Once Upon Another Time
"Y-Your Majesty, you can't be serious," Ligan stammered, as Edmund bent his most stern, most piercing look on the melting Vizier.
"Anything you want, for her freedom," Edmund repeated, looking back at the beauty, eyes entranced by hers. He felt on fire, flames licking beneath his skin and his heart pounding against his ribcage the way it did just before a battle.
"I've only just bought her…this is most-"
"Unless you would wish me to inform the Tisroc of the most unflattering rumours that you've been embezzling his gold on slave girls and marble for your new palace," Edmund added in a low aside, grateful Tumnus had kept him informed of court gossip. In cases such as these, it was useful.
"Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Your Majesty," the Vizier blustered, heaving his bulk off the silk cushions and leading the way from the room. Edmund followed, grimly determined.
Elednor watched the Vizier and the young man walk into one of the other rooms in the house, and smiled darkly. She had no intention of waiting around to be sold to someone else, least of all some Northern lordling!
The Vizier had called him 'Your Majesty', so a king perhaps? He had been handsome, with dark raven hair and pale skin like her own, and large brown eyes that were not the less piercing and intimidating for the kindness she glimpsed in them, tempered by a steely resolve. He had the build of a warrior, tall and wiry but still muscular, and his scarlet tunic had borne the crest of a golden lion.
After the slavers had knocked her out, she'd awoken in the back of a cart, chained to a post with the other slaves, trundling along the dusty road to Tashbaan, the capital of Calormen. She knew Daryl would have discovered her kidnap by now, not to mention the deaths of Rumal, Jarin and Leon.
Inwardly her heart wept for them, but outwardly, she let not one shred of emotion show, determined to prevent any weakness escaping her.
At first the slavers wanted to use her in the usual way, but when they had seen her eyes flash black they had decided to sell her on quickly.
Elednor supposed that was one positive thing about her curse. It kept all unwanted male attention firmly at bay, except for this latest one. He had seen her eyes flash, she was sure of it, but he had not recoiled.
As for Ligan, he was just plain short-sighted.
Elednor felt odd as she thought of the Northern king, who was bargaining for her in the next room. Like she had said, no need, with the knife she had hidden in her boot.
An odd little creature that had sat beside the Northern king smiled at her kindly, as she stared at it. It had the body of a naked man, albeit scrawny and covered in hair, but the bottom half of a goat, and…were those horns she glimpsed poking from the wild nest of curls atop his head?
She had heard legends of the Narnians, a race of mythical creatures who lived in a beautiful land called Narnia, ruled over by a talking lion and the four Kings and Queens of Narnia.
Were these the Narnians?
Shaking away those thoughts, Elednor pretended to be doing her bootlace up, slipping the knife from her boot. In a flash she was upright, and had it pressed against her captor's throat.
"None of you move!" she snarled, as the Calormenes and Narnians leapt up in surprise and outrage, starting forward. "One move, and I will slit his throat."
They backed down, as no one had any weapons on them in the meeting room, and she leant up to whisper to the brute whom possessed the keys to her freedom.
"Now, be a good boy and give me the key," she hissed. He moved, and she dug the knife in a little, pointedly. "One false move, and I'll kill you."
"Miss? Miss, I-" the Faun tried to intervene, but she glared at him and he backed down.
No one moved, the air thick with tension, as the Calormene handed the keys to Elednor and she forced them to back up to the door. The meeting room only had one door, and she waited until she was at its threshold before shoving the Calormene away from her disgustedly and slammed the doors shut. Grabbing a spear from the wall, she shoved it between the handles, barricading it shut. Angry shouts sounded within, and footsteps began to echo up the stairs from the kitchens and the slave quarters. Elednor quickly freed herself, grabbed a scimitar from the wall and looked to the nearest window.
She peered out and down at the dusty street below, a pile of straw for the Vizier's stables directly beneath the ten foot drop. She smiled. Perfect.
The Vizier was visibly sweating as Edmund whirled to face him in the opulent green study.
"The girl for my silence. Unless you would like to see the inside of the Tisroc's dungeons personally? I hear they're quite vile," Edmund murmured conversationally, finding the sight of the squirming Vizier rather amusing.
"Very well," the Vizier muttered sullenly, but he couldn't disguise the fear in his eyes at the mention of the Tisroc and dungeons. "Take the whore."
