A/N: So, I just was struck by inspiration while watching the movie for the first time December last year; and couldn't resist this.
I am not completely satisfied with this, but I can't seem to figure what's wrong. Maybe it's because I just can't write Susan. It's so hard. I will maybe rewrite this sometime, though. We'll see.
Anyway, on with the fanfiction!
A/N 2: I have rewrited a little bit, but it's not that big of a change. Just polished and fixed it up a. Susan still isn't written better, I'm at a loss for what to do with her.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia, and I don't own any of the mentioned characters. It all belongs to the epic author C. S. Lewis, the film producer Walt Disney Pictures and the children's film investor, distributor and publishing company Walden Media. I own, however, the flowers at the end of the story. They're of my own creation.
Lucy ran so fast she could manage down the hill with her sister. She ran towards her eldest brother, who was waiting for them. A grin widened in her face, and she ran even faster, if possible.
Suddenly, a spear from a corpse got stuck in her dress, making her come to a halt. Impaintently, she just ripped her dress of it of and ran again. She didn't notice the hole the spear had made in her clothing, and she didn't notice the small item that tumbled out her pocket. Her focus was on their brother.
"Peter!" Lucy yelled and threw herself at their golden-haired brother. They held each other tight, while Susan watched with a smile. After Lucy had released her grip on him, Susan embraced him gently, before she let him go.
"Where's Edmund?" she asked, the smile still on her face.
Susan saw it at once. How his bright eyes eyes suddenly held panic in them, and hurt. How his grin fell.
She knew something was badly wrong.
Peter looked over to a body laying on the ground. Black, messed up hair. Sword on the ground beside him. Himself covered with crimson blood.
They wasted no time before running.
Pain. Way to much pain. Edmund had never felt such white-hot agony streaming through his body.
It couldn't be real. Maybe he was dead? Maybe he was thrown to Hell for the bad things he had done?
But if he was still living... then he didn't want to live anymore.
The worst was his stomach. It was simply burning with pain. He pressed a hand on his wound. Black dots was circling around his vision.
"Pete..."
"Edmund!" Peter couldn't held back the scream. It was heart-wrenching.
The boy on the ground didn't seem to notice. Peter kneeled down on the ground beside him, and looked into Edmund's eyes. They was glazed over with pain and fear.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be! Peter should be the one laying there- not his little brother!
"Ed," he said firmly, grabbing the hand that wasn't covering the young boy's fatal wound. He pressed his own hand on Edmund's other, helping him apply pressure. The dark eyes cleared, but the pain and fear still wasn't gone.
"P-Peter," he whispered, his voice too weak to speak any louder. Peter nodded, tears threatening to fall.
"Yes, it's me." Tears was already streaming down his little brother's face.
"I'm s-sorry," he said. "Fo-for everything. The betrayal, for n-not listening to you, for being a b-bad brother..." His voice grew weaker with each word.
Peter at first couldn't say anything, he just shook his head.
"You don't need to appologise, you are already forgiven. And I haven't been the best either," he said after a while, a weak smile covering his face.
Edmund just nodded. He then coughed, and pain shook through the small body. Red liquid came out between his lips. He gasped for air, the pain causing his tears to fall faster.
Peter watched with concern, before turning to his little sister.
"Lucy, the cordial. Now."
Understanding the urge in her brother's voice, she nodded, before reaching into her pocket. Her heart seemed to stop when she just met thin air and a hole. She panic-stricken searched her other pockets too, but didn't find anything.
"Lucy." Peter's voice was impaintent, and she could hear Edmund's painful coughing.
She met his eyes with fear.
"I-I don't have it," she whispered. Peter's face fell.
"What do you mean you don't have it?"
"I think I lost it, but I'm so sure I had it when we rode with Aslan," she said, fear in her voice.
Susan knew exactly just what to do.
"Narnians!" she yelled out over the battlefield, catching the attention of everyone there.
