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✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩🕯Trapped in Darkness🕯✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

"Psst.." A whisper flowed through Charlotte's ears, ceasing her slumber.

She was immediately reminded of her paranoia that Miraz might enter her cell and have the guards hurl her into the torture chambers. She dared not sleep with her back turned on the cell door all through the night, trapped in darkness.

Her eyes felt dry, her eyelids puffy. She remembered. She had spent the night sobbing over her sword that Miraz seized, and had only a few hours of sleep. Even her bracelet had vanished, having slipped somewhere on the battlefield the previous night. She felt truly isolated without her prized possessions.

The Queen sat on the other side of the bars, staring at her with soft eyes. Her smile reflected the ray of light, emitting a radiant glow. In her hand sat a candle with an incandescent flame, keeping them company in the darkness of the dungeon. In the other hand was a metal cup, which she cautiously, and soundlessly, slid into the cell.

"It's alright," she prompted the frightened child with a soothing tone, "it's water. You must hydrate yourself, dear."

Charlotte inched closer, cautiously examining the cup of water. Her eyes darted warily between the cup and the lady, perplexed by her compassionate acts. Upon noticing the transparency of its contents, she immediately drank its contents in huge gulps.

Compared to the eerie darkness, the Queen's radiant glow provided some comfort to Charlotte's sore eyes. Charlotte reminisced the way her mother used to care for her. Especially when the darkness engulfed them, her mother was always the light in her life. A soothing sentiment surfaced in her heart.

"I'm Prunaprisma, Caspian's aunt," she introduced herself, her voice sweet and tender, "what's your name, dear?"

"Charlotte," she wiped her wet lips with the back of her hand, "thank you. Pardon me, why are you being nice to me?"

"I'm sorry for the way things turned out to be," Prunaprisma was solemn, her sincere eyes brimming with tears, "I never thought I'd be living a lie."

"Oh."

"My husband's been keeping me in the dark, and he still is, even after he confessed to his crimes."

"Can't you do anything about it?" Charlotte pleaded, grasping the bars. "After all, you're the Queen."

"I..." Silence rolled off her tongue, as she struggled to translate her thoughts, "I don't know."

Charlotte's heart sank. Though Prunaprisma was speechless, her crumbled expression was sufficient to convey a thousand words. Charlotte reached her hand out between the bars, and gently placed it over her hand. Prunaprisma was a prisoner to Miraz as was she, an emotionally trapped victim who only wanted the best for her baby.

"My duty is towards my husband..." Prunaprisma sighed, placing the candlelight on the ground. "I want a good life for my son. But not like this."

"Now that I've realised what he's done, it feels wrong to sit on the throne. But how can he be arrested when he gives the orders? And since then, he'd do anything to keep it that way, including silencing me. After all, I've already given him a successor."

The two sat in silence, empathising with each other through the barrier with an uncomfortable embrace. Only the candle reflected a tiny ray of hope in them both, sufficient to fight the absence of light engulfing them.

"I'm sorry that this happened to your marriage," Charlotte whispered, "you and your baby deserve better."

"And so do you, you must miss your friends."

She was right. Charlotte missed everyone, especially Edmund. She wondered if he was coping well, especially since he had made his feelings known to her before she left them. This thought alone heightened her sorrow, wishing she could be with him to properly convey how she felt about him.

The sound of the wooden door interrupted their embrace, and a soldier marched in.

"Your Majesty, please step aside."

"What for?" She questioned him with a frown.

"The princess is to be interrogated in the torture chambers, orders are given by the Council, specifically Lord Sopespian," the soldier replied, without an ounce of mercy in his voice.

Charlotte scooted backwards, her face draining of its colour.

"Lord Sopespian is not King," Prunaprisma glared at him, shaking her head. "and you will do no such thing."

"Your Majesty, I-"

"She's just a child, look at her!" She fumed, protectively shielding Charlotte from his view. "She doesn't need that! She's had a rough night."

