A/N: This is inspired by cedfiafics's "Offer Your Throat to the Wolf." It got my brain going - the first chapter is incredibly gripping. Go give it a read.
And on a personal aside - I'm loving doing this. I can actually produce something while my toddler naps - she's sensitive to sound when she sleeps so I can never do any chores. Fortunately the click-clack of my keyboard seems to be a non-issue. :)
Morning Table
fifteen years old
"You aren't eating."
Her response was the sound of rattling chains as Sofia lifted her arms in the air so show her restraints. Cedric moved his right hand from where itt rested subconsciously against his chest, pressing the Amulet of Avalor against his skin under his doublet. He waved his hand once in the air and the chains vanished. Sofia rubbed her hands around her wrists, the skin irritated but not raw, and then schooled her hands to her lap.
"Please eat," he implored, her overly thin frame making him uncomfortable. Her eyes, petulant and fiery, met his from across the long table in the great hall where she had spent so many mornings in her former life. Keeping his eyes, she lifted her spoon and dove into the oatmeal bowl before her. Instead of bringing the utensil to her mouth, she held it to the side and let it splatter to the floor beside her, followed by the clattering sound of the spoon as it hit the floor as well. The sound echoed through the stagnant hall.
"You need to eat."
"Tell me where my family is."
"Sofia-"
"I won't eat until I know, your majesty," she said with a bite Cedric wished she would reserve for food instead of him.
He looked at her helplessly before speaking in a whisper that barely carried across the hall, "I will not tell you."
Sofia pushed back from the table, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor. She walked, barefooted, to the door of the hall and knocked twice. She held out her arms to be manacled again by the guard at the door who led her away.
Cedric watched her go for the third morning in a row. At least she touched the spoon this time. He was determined to bring her up to the table, his table, again the next morning and every morning after that until she ate. Though it was becoming clear that he would ultimately be required to force her to eat in order to keep her alive. Stubborn girl. But he couldn't watch her, of all people, waste away and he couldn't bare to tell her what she wanted to know. How could he, when the deaths of her family came, albeit indirectly, from his own hand?
Cedric lifted his fork and put it back down. He had no appetite. Not now. Not since that day. And not likely ever again. But he picked up his fork again and ate anyway.
Someone had to protect Sofia. He didn't deserve the job, but who was left?