Kingly Business
for Redaura
"I wish Narnia had regular fountain pens. These quills just need dipping and dipping and more dipping..."
Leaning on an unruly pile of half-finished maps, Edmund sighs and wipes his forehead, pushing his lengthening bangs away from his eyes. Peter laughs: he's accidentally smeared a large indigo swath across his brow, not noticing that his quill had leaked, siphoning into the crease of his palm, around the side, even onto the back of his hand.
"You've got ink all over your face," Peter grins, still chuckling.
Edmund rolls his eyes and before Peter can stop him, reaches out to wipe his hand on Peter's cheek. Peter shoves it away but it's too late; Edmund attacks with two inky hands, smudging his forehead, thumbs pressing his cheekbones, holding his jaw and the back of his neck. They fall back on the floor, wrestling, knowing but not caring that Susan will be upset about the stained rug. When they finally stop to figure out whose limbs are tangled in whose, they are both panting. Peter is holding Edmund's face between his hands, and kisses his inky forehead with his inky lips.
It's a year after their coronation when they hear the Giants to the North have begun to cross the mountain passes. There are a few reports, first from the eagles in the highest crags, then the cougars from the tree line who travel more slowly. It took more than one spring for the passes to thaw from the White Witch's winter, enough for the thickest walls of ice to weaken, enough for a group of giants to start breaking through into the thick pine forests and begin to tear them down.
Peter finds himself out in the field with Cepheid, the unicorn who bore him in their battle against the Witch. Edmund and Philip accompanied him from the first, until Susan wrote to him that she was called to help rebuild an area in the southeast damaged by flood, and Lucy could not rule from Cair Paravel on her own. Peter, of course, encouraged Edmund to leave the battleground and stay with his younger sister. Edmund protested. They fear for each other, despite knowing the ability of each to hold his own in battle, and, more importantly, the availability of help in a Narnia with wide-awake trees and generous beasts. Peter always was overprotective, and Edmund, despite what he might have thought about wanting independence, honestly wouldn't know what to do without the pillar of his older brother's firm strength.
In Narnia, there's no reason to begrudge thanks or act stronger than you are. In Narnia, it's only right to admit your love for your brothers and sisters.
The Kings are two sides of a coin, light and dark, bright and serious. Open as a book and sharp as his sword; closed and contemplative, inscrutable.
Though Peter has ridden the Unicorn from the first day Cepheid offered the King his service, Edmund is content to ride the horse Philip. Unicorns are for Kings, and he doesn't always want to feel kingly, doesn't need to be reminded of it any more than he is. He never forgets what he did, and doesn't let it fester in him, but never can feel as though he has earned the title of King. Edmund works as though to earn what is not yet truly his; Peter works with the powers of his position. Edmund thinks, Peter is Magnificent because he shatters barriers and reaches beyond, but Edmund's jurisdiction is the grey areas, drawing lines between familiar territory of the known and the great wide expanse of the unknown. Peter draws lines at the known; however, Edmund remembers when he was saved not for what he had proven himself to be, but for his willingness to do something better as he delved into the infinite possibility of the unknown future.
Edmund is content to ride a horse because he is unfamiliar with the purity of the Unicorn. He leaves that to Peter, who has never in his heart fallen.
Months pass while each King attends his separate duty. Peter continues to fight, drawing the power of the land to him. All Narnia hears stories of the brave trees who fight, and in some versions the mountains themselves crumble to bury the giants. In the infrequent letters Edmund and Lucy receive at Cair Paravel, Peter mentions the wars only briefly, dwelling more on his brave comrades and the inclement weather. Separately, though, and in code, he writes to Edmund of strategy and logistics, giving him the numbers of the fallen, the count of supplies and food, the lay of the land, and the other problems in the North that dwarfs and animals have traveled far to tell him of, to ask his help.
They need us, Ed, he writes. I wish I could help but I'm only one person. I have to be here where the battle is most urgent. You and Susan and Lucy must do as you can.
Edmund spends weeks mapping the land on gryphon back, riding out to muster troops, organizing supplies, and working on how to help the Northerners in their plight. He writes to Peter, Don't worry about us; you're the one on the front lines. We miss you. Expect company as soon as Susan returns to Cair. You shouldn't be alone so long, you probably forget to sleep.
