Telmarine Tower

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is an AU (altered universe) fic that takes place in Prince Caspian. It begins the night that Miraz's son is born, and Caspian is told by Dr Cornelius that he must flee the castle.

One thing you should understand: the Caspian in this story is not Ben Barnes. He does not have a Spanish accent; it's British. He doesn't have black hair; it's blond. He is younger than the movie Caspian (who was 17) and older than the book Caspian (about 13). Caspian is about 15 in this story.

This story is just one of two pieces. You see, I'm writing Caspian's POV, but my good friend, Queen Su, is writing Susan's POV, since Susan does come into this story. Like I said, it's AU. You can find the link to Susan's POV on my profile, or just look follow this link: /s/4436382/1/TelmarineTowerSusan.

This is not a Susan/Caspian romance (otherwise known as a SusPian or whatever). You may take it that way if you wish, but it is not intended to be a romance.

I would love any reviews or comments. You can flame. That's okay with me. Just tell me what you think. Please. ;)

This story is dedicated to my sister, Lucy, and friend, Susan, who helped me come up with this story.

--Chapter 1--

"He murdered your father."

I looked up in shock and disbelief at the calm certainty in my tutor's quiet voice; true, Miraz was an evil king, but was he really that bad? Suddenly, the shock vanished and everything turned red as the words finally sunk in.

"He what?"

Cornelius looked at me with something akin to pity, but his eyes were firm.

"Caspian, I know it is hard to believe, but—"

"He murdered my father?"

I couldn't fathom it. A man who would kill his own brother…would kill his own nephew. Then a chill came over me as I realized the full truth in Dr. Cornelius' words.

"He murdered my mother too, didn't he."

My tutor's eyes filled with pain, and I knew it was true.

"That….that…"

I couldn't think of a word foul enough to describe my uncle.

He will pay, I swore to myself. I will avenge them.

"There is no time for this, my prince. You must fly at once. The danger is too great."

My head was swimming, and I hardly knew what was happening. Then I realized yet another awful truth.

"You're coming with me, aren't you?"

The Doctor looked down, and I knew what his answer would be.

"I cannot, my prince…my king. The danger is too great. You must fly South…to King Nain in Archenland. But first, here are two gifts."

He handed me a small purse of gold, and then another thing, smooth and white in the light from the moon.

"A horn?" I asked.

The confusion in my voice must have been evident, for Cornelius chuckled and said, "It is no ordinary horn. It is the magic horn of Queen Susan. It is the most valuable treasure I own. And it is said that whoever blows it shall have strange help."

We both looked at it for a moment, and then he grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the trapdoor.

"We must go now," he said. "The danger grows."

We passed down the winding staircase, and I held the smooth horn in my right hand, rubbing my finger over it again and again. Queen Susan's horn. Then my mind flashed back to what I had learned. I had always wondered what had become of my parents. Miraz offered nothing but excuses when I had asked before, and had eventually had become so angry at the question that I dared not ask about them again.

But now I knew. And it made me want to kill something.

We rounded a corner, and suddenly found our passage blocked by five armed soldiers.

"Speak your names and business," their captain, a tall, sturdy man said sharply.

My heart stopped for a moment. We would be caught, and I would die. Like the rest of my family. Then the truth dawned on me. The thick robes…the darkness of the hall…they didn't recognize us.

"We are servants on an errand of great importance," said Dr. Cornelius as I waited in terrified silence.

"Where are you going?" the guard asked suspiciously. "Let me see your faces."

He held up his torch. Dr. Cornelius bent toward me, and hissed, "Run!"

I dodged the men and ran as quickly as I could to the stables, throwing off my heavy robe as I went. I could hear the soldiers shouting as they realized who I was, and that I had escaped, and I knew I would have but a few moments to leap onto Destrier and escape. My feet pounded heavily on the hard stone floor. Ahead, a servant girl was carrying a jug of water across the hall.

"Hey, you girl!" one of my pursuers cried, "Stop that boy!"

The girl glanced at me, and then stepped deliberately out of my way. With a quick "Thanks," I rushed by her.

Moments later, I heard a crash from behind me, and then the captain cursing angrily. I cast a hasty glance over my shoulder and saw that the girl had stepped in his way and smashed the water jug over his head. I grinned as I looked ahead of me, and then realized that before me was the door to the courtyard where Destrier was tied.

Gasping for breath, I flung open the door and stumbled toward the hitching post where Destier was. But before I could take another step, something hit my back between my shoulder blades with a 'thump', and I fell facedown onto the muddy grass. The blow knocked the wind out of me, and for an awful moment, I couldn't breathe.