"I need you to search this place, for a small bottle, a cordial. Please, we need it," she told them, her voice already reminding them of a mighty queen. The Narnians started searching at once.
Peter's attention was turned back to his little brother, who looked at him with sad eyes. Edmund was no fool. He knew he would die, and that soon.
"Pete..." he whispered. Peter scooted closer, carefully lifting Edmund and holding him close to his chest. Susan teared som fabric of her clothing and bound Edmund's wound. The dark-haired boy laid his arms around Peter.
"What happens when you die in Narnia?" he murmured into Peters chest, his voice barely loud enough for Peter to hear.
"I-I don't know," he truly said back to him. His little brother's body shook when he again got a coughing fit. When it stopped, tears returned, and his eyes was closed.
"It-it hurts, Peter." Peter wanted so bad to take away his pain, but he was unable to.
"I know, Ed. I know," he murmured to him.
Edmund lifted his head upwards so he could look into Peter's blue eyes.
"If I die, and if you ever comes back to our world, can you tell mum and dad I love them?" His brown eyes looked down again. Peter's heart shattered.
"Oh, Ed, you will not die," he whispered. The dark-haired boy shook his head, coughing for what seemed to be the tenth time.
"It's no use, Pete. I will not live to see another day. I know it." He leaned in again, seeking the warmth and comfort he only could receive from his older brother.
"I guess this is the price a traitor must pay... I-I love you Peter. Don't ever forget that. And Lucy, and Susan, too. Goodbye, Peter..." his voice faded, and his grip around Peter was strengthened a last time, before it loosened for good.
"I found it!" Mister Tumnus yelled, and ran over to them. Lucy held out her hand. Mr. Tumnus gave it to her without hesitation.
"Thank you," she said. It wasn't time for another words of gratefulness, but Mr. Tumnus understood. He liked that little boy. He could only pray to Aslan they weren't too late.
Meanwhile, Peter had laid Edmund down on the ground, concern showing in every movement he did. He feared the worst.
"Ed..." he said, noticing how his eyes stared at him without seeing, and his way to pale skin. His non-existing breathing. He shook him gently, calling his name.
"Ed, wake up," he demanded, his voice rising with every word. "Edmund, come on, wake up! You can't leave us! You just can't! Your time with us isn't up yet! Edmund!" He was now crying, unable to face the truth. Lucy was suddenly beside him, opening the cordial as fast as she could, before she let a drop fall down in Edmund's blood-stained mouth.
It was like everyone watched. Peter shook Edmund again, calling his name over and over, but with no luck. Peter finally broke down, sobs wrecking his body. Edmund's blood was still covering him. It only made it worse.
The Narnians could only stare at their future king buried his head in his hands, while sitting beside his brother's lifeless body. He raised one, trembling, blood-soaked hand, and closed his little brother's unseeing brown eyes.
The future of Narnia was bright and filled with joy. Their High-King Peter the Magnificent, ruled with might and wisdom. Their Queens was Susan the Gentle and Lucy the Valiant.
But there wasn't one soul who had witnessed the young Edmund's death, who ever forgot how broken Peter had been, how hollow Susan seemed, how tearful Lucy had looked away. And they could not forget how painful Edmund's death had seemed to be.
Narnia held happiness, but her rulers wasn't able to share it.
This is how Narnia was, during her Golden Age.
Edmund, who was named the Just King later, was buried outside Cair Paravel, under the trees. Under the great Western wood, which he would have ruled over.
On the grave, white flowers framed with either blue, purple or green, grew. It had never been seen before, and it didn't grow anywhere else.
The flowers had a magical powers - if you had a blue in your house, hope would fill the hearts of the family there. If you had a purple, true love would always be shared. And with a green - the rarest of them all - an enemy would not be able to enter.
But these flowers would just last one month, and they were very rare. Not many could experience their magic.
They had later been named The Just's Goodbye, and was the most precious items for the King and Queens, valued way over gold and diamonds.
They were the only reminder of their little brother.