A/N: Okay, I wasn't going to publish this one...but then I thought, "Why not?" So, this little one-shot here was inspired by BBC Merlin series five. (Spoiler-ish) In the first episode they find themselves in a similar situation. ;)
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.
"Are you mad?"
Peter hugged himself tighter and clenched his fist harder.
"What do you think?" He snapped, glancing back at his brother.
Edmund frowned and hung his head. Another long silence passed between them before the boy spoke again. "Are you really mad?"
The older king swung around to face Edmund. "We were separated from our hunting party, lost our horses, got stuck somewhere in the forest with only a general direction of where we're going, and it's nearly the middle of winter! And it's all because of your stupid need to feel brave. Yes, I am very, very mad, Edmund." He turned and resumed walking east—at least, what he thought was east. The air was misty, and it was getting dark.
"Peter, I'm sorry, all right! But you didn't have to follow me, you know," Edmund yelled from behind him.
"Oh, I suppose I should have left you to the hag. Or, if I was particularly lucky, I could have left you to the werewolves that would have appeared eventually! Is that it?" He turned around once again to wait for his brother, who was trudging far behind him. He soon regretted what he had just said when he saw Edmund trying to inconspicuously brush away tears; however, due to his stubborn anger, he said nothing to mend the wrong.
The two walked in silence for what seemed like hours as the sun disappeared. Peter still hadn't cooled down and was therefore empowered by adrenaline to continue walking. He did keep himself alert to Edmund's presence. As long as the younger boy's steps were heard, he was close enough.
"It's getting colder," he heard Edmund mutter. "Maybe we should stop for the night."
"No," Peter said. "We'd better keep walking and get home. Besides, if there are any of the Witch's remnants in these parts, they'll notice the fire."
"We could forgo the fire and just-"
"And freeze to death? Oh, you're just full of good ideas today, aren't you?"
"You know, you don't have to be so facetious," Edmund snapped furiously.
"Very well," Peter sighed. "We'll stop for a few hours to find something to eat and warm up. We'll only keep a fire for half an hour."
"That's sure to warm us up. Honestly, Pete, we're far from—"
"Half an hour, that's final. Come on, let's look for some firewood."
They made their way through the countless number of trees, squinting in the dark to find any dry wood. Unfortunately, it had just rained the night before leaving hardly any good wood for a decent fire. Nonetheless, the kings scrounged up enough for a small fire. After a very long while and several small quarrels, the fire was lit. They sat on opposite sides close to the fire, warming their hands and feet.
"What about some food?" Peter said hearing his stomach grumbling.
"Maybe in a few minutes."
The older king couldn't refuse when he looked into those pleading eyes. Edmund did hate the cold. He had forgotten that, didn't he? So, they sat for those few minutes in the same tensed silence that existed between them all evening. Peter hated it. He hated this contention that silenced his brother from his usual snarky comebacks and instead placed a look of utter guilt in his eyes. He mostly hated the fact that Edmund would purposefully go chasing after that hag alone. What was he thinking?
Peter chewed on his lip. His brother was the bravest idiot he'd ever known. He couldn't get over the fear that gripped him when he had discovered what Edmund had done just a few hours ago.
They were hunting with a party of Archenlanders, and Edmund insisted on being in the back of the party instead of in the front with him. Peter should have known at that point that the younger king was planning something. An hour into the hunt, he was said to have gone north in a hurry. Peter thought nothing of it until Edmund didn't return at the call of their horn.
He had called a search party in order, but had gotten separated from the two lords with him when a great tree had fallen in the wood. That's when he lost his horse and found Edmund.
Peter angrily threw a stick into the fire as the image of the hag with a dagger at Edmund's throat reappeared for the hundredth time that day. If he had arrived even a few moments later…
"She was the one that tried to kill Lucy."
Peter jumped as his stream of thought was broken. "What?"
Edmund took a deep breath. "The hag. Remember, last year, she tried to kill Lucy? I couldn't let her live to try it again."
The older king shuddered as the horrors of that night came back to him. Poor, sweet Lucy nearly murdered in her bed. If Edmund wasn't wandering the halls, Narnia would be missing her Valiant Queen.
"You shouldn't have gone off alone," Peter said. "You should have told me."
"I knew where she was," Edmund went on, as if he hadn't heard Peter. "She told me last year—before she disappeared from Lucy's balcony- that she would try again. Same time, same day. That day is tomorrow. I couldn't have let her go on with it. It wouldn't have been right. Anyway, I figured she was in this wood, waiting to strike."
