Rinse and repeat. The weeks ticked by the same way as our initial visit to Ettinsmoor had. Arriving at Duchess, Duke, Lady, and Lord's estates and being greeted with hostility at my presence, and then building an alliance based on how well they could stomach my presence.
Word spread across Narnia like wildfire that the Vidalian princess was in league with the king, and my presence wasn't a surprise to most households. On a couple of visits, we were stopped up the road from the estate by Noble's guards and told that the King and his company could proceed, but my presence wasn't welcomed any farther than where they stood. At that, Caspian would turn our caravan around and proclaim, "If she is not welcome, then neither am I." and we would trail off into the Narnian wilds again.
The days of traveling were hard on our bodies. Aching from either being jostled in a carriage all day or sore from being pressed into a saddle, but the nights-the nights were good. The camp came alive at sunset. Flutes, lyres, and lutes were pulled out for joyous nights surrounding the fire. Our convoy knew my true identity yet had taken me in as just a maiden traveling along with them, and I could be just that while letting my skirts swish around my ankles and my feet prance to the melodic sounds.
One of those summer nights, we did as we always did, carrying on around the bonfire dancing, singing folk songs, and telling stories as the moon cast its silvery glow down upon us. Faces were flush from the wineskins being passed around and spirits were high. Our last stop in the morning was to Anvard, the capital of Archenland, then we would return to Cair Paravel to continue war preparations.
I stumbled into my tent that night still giggling over how a lady faun had tried to teach Caspian how to dance a lively jig, but his training was more classical and his feet couldn't seem to burst into movement as the dance required.
Morgan had remarked, "Put some fire under his feet, that'll get his them moving." and the camp roared with laughter.
My cot was soft and I fell into it pressing my face into the feather-down pillow, letting sleep wash over me in cool waves. The wine in my belly had me feeling like I was still swaying even lying still, but the sensation felt like I was a child being rocked lovingly to sleep.
Deep into the night, an acrid smell filled my tent. My eyes snapped open.
Burning. Something is burning.
Screams pierced the air as I sat up in my cot. I tried to take a breath but it hitched in my throat. An orange glow illuminated the canvas of my tent. I threw my covers aside to dash out of my tent when an arm wrapped around my waist and a hand slid over my mouth.
"Come with me, Princess," A man's gruff voice growled in my ear. This was not the kind of voice of a rescuer, but that of a captor.
He gripped me tightly and pulled me out of the tent into the carnage. Tents were trampled by horses that got loose, torches overturned that set patches of the camp ablaze, people with blood trickling down their faces standing dazed in the midst of it all. Everywhere I looked there was a soldier clad in black armor engaged with a Narnian.
I strained against the leather-gloved hand that was pressed against my mouth. Whispers of air escaped my nostrils as I tried to inhale untainted air. The man dragged me between tents keeping me out of sight of the Narnian soldiers. The brute's arm was wrapped all the way around me preventing me from having full control, but my hands could just move. I pulled on my nightgown working down to the hem. Holstered to my thigh was a dagger.
"Never go unarmed, little one." Father said kneeling before me with a small knife in a brown sheath. Wildflowers were carved into the rich hide.
"Mother says ladies don't fight," I whispered back.
"Never let someone trick you into not protecting yourself." He pressed the sheathed knife into my palm.
This dagger had been strapped to my thigh for years after Father insisted I carry it, and I had grown used to feeling the soft leather skin to skin to me, but today it would make its first appearance.
The cold metal of the hilt pressed against my shaking palm. With all the range of motion I could muster, I plunged the knife into my captor's leg. His arms flew off of me to hold his leg, releasing me just long enough that I could break out into a sprint. And run I did. Tripping over bodies that lay lifeless on the ground and looking around for any pathway not clogged with soldiers clashing their steel blades against the others.
My mind began to swim:
Morgan, Caspian, Peter. Where are they?
