Chapter Text
Prince Caspian the Tenth woke up to a sword at his throat.
The boy swallowed, the sharp edge of the blade pressing into his skin.
“Stay still, stay quiet, and I won’t have to cut your throat,” a deep voice spoke, and Caspian followed the line of the sword to see-
A monster.
The creature was taller than his uncle, had horns curling around its head, and its head was shaped like a bull- only covered in long dark fur.
And it had talked.
Narnian? He had to be. But what was he? And what did he want with Caspian?
The door to his bedchamber was still closed, but his window was open, a slight breeze rustling the drapes of his bed, the moon shining in revealing that it couldn’t be past midnight.
What was happening?
He didn’t dare ask though, he simply stayed put, glancing around his room for any of the various weapons he trained with, but all of them were out of reach.
The Narnian didn’t do anything though, simply holding the sword to Caspian’s throat, as if waiting for something to happen.
Caspian wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, just that for the moment, he didn’t seem interested in killing Caspian.
How long would that last for?
And how had he gotten in? Castle Telmar was well fortified, able to withstand any invasion. No army had ever taken the castle before.
There was a knock on the door. A pattern Caspian didn’t know, but it seemed to be what the Narnian was waiting for, as he pulled his sword back, grabbing Caspian’s arm and pulling him out of his bed.
“W-wait,” Caspian protested, “what’s going on?”
“Come on, princeling,” the Narnian spoke, pulling him forward towards the door, hand tight around Caspian’s arm. “Let’s go find out what to do with you.”
Caspian glanced around, hoping for something to grab to use to fight back, but the Narnian was careful, keeping him close and not giving him a chance to break away or snag a weapon.
What was happening?
He was dragged out of his chambers, stumbling a bit as the Narnian tugged him along down halls full of all sorts of beings Caspian hadn’t thought existed. There were animals standing on two legs, talking quietly to themselves, dwarves at least he recognized easily enough, and he could figure out what a centaur was, but the men with legs like goats? The goats with legs like men? And the monstrous bull creature dragging him further down the halls towards the library… he had no idea what these were, other than that they were Narnians. Likely the same Narnians Miraz had been fighting since before Caspian was born.
And if they were all in the castle…
…They’d taken it, hadn’t they. The Narnians had invaded Castle Telmar while everyone slept.
A single night? They’d taken the castle in a single night? How powerful were they?
And, as the Crown Prince of Telmar…
Caspian swallowed, suddenly realizing just how slim his chances of surviving this night had become.
Eventually they came to the library, and the Narnian tugging him along knocked, that same pattern as before, and then opened the door.
Inside there were even more Narnians. Some talking animals, a few centaurs, a few more of the type of creature currently dragging him forward into the room towards where-
A boy stood, surrounded by all these Narnians.
The creature holding his arm shoved him forward to his knees before the boy, and Caspian stared up at him.
The boy was in armor that fit him well, red with the image of a lion on the front, the symbol of the Narnian army. His skin was as white as snow, and his hair as black as coal, reminding Caspian of a fairy tail he’d heard a long time ago. He seemed to only be Caspian’s age, maybe even a little younger, but he moved with a confidence Caspian had never had. Dual swords hung by his sides, and while he wore no crown, Caspian already knew this was the leader of the Narnians before the creature behind him spoke.
“The prince, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Tar,” the boy nodded, before staring down at Caspian with the same well concealed disgust some of the lords showed him. “…Caspian the Tenth,” he commented, as if the words themselves pained him. “…By Aslan, you’re just a boy.” This last bit was muttered under his breath, and he shook his head, turning to one of the other creatures in the room that seemed to be like the one that had woken Caspian. “Svar, are there any signs of Miraz or his wife?”
“None yet, your Majesty,” Svar, apparently, spoke. “We think he fled through one of the tunnels under the castle.”
The boy grimaced. “I thought we closed all of those off.”
