HIDDEN CURSE

Edmund: 16

Peter: 19

Susan: 18

Lucy: 14

Other notes: This chapter may seem to move slowly, but trust me, it'll pick up/get more interesting next chapter. Also, this is my first chapter fic so I'm not sure how this is going to go.

I do not own Narnia or it's characters.

Chapter One: Enigma

Their swords clanked in the wintery air. Peter drew in deep breathes, and couldn't help but note how nice the cool air felt inside his lungs. It seemed to give him a new source of energy that just wasn't there in the spring when they trained. He slashed, and blocked triumphantly, successfully beating Edmund for the fourth time in a row. Peter was too caught up in the adrenaline rush to take not that it was usually Edmund who was beating him four times. However this was soon broken by the sound of Edmund's sword clanking to the floor, and heavy breathing.

Peter looked up to find Edmund bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard, and looking slightly green.

"Ed?"

Edmund looked up, his deep brown eyes rimmed with large circles under them, meeting Peter's. He stared at the concerned look on Peter's face, and almost thought of telling him everything, but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.

Instead he straightened up, smiled tightly at Peter, and said "I'm fine, Pete." Then he picked up his sword from the ground, and slowly walked off.

Peter stared after him, perplexed. Winter was always hard on Edmund, as it brought up past events and memories that still bothered him. However, this was their sixth winter in Narnia, and he usually had a pretty good grip on coping with it. This time he didn't seem to have any grip at all, despite the fact that he'd dealt with it five times before. It was almost like the first winter, only something seemed to be even more off.

Orieus broke his reverie. "I don't think he's fine, your Majesty."

Peter shook his head. "Me either."

He found Edmund in his quarters, looking for a tunic to replace his sweat and icicle drenched one. As he lifted up his shirt, Peter took a sharp intake of breath. Edmund had always been slender, but now Peter could not only see his ribs, but count them.

Edmund's head whipped around at the sound of Peter's breath. He saw Peter's eyes widen, staring at his stomach. Edmund blushed, and quickly yanked the tunic over his head. He then walked to the bathing area, and splashed his face with some water from the sink, looking anywhere but at Peter.

"Edmund," Peter croaked out.

Edmund took a deep calming breath, knowing what was coming next. "Yes?"

Peter seemed lost for words, scanning his little brother up and down. Even though Edmund was going to be 17 in two months, he was still the six year old who hid in Peter's bed during thunderstorms in Peter's eyes. Now that he'd seen Ed's ribs, he was scanning for other physical signs that told him something wasn't right. It wasn't hard. While Edmund no longer had a greenish tint, he was pale which was stark in contrast to the deep circles under his eyes. His face looked shrunken, and all around emanated poor health.

Edmund shifted uncomfortably as Peter scrutinized him. Peter finally spoke, "What's going on?"

"We're standing in a room, Pete." Edmund said sarcastically.

"You know that's not what I meant," Peter quietly replied.

Edmund looked away.

"Are you ill?" Peter tried again.

"Not exactly," Edmund said cryptically.

"Not exactly…what in Aslan's mane does that mean Ed?"

"It means just that." Edmund pushed past Peter, and stalked out of the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Peter called after him.

"I have to rule over a hearing between that beardless dwarf and centaur who claims that the other took his land tomorrow, remember? I need to look it over again."

He watched Edmund walk to the library, and had half the mind to call him back and force him into bed, but left it alone. It just didn't work that way with Edmund.

"You can see his ribs Susan…"

"You could always see them…"

"Yes but this time you can count them…"

"What happened a sword practice?"

"I won four times in a row. It's usually him, who's beating the pulp out of me. And then his sword clattered to the ground, and he had his hands on his knees, panting, and looked green."

"Did you ask him about it?"

"He got sarcastic, like he always does when he deflects questions. I asked him if he was ill, and he said not exactly."

"Not exactly…"

"I don't know…"

Edmund halted from his walk back from the library at the sound of hushed voices. He sighed, and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. He knew it was about him. He knew they'd be angry later that he hadn't told them what was going on, but the worry they felt now would be nothing compared to the worry they'd feel once he told. He couldn't bare to add another burden to his family at his expense, and not wanting to hear what they were saying, quickly walked on past. He flopped down on his bed, and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he had fallen straight into the grips of a nightmare.

"Where is he," Peter muttered nervously into his steadily growing colder dinner.

Susan nervously twiddled with her spoon, constantly looking at the door, hoping Edmund would walk through it.

Lucy, unaware of the events of the day, tried her best to suppress the growl her stomach just made. She knew her siblings were upset about the lack of Edmund's presence at the table, and wanted to know what was going. However, she knew better than to ask them now, so she politely waited until Peter deemed it was alright to start eating.

Susan looked up upon hearing Lucy's stomach. "Peter, we might as well start eating, poor Lucy is starving over there." She threw Lucy a weak smile.

"Alright," Peter sighed, although he didn't feel much like eating.

Meanwhile, Edmund bolted up in bed. Sweat poured down his face, as he threw off his covers, and began pacing. That'd been a particularly nasty dream, even though the only part he could clearly remember was the White Witch: "You will be mine forever sooner than you think, little King."

He sighed, and glanced at the clock on the wall, and cursed under his breath. He was late for dinner; Peter was probably having a heart attack by now. Edmund gave another sigh, and climbed back into bed. He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold down dinner, so his next bet was to stay in bed, and pretend he was asleep, and hope that Peter would leave him alone.

As if on cue, he heard Peter's worried footsteps enter his room. "Edmund?"

Edmund didn't answer, but quickly shut his eyes, and tried his best to feign sleep. Peter marched over to the side of the wall Edmund was facing, and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I know what you look like when you're asleep Ed, and that's not it." Edmund barely had his open half way, when Peter started in on the interrogation.

"Where were you at dinner?"

"I fell asleep, I'm sorry Peter." But Peter just raised an eyebrow at him.

"I was Peter, really." Peter surveyed him skeptically, and stopped at Edmund's eyes and took notice of the gunk stuck to his eyelashes. Edmund always woke up with sleep surrounding his eyes.

"Alright, I believe you. So why didn't you come down when you woke up?"

"I wasn't hungry," Edmund stated matter-of-factly.

Peter through his hands up in the air, thoroughly annoyed now. "Not hungry! You can't be not hungry Edmund, you're practically skin and bones!"

Edmund turned to face the other wall. Peter followed him, and stood in front of him. His hands were on his hips, looking very much like a mother hen, instead of a big brother.

"What is it? I know winter is rough for you, but you know you can always talk to me if something is upsetting you. Is that what this is? Are you feeling depressed again? Are you ill? Is it both? Let me help you Edmund."

"It's too late for you to help me, Peter," Edmund whispered.

Peter was bewildered, "What does that mean? Can you stop talking in riddles to me, and start answering my questions?"

Edmund shut his eyes tightly at this, and shut Peter out. When Peter realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with Edmund, he walked to his door. "I give up, Ed. You know where to find me if you want to talk about it, and I hope you do it soon. These things have a way of coming around and biting you in the ass when you don't ask for help." With that Peter left, slamming the door behind him.