I paused with my dagger clutched close to my chest looking through the slaughter for a familiar face. Like a bull released from its bridle a large mass barrelled into me, my body slammed into the ground, chin digging into the grass. Those same leather hands began to hoist me up again. I wrenched my arms out of his grip and flipped over on my back to face my captor. Or rather not face him. His face was obscured by a black mask and he wore the inky black armor just like the other invaders. I tried to kick him and push him, but his strength was greater than what I could overcome. My fingers grasped in the grass around me looking for the hilt of the dagger. His hand clamped around my wrist just as I clasped the handle of my blade. With a swift motion, my blade found a chink in the breastplate of his armor. Through the slits in his mask, his icy blue eyes went wide as I found my target. I kept plunging the knife in, red blood spilling out over my white nightgown.
The man slumped over, all life exiting his body. In a daze, I rolled him off of me and gazed over him trying to find some identifier. On his gloves, there it was. A roiling rage, fear, and sickness tossed and turned in my stomach. His gloves were emblazoned with the Vidalian crest. I pulled off his mask to see if I would know the face, but it was just a man. A man tasked with taking me away.
My eyes went down to my blood-soaked nightgown and the crimson stains on my hands. A scream belted out right around me. It was me. I was the one screaming. Tears flooded my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to move from that spot, eyes fixed on the face of a man unnamed that I very well may have addressed back in Vidalia.
Strong arms scooped me up as I continued to let out animal cries. The clamor of battle rang out around me, but in my ear, quiet and assuring the words "I've got you...I've got you." Caspian was running with me in his arms towards his horse that remained tethered at the edge of the camp. I buried my face into his neck watching the wetness of my tears trail down onto his shirt.
Caspian spurred his horse into a gallop as we took off into the dense woods. I looked over my shoulder and watched the glow of the inferno recede behind us and the screams of death fade into silence.
Caspian kicked his horse to go faster and faster and would punctuate the hoofbeats with "You're safe. We're safe."
We rode for what felt like hours through the woods, steep paths, rocky roads. Caspian stopped us only once to give the horse a moment to rest. We didn't utter a word in these moments. My body had lost all energy and I just slumped onto the ground as Caspian watered the horse.
Night had turned to dawn and dawn turned into high noon when Caspian stopped us in front of a small cabin tucked into trees of the forest shrouded by low-hanging branches.
"Where are we?" The first words that had exited my lips in hours scraped against my dry throat.
"A safe place," Caspian helped me off the horse, "My men know to look here if we get separated."
The cabin door swung open to reveal crude furniture, herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a large oak bed pushed against the wall.
I looked at Caspian fully for a moment, mud speckled his face, and blood from my nightgown had seeped into his shirt and dried on it. My face grew white in the early dawn light at the sight of a large gash across his hand.
"You're hurt..." I picked up his hand and examined it.
"It's nothing," He pulled his hand away and hid it behind his back, "Let's get you inside."
Caspian spent the next hour hauling water from the small creek below the cabin up to put in a basin for me to bathe although I insisted that I could just splash my face and be settled, he just silently kept on hauling the water despite my protest.
I climbed into the tub stripped down completely. Caspian had his back turned to me staring out a window. I hadn't ever found myself naked in a room with a man I didn't have every intention of bedding, but my nakedness had no sultry undertones, it felt vulnerable. Emotional. If Caspian had gazed upon me, he wouldn't see a goddess lounging on the bed with dewy skin inviting him between my legs, but a soul spread open with the windows thrown wide.
"Caspian," I called out. He started to turn around but remembered why his back was turned in the first place.
"Yes," He turned his head in my direction without looking directly at me,
Even within the walls of a rundown cabin, he looked every bit as regal as ever. Ripped clothes and hair mussed he looked like a painting framed in Cair Paravel.
I stepped out of the tub and wrapped myself in a robe that had been lying in an old wooden chest. Walking up to him, I laid my hand on his shoulder and he turned to me. The robe was made of thin chiffon, revealing every curve of my hips and breasts. Water from my hair dripped slowly onto the floor leaving little puddles between the two of us.
His eyes roamed over my body, but just as quickly his eyes snapped up to my face. His stature became rigid again, but he looked weary. He had been wrung dry.
