Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

The suns were setting as they approached the border of Chirondale, saturating the sky in shades of pink and gold. The wind had picked up significantly as they rode into the village of Zephyrdale. This village had been described by the Lyanna Orinthal in the novel. She had come here with the king to present aid to the village as they were becoming overrun by monsters in the second novel, so she was aware it was known for its perpetual wind. 

They made their way into the village square, passing wide-eyed village folk who stopped to stare at the procession. A few of the kids pointed and waved as they passed. They came to a stop in front of a stone inn with a thatched roof, the sign above the door that read The Whistling Pines swung lazily in the wind. Elara squinted against the wind to stare at the inn. It was charming to look at, she decided. Under the magic lanterns that lit the streets, it gave off a cozy, inviting atmosphere. There were trails of ivy crawling up its walls.

As the coachman helped her out of her carriage, the wind set her cloak billowing around her and she shuddered against its cold hand.

Caspian, who had dismounted already, was giving orders to the knights. "Have the men take turns on watch," he instructed. "Although we were lucky enough to not cross paths with the orcs, we're still near Chirondale's borders. It's better we're safe than sorry."

"Yes, your Grace," one knight replied, quickly moving on to relay the message.

Elara's legs felt like mush after the long hours she'd spent in the carriage. Caspian hadn't let them take another stop because of the orcs that were lurking around, so they'd traveled non-stop to Zephyrdale.

Her spirits lifted once they were inside the inn. The innkeeper was eager to welcome them in--apparently, there weren't very many travelers in these parts--and set them all up with rooms. The scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filled Elara's stomach with longing and set it growling.

The cheerful innkeeper led them over to the tavern section that was empty save for their group and got to work on getting their meal ready. Around a warm fire, listening to the senior knights tell stories of Caspian when he was on the frontlines with Isyndorian wine burning in her belly, Elara felt her body start to relax and her eyes become heavy.

But the story the knight standing in the center of the room, Chirovan, was telling was so interesting, that she wasn't ready to retire to her room even though she'd had her fill. He was holding a roasted drumstick marinated in honey and rosemary in one hand and took a bite of it before he went on.

"We were out at the borders, pinned down by four thousand Eldarwynian soldiers and their Mages and it was clear we were all going to die. There were only a thousand of us, you see, and we couldn't hope to stand against even the soldiers let alone those Mages. I was buckling under the pressure, nearly pissed my pants."

"More like you did piss them," shouted one of the knights, earning a round of laughter that echoed through the inn.

Chirovan shot him the finger and continued. "Like I said, I nearly pissed myself. But then, the skinny little kid they'd sent to join us stood up and began walking right at them." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe it even now. "I thought to myself, 'The king's son is a fool, he's got a death wish.' But at the same time, I thought maybe his death could buy the rest of us enough time to escape. But then, if you can believe it, that scrawny kid took them all and held his own against them."

Chancellor Kyran was nodding along at that, his face serious.

Chirovan blew out a sigh. "Made me feel like shit, watching some kid hold his own against four thousand soldiers and those Mages, so I charged in, too. I thought I'd be alone, but when I looked around me, the others were all charging, too."

Elara glanced over at Caspian, who seemed utterly bored of this story, he was deep in his cup, drinking away. 

"You should've seen him with his sword, too, lads," called out another knight, standing, his dark hair gleaming under the inn's dim lights. "He cut through the bastards like it was nothing, shattered magic shields with a single sword swipe." He mimicked the motion of it, swinging left, right, and center. "It was the nicest swordplay I've ever seen."

She could believe that. When he'd taken care of those bandits, she'd thought the same thing. The way Caspian wielded his sword was beautiful.

Next to her, Caspian blew out a sigh and said, "Alright, alright. That's enough. The moons are getting high, go to your rooms and rest. We wake at dawn tomorrow."

The knights all griped and complained and Chirovan shouted, "Ahh, come on, your Grace, no need to be shy," only to immediately turn tail and all but run up the stairs when Caspian shot him a glare so withering it could rot a thousand-year-old tree from the inside out.

Elara giggled as they went and Caspian turned to look at her. "Pay them no mind," he said to her. "They've had too much to drink."

She shook her head. "No, I enjoyed hearing about it. You're all so close. It's nice to see."

He didn't deny it. "There is a saying among those who practice the sword: you learn the true character of a man only after he's tasted blood. In the moments where you're fighting for your life at the cost of your opponent's, you come to realize who you are and who those around you are. I know these men and they know me."

Listening as closely as she was, she hadn't noticed Chancellor Kyran--who was sitting at Caspian's left side--get up to leave. It was just her and Caspian now. Crisseda was standing over at the stairs, waiting for Elara to head up to bed. 