Edmund's eyes darkened, and he stepped forward threateningly. "If I were not here under the auspices of diplomacy, you would die where you stand, Grand Vizier," he snarled, making the cowardly man draw away.
Suddenly there came an angry shout from the meeting room, and Edmund rushed out to utter pandemonium. Everyone, Narnian and Calormene alike, was trying to open the great double doors which led to the atrium, and Edmund wryly noted the young woman was absent.
"Your Majesty!" Tumnus rushed to his side as the doors gave way. "It was the young woman you just freed. She grabbed her Calormene captor, produced a knife and freed herself. She's escaped."
Edmund cursed to himself. If she were caught, she would be executed under Calormene law as an escaped slave. He had to find her and protect her, although for the life he didn't know why he felt compelled to help her so.
As soon as the door opened, Edmund rushed through, glimpsing a flash of gold as it disappeared beneath the window ledge. His heart in his mouth, he rushed to the ledge and spotted the hay pile. He also spotted the hastily retreating woman, her hair making her stand out like a sore thumb in the market place full of raven-haired Calormenes.
Cursing again, he grabbed his sword and launched himself over the window ledge, noting her direction as he fell.
She was heading for the Great Gate, leading out of the city.
As soon as he hit the ground, he was running.
Elednor easily ducked and swerved through the crowd, ignoring the cries of "Wait!" echoing behind her, clutching her stolen sword tightly by her side, hidden in her skirts.
The crush of people thickened as a new voice added to the din.
"Make way for the Lady Zaraleen! Make way!"
Cursing between gritted teeth, Elednor gathered her remaining strength and raced through a gap in the crowd, ducking beneath the sedan of the great lady, ignoring the angered calls behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw no sign of pursuit, but as she swerved into a large, open square, with just a few market stalls and stairs leading up to houses for the less wealthy of Tashbaan, the Northern king flew from a side street and blocked her path. Elednor skidded to a halt, already settling into a defensive position, holding the scimitar out towards the one obstacle between her and freedom.
Edmund eyed the flashing scimitar warily, but was even more surprised by the obviously experienced and combat ready stance the young woman settled into. Either she was a natural, or she had been trained by a master.
If she was a noblewoman, either was likely.
Edmund did not go for his sword just yet, but raised his hands, palms outward and empty. A sign of peace.
The woman did not back down, but watched him with an eerie ruthlessness which sent shudders down his spine.
"Now just wait and listen, please-" he began, but she swung for his head and he was forced to duck and swerve to the side. He drew his own sword and blocked her next attack, surprisingly strong for one so slender. He tried not to attack her, letting her attack him and just defend himself, but she was fast and agile, more so than him. It took all his own agility to stop her getting around him, as he tried to make her stop.
Her next attack was slightly wild, and he wagered she was malnourished and weak from exhaustion, not to mention the heat so he yanked her close, so her scimitar was inside his guard, and she couldn't do anything to harm him. He twisted his hands, and she dropped the scimitar with a grimace of pain and a gasp.
"Now just stop!" he commanded, panting heavily from their fight, sweat making his thin tunic stick to his back. This close, she was breathtakingly beautiful and his heart, already pounding, sped up even more, racing ahead. "I'm trying to help you!"
"If by helping, you mean buying me, thank you but I'll pass," she snarled sarcastically. "I belong to no one."
"Who are you?" Edmund demanded. She glared at him but didn't answer, just struggled fiercer. "You're not a slave, nor just a simple traveller. You can fight, you speak elegantly and you have regal bearing. I would say you're a noblewoman."
"Astound me even more, then, 'Your Majesty', I pray you. Your sword skills certainly failed," she replied, still hostile, still sarcastic and Edmund felt himself stung. He was one of the best swordsmen in Narnia.
His grip unintentionally loosened as he stared down at the struggling wildcat in his arms, and he winced as his body came alive at the feel of her body against his. Her eyes widened, and her knee jerked up in reflex.
Edmund gasped and collapsed backwards at the explosion of pain, white-hot behind his eyelids. He was dimly aware of the young woman leaping over his now prone form and he blindly twisted over, wincing as he did so and grabbed her ankle. She fell hard, winding herself, and he pulled her back to him, pinning her beneath him with her wrists above her head, held by his hands.