“All the ones we knew of, Your Majesty,” a small mouse with a red feather poking up from a gold ringlet on his head spoke up. “As we already saw, there have been changes in the last few hundred years. Perhaps they added more escape routes. Though I had expected they’d have had more honor, and not left their child behind.” The mouse glanced at Caspian, who swallowed, trying to take in everything he was hearing.
Last few hundred years?
And his uncle had fled without him? Leaving him behind to whatever fate the Narnians had in store for him?
“What’re we going to do with him?” A squirrel on one of the chairs spoke up. “It’s not like he’s one of the servants and can just be let go.”
“But he’s not exactly fighting back,” a dog pointed out. “Soldiers in battle are one thing, but he’s a kid!”
“He’s a Prince,” a centaur argued. “Leave him alive and he could cause trouble down the line.”
The boy raised a hand, and silence fell in the library. “…Reepicheep, take ten of your mice and check his room. Make sure it can hold him for as long as we need. We’ll not rush into this unprepared.”
The mouse- Reepicheep probably- nodded, darting back out the door, and Caspian let himself breathe for a moment.
It seemed he wouldn’t be killed outright, at least.
The boy then turned back to Caspian, grimacing a bit, before a cold mask seemed to settle into place. “…Just a boy,” he commented under his breath again. “Right.” The boy in front of him cleared his throat, before addressing Caspian. “Castle Telmar has been claimed by Narnia. As of right now, Narnians are reclaiming their homeland, securing all roads and ensuring a swift victory. Behave, and you have nothing to fear from us. Try to harm any of my people and your death will be swift.”
That at least was plain enough, and Caspian nodded, even as he frowned, confused.
The boy sighed, before nodding. “You have questions.”
“I- don’t understand,” Caspian admitted. “You cannot be older than me, how have you accomplished all of this?”
Behind him, Tar laughed. “Kind Edmund the Just has lived for over a thousand years. He was immortal till about two years back, so yes, maybe his body is twelve, but he’s been alive for a lot longer than that.”
One of the High Kings of Old, returned. This explains why a boy would be leading the Narnian armies. He was a King.
King Edmund winced, grimacing at Tar.
“What?” Tar asked.
“Nephew, maybe don’t inform the Telmarine Prince that our King isn’t immortal anymore,” Svar explained.
Oh.
That… that was fascinating actually, though Caspian got the distinct impression that asking further questions about that would be frowned upon.
There was, still, the matter of what was to be done with him. Especially when King Edmund seemed to grimace every time he saw him.
The knock sounded again, some kind of code for the Narnians, and then the door opened and the mouse Reepicheep was back. “It’s done, Your Majesty,” he said, and King Edmund nodded.
“Take him back to his room, and keep it guarded. He’s not to escape.”
Reepicheep and Tar both nodded, and then Tar was tugging Caspian up off the ground, keeping a tight hand on Caspian’s arm as he was led back to his room.
Only once he was inside the room was he finally left alone, the door closing and locking behind Caspian as he took a moment.
The Narnian army had been reclaiming more and more of Narnia in the last several years, having reclaimed everything southeast of the Shuddering Woods in a constant battle against the Telmarines, but none of their reports had given them any information on who was leading the army. Uncle Miraz had often talked about it, one of the few topics he would bring up during his weekly visits with Caspian.
And now Caspian had met the King behind the Narnian army.
In his nightshirt.
Caspian grimaced, but there hadn’t exactly been a chance to be wearing anything else, on account of having been dragged from his bed.
He looked around his room, wondering what exactly had been done to his room to ‘make sure it could hold him’.
The weapons were all gone, for a start. He supposed that made sense.
His window still opened, but that wouldn’t do him much good as there was a steep drop down to the courtyard that Caspian had no interest in investigating further, and the passage at the back of the wardrobe-
Well. That had been found, and blocked up with heavy stones he would have no chance to move.
He doubted mice could have done that alone, but he wasn’t willing to underestimate the Narnians. They’d taken the entire castle while he was asleep after all.
Looking around, he took a slow breath, letting it out.
…From prince to prisoner, in a matter of hours.
Well. There was nothing further to be done at this moment.
Caspian got back into his bed, closed his eyes, and tried to fall back asleep.