"That's why you were so adamant on planning a hunting trip today?"
Edmund nodded sheepishly. "I knew you wouldn't have allowed me to go find her otherwise."
Peter shook his head. "Ed, it wasn't right. You should have told me."
Peter heard Edmund's exasperated sigh. "Have you been listening? You would have discouraged it. You know you would have, so don't try to say any different!"
The fire was waning, but Peter could see, even in the shadows, that Edmund was trembling. He didn't know whether it was from the cold or whether it was from anger. Suddenly, he stood.
"Where are you going?" Peter asked more harshly than he intended.
"I'm going to find something to eat. You did say you were hungry, didn't you?" Edmund replied hotly before disappearing into the thickets behind them.
Peter stood as well and stamped out the fire. He couldn't let him go out alone again—not while he was feeling guilty. He followed Edmund's footsteps that were molded into the wet ground.
He thanked Aslan that his brother had the sense to stay nearby. He didn't hear Peter coming and remained concentrated on picking some kind of root from the ground. Peter was about to say something , but was interrupted when Edmund shouted in pain.
"Edmund!" Peter reached out instinctively for his younger brother. However, instead of his fingers touching a leather tunic, they met the roughness of a rope. As the moonlight shone through the trees, Peter could see that Edmund had gotten himself caught in some kind of hunting trap.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I think so," Edmund said. "But, I think I might have sprained my ankle."
"Don't worry! I'll get you out in a second."
Peter walked to the other side of the trap with intentions to cut the rope farthest from Edmund's head. Unfortunately, this proved a mistake. No sooner had he grabbed the rope than he felt the ground under him disappear and his body swinging back and forth. Another trap.
"Oh, this is just great!" he scoffed.
"You know," Edmund began. "You should really work on your 'rescuing' strategies."
"You would think I would have it down by now—you know, being your brother and all."
He felt Edmund's attempt of trying to elbow him. It was futile considering his arm was hanging outside of the trap and couldn't exactly bend naturally.
"All right," Peter said. "We need to get out of this. Do you have a sword?"
"Left it on my horse—which ran away."
"Luckily, I had enough sense to bring mine," Peter exasperated. He tried to reach for his sword, but found that one of his arms was squished against him and the other hanging outside the rope. He couldn't grasp the handle well enough to unsheathe it. Not to mention, the scabbard was hanging outside of the rope, making the sword bulkier in the narrow confinement.
"Come to think of it, he's probably home by now. In his stable, eating oats to his heart's desire. Enjoying himself. Yet, here we are, kings of Narnia, stuck in a trap meant for animals. You think it could mean something? Maybe I could use this as a metaphor one day."
Peter tried to ignore his brother's ramblings. He was putting all his energy into trying to get a firm grasp on the hilt of his sword.
"What's wrong?"Edmund asked several minutes later.
"I can't pull it out." Peter tried shifting in a different position to free an arm. This only resulted in spinning himself around in a full circle. "You have an arm free. Can you reach it?"
"Yes," Edmund said after a long while. "But only enough to push it into your hands."
"That's good enough," Peter said. "I'll twist myself away from you so you can grab the hilt."
Edmund did his job well. In a few moments, Peter held his unsheathed sword. Though getting both his sword and hand through one of the holes proved difficult, he accomplished this without harming himself.
"There! Now, all I have to do is—"
"Um, Peter?"
"Yes, Edmund," he groaned.
"My hand's stuck."
"Well, just hold on until I can cut myself free, then I'll get you out."
"No—it's stuck in your trap...and your belt."
Peter felt a tug at his back as Edmund tried to yank his hand free.
"Oh, Aslan, why?" Peter moaned.
"I can't help it!" Edmund whined. "It got stuck when I pushed your hilt to you. You must have shifted, because now I can't get it out! It's all looped around my wrist."
"Oh, bother, Ed! Why didn't you say something before I moved?" Peter wanted to cut himself free and get them both out of this mess, but, in doing so, he could either dislocate or break Edmund's wrist. Considering they were far from home and the fact that Peter could never bear hurting his brother, he deemed it wise to stay put until they came up with another way to free themselves.
"I'll try shifting myself on my side so you can untangle your hand," Peter said. "Now, just slowly now-"
"Oh! I think if I yank on this loop, it'll loosen up."
"Edmund, no! That's still my-"
WHACK!