Both panted hard, their breaths puffing out against each other's lips as Edmund stared down at the beautiful maiden in his arms, golden hair radiant in the harsh Southern sun, ivory skin flushed from her flight and the fight. Her breast rose and fell quickly beneath his, and the pain suffusing his body quickly turned to pain of another sort.
Elednor stared up at her captor, strong, lean, muscled and pinning her most effectively beneath him, held completely at his mercy. She fought to control her breathing, to slow it and soothe her racing heart and flushed skin, but with every puff of his breath on her lips and throb of his heartbeat against her chest, it only worsened.
"Introductions, I think, are in order," Edmund breathed hoarsely, wondering when Tumnus and the others would get there. "I am Edmund the Just, King Of Narnia."
"Elednor of Daria," she replied coolly, despite how heated both were feeling. He still had not released her wrists.
"Well, Elednor of Daria, you are a fierce warrior," Edmund smirked casually, but Elednor only glared.
"Oh, so am I to assume that is supposed to make me feel reassured as you drag me off into slavery?" she retorted angrily, struggling again. Edmund slammed her wrists back down, pinning her legs in-between his knees.
"If you would just listen, my lady, you realise I have not bought you. I secured your freedom from our friend, the Grand Vizier," he explained as he subdued her again, his greater weight too much for Elednor. She was tired, hungry and in pain from both her curse and the arrow wound that had only been shabbily tended to by the slavers.
She searched his eyes as his words sank in, sceptically. Edmund rolled his eyes wearily. "Upon my honour as a Knight of Order of the Table, and as King of Narnia. Look, I'll let you up," he murmured, moving off of her and sitting back on his haunches.
"Alright, I believe you," Elednor muttered as she sat up. "But don't expect any sign of gratitude, Your Majesty. I had the matter well in hand."
"Oh, I heard and saw," Edmund chuckled. After a moment, he sobered and looked at her seriously. "How did you come to be in Tashbaan?"
Elednor met his eyes, genuinely concerned, and suppressed the desire to tell him all. She could not trust him. She would not.
"That is none of your business, Your Majesty," she replied coldly, standing and beginning to walk off towards the Gates. Edmund stood and grabbed her arm, pushing her into a wall and pinning her there once more between his hands, palms flat on the walls.
"Now wait a moment!" he began, but Elednor could not restrain a cry of pain as his hand unclenched from her wounded arm and he noticed the blood seeping through her sleeve, and on his fingertips. In horror, he recognised an arrow wound, as he unconsciously slid down her sleeve, to reveal the wound on the rise of her shoulder.
"Did the slavers do this to you?" he asked, disgusted.
"No, I'm generally in the habit of hitting myself with an arrow," Elednor retorted weakly, as his careful fingers probed the wound. He threw her a look, full of exasperated masculine aggravation and she suppressed the urge to giggle.
"Just answer the question," he growled through gritted teeth, and she nodded with a sigh. "Let me have my physicians look at that."
"Nay, I must return to my people. They're waiting for me outside the city walls," Elednor shook her head, but Edmund was stubborn.
"Very well, then I will see you safely to your people, my lady," he told her. His words were not an offer. Elednor was about to upbraid him about his overbearing arrogance and conceit when she saw his retinue arrive, even more strange creatures than she had ever seen before. There was one with the body of a horse, but the torso, shoulders and head of a man, clad in armour with long trailing black hair.
"Your Majesty?" he called, and Edmund released her to turn to his men.
"Orieus, I will be accompanying the Lady Elednor back to her camp outside the city walls. You and two others shall accompany me, the rest go back to our quarters and prepare to leave tomorrow on the Silver Hawk. Tell the Tisroc I am indisposed with a headache, and so regret I cannot join him at dinner," he ordered, and the men obeyed without batting an eyelid. Elednor watched him, and grudgingly approved.
Edmund turned back to her and gestured gallantly. "Lead on, my fierce warrior queen," he swept a bow, part mocking, partly in true respect. Elednor elevated her nose haughtily, and glided past, ignoring him pointedly while muttering under her breath about "arrogant, chivalrous males."
"Well, I am a knight as well as a king, my lady," he muttered, and Elednor glanced at him, narrow-eyed, before stalking off into the crowd. Edmund sighed heavily and followed.