•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚constellations˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

orion and seren

                              ☆.｡.:*.｡.:*☆

*Miraz' castle*

The only sounds available to Estelle's ears were the clanging of metal and something dragging along the floor. She suddenly became very aware of the lack of feeling in her arms and slowly fluttered her eyes open, only to find that the noises were her very own feet trailing behind her and the armour of two Telmarine guards.

They were pulling her exhausted frame through a magnificent stone corridor, holding onto her limp arms to keep the girl up-right. It seemed that they didn't notice her consciousness and so she took a risk. She swung her legs forward and kicked both soldiers in the back of their knees, causing them to cringe in pain and loosen their grip on the girl ever so slightly. She bolted, with no idea of where she was even going, she thought that if she had any chance of surviving, it would be doubled once she got herself as far away from the guards as she could.

As expected, they recovered quickly and dove forward to catch the girl, Glozelle flipping her around and forcing her arm behind her back.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that girl"
Depsite the tugging sensation throughout her arm, she just wickedly chuckled at the sentence that reminded her of her dear little friend Trumpkin and the group's first encounter with the dwarf. Had they already noticed her absence? Were they even looking for her? Surely they wouldn't just leave her? Suddenly Estelle was all for Peter's plan and could only pray that they would attack the castle even sooner, as selfish as it sounds.

The two men returned the girl back to her earlier position, however this time with a stronger grip on her arms to fight against the relentless flailing. Within a matter of minutes, she was being held up by the same guards in a cell. Heavy and intentional footsteps echoed throughout the dungeons, gradually making their way closer to the scene, and Estelle had a gut-wrenching feeling that she already knew who they belonged to.
"Ah, I trust that my generals treated you well?" Miraz.

"Oh yes very well, this one nearly broke my arm for good measure" she sarcastically gestured towards Glozelle, feigning a smile.
"Very good" Miraz responded with a venomous laugh that made Estelle's bones quiver and her insides reverberate.
"And what might your name be, Narnian?"
"At least buy me a drink first-" an open fist made its way across her cheek and a quiet yelp escaped her mouth. She wasn't brought here as a guest and so she expected there was a high chance that she would die at the hands of the tyrant. The Amore wasn't about to make it easy for him. She owed it to her friends, she owed it to Caspian. She would fight until her body gave up.

"Let's try again shall we? your name?" Estelle didn't want to give him her real name and for some strange reason, a vaguely recognisable voice flooded to her mind.
'Well, Stella means star, as does Estelle' She couldn't quite place the memory as she was almost certain that nobody had ever called her that.
"Stella March" she spat.
Miraz' eyes flashed with disbelief, he hadn't heard that first name in 9 years and was certain that she must've been dead until this very point.
"Stella? impossible" his voice was low, as if he forgot where he was.
"In the flesh"
Although she sensed that Miraz must've recognised that name and that she possibly had just placed herself in more danger, she refused to back down. Whoever he thought she was, she wasn't, and so it didn't matter to her what he thought of her 'name'.

"Here is what is going to happen Stella, you are going to tell us what those creatures are plotting, you are going to tell us their strengths and their weaknesses, you are going to tell us about their numbers and their weaponry. And if you don't, you will regret ever stepping foot back in this land. Do i make myself clear, disgusting, worthless, Narnian?" he was now so close to her that she could feel his hot, vile breath creep up her face.
"Say it again it sounded good"
Another hit landed itself on her cheek, with a much stronger force than the last. The soldier to her right yanked her hair, forcing her head back against the cold, sharp wall and nicking her scalp on a loose piece of stone brick. Miraz held his dagger against her neck, pushing on it threateningly. It appeared as though he was relishing in her fear and wanted to prolong it, treating her torment like a rare wine that is to be sipped rather than gulped.
"It seems you enjoy the idea of sharing the same fate as your father"