"…belt." Peter shut his eyes as a wave of dizziness swirled his head. He used his free hand to rub the sore spot where Edmund's head had clashed with his.
"Sorry," Edmund moaned. "I guess we're both hard-headed, huh?"
"I dropped my sword."
"That's your fault, butterfingers."
After finding no resolve to their present problem, they decided that they would have to stay trapped until the hunter's return to find their "prize." Of course, there was no danger in this since they were still in Narnia. The kings would see no harm, though their dignity would be severely wounded.
What seemed like hours went by in silence. Peter would have dozed off several times if Edmund's hand wasn't digging into his back.
"Are you mad?"
Peter flinched when Edmund's words shattered the long silence.
"Mad?"
"Yes, are you mad? At me, I mean?"
Peter sighed. He had been. Yes, he had been very angry with Edmund—but now, it seemed all to dissolve. He couldn't decide whether it because he was so tired and had little energy to be mad, or because of their rather humorous situation. All that mattered was that he wasn't angry anymore, and he liked it that way. No matter how much trouble Edmund could get into, he had something about him that always prevented anyone with a somewhat kind heart from remaining angry with him. It was nearly impossible.
"No, Ed, I'm not mad," he replied. "I suppose I was never angry—just worried."
"You're right, you know," Edmund mumbled. "I should have told you about the hag. I just—I just thought that—"
"That I wouldn't help you? By the Lion's Mane, Ed! Just because I'm overprotective doesn't mean I don't listen."
"I know."
The older king bit his lip. "Edmund, please don't ever feel the need to hide things from me. I know I can be a bit stubborn and overbearing, but I care a lot about you, you know."
He caught a glimpse of Edmund's smirk in the moonlight. "I know, Pete. I know."
"And, I'm sorry for snapping at you. It was wrong of me."
"I'm sorry for going off by myself—again—to deal with something way over my head."
Peter smiled. "All's well."
He reached out and patted Edmund's arm awkwardly. "Blast these ropes! Who in the world set up these traps anyway? On the edge of the wood? Not to mention, side by side."
Edmund cleared his throat. "I might have."
"Well, that's ironic," Peter commented dryly. Then a thought popped in his head. "Edmund, where did you place these traps exactly? Please tell me you remember?"
"Not too far from Cair Paravel. Lord Peridan had said that—"
"Edmund, you're a genius!" Peter exclaimed. "That means that Oreius will have seen the smoke from our fire and is on his way now."
He heard a strangled laugh come from Edmund's lips. "I say, Ed, how's that ankle holding up?"
"Oh, you know," Edmund hissed. "Just fine—for now."
"Well, see if you can hold up for a little longer," Peter said. "Orieus should be here soon."
Unfortunately, Peter miscalculated the time and both kings found themselves nodding off despite the cold and despite their uncomfortable position. There were some advantages to being soldiers—especially soldiers held captive in more than one instance.
Peter tried to rub his eyes as a blinding light hit them. Then, he remembered that he was still stuck in a trap and his arm was still constricted. He blinked several times until his eyes grew accustomed to the light. When he saw who was standing before him, he wished he were literally blinded by the light.
Oreius stood, arms crossed, and an undeniable smirk on his usually grave face. Unfortunately, their guests from Archenland, as well as several of their knights, surrounded them as well, mirroring the centaur-general's expression.
Peter laughed nervously as he elbowed Edmund awake.
"What's that?" Edmund asked groggily. "Oh, look, Peter! It's Oreius….and friends."
"Well, Your Majesties," Oreius began. "Out of all the embarrassing situations you both have gotten yourselves into, I think this is the best."
"Don't take too much pleasure in it, General," Edmund said, trying to sound as kingly as possible. He deepened his voice as he tried to explain the situation. Peter rolled his eyes. His younger brother was only making them look even more ridiculous.
"Shall we cut you down, Sire?" asked one of the lords, pulling out a sword.
Before Peter and Edmund could protest, he swiped the top of the traps causing both kings to fall sprawled onto the ground.
An eruption of laughter burst from the small crowd making both kings turn bright red.
"Edmund?" Peter began.
"Yes?"
"Remember, when you asked me if I was mad?"
Edmund gulped. "No fair! I have a sprained ankle."
"Well," Peter continued. "You'd better start hopping then!"
Despite Oreius' brute force and strong commands, he was no match for the abounding energy of the young kings. In the end, he let Edmund hop home with Peter hot on his heel.
A/N: I always feel bad putting these two in these situations, but they're so fun. ;) I'm always eager to know what you think!