"YOU'RE MY KING AND I'LL BE YOUR LIONHEART!" ||
Unknowingly created with immense power from the Great Lion Aslan, Princess Cattia of Telmar grows up in the den of murders and thieves, with only her brother, cousin, and dear Professor to guide her...
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DAVENWOODKEEP
( ARCHENLANDISH DOMAIN; PROVINCEOF THE RAVEN MOORS )
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𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰rang throughthe castle that night, screeching in a confused pandemonium that pulsed against the hard stone walls of the keep. The small boy of merely eight years old was throttled unceremoniously from his soft, feather bed, his heart climbing uproariously into his mouth. A scream built rapidly on his tongue, his verdant eyes expanding wide in a display of his own terror.
Before the horrified cry could leak from the child's lips, the soft scent of fresh cotton and pine caught his nose; eyes focusing on the chaos, the figure of his dear nurse birthed in the stormy gloom of his chambers.
"I-Inis?" The name of the elderly woman shook on his tongue, as the child's voice was squeezed and thin in the fervent shock roiling under his delicate, podgy skin. "Miss Inis, what's going on?"
The woman's elderly face was grim, shadows dancing hollowly on her skin by the weak candlelight washing warmly through the room. Her fingers, slightly gnarled and twisted in her age of sixty-five, found the lordling's arms and she squeezed urgently. Her hair was whitened and wired in an insane haloed crown around her head, mussed with the knowledge of the Telmarine attack. Likely she had pulled through it numerous times in her strife. The sudden tension she beset on him, laid into his skin and made the scared little boy peer up into her earnest and concerned eyes of rusted copper.
As the abrupt thunder of fists upon his bedroom door rattled in the silence, the boy's gaze struck the source of the noise. Inis snatched the back of his neck, forcing his eyes back on her as her endearing fingers wound sternly in his caramel brown curls.
