Stars Not Wanted
Summary: When Peter is thought to be lost to battle, Edmund and the rest of the kingdom must learn how to deal without their High King.
Disclaimer: This story, any recognizable characters, etc. do not belong to me. If they did, seven books in the chronicles would never have been enough.
Author's Notes: The title comes from W.H. Auden's poem "Funeral Blues". I chose the name both for the line "the stars are not wanted now, put out every one", as an expression of grief, as well as for the fact that in Narnia, stars are used as a way of prophecy given from Aslan, and the events that happen are ones the characters do not want to see placed in the stars. I debated posting this, since I wanted to have it completely finished before I posted, but I decided that since this story has been on my computer since 2008, I might never finish it if didn't start posting. I've written over half of the story so hopefully I will be able to post with some regularity.
Chapter One
Put Out Every One
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-Funeral Blues, W.H. Auden-
Once again, Edmund Pevensie had insomnia. It was a battle the young King was certainly used to fighting, and his sleeping problems had only increased since Peter had taken troops to battle. There were still remnants of Fell Beast hiding in Narnia, and attempted uprisings were more common than one might initially imagine.
Edmund rolled onto his side, unable to shut his eyes. He sighed. Unable to stand the empty room any longer, he stood and grabbed one of his heavier cloaks. If he was unable to sleep, he might as well do something productive.
Wandering the halls of Cair Parvel, Edmund was unsure where exactly he had planned on going. Everyone except the guards were asleep, and while he desired company, Edmund knew he couldn't disturb them. Eventually, he found his feet leading him to the library, one of his favorite places in the entire castle.
Edmund glanced from the books beside him down to the cast on his arm. He shook his head. If he had not been so clumsy, he would be fighting in the battle against the rebels, right beside Peter. He needed that. He needed the reassurance of being able to place himself besides his brother, the reassurance that even if he failed, he was doing all he could for the country he loved so dearly.
It was close to four years since the coronation, and in that time period, there had been many battles. The worst were the first two years, when several remnants of the white witch's forces had to be dealt with. In the past two years, the strain had slowed tremendously, though Edmund still thought it would be a while(if ever) where a year would come in which they would not have to fight at least once.
As it was, a small rebel group had once again risen in the middle of Narnia. As far as the Pevensies knew, it would be an easier victory, though they cautioned the soldiers from becoming arrogant about their sure victory. Even still, the rebel group was not large and was greatly outnumbered by Narnia's military. It seemed it would be a simple military procedure.
Then they received word from some of the smaller beast that had observed the rebel forces. These animals, mostly beast of the sky and little ones of the field, such as mice, had reported grave news that the forces were bigger than expected. Peter had decided to set out as soon as the army could be marshaled to reach these forces before their numbers once again increased.
Everything had been prepared at once. Edmund had accompanied Peter to the armory to gather their gear, and that was when the plan took a turn. As Edmund reached for the first stair to leave, he tripped over a piece of left-out armor and fell down a single flight of stairs, landing on his right arm. His chain-mail did little to protect the full weight of his body crushing it at once.
Peter, of course, promptly examined the arm and announced it as broken. Judging by the pain and overall strange sensation in his arm, Edmund felt Peter had probably given an accurate assessment, though neither of them had ever broken a bone before.(Frankly, it surprised Edmund that it had taken this long.)
Of course, the next step was for Peter to refuse Edmund from accompanying the mission. Edmund fought hard, claiming he could still be of use, at least from a strategy standpoint, but lost. As much as Edmund wanted to accompany his brother to battle, he knew that with a broken arm he would only be a liability.
So Edmund had watched the army ride out, standing behind them, instead of in front of them along side Peter. As such, no matter what he tried to do - practice his fighting, read one of the history books in the library he was slowly trying to make his way through, or even just eat dinner with Susan and Lucy, his mind was constantly on battle.
Edmund looked at the books he had pulled by the dim glow of candlelight and shook his head. He knew he would never be able to concentrate enough to read any of this at the moment. With a defeated sigh, he glumly marched back to his chambers, not finding rest until the skies had turned from black to grey.