Then, I forced myself to roll over, and I drew my sword. Standing over me was a stableboy, eyes narrowed suspiciously, about three years older than me. He held a pitchfork in his grubby hands.

"Hey lad," he said suspiciously, squinting down at me and at the sword in my hands, "What're you doin' in 'ere this late?"

I was still fumbling for words when the soldiers who had been chasing me suddenly appeared from the doorway into the castle. Desperately, I swung the flat of my sword at the boy's legs and managed to make him stumble back. I scambled to my feet and leapt at Destrier, but before I got to him, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I shouldn't have, but I looked back to see who it was. A huge fist hit me squarely in the jaw, knocking me down. As I fell, I grabbed the horn, and threw it toward a bush, hoping that no one saw my desperate action.

I hit the ground hard, landing on my leg. Somehow, I managed to keep hold of my sword, and I lifted it feebly to ward off my enemies. Then I heard a nasty chuckle, and another sword came out of nowhere, striking my right hand and slapping the sword away. I cried out in pain, grabbing my sword arm. The blow had sliced neatly across my hand and wrist, leaving a bad cut directly across my palm. Clutching my bloody hand, my head swimming, I barely heard a hatefully familiar voice say,

"What, nephew? Leaving so soon?"

Miraz.

A burst of anger replaced the pain as I remembered what my tutor had told me on the tower. Restraining my hate with great effort, however, I said nothing.

"Why were you leaving, little prince?" my uncle asked again.

And again, I remained silent. Miraz's sword traveled from by his side to under my chin. With a flick of his wrist, he forced my to look up at him.

"Why were you leaving?" he asked a third time, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

I couldn't restrain a sarcastic comment.

"And what reason do I have for staying?"

Miraz growled and lowered his sword to my throat, releasing my chin.

"Stubborn brat," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's useless trying to get any boy of Caspian's to tell something he doesn't want to."

Something inside me bubbled over, and I shouted,

"Leave my father out of this!"

Miraz suddenly grew colder as he heard the frantic, protective tone in my voice.

"What do you mean, boy?"

The tip of his sword barely pressed into my throat. A tear broke free and trickled down my cheek, the one I hoped my uncle couldn't see.

"Murderer."

The word came out as an accusation, low and soft and filled with undisguised hate. When he heard it, Miraz drew back for a moment, his faced shocked and pained, but then he was angry again.

"What was that?"

"You murdered them. Why, Uncle? Why did you murder my parents?"

I couldn't stop them. The words seemed to flow forth from all the unanswered questions I had lived with all my life. Miraz studied me coolly, and then said,

"Who told you a thing like that?"

I stuck out my chin defiantly, and glared up at my uncle. I knew as well as he did that the person who told me the truth about my parent's death was going against Miraz's orders, and would be counted as a traitor. If I gave in my professor, we would both die. If I didn't...none could tell.

Our wills clashed in a silent battle to see who was the more stubborn; our eyes, glittering black and bright blue, staring hard at each other. After a moment, Miraz sighed angrily and looked away.

"Very well, your highness," he said coldly, "If you don't want to tell me now, than you shall spend a night in the Dark Tower."

A shiver ran down my spine. The South tower, known as the Dark Tower, was the tower that all the most dangerous criminals stayed in before they were executed. It was said that Caspian the Seventh, my great grandfather, had been held captive there. Before he was executed by his brother.

My uncle let the threat sink in, but even though fear mingled with defiance in my eyes, I said,

"I will never tell you."

I meant it, too.

"Very well," Miraz replied, the icy chill in his voice sending shivers down my spine.

He gestured with his right hand and the Captain of the Guards appeared beside him.

"Take his royal highness to the Dark Tower," my uncle said. "And if he tries to escape…"

He pressed a bit harder with the tip of his sword, and pricked my neck, drawing a small steam of blood.

"…then kill him."

Miraz turned and stalked away. The soldiers bound my hands behind my back, and marched me away.

No one saw the dark figure creep into the courtyard. And no one saw the figure reach into the bush and retrieve a small, silvery object, shining bright in the moonlight. The figure raised the horn to its lips, and blew a single blast.

The horn echoed through the courtyard, and up into the halls where the guards were pushing me up the steep tower steps. I smiled grimly. Dr. Cornelius had blown the horn.

Now all that remained was to wait for the help, however strange it might be.

To Be Continued...