The soldier stared at her with sheer austerity.

"Your Majesty, I'm simply doing my job."

"Well then," she scoffed, "you can go back and inform Sopespian and the rest of the Council that the Queen forbids it. I won't tolerate any form of inhumane torture towards this girl, ever. If you carry out any of the sorts, you shall be sentenced to execution."

The soldier was taken aback by her words. He froze, with a wide-eyed expression, completely shaken by her threats.

"Do I make myself clear?" She barked.

"Crystal clear, your Majesty." The soldier gulped, immediately turning on his heel.

When the soldier vanished out of sight, the Queen softened her features, turning to the frightened girl who trembled. Charlotte uttered words of gratitude as the Queen protectively enveloped her trembling hands.

"Even if Miraz is not fit for the throne, you certainly do a better job than he does."

"Thank you, my dear. But as far as I've realised, I'm no more fitting than he is. This is why you shall not address me by my title."

Charlotte nodded, acknowledging her wishes.

"You don't deserve to be here," Prunaprisma sighed, before her eyes reflected a flicker of hope, "Miraz wouldn't have to know."

Charlotte exhaled a sigh of relief, her eyes leaking with tears. She repetitively uttered words of gratitude before Prunaprisma left in a hurry.

Charlotte sunk into her own thoughts. Her heart ached for the sacrifice she had to make, but she was grateful to be alive and meet with such kindness and compassion.

Her mind wandered to the prophecy. Everyone back at Aslan's How went berserk about her foretold death, only to realise that it referred to trade in freedom. But the Telmarines were oblivious to this, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way. If they were somehow able to decipher the meaning of the prophecy, she was gone for good.

Minutes passed before the Queen arrived shortly with a set of keys. She hurriedly fixed the keys into the lock, clicking it open.

"Well, well," a dark, eerie voice chuckled in the shadows, startling them both.

"My dear, what are you doing?" Miraz's face emerged from the shadows, a sinister grin growing on his face.

"Are you going against your own people?" He asked, taking a few steps closer. "Aren't you aware that she's the foe?"

Prunaprisma scoffed. "Are you sure about that? You killed your own brother."

"For our son, my love," Miraz placed his hands firmly on her shoulder, "he will make a fine king."

"Like you?" She hissed. "I'd rather raise him as a peasant."

With that, her face was struck by his palm, and she fell to the floor with a shriek. Charlotte froze, fear lingering in her stare at them both.

"Don't be ungrateful, my dear," Miraz feigned affection, seizing the keys, "It would be a shame if our son were to lose his mother."

"Now go." He ordered.

Prunaprisma nodded weakly, stifling her sobs as she made her way up the stairs and out of the dungeon. Charlotte could only stare at her in pity, repulsed by Miraz's brutality.

"Did you have a good sleep?" His virile, malignant voice taunted, turning to the prisoner.

Now isolated with him, Charlotte feigned courage, refusing to give in to his intimidation.

"What do you want?" She grumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Tell me, Charlotte," he began.

"Princess."

"P-pardon?"

"It's Princess Charlotte to you," she stuck her nose in the air, emphasising her words clearly, "if you please."

"Not here you are, because I sit on the throne. Your parents may have been ancient rulers, but they are not here now, are they?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"A fine sword you have," he examined the blade, provoking her, "sword of King Simon."

"You better hand it over, it doesn't belong to you!" Charlotte's arm extended between the bars in sheer desperation, but in vain.

"The professor told me about him." A sinister grin spread across his face as he pulled it further away from her reach. "Where is he?"

Charlotte's fighting spirit was drained of her energy. Her arm sunk to her sides, and she lowered her head in sorrow.

"He's dead."

"And your mother?"

"She's dead too."

"So you're like Caspian," he pointed the tip of her father's blade towards her, "alone without family."

"I have an aunt who takes care of me," her voice burned with austerity, "and though we don't see eye to eye, she would never murder me."