Edmund softly tapped his fingers on the desk before him. He was studying his geography of the neighboring lands bordering Narnia. Rather, he was trying to study his geography. His mind was much too distracted to be trying to commit something as detailed as a map to memory at the moment.
"Ed?" A soft voice asked, drawing him out of his reverie. His head snapped up, and he forced out a strained smile as Lucy approached him, the worry and care evident in her big brown eyes.
"You've been sitting in here all day. Come get some fresh air," She pleaded, and Edmund's smile turned genuine at her request.
"And I thought it was only Susan's job to worry and fuss like a mother hen," He teased as Lucy playfully swatted at him.
"No," She replied, her voice even, "It's just a female Pevensie family trait. Susan has just perfected the art and practiced it more than I have."
When Edmund didn't answer, she rolled her eyes and took his hand, acting as if she would drag him outside if she had to. They both knew it was a futile attempt unless Edmund allowed it, and for Lucy, he did.
Lucy laughed at the playfully grumpy expression on his face as he was led through the castle, down the stairs, and finally to one of the many gardens that surrounded the grounds of Cair Paravel.
Edmund gracefully accepted the tea handed to him and he tried to listen and laugh as Lucy joyfully told of her day.
"He wouldn't want to you to worry about him, you know." Lucy stated softly, having stopped her useless attempt at drawing Edmund from his shell.
"Maybe not," Edmund conceded, "But it's certainly what he would do in my place."
At this, Lucy groaned and shook her head in agreement. "True. But when Peter worries, all he does is talk about it. It's easier to make sure he's all right."
Edmund couldn't help but to chuckle at the mental picture of his older brother ranting and rambling with worry. It was something he had seen himself many times, and he was always amazed at how Peter, the picture of dignity, could seem both terrified and magnificent at the same time.
"He'll be home soon," Lucy whispered, revealing for a moment her own worry, and both of them took comfort in the thought.
Edmund pulled his boots off, chucked them somewhere at the general end of the bed-he was just going to wear them again tomorrow, so why put them up?- and crawled under the covers, not even taking the time to change into a night tunic. His lack of sleep from the night before was wearing on him, and he didn't know if he had ever appreciated his bed as much as he did currently.
Edmund watched from above, as if he was on a hill and overlooking the battle in the plain down below. He could feel himself frown as he observed Peter with anxiety and worry. Something was not right with his brother. Oh, his fighting was fine. He was fierce, driving the enemies back effortlessly. He had barely been bruised or injured in the field, and he looked to be in excellent shape considering he was in the midst of battle.
But something was not right. Edmund knew it. He couldn't place what it was, but it was something he knew as clear as he knew the sun was shining. Something was wrong.
He scanned the rest of the battlefield. It seemed to be going well. A unicorn was down, as well as a centaur and two large cats. His heart grieved for those all ready lost, but he knew it could have been much worse.
Suddenly, a swift movement caught the corner of Edmund's eye. In the time Edmund had looked away to see the rest of the battle, Peter had been brought to his knees, his leg clearly cut. A wolf circled around the High King, drawing closer every time. Peter thrust out his sword, and Edmund could see by the way he held the weapon Peter's shoulder had been dislocated. Unless aid came or Peter found a way to stand, Edmund knew his brother was in trouble.
The wolf lunged at Peter, and Edmund felt a deep "No!" grow at the back of his throat just as he woke up.
Edmund shivered, despite the fact he was under two layers of blankets.
"Just a nightmare," he whispered to himself. "Please let it just be a nightmare," he prayed silently. If Peter really did fall. . . he did not know what Narnia would do. He did not know what he would do.
He tried to unravel himself from the ball he had curled into during his dream.
"Aslan, " He whispered into the dark night, "Please let my brother return safely." He was barely able to croak out the prayer, but the thought of the golden lion granted him so peace, so Edmund once again closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep a dreamless sleep this time.
"Ed! Ed! Wake up!" He moaned and rolled over to see Lucy's peering face just a few inches away from his own.
"What is it Lu?" He asked, sleepily and in no hurry to get up.
"Word from the campaign has come back. They sent Cyrim the Raven back. She says she carries grave news, but refuses to speak unless we are all present."