They all worry but can't show it. At night Lucy crawls into Edmund's bed and they whisper to each other memories and dreams.
When Susan returns from the South, Edmund askes to go North to Peter.
"You've been, Edmund; I should go, you shouldn't have to risk your –"
"Su, I've been here at the castle the whole time. I know what it's like up there, I can help, and I'm feeling restless."
"We need you to help settle these disputes –"
"I've settled many already; I just finished the long negotiations with the merpeople here over fishing rights at the river mouth." Edmund knows he sounds petulant. "Please, Su. You've been gone a long time now; you shouldn't rush off again. Let me go relieve Peter; he hasn't come home for months. He needs to rest."
Susan pursed her lips, frowned. Normally Edmund would tease her about growing worry lines on her forehead, but they're both too upset to joke right now.
As Edmund journeys North, the air cools and moistens. He spends longer and longer nights below the stars, the stars he is slowly coming to know as he spends more nights with them. A fire warms his bedroll at night, when he stays awake and talks with Philip, and the two of them wake with the cool dawn. As autumn approaches Narnia, so Edmund approaches the mountains.
From the plains that lie below the foothills, Edmund can see the white speck that travels quickly down those brown slopes. He can't yet see what it is, but he knows the rider. He knows him well.
When he arrives he dismounts, Edmund already on his feet, and they nearly knock each other over. They are hugging and pounding each other on the back and laughing and Edmund is saying, "Peter, Peter."
Peter holds him at arm's length by his shoulders, and Edmund nearly expects him to say Look at how much you've grown by the expression on his face, but instead Peter takes his head and kisses his brow and holds him tight once again, saying, "By the Lion, I'm glad to see you. Aslan's Mane."
Edmund is awoken by a jostling hand on his shoulder. He sleeps lightly away from home, too wary of any dangers ready to befall a traveler. He bolts upright in their bedroll, nearly bumping heads with Peter. He would have knocked him over but they catch and hold each other still.
"I wanted to show you something," the older boy says, smiling with laughter. Edmund realizes he is frowning and shakes himself out of it, smiling too as Peter stands and takes his hand to pull him to his feet.
The sun has risen, still low enough to seem golden. The rain on the slopes below has not yet reached them, but Edmund can smell its freshness. It is Narnian rain. He can see for a long way, and smiles at Peter beside him.
"Can you believe the view? The color of the fields when the sun strikes the grasses, and the dark distant wood, and the blue mountains when these clouds are gone... I only wish I could see the sea."
Edmund shakes his head. "When the wars are over, you'll have enough sea at Cair Paravel to last you a lifetime. I wish you could have written me about this, you know?
"Words couldn't hold a candle."
They are silent, captured by the sunbreaks through the clouds, blue sky and bluer depths of cumulonimbus hidden from the rising sun by their own shadows, yellowgold faces in the morning.
"I would have come, Peter."
"I wouldn't have asked you to. They needed you back at Cair."
Edmund wants to say, I wanted to come, but is ashamed to reveal this selfishness. He looks down at his feet, looks up at the brightest sun and squints.
"Ed." A hand on his neck, fingers brushing behind his ear. He looks to Peter. "I wanted you to come."
Peter faces him smiling, glances down briefly, and pulls Edmund close into a tight embrace. They are nearly of a height now. Edmund buries his face in the place where Peter's broadening shoulders meet his neck, inhaling the scent that he'd missed so much as to borrow clothes from Peter's wardrobe back in the castle, to have it near again.
"I missed you."
They pull back a little and Peter leans back to kiss Edmund's forehead. Edmund reaches and pulls him down to the corner of his mouth, presses his lips there against Peter's skin. He's too close to see it but he can feel Peter open his mouth a little and grasp with his fingers as Edmund does, holding bunches of fabric, standing still and soft in the morning light.
"I missed you," and he's too close to see it but he can feel those lips, soft now and warm breath in the shell of his ear as they hold each other tight.
Edmund opens his eyes to see a rainbow in the distant streaks of rain, and smiles, and smiles.