"Caspian," I whispered again. My lip trembled, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Silently, a tear slid down my cheek. His hand slid in to cup my cheek and his thumb swept across the wet trails and wiped them away.
"It's not your fault." He searched my eyes.
I just nodded my head.
"No. You have to believe that, or your mind is going to live that night for the rest of your life," He led me over to the bed so I could sit while he leaned against the splintered wall of the cabin.
"This was all to bring me back to Vidalia. This was because of me." My voice trailed off.
"Did you ask them to come?"
I jerked back, my eyes flaring at the accusation, "Of course not! I wouldn't have."
"Exactly. Your actions are your own and theirs are theirs. Stop blaming yourself." We sat there in silence watching the sun fade into golden afternoon light. The birds chirped and the creek gurgled like blood hadn't saturated Narnian lands hours earlier. How does life keep moving on after an event like this?
Caspian turned to me again. Years of pain written over his face, "I was an enemy of Narnia." He looked at me like a boy searching for answers, "My father loved Narnia. He always told me to wait patiently for Aslan's return, but when my Uncle Miraz killed him...He taught me new ways. He taught me to hate Narnia. I would have seen all Narnians extinct just as your family would have. I'm still not sure how I received not only the Narnian's mercy but their allegiance after I left Telmar."
Caspian talked and I listened. He told me of how as a young boy he was the one who found his father's body. Coming into his father's room one morning to ask him to take him for a ride through the orchards. He found him with eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open in shock. His Papa wouldn't wake up no matter how much he begged him to. Consequently, Miraz was the one who found him curled up next to his father's body crying for him to come back. Miraz fed lies about how the Narnians wished his father dead and how they would wipe out the entire royal line if he didn't listen to him closely.
"We are quite out of place aren't we?" I said, "Ill-prepared for where we've been placed."
"I think that's the point of it all," Caspian said, walking over to the trunk to get himself a new set of clothes, "The kings and queens of old were children when crowned. Do you think they were prepared?"
"I'd assume not." A small smile played upon my lips.
"We aren't behind the curve. We are just ahead of it. Our circumstances are hardly a determiner of what we are set up for."
I'd hoped what he had said was true. In my experience, hope was fragile and could slip away with a light wind, but he somehow had found the secret to holding tight.
Caspian spent the rest of the day scouting around the cabin to make sure we weren't followed. He arrived back as night had fallen. Upon his entrance, he was greeted by a crackling fire and a meal of dried meats, fruits, and nuts. Although meager, it was arranged neatly on a checkered blanket on the wooden floor.
"What's this?" Caspian said unbelting his sword.
"I assumed you'd be hungry," I said turning from the fire I was tending.
"I never pictured you as...domestic." His eyes danced at my shocked expression. The room smelled of lavender after I had scrubbed the floors with a threadbare rag soaked in water from the creek that I boiled the fragrant flower in.
"It's not a skill I bring out often, but my nursemaid, Una, made sure I knew how to do these things," I paused picturing her soft face. The years she had lived running lifelines through her skin, "She had always told me-You're not better than anybody in this castle, so you better make sure you know what they go through every day for your own comfort."
"I like her already." Caspian chuckled easing himself onto the floor where our makeshift picnic sat.
"You would. Now that I know who she was and I've seen what I've seen, I realize just how Narnian she is."
"Did it bother your mother that you two were so close?" Caspian asked, sinking his teeth into a dried plum.
"She wasn't involved enough to care. My brother, Alexander, was the next in line to the throne, so her focus was him. She parented through other people.,"
Caspian set his plate down, "And that didn't sadden you? Not having your mother involved?"
"You don't miss what you've never had. Una was my mother. If I entered a new world and no one knew a thing about me, that's what I would tell people."
Caspian lifted up his cup of water hauled from the creek, "To the ones who cared. Even when they didn't have to."
Our wooden cups clunked together, and we laughed at the irony of it all. A princess and a king in the forest toasting with cups made of bark. Life became just a little clearer in these quiet moments with him, every look he gave me was my own and not to be shared with any other courtier.