Before Lucy had finished her sentence, Edmund had jumped up and ran hurridly around his chambers, tugging on his boots. In the back of his mind he remembered he was wearing the clothes he had worn yesterday, but that was not his first concern. There would be time for hygiene later.
His boots only half-laced, hair mussed, and tunic and leggings in sloppy condition, he quickly followed Lucy out of his room down the stairs and into the throne room.
As soon as Edmund took his place on his thrown, the raven opened up one wing and titled her head to the right, as was the custom greeting for birds. Susan, Lucy, and Edmund all quickly nodded back.
"Pray tell us, Cyrim, what news you have brought."
At this, the bird's dark eyes narrowed. "Your majesties, I regret to report the attack did not go in our favor. There are at least two dozen dead, a dozen more severely wounded, and-" here the Raven paused, forcing herself to continue, "The High King cannot be found."
Lucy gasped out loud, Susan leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes, and Edmund's hand gripped the side of his throne tightly, his skin turning white as snow.
"Dead?" he asked, barely audible.
"We cannot be sure, your Majesty. Many saw him take a wer-wolf bite to the leg. You understand battles, King Edmund. The wound was not fatal on its own but without being able to stand… However, no one has found him. It is believed he has fallen."
The Raven's deep voice echoed in Edmund's head. His nightmare from the day before replayed in his head. Wolf bite to the leg. . . fallen. . . unable to find. . .
"Thank you for bringing us news," Susan was able to choke out, tears already pouring down her fair face. Lucy already ran from the room. Normally, she never would have been so rude in front of Cyrim but such was the situation that nobody could blame her.
As the raven took her leave, Edmund glanced at Susan, sitting beside him. "Oh, Ed.." She whispered. "Whatever are we going to do?" Despair and disbelief mingled on her face. Edmund just shook his head, reached over, and wrapped his arms around his sister as he thought Peter might have done. He had no answer for her question, the same question he was wondering himself.
Oddly enough, Edmund didn't cry right away. As he stroked Susan's hair and felt his tunic become wet with her tears, he felt devoid of all emotions. Part of him wish he could break down and cry, and grant himself some relief, but comforting his sister took a larger priority than dealing with his own reaction. It was a way to delay having to face his worst fear.
Edmund comforted Susan until she ran out of tears, excusing herself to go to her own room. Edmund, still pushing the reality away, concentrated on finding Lucy. Finally, he let the tears fall, even as he continued searching, which turned out to be quite a difficult task. Lucy wasn't in her room, the palace courtyard, or any other of her usual places. It wasn't until he stopped, leaning his head against the brick wall, that he figured it out.
He approached Peter's room, then stopped at the door. Their rooms were only separated by a few inches of walls, and sometimes even that was too far apart. There was an extra bed in Peter's room just for Edmund, after he had suffered another nightmare. It seemed no matter what was going on in his life, he could have a nightmare.
Edmund found Lucy on Peter's bed, clutching a pillow with all her might. The pillow was tear-stained, and she obviously wasn't done with it yet.
Edmund had never thought himself very good at comforting, he knew he had to for Lucy's sake. Breathing in a deep breath, Edmund closed his eyes and imagined what Peter would have done. He found himself crawling in Peter's bed next to Lucy, and he wrapped my arms around her sad frame. And there, in the presence of his younger sister, Edmund allowed his grief and fear to realize fully and he wept wept openly.
Eventually, Lucy left to find Susan, but Edmund couldn't bring himself to leave. He made his way to Peter's balcony. It was one of Peter's favorite places to think, as the view of Narnia was stunning.
A million questions ran through Edmund's mind- Did he suffer much? Was he afraid? Where is he? The most prevalent question, however, was the constant litany of Why? That repeated itself in Edmund's head.
"Why Aslan?" Edmund asked out loud, "Why did you allow this to happen?" Edmund felt slightly guilty for questioning the great Lion, but his grief and anguished to great for anything else.
"How will Narnia survive without Peter?" Edmund whispered into the wind. Then, a softer question followed.
"How will I survive without him?"
Edmund felt more tears gather in his eyes, though he hadn't realized he had any more to give. He breathed the Narnian air in deeply, the sweetness providing the smallest comfort.
"Please, Aslan," Edmund begged the wind once again, "Please help us."