Fevered Prayer
by Isabel Chase
A/N: I don't own the characters or any part of the wonderful world C.S. Lewis created. I just borrowed them for a bit.
No slash.
Peter prayed. He prayed more fervently than he ever had before. He was sure Aslan would hear the cries of his anguished soul. If nothing else, the Great Lion would be sure to notice the staggering number of earnest appeals Peter Pevensie had silently, but passionately, uttered in the last few hours.
The current litany that poured from his heart was, "Please. Please let Edmund be alright."
Peter sat on a makeshift bed of cushions and blankets with Edmund cradled in his arms, inside the tent that he and Edmund had shared through the last weeks of their campaign across Narnia. The powerful, frigid wind continued its unrestrained course through the clearing, near the Great River where the company of soldiers and noblemen had set up camp.
Edmund continued to tremble, even after being wrapped in warm blankets for the better part of an hour. Peter tightened his arms convulsively after a particularly violent tremor wracked the sixteen-year-old's lean frame. Peter shifted his brother so that he rested more securely within his embrace. He looked down at the younger king with no small amount of concern as Edmund battled against the unseen demons that his fever-ridden mind had conjured. Another tremor and an incoherent mumble from Edmund, and Peter once again began his ardent plea.
"Please let Edmund be alright," he whispered.
Edmund had only been missing a couple of hours, but Peter had still worried when he didn't return from his visit to the dryads before nightfall. His brother had been acting more subdued than usual for a couple of days and even though Edmund never would admit to such, Peter suspected that he hadn't been feeling all that well. Adding to Peter's worry, was the weather, which had been unseasonably cold and the temperature was falling quickly without the warmth of the sun.
After Edmund failed to return to the camp before supper as he had promised, Peter organized a small search party. They had only traveled a few miles out of camp when Peter recognized the huddled form of his younger brother in a small grove of trees.
"Edmund!" Peter cried.
Peter scanned the area quickly, searching for any sign of immediate danger and he noticed Edmund's horse grazing a few feet away from the vulnerable form of the sixteen-year-old. He found nothing to indicate foul play, so he directed his attention back to the younger king.
Heart clenching painfully from the sight his brother, Peter dismounted and knelt beside his brother. Edmund made no sign that he even registered Peter's presence. He only stared blankly, his eyes empty and unseeing.
"Edmund?" Peter implored, his panic increasing. The older king lifted his hand slowly to cup his brother's cheek in an effort to restore some awareness.
Peter gasped the moment his palm came into contact with Edmund's face. The teenager's skin was burning. Peter brought his other hand up to cradle his brother's face.
Looking directly into the younger boy's eyes, Peter cried, "Edmund! Edmund? Can you hear me? Edmund! Answer me! Please." Peter's voiced faltered. He felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes, threatening to fall, but he struggled against them. He had to be strong for Edmund.
Edmund seemed to come to himself upon hearing Peter's plea. His eyes focused on the nineteen-year-old and a small whimper escaped his mouth.
"Peter? Peter, it's so dark. I think I'm lost." Edmund said softly.
Peter's heart broke. He felt the guilt overwhelm him. He should have gone with Edmund. No. He knew Edmund hadn't felt well. He should have made him stay back the camp and rest.
"Peter?"
The sound of Edmund's unsure question brought Peter back from his self-depreciating thoughts. He looked at Edmund and saw the confusion in the depths of those expressive, brown eyes. Peter resolved to fix this. He would not let Edmund down. Not again.
"Come on, Eddy. Let's get you back." Peter said, as he gently helped Edmund to his feet. He brought his arms around the boy's shoulders, offering his comfort and strength.
Edmund swayed for a moment and Peter held him more firmly against his side.
"Alright, Ed?" Peter asked.
He looked down at Edmund and realized that he was now lucid. The younger boy's eyes were clear and aware. Before Peter could utter another syllable, Edmund muttered, "I'm sorry" before suddenly losing consciousness.
Peter reacted quickly and caught his brother's limp form, fluidly scooping him up into his arms.
Back at the camp, Peter held his brother, rocking back and forth and speaking soft, soothing words in an effort to chase away the nightmares that kept Edmund from getting the healing sleep he so desperately needed.
Edmund had not regained consciousness since he had passed out in the woods and even though the healer assured Peter that it was only to be expected, he still longed for Edmund to awaken if only for the reassurance that his brother would be okay.
"No! Please, don't!" Edmund shouted.
"Shh." Peter cooed, smoothing Edmund's dark, unruly hair from his forehead and placing a tender kiss on his brother's cheek.
"I'm here, Eddy. Everything is alright. I'm here. I've got you." Peter whispered into the younger king's ear.
Peter pulled the blankets around Edmund in an effort to ward off the chills that were afflicting his young body. He felt his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. The fever had gone down, if only a little.
Peter kept up his vigil for hours. Holding and rocking Edmund, softly speaking nonsense words of comfort when he cried out from the terrors of his fevered dreams.
As the morning sun peered over the horizon, Edmund shifted in Peter's hold. He moaned quietly and his eyes fluttered once. Twice. And finally he stared up at Peter, a small, exhausted smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
Peter grinned, tears spilling from his eyes and he slowly lowered his lips to Edmund's forehead, kissing him ever so softly and tenderly.
"I knew you'd come back."