soldier, poet, king || e. pevensie | slow updates

the soldier • 19

there will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword. she will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai-oh lord

Coralia sighed dramatically. Edmund had gotten up from his chair quietly, and Coralia was surprised to be face to face with him when she turned. Well, face to bare chest. Or neck. She couldn't really tell, she was too busy trying not to look. She'd seen him shirtless. Hell, she dressed him nearly every day. But it was always just 'shirt off, shirt on.' There was no time to even notice his chest. She only really saw his bare back, which was much different than this.

"I'd appreciate it if you stayed outside my room for a bit. I know you need your sleep, but I'd hate to be assassinated again." He gestured to the nasty scar on his torso. The gesture made her automatically glance down.

She immediately wished she hadn't, because she couldn't tear her eyes away from his very toned chest. Trying to subtly squeeze her eyes shut, she let out an unconvincing forced laugh. "It's my job, Your Majesty." Her voice was at least two octaves higher than normal. He definitely noticed. Shit.

Coralia Findlay was never flustered. Ever. Not when Dantus hit on her (mostly), not when other travelers and customers hit on her, not ever. And she was definitely not going to let this dramatic asshole of a king ruin her streak. He'd made her blush twice, and he wouldn't do it again. She wouldn't let it happen. That's even more extra training she'd need to do. Poker face lessons. She had seen enough gambling in the tavern to get a pretty good blank stare. Until recently. She'd have to work more on that.

She turned on her heel and opened the door. "I'll be out here all night. I'll sleep on the way to Archenland. Let me know if you need anything."

Stepping outside, she let out a sigh. Suddenly, her job was going to become much more complicated. All because King Edmund decided that she wasn't the enemy anymore. Or maybe he still thought she was, and he was trying to scare her off. Well, it wasn't going to work. There was almost nothing he could do that would make her leave Cair Paravel, and definitely not the Kingdom of Narnia.

An hour before dawn, Coralia woke Edmund. He hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before going to sleep. Opening his curtains wouldn't do anything, it was still dark out. She shook his shoulders. "Your Majesty, it's time to leave."

He didn't even move. He slept like a dead man. She shook him harder. "King Edmund." Again, nothing.

Before she could even think to shake him more, she was pinned to the wall with a knife against her neck. Edmund glared at her. He blinked a few times before realizing who it was. "Oh. Coralia, I thought you were an intruder. My apologies."

He didn't let go, nor did he move the dagger that had already drawn blood. "Your Majesty?" She said quietly. He was pressed too close against her chest to let her take in enough air to speak any louder. Her wrists were pinned above her head by Edmund's strong hand, her throat and windpipe being pushed roughly by the arm that held the knife. His body kept the rest of her against the wall.

"Hm? Oh!" He seemed to notice that he still hadn't released her. "I'm still a bit tired. Please forgive me."

She regained her footing, pressing on her bleeding throat. "It's nothing." She smiled, closer to a grimace than anything else.

"Oh, why did I do that?" He frowned, finally waking enough to think. "Here, let me help." He grabbed one of his many pillows and ripped the pillowcase in half, handing it to her. "Apply pressure. It'll—"