"I think that's nice," she murmured. "Feeling seen."

"Do you feel unseen?"

Her lips pursed. "Not unseen, per se. More like people don't see me for the right reasons." At the quirk of his eyebrows, she explained, "At work, my boss only saw me as an outlet to let all his anger out on. With family, I was an outlet to make them feel better when they were upset. With all the boyfriends I've had, I was an outlet for all their...desires, so to speak. I've always just been warped into what people wanted from me."

"I can relate to that, I think," he replied after a few beats. "I'm the bastard son of the former king, after all. My entire life was spent being viewed by the perception of others."

She smiled. "I know, that's why I like you."

She flushed immediately after she said it. Damn this Isyndorian wine. It was stronger than she'd thought. 

"I meant your character," she corrected herself hurriedly. "When I was reading the novels, you always stood out to me for that reason. That's what I meant." She stared down at the small bit of wine left in her goblet, her cheeks heated. 

He was quiet for so long that Elara couldn't help but sneak a peak at him only to find he was looking right at her. The sensation of his silver eyes on her evoked such a strange feeling. After talking of feeling like she wasn't seen, in this moment it felt as if he were looking right through her, seeing the very core of her being.

She was caught in his eyes, drowning in pools of silver until she felt as if she were covered in the color. Her heart was racing in her chest and she could feel her breath catch in her throat. He was breathtaking. Like, really, truly beautiful. He was the kind of man that could only exist here, within the pages of a novel. 

She thought back to the actor they'd cast to play him and decided that, even though that actor was good-looking, he was a very pale imitation of Caspian Isyndor. Under the candlelight, his white hair seemed too fine for human hair and she had the urge to run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

It was Caspian who broke the charged silence first. He stood abruptly, splaying his hands out on the table, and stayed like that for a few beats. Elara watched him in utter confusion the whole time. When he turned and held his hand out to her and said, "I'll take you to your room," she nodded and took his hand without hesitation.

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Elara woke to the sound of the wind, still howling outside. She stretched, feeling the protest of her tired muscles. It was rare for her to wake up feeling so well-rested, but the softness of the bed and the comforting hum of the wind as background noise offered her a much-needed lull into a deep sleep. 

Crisseda was already at her side when she woke, laying out a fresh dress--a simple wool dress in blue fabric with silver embellishments. 

"Good morning, miss. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have...ever, actually."

Once she was bathed and her teeth were brushed, Crisseda dressed her and told her the day's gossip.

"An assassination attempt was made on his Grace's life last night."

Elara jumped at that, whirling around to face Crisseda. Not yet laced, the top of the dress fell loosely around her waist. 

"What?" she asked shrilly.

Crisseda gently turned her back around and went on, "I heard Chancellor Kyran mentioning it to another knight on my way to you. After he walked you to your room, Chancellor Kyran says his Grace went out for fresh air and was attacked."

That made no sense. Caspian wasn't supposed to be attacked until the final day of Valtren's Bounty Hunt. 

Crisseda finished the lacings of her dress. "I wasn't able to find out anything else. The chancellor knew I was there, so I had to round the corner so as not to appear suspicious." She sighed. "Those men can hear just about anything."

"Where is Caspian right now?"

"In his room, I reckon. The innkeeper hasn't finished preparing breakfast yet, so...ah, miss?"

Elara was already out of her room and heading to the room next to hers. Caspian had taken it to portray the role of a man who couldn't bear being apart from his lover for too long of a time. Obviously, noble society deemed that an unmarried couple couldn't share a room together, but it was common for lovers to have rooms close together.

She knocked on his door frantically and when he opened it, shirtless with his hair still dripping, her mind went blank.

Wow, she thought, staring at him in spite of herself. 

"Elara?"

She snapped out of her trance. Right, she was here because of the assassination attempt. That was the important thing right now. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus.

"Can I come in?"

He glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked in the same direction, some knights and a few maids were very pointedly not looking at the two of them. He stepped back, stretching his arm out in the universal sign to enter.

Once the door was closed and they were alone, she said, "Crisseda told me about the assassination attempt. What happened?"

He ran a hand through his hair, droplets dripped from the ends of his hair down his shoulders and chest and Elara's eyes followed the movement of it without even meaning to.

"Crisseda really is good at hearing everything," he muttered to himself. He guided her over to the set of chairs before a roaring fireplace. "I'm sure this wasn't in the book."

"No," she agreed, shaking her head. "But why do you figure that?"

"Because the assassin that came here last night wasn't here for me, Elara, he was here for you."