Disclaimer: I do not, under any circumstances, own Narnia.

Author's Note: Chapter 13! I'm getting a little more...um...creative with my chapter titles, for, as you can see, I have masterfully entitled the following chapter "Death of an Innocent". I love all of your reviews! Enjoy!

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Chapter 13 ~ Death of an Innocent

Another visitor.

The hours darkened and evening was coming on steadily like an army of Calormene horses. It was then that a knock had come at the King's door. All day, visitors had interrupted Caspian: lords, ladies, Sir Steiphen, the odd knight, and his sons. All of this visiting had grown quite tedious to the king. All he wanted was to get the work at hand done—and not have more work to finish and more conflicts to solve!

"Enter." Caspian groaned.

Lady Elizabeth entered, pulling in another lady in with her. They were swathed in identical dresses, but their faces were very different. In sharp contrast with Elizabeth's face, the other lady's complexion was slightly darker—like that of a barbarian. Her hair was dark too, ink black, in fact, like a crow's feather, only much prettier. She had large, curious dark eyes that added to the darkness of her visage. They seemed to smile even when her mouth did not. Elizabeth was the only one that was smiling, though it was small.

"Good evening, Your Majesty." Both of the ladies curtsied delicately.

"Good evening, Lady Elizabeth and…?"

The lady spoke up. "Prunaprismia, er, Your Majesty." She stammered awkwardly, looking at her feet with a bashful look on her face.

"Lady Prunaprismia. Such a beautiful creature cursed with such an…ill-favored title."

Prunaprismia looked slightly offended, probably used to such comments comparing her wild beauty to her name.

"Your Majesty," said Lady Elizabeth, "this girl is the barbarian that my husband, Sir Steiphen, wishes to hang."

Caspian's brow came crashing down over his eyes as he looked up from a document lying on his desk. He scrutinized the young lady carefully. She was a barbarian? He had always saw the barbarians as evil, glowering people, ugly and twisted, bent on killing and bloodletting. This flower of a girl looked like she had never even fired an arrow from a bow, and it was probably true, for her eyes were peaceful and calm.

He began to pace slowly behind his desk, still keeping his eyes on her. "My good lady," he said quietly, "were I given the chance to hang you, far be it from me to do so. I can't but imagine why Steiphen would want to hang such a fair young girl such as yourself."

"Then will you call off the hanging, Your Majesty?" Elizabeth asked weakly.

"Were I not at the mercy of Sir Steiphen, then, aye, I would call off the hanging."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "You mean my husband threatened you into hanging this girl?" Her voice was layered with anger and spite.

Caspian was quick to shake his head. "No, no, no, dear lady! I mean nothing of the sort. But I would indeed loose his trust and his favor were I to decline him and call off the hanging—and right now I need his trust more than ever."

Just then, Miraz entered, his mouth open as if he was going to speak. It immediately closed when he met the eyes of Prunaprismia who had turned to face him. Her brow sloped downward when she saw him. Her long fingers twisted into fists at her side. Miraz swallowed hard and looked away from her.

"Father," he said simply, "Steiphen…plans to hang her in the morning." He tried to remain as non-accusatory as possible, but the constantly hardening eyes of Prunaprismia told him he had not done very well at doing so. Elizabeth seized Prunaprismia's arm.

"He cannot!" She hissed angrily. "He will not!"

"He will not listen to you, Elizabeth. He will not. He is adamant on being rid of her."

"But why?" Elizabeth turned fearfully to Prunaprismia. "What have you done that would make him so angered and bent on killing you?"

Prunaprismia shook her head incoherently, her eyes still steely. "I am royalty. That is why he wants to kill me. And I? What have I done? Nothing. Nothing."

Miraz approached his father, walking between the two ladies and keeping his gaze level with his father's. "I will find a way to save her, father, no matter what you say." He said stubbornly. "I will—I will marry her." He turned to face Prunaprismia, whose eyes widened with shock. "I will marry her."

"I—"

"Do not refuse me. Do not. I will not see you hang. I will not live with your soul on my conscience…knowing that you were innocent. Do not refuse. Marry me."

Prunaprismia's eyes were still arrogant, but she sighed heavily and looked at her feet again. Even Elizabeth looked quizzical. There was a long, drawn out pause, filled with tension and awaiting an answer from the young lady who was just offered a hasty proposal that balanced between life and death.

"Make your choice. Marry me, or be wed to the gallows."

Prunaprismia breathed another trembling sigh, not tolerant enough to meet the eyes of the impatient Miraz. Elizabeth rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. Then, Prunaprismia's fists unfurled. Her head hung in defeat.

"You have bested me." She said in a low, sorrow-filled voice. "I will marry you. But I will tell you know how much this dishonors me—if I am ever to return to the Mountains, to my people—I will be banished."

Miraz nodded slowly. "Very well." He stated. Prunaprismia turned quickly to leave and was gone before anyone knew it. Elizabeth gave Miraz a slightly cold look and left after her, calling her name.

Miraz, his back to his father, had not yet seen his father's reaction to his proposal. But his voice spoke his mind.

"What a way to disgrace yourself, Miraz!" He boomed, any of his old, weak vulnerability faded away, peeled off to reveal the powerful king he was. "She may be disgraced harshly, but you are disgraced tenfold! A Telmarine has never married a barbarian! Rash, rash boy! She was only one life, one soul in this great world—and yet she was the one that you took pity on! To think that you ignored anything I ever said about your superiority—"

"I care not about superiority!" Miraz cut him off, turning to face his father. His eyes were as cold as Miraz's. "She was going to die. I felt responsible for her the moment I saved her from her captivity. I could not have tried to hide her—'twould have been impossible. This was the only way I could've saved her."

"Very well. Take pity on your enemies, but ignore your family." Caspian spat. "You are dismissed. Leave my presence."

Miraz retreated, not looking back. His anger simmered and seethed within him, growing until it had slithered into his mind, into his heart, into his soul, into his very core. He had just promised to marry one that he did not love, and had to tell his father he did want to marry her. But the very truth was that he did not. He abhorred the barbarians. And yet he had just told himself—and Prunaprismia—he would marry one.

But it had to be done. Many of the barbarians he had killed were criminals and murderers, mercenaries and cruel killers. This young girl was but a maiden, still so youthful and innocent. She did not deserve to die. He would not live with the life of a late girl on his conscience, as he had said to himself so many times, and yet he still denied himself.

He could not carry the life of a girl, yet he could carry the life of his very brother!

But he felt that this was different. Prunaprismia was an innocent lady. Caspian was in no ways innocent.

Or was he? In what ways is he guilty? Miraz asked himself. In what ways has he wronged you that would make you want to kill him?

Caspian was not guilty in any way. He may have snapped a few times at Miraz, but did that deserve death? Never had Caspian killed an innocent, nor had he killed someone who did not deserve it. Did he deserve to be judged rashly by his brother and put to death because of such false judgment?

No.

He may not deserve death, but that does not mean that he deserves the throne!

The people may have loved Caspian, but in Miraz's eyes, he knew Caspian would become a tyrant, a man far too powerful that he became a usurper of his own power. He would not rule the kingdom well. And Miraz would have to take the throne.

That was certain.

TO BE CONTINUED