Beneath A Silvery Sky•Prince Caspian x Reader

1. Sentience

I understood hate. I could feel it in my bones radiating from the marrow outwards to the frozen world around me. The world was cast into the bright light of summer, but the land's heart remained frozen and stiff. It wasn't a warm hatred; not a passionate emotion stemming from the the void left by love. What I felt in my heart was a cold, deep rooted loathing towards the animal before me. I hated everything about her. I hated how she could appear so human, so harmless.

I stared forward into the looking glass towards the object of such fierce emotion.

She was me.

I hated myself because I would always be the moon and never the sun. 

Telmarine's were notorious for their fixation on the stars. Pinpricks of light, twinkling and twirling about the sky in an elaborate waltz, governed everything. The tallest tower of the Telmarine stronghold held within its stone walls the future of all of Telmar written upon withering parchment. The tower loomed ominous over the entire city below, casting a long shadow that resembled the encroaching night. Before falling into the comfort of sleep, I would imagine myself tearing the tall tower town brick by brick. Tonight, I was on brick number four-thousand. I had been counting since I was eight.

The tower still stood.

The Telmarine were superstitious beyond the stars. Births were a symbol filled affair. Each contraction, each cry meant something to the Pontifex, who was present at every noble birth since the church's establishment. A hand on the face at birth meant an affinity for politics, feet first was almost always deadly but if the mother survived, symbolized a spirited mind. The Telmarine worshiped the sky, but I always thought they worshiped the sword. 

I was born with a caul, a symbol that the Telmarine's both respected and feared. 

I supposed it's odd to remember the circumstances of one's birth, but I swear I looked upwards to the great night and saw nothing but the darkness that cloaked the earth from the harshness of day. There were no stars, almost as if they had been cast from the sky by God himself; wayward sinners falling from His good graces. I remember being lurched from my mother's arms, taken to the tower, and prayed over. 

The only other Telmarine known to be born with a caul was King Caspian I, whose descendants still lay claim to the castle at Telmar. Legends of the King's fierce fighting and disregard for Narnian life was unparalleled. Every child, from the peasantry to the nobility, was aware of his reputation. 

As I grew, I knew I wasn't becoming what the Telmarine expected of me. The King had always been respectful and grateful that he and his wife could lay witness to the next great Telmarine warrior, but the King's brother, Miraz, had never been as kind. 

Miraz was nefarious in every sense of the word. According to my father, who found himself on the advisory counsel to the King, Miraz had deemed me being female as a reason for excluding my caul. Of course, the King and father denied such an assumption.

To compensate, the King allowed me to study alongside his son, Caspian. 

Caspian and I could not have been more different, but despite this, our friendship worked. 

"You're just jealous you don't get to train like me. I'm the one who was born with a caul so I get to be the fighter." Caspian sent you a glare. You huffed. "You get to be the King one day, Caspian. I'd say it's a fair deal." 

Caspian had learned the "gentlemen's swordplay" as you called it. No instructor could risk injuring the future king. You, on the other hand, had spent the last four years learning hand to hand combat as well as proper swordsmanship. 

Doctor Cornelius instructed the both of us in tandem, despite the Prince being almost a year older. For the first several years, our education involved the basics until we were old enough to find areas to study on our own. I found myself, between fighting lessons with the Telmarine King's Guard and study sessions with the Doctor, sneaking to the castle apothecary to study medicine. 

There was one thing that always bothered me about my upbringing. I knew, deep down, I was being bred for violence. The mark of the caul was seen as a symbol of a conquerer, but in moments of clarity when I found myself alone in my room, I knew this wasn't my true life's path. 

There was a beckoning every night from a far away voice. The voice was gentle, yet commanding. My body would erupt into goosebumps at every word. I knew who the voice belonged to, yet I was much too afraid to admit it because if I did, I knew there would be no excuse in ignoring His instructions for me to leave Telmar. 

Doctor Cornelius had told Caspian and I stories of a faraway land called Narnia and the King and Queens of Old. He told us of the word of Aslan and the power he held over the realm of Narnia and of Telmar. 

As I continued to age, I realized I did not want to hunt. I wanted to heal. I wanted to find a way to be good and somehow, despite my circumstances, establish myself in the light of Aslan instead of the stars, which were dull in comparison. 

Every night, I would transcend the stone walls of the castle and fly high above the land below out towards the lush trees of Narnia. I would run with centaurs or build dams with the beavers. Most nights, I would simply lay beneath the trees and gaze up to the stars. And I swear, I would see a lion's face in the stars and wonder if two of the twinkling stars were His eyes, wandering through the blackened sky, asking without words when I would finally listen to his call and come to Narnia without being carried over by the gentle arms of sleep.