Odes of Autumn | A Narnia One-Shot Collection

Food For Thought

October 8th prompt: Cinnamon Buns

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Caspian leaned back in his chair, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes.

Stacks of papers, books, maps and scrolls littered his desk; the exact sight of chaos one would behold if given the opportunity to peer inside the young king's brain.

He let out a groan into the vacant room; his torment heightened at all angles for there was no one to lend a listening ear to whom he may vent of his vexation.

"No one ever tells you how stifling it is to rule a country." He lamented, scuffing his boot across the floor.

A gentle rap sounded at the door.

"Enter." Caspian breathed, relief filling his voice at the thought of some company.

"My lord." Reepicheep greeted with a chivalrous bow. "How fare's your readings?"

"To be perfectly honest, I feel as though someone has ripped my eyes out and set an elephant upon my brain."

If a mouse were to have eyebrows, Reepicheep's would've arched at this comment.

"That is...quite the slaughte of suffering your majesty. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

"The only assistance I require is to be freed of whatever cruel punishment this is."

Reepicheep chuckled; a warm, inviting sound unseemly for a creature of his kind.

"Have you tried taking your mind off or work for a while? Getting some fresh air could do your mind some good."

"I appreciate your effort, good Reepicheep, but I have sworn myself to this room until the letters of trade from the council have been read and signed. If I leave now, I might never set foot in here again and I cannot afford that; harvest begins in only two days."

Reepicheep stroked his chin, his whiskers dancing about his nose at the action.

Suddenly, his eyes brightened, and a smile spread across his face.

"Well, as it seems I cannot offer you any reprieve in this state, would his majesty excuse me?"

Caspian nodded, collapsing dramatically into his chair once again.

Every minute ticked by seemingly with the sole purpose of dragging itself out as long as possible.

Stuck in a paralysis-like state of overwhelmed apathy, Caspian stared at the clutter of responsibilities before him.

In reality, just papers and books; but in his eyes the albatross form of a monstrous mountain which stared back at him with much greater a ferocity than he could muster.

Unaware of how long he spent like this, for time seemed to no longer exist in the sense that it stopped altogether, Caspian was drawn out of his state of numb trance by the growling of his own stomach.

"And even yet, my body turns on me!"

He threw his arms wildly in the air, the gesture redolent of sails in the fray of a storm.

"Caspian?"

The sweet, familiar voice on the other side of the door launched Caspian to his feet with a force that surely looked unnatural.

His hand was on the latch in an instant, an urgency to his movements as though he were setting captives free from behind prison doors.

The doors flew open, Caspian hanging between them, the desperation in his eyes equal to that of starvation.

A feather-light kiss on his cheek sent calm through his veins like honey dripping over hot cakes.

"Hello dear. Reepicheep said something about dire straits and a battlefield of ink and paper...so I thought I might stop by and rescue you."

Caspian's bride brushed past him, a warm and sugary scent wafting behind her.

She faltered at the sight of his desk, raising an eyebrow as she cast a glance at her husband, who still occupied the space between the open doors of his study.

"Battlefield of ink and paper indeed..." she mused, setting the tray in her arms down on a side table.

Lifting a document in her small, fair hands, she smiled.

"Come." she ordered gently, "I've brought you some rejuvenation in the form of cinnamon rolls. Call it 'food for thought'."

Caspian wasn't really listening, the trace of a smile dancing faintly across his lips.

He moved toward her, wordless at the vision of her form in the late afternoon sun.

She radiated innocence and beauty; and he was sure flecks of gold had settled among the strands of her hair for she shone and shimmered under the warmth of the autumn sun.

A brief, fleeting thought that this was all but a dream flashed through Caspian's mind, but the reality of the fairytale he was living in came crashing down around him as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"Whatever would possess you to fling yourself into battle with no weapons or armor." he jested, coming fully to himself within her touch.

"They don't call me 'The Valient' for nothing, my love." she cooed, her nose playfully grazing his own.

"You are my everything, Queen Lucy the Valient. The wind in my sails..."

"The compass to my soul, the home through my voyaging. My adventure, my promise, my devotion forever." They finished in unison.

"You still remember our vows." Lucy giggled; that joyful, girlish melody ringing like songbirds in Caspian's ears.

"How could I ever forget." Caspian breathed, touching his forehead to hers. "A thousand years of treaties and trade law could not even dampen my memory of them."

"I am very so happy to hear so." Lucy smiled before their lips met again.

Pulling away and giving her husband a lingering, loving gaze, Lucy grasped Caspian's hands.

"A thousand years of treaties and trade law may not dampen your memory, but they will chill my cinnamon rolls until they are positively hard as rocks. So come, eat, and then we can finish your reading together."

Obliging, Caspian took a cinnamon roll from Lucy's hand, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the sugary coated goodness she gifted him.

"Food for thought, you say?" He grinned and took a bite. "I dare say; you do come up with the best distractions."