With Courage [King Caspian X OC]

Chapter 10

This chapter was getting too long, so I split it in two. Here's part one, and part two will be up tomorrow! Hope everyone has a good Easter!

I wake with a groan and roll onto my back, regretting the decision immediately. My head feels wrong, as if when I move it my brain remains stationary - only to rush to follow the movement on a five second delay, colliding harshly with the inside of my skull when it hurries to nestle itself back in the space.

"Good morning, Snoozy Sparrow." I hear Caspian greet me distantly, his voice muffled underneath the excessive pain.

"Snoozy Sparrow?" I ask, rubbing the heel of my hand across my eyes. When I open them, my vision is dotted with spots of swirling light.

"The fairytale, do you not know it?"

"I'm afraid not. I know Sleeping Beauty though, feel free to use that one instead." Swinging my legs over the side of the hammock, I blink slowly at the ground and will it to steady in my sight.

"Maybe another time." Caspian responds distractedly. "Do you need help?"

"I've got it." I reluctantly jump and land with bent knees, only to be thrown off balance by the vicious tide a second later. Caspian is by my side immediately, helping me stand and rest against a nearby wooden beam. My head pounds harder, brain replaced with a loose bowling ball; It feels like my head is going to crack open like an egg any minute now. I look up, white patterns still blotting my sight, and see Caspian begin to talk. "I'm fine." I cut him off quickly. I need to focus.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

The deep breaths shrink the bowling ball in my head, just a bit, and I try to concentrate on the comfort from breathing in the salty air instead of the spike of pain that strikes with every inhale.

Finally, when I adjust enough to the pain to push it back enough to think, I look to Caspian. "I'll teach you how to stow your hammock." He says almost regretfully, the pity clear in his eyes. The lack of a mirror in here is probably for the best, I can't begin to imagine the state I must be in.

Together we untie the hammock from its posts and roll it into a tight bundle, covering it in a net and cloth before enclosing it in one of the trunks at the end of the berthing deck.

The lid closes with a harsh snap, sending unwelcome vibrations through my head that make me groan and slide down against the wall so I can bury my head between my knees. Somewhere in the distance Caspian mentions lunch but even the promise of food isn't enough for me to stand or simply raise my head. It feels like the task would require a team of five, and I briefly consider that this newfound heaviness could transform my body into the most effective anchor ever if tied to a rope and thrown over the side.

Someone nudges my shoulder.

Instead of raising my head I rest my cheek on my knees and look to the side where Caspian is now sat beside me holding out a cup of water and lunch – a hardtack biscuit and cheese. I murmur my thanks and gather the strength to shift my head against the wall, accepting the food gratefully.

Few sailors occupy the room with us, taking hurried naps or changing clothes. Watching them move so assuredly strengthens my headache, but the food and drink help ease the fog with time. After a while of silent chewing, I turn to Caspian.

"Why is the wind so loud today?" His whole body seems to slump with a new weight.

"We've entered a storm." He answers, eyebrows drawn together.

"But the blue star –"

"Is nowhere to be seen." I see a muscle clench in his jaw and I instinctively reach out a hand to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. There are no words to be said. Our only beacon of help is unobtainable for the foreseeable future and the presence of a storm weeps with visions of immense danger and death. All I can do is let him know he's not alone and, if I can convince myself of the same, reassure him that we're all going to be okay. I push away the mental images of the deck splintered in two, men fruitlessly attempting to stay afloat a churning black ocean and the purple mast being snatched away by the wind. I could really use a glass of wine right now, I think bitterly.