Narnia Preferences and Imagines

○Edmund~V○

(I have a task for you. After reading, create your own song of the condemned - just like a poem - and hit me with it . I wanna make one but I'm exhausted so if I remember to later I'll come back to this and add it in. Anyway, I had my last high school
Choir concert today. I don't think it's fully sunk in yet, but that's okay. I also think this is the longest imagine I've ever written it's 3,630 words)

The prisoner

Being a servant in the castle was a highly coveted job. At least when the King and Queen were alive. One fought to be the lowest of lowly in the King's castle. The kindness of the royal family brought their people flocking towards them, begging - day in and day out - for opportunities to serve them. The King and Queen didn't ask for this kind of loyalty, it was simply an outpouring of love for all the King and Queen had done for the once unsettled area to turn it into a bustling, respectable city.

The revolution, however, changed all of that.

The Woman on the throne ran a tight ship. Servants who couldn't get out, or weren't killed in the initial take over, we're living a game of Simon Says. Anytime you'd touch your nose when she didn't say Simon it would mean your head. You worked in silence, one peep and it would mean your head. You looked at anyone for too long and it would mean your head. You sneezed, you laughed, you cried, you coughed, you breathed a little too loud and it was your head on a pike in front of the palace gates the next day. Thus, it was no surprise the dungeons the people previously didn't know existed were filled to the brim with people awaiting a punishment for their "crime".

The streets were bathed in blood. If you weren't already dead, you lived assuming it was around the next corner. No one smiled. No one laughed. No one lived. They survived.

Nothing exciting happened at the palace, drama, gossip, and simple pleasure had long been forgotten, until the day an outside prisoner showed up. Since the revolution, the wars never stopped. The Woman deployed troops on the daily and didn't care who returned as long as her enemy was vanquished. She didn't take prisoners, she destroyed the armies of her enemies and burned their cities, making this man from out of town a sight to be seen.

He was surrounded, being yanked through the gates by ropes harshly tied around his waist, neck, and other various limbs. The village people - scrawny and lifeless as they were - followed behind out of curiosity and requirement, singing the song of the condemned loud enough for the Woman to hear from her throne deep within the palace walls.

The song alone was enough to make one's blood run cold. They jeered at the man, whipping at him with towels and branches when they got a chance to dart between the crowd of guards surrounding him. He, despite all this, held his head high as he was paraded through the streets up towards the glistening palace. The dipping sun casting a red shadow over the castle, giving the turrets a bloody coat.

Stepping beneath your window, his chin lifted. Brown eyes were staring into yours, unreadable and inexpressive. They stared at you through matted raven hair. His body was jerked this way and that, his silver metal armor clanging, but his eyes stayed glued to yours. His unchanging, silent eyes. You felt as if they were supposed to be whispering something to you, but you heard nothing.

A guard, angry he seemed to have halted, sent him tumbling forward with a harsh kick to his lower back. His disregard for this motion brought on a yell that had a different guard reaching for his jaw to tightly grip it and turn his attention away from whatever held it so permanently. Though his head moved, his eyes stayed. This brought on more yells, kicks, and punches, until he was buried beneath a pile of soldiers and could no longer be seen.

That didn't stop you from conjuring up the memory of his face in your mind. It's a handsome face, one wise beyond its years. Stern, but gentle. Discerning, just, not to mention very nice to look at. Before a sigh can slip past your lips, you hurry to pull yourself away from the window, the giggling of the other seven girls in your two occupant room reaching your ears.