For King and Country ⭒Caspian x Reader⭒

Chapter 4

I slipped into the stables with Morgan—the hoods of our cloaks casting us into shadow. Only two horses remained after the castle guard cleared out the stables in a rush to the front gates. It had taken Morgan dragging me to the stable while convincing me that neither Caspian nor Peter were good at describing events after the fact.

"We have to go see," Morgan had said as we collided in the hall as servants and courtiers alike rushed out the main entrance.

"Caspian said to stay. I'm sure a Vidalian isn't going to be too welcome right now,"  Morgan pulled me off to the side of the hallway as soldiers were sprinting off to prepare to accompany their king.

"Since when have you been afraid of a few beavers and badgers?" She tossed a smirk over her shoulder.

Maybe that was an oversimplification—for it wasn't just beavers and badgers. It was minotaurs, fauns, humans, and other species I couldn't name crowded up at the city gates. A roar of voices spoken in different tongues and intensities filled the cramped pathways.

Anger charred the air—like the taste of bitter wine. I fully believed that any one of the Narnian villagers could have marched into war at that moment with vigor and strength from the intensity that radiated off of every being.

Morgan reached over to my horse; grabbing my reins as I continued to push closer to the crowd.

"No," She released the reins and gestured to an alleyway, "We're going to get a better view." 

Tucked into the close-knit buildings was a stone staircase that led to a rooftop garden with weeping foliage. It brought us closer to the front where we could see the expanse of people crowding toward the iron gates. My eyes scanned over a white sheet just outside the gate, and a set of hooves that just peeked out of it.

Sorin.

Although the woman had been clear about her intentions with me, something in my heart dropped. Isn't every being trying to feel safe in any way they can? Maybe she was a mother. Maybe she was just a woman that didn't want things to change. Maybe she just wanted to live, and yet that turned out to be a dream upon the wind. 

Even though I was separated and elevated about the raging throng of creatures and humans, I felt entirely out of place.  There was no nook or cranny I could crawl into that would accept and shield me in this foreign land.

In the middle of the crowd, Caspian stood on top of a wooden crowd; elevate just slightly above the people.  Peter stood beside him—eyes roaming the crowd, but his emotions didn't let on what he was thinking.

Caspian managed to make his voice heard above the crowd, "We all want answers," At the timbre of his voice the crowd fell silent, "Sorin has served Narnia for years, and her murderer will be brought to justice. Vidalia has preyed on us for too long. You step on our toes and we chop off your hand." Anger flooded the King's face, as he gazed at the corpse of the warrior and diplomat. The crowd cheered in agreement.

"Know this," Caspian raised one finger as if signaling, "The time for benevolence has ended. Justice will be meted out in whatever way it must."

My heart seized at his statement. We had only caught the tail end of his speech, but the thought of what else was said lurked in my mind. This crowd would have torn me to shreds if they had known I was there. How long till my presence leaked beyond the courts and into the Narnian lands? What would a group of angry Narnians do to a member of the Vidalian royal family?

"Let the King of Old speak!" Cried the crowd.

King of Old?

Peter looked up, took the hand Caspian offered him, and stepped up onto the crate.