I had to do something to keep me sane. I was losing it not writing. This is a random oneshot, dunno where it came from, but I figured I might as well give you something to read until I get my laptop back. Maybe the next oneshot (because there will be another - my computer might be out for a month D:) will be happier.
Written at 2 AM, so I can't tell you how good it will be. Perhaps I'll come back in the morning and look at this and fix what needs to be fixed.
Remember, no beta.
I own nothing.
He had been so distressed. At war with himself, his heart being torn every which way. Or, that was how he felt. It truthfully wasn't as bad as Edmund made it out to be. Part of him knew that he was overreacting, and voiced that quite often, but whenever he spotted her smelling flowers or simply smiling, that part of him shut up right away.
"I'll tell her," he muttered to himself one day, pacing aimlessly down the halls of Cair Paravel. "I will tell her."
"Tell who what?"
Startled, Edmund looked up and halted in his tracks. He was both delighted and terrified to see Lady Ren standing before him. She had a curious smile on her face, gazing at him with soft eyes. As always, he thought she looked lovely, in her pale green dress with her long hair tied in a bow.
"Tell - erm," he stuttered, trying not to make a fool of himself.
"If you don't want to tell me," Ren said quickly. "Then you needn't. Pardon my curiosity, sire."
"No, no, it's alright," he assured her quietly. Shaking his head, he held her arm out towards her. "Would you join me in a stroll, milady?"
Ren smiled and took his arm in hers, and they made their way out to the gardens. It wasn't often that they used formalities in private, for the two were very great friends and Edmund insisted that they didn't use them while alone together. The day was fine and Ren looked content, staring around at the flora surrounding her. Edmund, however, was still at conflict with himself.
He had to tell her, he simply had to. It was wracking his mind - and, as silly as it sounded, his heart.
"Ed, what's bothering you?" He turned to her, only to see that she was inspecting him with worried eyes. He sighed. It was now or never.
"I'm afraid that I'm at war," he said, halting them and turning to her. She looked quizzically back up at him. "I must decide whether or not I am going to confess my affections to a lovely lady. You see, a most devious Lady of the Narnian Court has captured my heart."
"Oh?" Ren asked distantly, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. "And who is that?"
"Well," Edmund continued, taking her hand. "She's got lovely blue eyes -" he locked eyes with her. "And the most magnificent, reddest hair I've ever set eyes on. Which, to my annoyance, she constantly wears atop her head instead of letting it free. And now, as I look down at her, in her green lace dress and hair in a bow, I'm afraid to tell her that I love her, because I fear she does not feel the same."
Ren, tears shining in her eyes, leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Edmund's lips.
"Don't."
He had been so happy. Oh, if happy had been the word. Beyond happy. Delighted, excited, jovial, blissful. Whatever feeling you feel when you twirl your bride not an hour after you're married. Edmund thought Ren looked beautiful. He always thought she looked beautiful, but now, in the afternoon light of this most joyful day, she took his breath away.
Not a single person in the Great Hall did not have a smile on their face. Edmund's royal siblings celebrated merrily for their brother, and the guests celebrated merrily for their king. While the feast had been served a long while ago, it finally came time for the happy couple to cut their wedding cake. It was a most famous tradition, and everyone buzzed with excitement as the King and his bride made their way to the cake.
They took the long golden knife and cut two slices off the cake, the crowd screaming in delight. Ren, as was custom, fed Edmund a polite bit of her slice of the cake, which he accepted happily. However, Edmund, even on his wedding day, could not resist the temptation to stir up trouble. Instead of cutting a piece of cake to give to Ren, he picked up his entire slice and shoved it towards Ren's face. As if she was expecting it, she pulled back, smile slipping off of her face.
She shot Edmund a warning look as he roared with laughter.
"Don't."
Her hand rubbed lazy circles over the swell of her stomach as she stared lazily out the window. The last traces of sunlight were disappearing below the horizon and stars blinked to life. Ren's feet were placed by the hearth and she had a blanket draped around her shoulders. Warmth, tiredness, and a full stomach combined to make the best feeling in the world.
Someone else, however, was a bit less restful.
"We need to discuss names!" Edmund insisted, kneeling by her chair and tugging at her arm. Ren chuckled.
"Ed, we have so many months left -"
"Four."
"Hmm?"
"We only have four months left."
"Four months is long enough to choose two names."
"Two?" Edmund breathed, teetering on his tip-toes. Ren opened a lazy eye to glance at him.
"One in case of a boy, another in case of a girl. Don't get your hopes up, my love."
He sighed. "Still."
She only grunted in reply, shifting on the chair and pulling the blanket closer around her, eyes shut. Edmund pouted, falling back onto his bum on the floor.
"Fine. Then when the baby comes, no matter it's gender, it shall be called Edmu-"
"Don't."
The dark clouds and the falling rain effectively represented the moods of all that resided Cair Paravel. What was supposed to be a joyous event quickly turned sour when the Lady fell ill. Edmund stared out of the window with dark eyes. He had stopped talking. His royal siblings had left him, for he rejected any comfort that they tried to offer. He didn't want to be comforted. He just wanted her to be okay. He wanted them to be okay.
He heard the door across from him open, and looked up at the healer who exited. She looked solemn.
"How is she?" he croaked.
"Unwell, still."
"Has her condition improved?"
Her silence answered for her. Trying to blink back tears, he looked at his hands.
"And the baby? Will the baby be okay?" A thick lump rose in his throat.
The healer cringed. She desperately did not want to answer, but the king deserved to know. "I…have nothing to assure me that either of them will be."
"I believe that they'll be okay," he choked out, trying hard to swallow the lump. He didn't really believe that they'd be okay. But he had nothing if not belief.
The healer could have cried. "Please, don't, sire. Don't."
Aaarrrgh. I was getting so upset writing the last part. The section before that made me feel bubbly inside and I felt so bad taking it away. Like I said, though, the next oneshot shall be happier. I promise.