There were two ways men had always looked at me. One was from foolish young men full of lust ready to undo my corset and have me, and others would look at me with fear-lace expressions. Royal blood, at least in Vidalia, clearly came with a history, and a wise man wouldn't trifle with my emotions.
But Caspian didn't fall into either of those categories, curiosity flitted through his eyes when looking upon me as if he had a question for every word I spoke and every wave of my hand. I was something to be sought out and learned.
"I'm going to stay up and watch the cabin tonight. Get some sleep." Caspian glanced over his shoulder at me as he stepped out with his sword at his hip into the cool night air.
My body thanked me as I sank into the mattress. The firelight danced over the walls as I pulled the dusty quilt up to my chin.
Warm blood between my fingers spilling down my nightgown. The feeling of flesh parting underneath my touch. His eyes staring blankly never to look upon a soul again. They're going to take me. They're going to take me. They're going to take me.
I awoke screaming and thrashing in my bed, and Caspian's voice calling out my name. The haze of the dream faded and Caspian was leaning over me trying to wake me; his eyes laced with concern, "It's just a dream." For a moment, my mind hadn't caught up with my eyes and I shoved him off of me, kicking him in the abdomen before realizing it was just him.
I covered my eyes with the heels of my palms pushing the emotion back, "I can't go back."
"Look at me," He pulled my hands down from my eyes, "They're not going to take you. I'm not going to let them." His jaw was set firm and his eyes were filled with fire. At that moment, I couldn't tell if he was saying it as fact or if it was reassurance for himself.
"Don't go back out there. I can't be alone," He paused mid-way from rising off the bed. He eased himself down beside me and rolled to his side. I turned to face him watching the warmth of the firelight play over his face.
"I'll be here." His warm breath brushed against my face.
My eyes fluttered closed knowing that even dreams couldn't escape his reach. His safety extended past my waking reality.
No more dreams plagued me that night. My mind rested, and when the morning came and light filtered in through the window, he was still there. Dark eyelashes resting upon his cheeks and lips slightly parted, breathing in and out. We stayed in the same position the whole night, but somewhere in our sleep, his hand crossed the space between us and his hand overlapped mine, just barely.
The sound of leaves crunching underneath boots reached my ears and before I even had time to move, the door creaked open slowly. In the doorway stood Morgan and Peter, streaks of dirt smudged across Morgan's face, and a sleeve of her dress was ripped off.
"I was sure you were dead," Her voice trembled slightly before she broke off from Peter to run and wrap her arms around me. I hadn't ever seen emotion overtake her like this, but I can only imagine what she had experienced and seen.
"The rest of our party is on the main road waiting," Peter said, "We were all hoping this is where you two would be,"
"How many?" Caspian said, rising from the bed.
"Too many." Peter's face was grim.
"Did they get away?" Caspians hands turned into fists at his side.
"Only a few of them. It was hard-fought, but Morgan saved a lot of lives. She climbed into a tree and picked off their men with her arrows." Peter said, his eyes gleaming with pride at the woman.
"I guess those extra lessons helped...maybe." Even underneath the darkness of the situation Morgan's soul still shone brightly through the heavy atmosphere.
Caspian and I swapped our version of events of that night with the pair as we made our way to the main road.
The caravan that awaited us was definitely smaller, but cries of jubilee rose from the train of people seeing their king alive, maybe even a few of them were happy to see me.
It was a day's ride to Cair Paravel from here and Caspian urged every carriage, rider, and wagon to go at top speed, for we couldn't afford another ambush or night on the ground. So, we pushed through the whole day. Caspian insisted that I ride with him should anything happen, so we could once again bolt off to safety. Morgan rode with Peter to stay close by. At one of our resting points, Morgan asked Peter if she could have the reins, so she climbed up and made him sit in front of her like a maiden. True laughter filled the air for the first time since that night. Something we all desperately needed.
Deep into the night, we arrived back at the city gates, a messenger boy had reached the city a day prior alerting of the attack, so we were met by guards two lines deep protecting the gates to the city.
