Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia.
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Queen Prunaprismia sat in a chair near the window of her bedroom, gazing out into the clear afternoon sky. At her feet, in a cradle, lay her infant son, his eyes closed to all the evils of the world in sound sleep. How she wished he could remain as he was, fairly innocent in the eyes of all, demanding only the basic necessities of life and loving all who treated him well with equal magnanimity.
Her eyes fell on his gently rising and falling chest, his slightly open mouth, his faintly twitching hands. When he grew up, would he too turn into a callous, greedy, grasping man and break his mother's heart just as her husband had done?
Her face darkened as she recalled Miraz preparing to head out into battle against the Narnians earlier this week.
"You'll see, my dear, by the end of this week all opposition to our son's throne will be removed and we shall dwell peacefully and securely," Miraz commented as he strapped on his boots. He stood up and turned towards their bed where the rest of his armor lay and picked up his breastplate. "Help me put this on, will you?"
She hesitated, not wanting to play in any part of her husband's ruthless attempt to crush all resistance.
He glanced at her, impatience brewing in his dark face. "Come, my dear, I do not have much time to waste."
"I do not think this is wise," she finally gathered the courage to speak her mind. "Why can't we just leave them be or....or go somewhere else....or...."
Miraz scoffed. "Listen to yourself! You cannot even come up with a viable alternative. This is our only chance, we must do what is necessary to secure our son's future. I should have thought you would have known that by now, especially after you shot Caspian the other night."
Prunaprismia dropped her gaze, shame flooding her. She was not a stern woman by nature, not one prone to fighting and yet....she had been the one to shoot her own nephew, not Miraz. Without another word of objection, she helped her husband slip into his armor.
He smiled at her once they were done and gave her a gentle kiss. "Don't fret, Mia, when all is said and done, the kingdom will be ours and we will be able to watch our son grow up to be a strong king."
Then he was gone, before she had time to say anything in return.
Her son began to wail as if he had sensed the fear and tension in the room and she was quick to pick him up to soothe him. She could hear the clatter of horses' hooves in the courtyard below and she rushed to the window just in time to see her husband whirl his mount around and gallop off, followed by at least a dozen or so of his men.
As their child's cries gradually calmed, Prunaprismia remarked bitterly to him, "Your father does not care about us, he cares for no one but himself. His selfishness is going to be his undoing."
Her son merely cooed in response.
And now here she was. Five days had gone by and she had heard nothing new about her husband. She didn't know if the enemy had been engaged or if one or the other of the sides had been conquered or if some kind of truce had been reached.
She hoped it was the latter. Despite her own ambitions for her son, she truly didn't want her nephew to come to harm. He had always treated her very kindly, loved her. In fact, the only time she had ever seen his eyes dark with something akin to hatred had been when he had snuck into their chambers and accused her husband of murdering his brother....perhaps that was the night when her faith in Miraz had begun to crumble.
"You told me your brother died in his sleep."
"That was more or less true."
She buried her face in her hands as she recalled all that had happened that night. "Oh Miraz, what have we done?"
As if in answer to her plea, a clatter sounded in the courtyard below her and she slowly raised her head, almost too afraid to hope. Was it Miraz? Had he been successful? At this point, she didn't care who it was as long as they brought her news of some kind.
She stood up and peered out of the window. Someone with dark hair was leading a procession of about fifty men into the courtyard. Was it her husband?
But then she caught a flash of golden hair right next to him and her heart sank. It was the foreign king from old, the one they called Peter. So then that must mean that....yes, it was Caspian that now became visible to her, stern but noble.
On trembling legs, she backed away from the window, tears blurring her eyes. Miraz must be dead, he had failed. And though for the past few months or so, she had hardly recognized the monster he had become, he was still her husband and she still loved him. And now, she was without a husband and her child....
She sank to her knees beside her son's cradle and snatched him up, ignoring his startled cry. She crushed him to her chest, gently stroking his soft baby hair. "Oh my child, I am so sorry! I never meant for this to happen! I wish...I wish..." But she didn't know what she wished. That none of this had happened? That they had been born a normal family? That she had stopped her husband from turning into a ruthless killer? But it was too late for any of that and now, it was time to face up to her actions.
A maid burst into her room, her eyes wide and face pale. "My lady! You must run, your nephew is here! There are guards waiting to help you escape and-"
"No." Prunaprismia shook her head sternly, still clutching her child to her chest. She stood and slowly made her way to the door. "It is time for me to stop running."
The maid could do nothing but gape at her as she walked past, her head held high. As she made her way to the courtyard, she hardly noticed the many servants and guards who tried to urge her to escape while she still could. But she was not dissuaded. Though it was far too late to undo the wrong that had been done, she could at least be brave enough to own up to her transgressions and accept whatever punishment was her due.
As she came to the courtyard, she could hear raised voices. Her guards must be trying to buy her time to escape. It was noble of them in a way, but unnecessary. She stepped out into the courtyard, the sun shone brightly in her eyes and dazzled her for a moment so that she could hardly see what was going on in front of her. However, she could hear the argument that was currently taking place.
"Your king is dead," Caspian's stern voice sent a pang through her heart, confirming what she had already felt to be true. "Now you will let us pass or bring my aunt out here so that I can talk with her!"
"She is not well at the moment, sir," the guard returned just as firmly, "she-"
"I am right here," she called out. Her voice was not as strong as she wished it to be, but it had the desired effect of gaining everyone's attention.
Her guards stared at her in dismay, probably having thought that she would have been well away by now. Caspian, Peter, and the other king of old....Edmund, perhaps?....all gazed at her coolly, as if expecting her to be just as hard and unyielding as her husband.
She walked past the guards and came within a few feet of Caspian. Their eyes met for a moment, but that was all it took. Her nephew's normally gentle eyes were now harsh and cold and she knew she deserved every bit of his anger.
In front of everyone, both friend and foe, Prunaprismia knelt on the ground before Caspian and placed her son at his feet. Her words came out choked as tears began to fall down her cheeks. "My lord, I know I do not deserve your mercy and I will accept any vengeance you wish to take out on me, but I beg of you, have mercy upon my son! Do not slay him for his parents' sins. Let him become a servant or a slave or anything you wish, but let him live. Please!" Her composure broke down completely at that last desperate plea and she hunched over her son, weeping openly before her nephew and all who were gathered in the courtyard.
A stunned silence settled over the assembly, broken only by her sobs and her son's confused wails. Then someone crouched in front of her and gently slid his hand under her chin, lifting up her tear-stained face. Caspian's compassionate expression filled her visage. "Dearest aunt, do not debase yourself like this. Come, dry your tears." He held out a handkerchief to her.
She stared at it for a moment, then at him. "Forgive me?"
"Of course," he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
"Thank you," she breathed, wiping at her eyes with the handkerchief.
Caspian turned from her and carefully picked up her son. After studying the child for a moment or two, he handed him to her with a smile. "Do not fear, you and your child shall live. Let there be no more strife between us."
As she cradled her son in her arms and gazed upon her nephew's face, Prunaprismia felt hope begin to spring anew in her. Though she had lost her husband, her position, and many of her dreams, she felt as though she had gained a world.
She had a chance to start anew and as she knelt there on the dusty ground, she vowed that she would not waste it.
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