For King and Country ⭒Caspian x Reader⭒

Chapter 26

My arm launched the tin plate with the moldy bread and tin of murky water against the iron bars that contained me in the castle's lower levels.

The guard that delivered the paltry meal took two stumbling steps back from the bars as I stalked forward; wrapping my fingers around the abrasive cell bars.

"Don't come back in here until you're coming to retrieve me and give me an audience with Erik," I hissed; the cold of the steel on my fingers so frigid it felt as if they were burning, but I dared myself to feel—I needed to feel something. Something other than grief.

"He's told me to tell you there will be no audience with him. Not until your wedding in a week's time," The guard said slowly inching towards the iron door that led out of the confines of the chamber.

"Then get out," My voice was a whisper yet it echoed off of the stone like a phantom's.

The guard slammed the iron door behind him leaving me in the damp, unforgiving prison. No others had occupied the cells in any of the days I had been there. Erik was keeping me alive for his purposes otherwise I would be like any other apostate—swinging from the gallows without a moment's notice.

Twelve days. I left Narnia twelve days ago.

Sometimes I wondered if I had been trapped in this cell since that bloody battle months ago—Erik had found me confronting the Narnian army and dragged me off into a dank prison. Maybe I remembered the breathtaking king that stood before me and envisioned a whole life with him; building up a story that helped me from going insane, but that wouldn't be the truth.

My arms ached from the harsh grip of the soldiers that wrenched me off the balcony that day after Erik had forced me to make an appearance before the Vidalian people—

For the first time in three days, I had felt myself drift into actual sleep—not guarded sleep or resting, but true, deep sleep. My body needed it. I was beginning to lose control of my emotions between crying and raging and surges of hope that had no basis in reality.

The door to the cell house swung open with a shattering bang against the stone wall. My eyes flew open; my body jumping in shock from the startled awakening.

"Morning," Erik stood in front of my cell. The left side of his face was swathed in bandages, but a peak of red, angry flesh peered out from under the gauze.

"To the gallows?" I said, dusting off the thick layer of dirt that had accumulated on my gown.

"No," He stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You're going to do something for me."

"Likely," I said, leaning back against the wall.

"I need you to undo what you've done," His one unbandaged, green eye flared, "You're going to appear to the people with me, look pleasant, and smooth this over."

"I won't," I said, shaking my head, "I won't lie to them. They're my people."

"Your people?" Erik reached a hand forward to grip the bars, "...You abandoned them a long time ago."

"That's a lie," I said; clamping my mouth shut. I wanted to tell him of the allies I had garnered for this war so that the Vidalians could be free, or of the refugees Narnia had harbored and grown a protectiveness over because of my influence, but that's what he wanted—information.

"Nevertheless, you're going to get cleaned up and come out at my side," Erik began to unlock the cell.

I began to think of what my next opening would be; try to grab his sword? Tackle him and do my worst? But Erik could sense it—he knew I was going to be an unrelenting storm battering the shutters of his existence.