Chapter 1: Captured
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia: the lion the witch and the wardrobe or the characters within said fandom however I do own my OC's. This fan fiction has been created for entertainment purposes only and is a non-profit fan fiction.
Chaos took hold of the castle, Lords were summoned by the Lord Protector in the late hours of the evening and maids bustled around the candle-lit castle to relay these messages to their superior's. Even the young Prince Caspian was awoken from his slumber by his Professor, as his presence was requested in the Lord's hall. Upon entering the meeting chamber the Lord's took their designated seats and awaited Lord Miraz's arrival. As was the norm, he burst through the large doorway in a flurry of material as his ebony cloak billowed around him. Upon seeing his nephew cowering in the corner of the hall beside his Professor, he strode over to the young boy grabbing his forearm and dragging him to stand beside the Lord Protector's seat, before taking the seat himself. Lord Miraz, after ensuring all Lord's were present, crossed his right leg over his left and addressed the court; his voice echoing off the stone walls. "My Lord's," he began; " I know the hour is late, but sleep well still yet elude you." Upon hearing a groan escape the mouths of every Lord present, he quickly stood and paced in front of the empty throne. "For thousands of years we Telmarine's have been thwureatened by the existence of the Narnains, we have attempted to exterminate their very existence and free the forest of their being. Yet... it seems that several, despite being small in numbers, are still yet living beneath the trees canopy." He paused allowing his words to sink into the minds of those around him. "One such Narnian decided to stray from the forest and found their way into our clutches. This Narnian, this vermin, is but a child; around Prince Caspian's age." he gestured towards his 15 year old nephew. "Their age effects their strength, not just physically but mentally. We can manipulate this Narnian's mind, they will tell us the filthy secrets of the forest dwellers!" A murmur of agreement spread throughout the hall.
Lord Gregoire rose from his seat beside his cousin, Lord Sopespian. "Bring us the Narnian offspring, finally we will defeat the children of Aslan!" These were words of encouragement enough for Lord Miraz, he smirked at the outspoken Lord. "General Glozelle, bring in the prisoner!" A small amount of bustling was heard before the wooden door swung open. General Glozelle marched hastily into the room gently pushing a young girl in front of him. He stopped in the centre of the room and presented the girl to Miraz. The child appeared to be human but her appearance differed greatly to the Telmarines. Where their skin was tanned hers was pale, the traditional dark brown eyes of a Telmarine contrasted greatly to her grey-blue. She titled her head backwards so as to better look upon Lord Miraz, her brown hair; which fell to just below her shoulders, swayed gently behind her.
Lord Gregoire took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. "A human? I thought you said she was Narnian!" At this exclamation several more Lord's rose from their seats. Lord Sopespian strutted towards the young girl and ripped the cloth, preventing her from talking, from her mouth. "Well?! Are you a Narnian?!" The girl retreated in panic, her eyes widening and slammed into the legs of General Glozelle who in return rested a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head upwards, her eyes meeting his. It pained him to see tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. Glozelle knelt down and as tenderly as a Telmarine soldier could, questioned her, "What t is your name young one?" He was the first to speak to her without anger in his voice and it took her by surprise. "Kestra" was her quiet reply.
"Well, Kestra. Would you care to answer my question?!" spat Sopespian. The answer was so quiet that the Lord's had to lean in to hear her. "Yes. I am Nanian."
Professor Cornelius took this opportunity to intervene. He pushed his way to the front of the small crowd. "And how many of you are there left?" he inquired.
A short pause followed the question as Kestra thought carefully about a reply. "Not many. We will all be dead soon...by the end of winter. We don't have enough food." She was of course lying. Despite being young, 14 in age, she was smart and this reply would protect her people for a longer period of time than if she said that there were more than the Telamrines ever could have anticipated. That response would have ended in the burning of the Narnian forests.
"Oh, how unfortunate." The reply was sarcastic and had not left the mouth of the kind Professor but the Lord Miraz; who's smirk had grown to a size that could have matched his ego. "Most unfortunate indeed. We shall then have to prepare to move troops into the forests as soon as the winter months have come to an end. A fear of the forest will no longer be justified."
"No. Your wrong."
"What did you say?! Did you contradict me girl?!"
"I said your wrong. The death of all Narnians gives you even more of a reason to fear the forest. The trees and animals will be angry! If you interfere or enter the forest you will face the wrath of Aslan. You were right to fear the forest, your fears were and are justified. We Narnains may not be powerful in numbers but the magic of the Narnians, a magic you Telmarine's cannot comprehend, is more powerful than any Telmarine army!" Kestras face had shifted into a snarl and her small hands had formed fists.
Miraz's voice rose in anger "Get this girl out of my sight!" "You will live out the rest of your days in a prison cell, as the last Narnain." he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.
As Kestra was dragged from the hall her eyes met Caspian's. Anger rose to the surface of her mind. She roared in frustration. The Lord's gasped in shock at the inhuman noise. She was tugged roughly by her underarms, she was getting dragged out backwards her heels scraping on the stone floor. The huge wooden doors banged shut after they had exited. Kestra was glaring daggers at the door. How could he? How could a boy his age, her age, stand by and allow the genocide of her people to unfold before him? Did nothing in his mind, a mind not yet corrupted by greed and power, think that what his people were doing was wrong? Kestra knew he could have said something, despite his young age many of the Lord's would have listened to him. She knew who he was- the young Prince Caspian; heir to the throne of Telmar. If he was anything like his father then perhaps there was hope for Narnia after all.