Chapter 21: Refuge in the Shadows

Sonne, caught off guard by the unexpected visitors, lowered his hand from where it had been resting on his stomach. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in the sight of the cloaked figure, their face hidden in the shadows of the hood. Intrigued, he shot a questioning glance at Rick, but his lanky assistant merely shrugged, choosing to remain tight-lipped about the cloaked figure’s identity.

"I still have crates to unload," Rick announced, his voice laced with a hint of amusement as he gently nudged the mysterious guest inside. He winked at Sonne, a mischievous glint in his eye, before closing the door with a soft click, leaving Sonne alone with the intrigue of the unknown.

Silence descended upon the room, thick with anticipation and the faint scent of strawberries lingering in the air. Sonne, ever patient and observant, took his time studying the cloaked figure. They stood stiffly, their shoulders hunched as if seeking to disappear within the folds of their heavy cloak. Sonne, his curiosity piqued, decided to break the ice.

"You are…?" he inquired, his tone light and teasing, a playful lilt dancing on his lips. He took a step closer, attempting to catch a glimpse of the hidden face, but the cloaked figure only shrank further into themselves, their gaze fixed on the floor. Sonne, never one to pry, allowed a comfortable silence to settle between them, hoping to ease the stranger’s apparent discomfort.

After what felt like an eternity, the cloaked figure cleared their throat, the sound tight and strained. With a hesitant hand, they reached up and slowly lowered their hood, revealing the all-too-familiar face of Prince Caspian.

Sonne couldn’t help but whistle, a low sound of appreciation that echoed in the small room. "Ohh~ Why, hello there, Prince," he greeted, a playful smirk spreading across his face. The sight of Caspian, his usually immaculate silver hair slightly tousled, his sapphire eyes wide with a mixture of anxiety and what looked suspiciously like relief, was more entertaining than Sonne could have ever anticipated.

"Have you eaten lunch?" Sonne asked, his voice barely a whisper, breaking the heavy silence. "I think I still have half-eaten pizza here," Sonne continued, his tone laced with genuine concern. He moved towards a small, square table tucked against the wall and lifted the lid of a pizza box.

Caspian stared at him, mind reeling. Of all the reactions he expected, a casual offer of leftover pizza was not one of them. It was so absurdly mundane, so utterly Sonne, that Caspian couldn't help but crack a small smile. The tension that had been knotting his shoulders eased slightly.

"Or, would you like something else?" he asked, glancing back at Caspian over his shoulder.

Caspian’s gaze followed Sonne’s movements, his eyes lingering on the way the simple white shirt stretched taut across his back, the subtle play of muscles beneath the fabric. The sight sent a warmth through Caspian's chest, a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into his bones during his frantic escape from the palace.

Pizza, however, was the last thing on his mind. His stomach, usually accustomed to the refined delicacies of the royal kitchens, churned with a mixture of anxiety and the remnants of fear. What he craved wasn’t food, but solace, a moment of respite from the accusations and suspicion that swirled around him like a blizzard.

And for some inexplicable reason, he instinctively knew that Sonne, with his surprisingly perceptive gaze, might just be the one to offer him that comfort.

Caspian hesitated for a moment, his gaze flitting around the room. Crates of what he assumed were strawberry preserves, jams, and other such goods lined the walls, their sweet, earthy scent filling the air. A far cry from the suffocating aroma of suspicion and fear that clung to him like a shroud.

"Well, it must be a long ride from the market, come sit," Sonne’s voice, warm and inviting, drew Caspian's attention. He glanced up to find Sonne gesturing towards a worn, but comfortable-looking couch tucked against the wall.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Sonne added, his gaze steady and reassuring.

"This is my storehouse," Sonne gestured at the place, a hint of sheepishness in his voice. "I hope you don’t mind the clutter."

Caspian offered a small, tight smile, his throat still constricted with unshed emotions. "It's… different," he managed, his voice rough from disuse. He finally moved towards the couch, each step a conscious effort to quell the tremor in his limbs.

He lowered himself onto the worn cushions, acutely aware of the way the springs groaned in protest beneath his weight. Despite the chaos of crates and the lingering scent of strawberries, a strange sense of calm settled over Caspian. It was the kind of unpretentious comfort that felt foreign yet oddly appealing.

And for the first time since the accusations had been leveled against him, Caspian allowed himself to hope, just a flicker, that maybe, just maybe, he could find a moment of peace

The gentle rustle of paper, the clinking of glass against wood, drew Caspian from his thoughts. He glanced up to see Sonne arranging a veritable feast of strawberry-themed treats on the table. There were dried berries, glistening ruby red in a ceramic bowl, a jar of strawberry jam with a delicate silver spoon resting on its lid, and a plate of neatly sliced bread. A pitcher of chilled strawberry juice, beads of condensation clinging to its sides, completed the spread.

Sonne, it seemed, was determined to tempt his unexpected guest with the bounty of his harvest. The gesture, so simple yet so thoughtful, touched Caspian in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

"Dinner’s at 6 pm," Sonne announced, his gaze lingering on Caspian for a moment before he turned to grab a discarded newspaper from a nearby stool. "Let me know if you crave something. I could procure it, as long as it’s not expensive," he added with a wink, a playful lilt in his voice.

Caspian couldn’t help but chuckle, a rare, genuine sound that startled even him. The absurdity of his current situation, hiding out in a strawberry merchant’s storehouse while accused of treason against his own brother, struck him with full force. And yet, surrounded by the aroma of fresh berries and Sonne’s presence, the weight of his predicament seemed to lessen, if only for a moment.

Sonne, after settling onto the couch with his newspaper, spared him another glance, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. It was as if he knew, somehow, that Caspian needed space to gather his thoughts, to process the tumultuous events of the day. It was an unspoken understanding that Caspian, accustomed to the constant scrutiny and suffocating expectations of court life, found both surprising and strangely comforting.

He turned his attention to the spread on the table, his gaze lingering on the vibrant red of the strawberries. He wasn’t particularly hungry, his appetite dulled by anxiety and exhaustion, but the sight of the fruit, so full of life and sweetness, sparked a flicker of curiosity within him.

Reaching out, he plucked a dried strawberry from the bowl, its rough texture a stark contrast to the smooth porcelain. He brought the fruit to his lips, inhaling its concentrated aroma before popping it into his mouth. The sweet, slightly tart flavor burst on his tongue, a welcome distraction from the bitter taste that had taken root in his mouth since Leopold’s illness.

As he savored the unexpected treat, his gaze drifted towards Sonne, who was now engrossed in his newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration. The midday sun streamed through the window, bathing Sonne in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

Caspian found himself captivated by the sight, his gaze tracing the lines of Sonne’s profile, the way his fingers moved deftly as he turned the pages of the newspaper. He had never allowed himself to simply observe someone like this, without pretense or expectation. It was… liberating.

He wondered, not for the first time, what Sonne saw in him, a prince shrouded in scandal and suspicion. Perhaps it was the novelty of their situation, the intrigue of a prince seeking refuge in the most unlikely of places.

Caspian shook his head, banishing the thought before it could take root. Now was not the time for flights of fancy, for daydreams of strawberry merchants and stolen moments of peace. He had a kingdom to save, a brother to avenge, and a name to clear. But as he reached for another dried strawberry, the sweet juice staining his fingertips, a small part of him, a part he had long suppressed beneath layers of duty and decorum, allowed himself a moment of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, amidst the chaos and uncertainty that lay ahead, there might still be room for something… more.