"What a fool, she must be raising you like a pig for slaughter, otherwise she'd have done it already."

"Like you've been doing to Caspian?" Charlotte scoffed, shaking her head, "No, she's nothing like you."

"And Caspian is not alone, the Kings and Queens of Old, and myself, would be a much better family to him than you ever were."

"Pathetic," he spat.

"Who trained you to fight?" He barked, banging on the bars. "Surely you've been trained by a skilled fighter to have beaten me."

Charlotte remained silent, refusing to talk.

"General Glozelle has already located their fortress, so if you're not going to help me, I will march in there anyway with our troops and kill them all. The longer you stay quiet, the longer we'll make them suffer," he warned sternly, almost growling at her.

Her heart sank at his threats, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Edmund, Peter's brother. He trained me."

"Why did he train you? Why not King Peter himself?"

"I don't know," Charlotte's lips quivered as she forced her head down, refusing to meet his deadly gaze.

"General!" He demanded.

Instantly, General Glozelle entered the prison on cue. Charlotte read his indignant expression, as he lightly rolled his eyes with his eyebrows knitted closely together. She could easily infer that General Glozelle was not particularly fond of his master. Then again, who would be?

"What have your men gathered on Prince Edmund?" Miraz questioned with a bark.

"He is known as The Just, and was documented to be the most efficient sword fighter in all of Narnia in the Golden Age for possessing a variety of skillsets."

"Actually, he's King-" Charlotte began.

"Silence!" Miraz hissed, returning to his conversation. "This certainly puts Caspian's skills to shame, he couldn't even strike me once. My nephew is not a threat at all. Prince Edmund, he must be eliminated."

"No!" Charlotte cried out, washed over with remorse.

Miraz examined her, studying her reaction closely.

"You care for him." He scoffed, seeming appeased. "It seems that we no longer require those torture chambers after all."

He turned back to his General. "Ready our troops as soon as possible."

"My Lord," the General gestured to Charlotte, "shall we leave the princess here to be guarded?"

"Tie her up," he instructed, "We'll use her to drive Edmund out."

"But my Lord," General Glozelle's eyebrows were knitted together in a frown, "they can rescue her if we bring her to them. Why risk that?"

"Here, she might just find a way to escape without our guards on duty," Miraz scoffed, "there, we can keep an eye on her."

"But Lord Sopespian believes that after we drive the creatures into extinction, we should execute her," General Glozelle replied, "if we bring her..."

"Does Lord Sopespian sit on the throne?" Miraz reminded him, "or any of the other Council members?"

"N-no, my Lord."

"Now get the ropes."

"Yes, my Lord," he replied and gestured to some soldiers to bind her down in ropes.

As soon as the soldiers opened the cell door, she sprang into action. Upon jabbing the first soldier in the lower abdomen, she made her escape. However, a second soldier jumped in front of her, and another cornered her from behind. Charlotte dodged the incoming soldier, causing their collision.

"Stop her! Somebody stop her!" Hysteria strangled Miraz's words.

As soon as she reached the door, more soldiers blocked her path, seizing her limbs.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Charlotte raged, squirming about as the few soldiers held her down, while another brought ropes.

"Sleep tight, Princess," calmness replaced the terror in Miraz's tone, and he chuckled, "we're in for a long journey ahead."

Charlotte barely had any time to rebut him before her head was struck, immediately trapped in darkness.

*****A/N: OMG! Are my readers still alive??? I'm so relieved that I can get back to writing, I literally missed paying attention to Charlotte Baker. I'd be studying and randomly thinking to myself, "she's still rotting in jail. I gotta get back to that soon." so YAY the plot's finally moving again.

And I'm so glad I edited this with much more relevant ideas because Miraz was honestly getting nowhere in his interrogation in my initial draft. It felt all over the place to me, but I'm really contented with this chapter now.

Please vote and comment if you enjoyed this chapter too! Let me know your thoughts and feelings, it would really help me in my writing journey ❤️