𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄, caspian x ✓

seventeen.

17

THE FINAL SAIL

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"So, what do you think is in there?" Tavros asked. His voice was deadpanned, not revealing the fear that he felt deep inside.

The Dawn Treader was at the mouth of the Dark Island, a sail full of wind and taking them closer and closer. The crew had bellies full of food and chests full of fear as they sailed closer. Kathryn stood at the helm, hands firmly on the wheel as she steered them closer. Caspian was never far, standing over her shoulder. 

"Our worst nightmares," Edmund answered.

"Our darkest wishes," Caspian replied.

"Hopefully, a slice of cinnamon cake," Carver whispered below his breath, eyes fixed on the green mist and lightning.

"Pure evil," Drinian muttered as he leaned over the side of the ship to get a better look at what they were dealing with. "Tavros, open the armoury. Archers, prepare yourselves."

Tavros headed to the armoury, "Light the lanterns!"

Caspian and Edmund disappeared down to his chambers, the younger king soon returning with armour on his chest and another set in his hands. "Carver," he called up to the hull, "Caspian thought that you might want to try this."

Carver had never owned anything of his own. Sure, back home he had a house, but he shared it with a few other sailors of a similar age. His sword had been one that they had recovered from a ship and he took a liking too. He looked behind his shoulder to Kat and she smiled at him.

Carver practically rushed down the stairs, almost tripping over his own two feet, so that Edmund could tie the armour around him. She had never really seen his smile so big. 

"Kat," Edmund called up once more, "Caspian wants to see you."

She nodded, handing the wheel of the ship back to Drinian so he could keep their course set. 

She gently knocked on his door, waiting for his response before opening the door. Kathryn found him sat at his desk with his hands over his eyes. He, too, had picked out armour for himself but seemed to not be able to pick between the two sets. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, still standing in the door way in case he needed space.

"Worried," he replied with a sad smile on his face, his hair was covering some of his face. For the first time since she had woken up on his ship, she couldn't see those brown eyes. The eyes that she loved to see. 

"I would be concerned if you weren't," she made her way over to him, standing behind his chair. She took some of his hair, that had grown to just about pass his shoulders, and began braiding it away from his face. "We don't have many rituals before we fight. We would sharpen our blades together and make sure that our laces were double knotted. But I always had Carver braid my hair. I think it was more for his benefit. He misses his sisters, so I let him. Plus, it's great for making sure your hair stays out your face during battle."

He let her braid his hair. He had often pulled his hair back in the heat, but the way she braided the top half of his hair made him smile. It was surprisingly intimate.

"I've fought giants and bears and... my Uncle. But I've never not know what we are up against. I think that Peter or Alex would know what to do."

She leaned on his desk, inches away from his body. "Sure, they might know what to do. But they aren't here. They aren't leading this crew. You are. Nobody knows what to do, how could they? But what they need, is for someone to put on a brave face and organise this chaos."