefully hear the pounding of a skittish maid on the door telling her to come to the royal chambers immediately.
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When he finally regained consciousness on the shore of Galma, his first fleeting thought was for the Dawn Treader. She, thankfully, wasn't a warship--was still safely back in the harbour. His second thought was for the fleet. Pushing himself up onto his elbows to scan the horizon confirmed what he had desperately wished--the line of the sea was clear of enemy ships, patrolled only by silhouettes he knew well.
His third thought was for the promise he had made to Anne.
It took hours to find enough strength to stand. It took nearly another to find a fisherman along the shore who would bring him across the sound to the Cair. It took another still to travel to Narnia's seat of power.
Perhaps Anne would hear the shouting down in the courtyard when he dragged himself finally into his home again, exhausted beyond belief, slick with blood and soaked with salt water. Perhaps Anne would hear the clamour through the halls of the Cair as half the castle came running to see to the returned monarch.
If not, Anne would hopefully hear the pounding of a skittish maid on the door telling her to come to the royal chambers immediately.