It was clear that war had begun in all earnest now. No more planning and hypotheticals. It was time. It had begun. I'm sure our names would be written in some dusty history book detailing the Vidalian's attack in Archenland's countryside.
Morgan and I took a carriage up to Cair Paravel while Peter and Caspian stayed behind to speak with a general about the guard detail.
The carriage rocked over the cobblestone and the night was so thick we could barely see each other. "You and Caspian," Morgan said curiosity tinged her voice, "you were in bed together...holding hands?" Despite not being able to see her I knew she had an eyebrow raised.
"It's not like that at all. I just was having some bad dreams and he was there for me."
"Yeah, right." A flash of light from a lantern hung on a house illuminated the carriage as she rolled her eyes at me.
"You know that could never happen, right?"
"I won't say anything else about it except this, you aren't as under the radar as you think you are."
Morgan had already heard my life story backward and forwards, but something inside of me protested when talking about Caspian. He felt off-limits as if telling someone even just about a simple conversation with him would damn him.
I arrived back to my room that night emotionally taxed. This tour had been weeks of pouring myself out and I needed time to recuperate. A servant brought a cup of tea while I turned in early for the night reading a book by the flickering candlelight.
The sound of footsteps outside my door caught my attention. Then a voice came through the door muffled and addressing whoever was about to knock. "Caspian, may I have a word?" The footsteps at my door receded.
What was Caspian doing at my door?
I crept up to the threshold and peered out. Caspian and the Ambassador of Archenland were rounding a corner. The hallway was silent. I slipped out and followed behind the two of them staying out of sight.
They entered the Advisor's room and didn't even bother to close the door all the way. I crept up and pressed myself against the wall outside.
"You've been through a lot in the past couple of days," Theodric said.
"It's been a whirlwind, but hopefully we can get things in order soon," A sigh escaped Caspian's lips.
"The reason I brought you here is...When the messenger arrived yesterday bearing the news, the board of advisors convened an emergency meeting."
"Yes?" Caspian leaned against the oak table and his brow knitted together.
"We need our forces strong especially with the losses we suffered the other night. Unity is more important than ever during these times." Theodric paused examining Caspian.
"Well, what is it?" Caspian sounded agitated, nervous at what Theodric was dancing around.
"We insist that you take a bride-"
"This is about marriage? That's hardly the first thing on my mind right now." Caspian stood up, towering over the squat, old man.
"There are three eligible daughters of noblemen that we are sending for that you can have your pick of."
"Theodric, I won't be told who to marry. You know I won't marry for political alliance."
For the first time I had ever witnessed, the old man's voice raised far beyond the gentle tone he generally used as he waved a finger in the King's face, "You are a good King, but you have the mind of a foolish boy. Take a mistress for all I care, but you need to think of your people. A marriage of importance could increase our numbers more than you know."
Caspian's mouth opened as if he had words to fire back, but they were robbed from him, "I want this one choice to be uninfluenced," He slammed his hand on the table, "I have seen the damage that arranged marriages have done to people." I knew in that moment his mind had gone to Morgan, how trapped she felt in her future.
"You don't only need your subjects on your side. You need your court on your side. No one is going to look at you kindly for being selfish on this subject." The old man huffed and began to make for the door.
I ran around the corner and hid. The old man hobbled out mumbling something about that "Dumb boy".
Caspian exited the room next. He looked as if he could burn the whole place down just from the look in his eyes. He paced back and forth in front of the Advisor's room running his hands through his hair for a moment before stalking over to a decorative table in the hallway ripping it away from the wall, sending a vase smashing across the floor.
Caspian had been in many compromising positions since we had met, but none had pushed him to the edge such as this. His rage seemed to make the flame of the candles lighting the hallway flicker violently.
A squeezing sensation spread across my chest and my face began to grow hot.
It'll be fine. He'll learn to love whoever he chooses, and I'll be happy for him.
I repeated that over and over in my head as I climbed into my bed, but if someone had asked why they heard crying coming from my room that night, I would have told them-
"The story I'm reading is just so sad" And they would believe me.