Mending Bridges

(-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. CS Lewis created the characters, and Narnia; Disney set them to a cast. I'm just playing with them. I promise to put them all back, relatively unharmed.

Summary: In the fourth-week of their reign, Edmund decides a visit to the Stone Table is much in need. Brother-Fic.

(-)

Wrapped in cloaks made of fine linen and guarded by two Wolves, a Hawk, and several Centaurs, we trod our way through the snow, shivering violently as we followed our brother on a mad-cap track; the destination of which he had yet to reveal to us. Quite frankly, we were beginning to wonder if he even knew it himself.

There were a thousand and one reasons why this ridiculous idea of my brother's was not a good one... a thousand arguments that I could make, to defy any small sense of logic he could come up with in favour of doing this; but Edmund, being Edmund, had refused to listen. Even the good General had voiced his unhappiness, and my brother had done nothing but smile at him and shrug lightly, golden head nodding as he listened to the Centaur, before deciding to go about his plan anyway. Thankfully, at least, Susan and Lucy had deigned to stay within the Castle's warmth; kept warm by the fires in their rooms, entertaining guests. I had to admit, I was beginning to wish I had joined them.

As the brunette suddenly stumbled to a halt in front of me, I almost collided into him, barely keeping my balance, gripping his shoulder briefly in order to right myself. "Urgh... Edmund?" I frowned, peering through the thick snow in an attempt to see whatever it was that he was seeing. He turned to face me, his face pinched and cold in the winter weather, bags underlining his eyes, a heavy layer of defeat about him.

"I don't know where it is," he admitted in a low voice; so low I had to ask him to repeat it. When he did, I frowned, shaking my head, watching as snow dropped from it.

"Where what is, Ed?" He shook his head, and glanced around, stamping his feet in the inches-deep snow. "Ed?" I watched, completely bemused as he called up to the sky, as the Hawk, Mochni, flew down toward us, and landed on my brother's outstretched hand. The two then proceeded in what seemed to be some sort of argument for a good few minutes, before the Hawk fluffed up his feathers, looking rather disgruntled, bowing his head briefly to my brother before taking for the skies again, circling us once before flying off into the distance. "Ed, by the Lion, would you please tell me what's going on!" I asked, my voice teetering with impatience.

The Just King of Narnia turned, a small smile on his face. "Buck up, Peter. I thought you said you were tired of being in the castle." He pointed out, and I rolled my eyes.

"Aye, brother, but this is not quite what I had in mind... could we have not gone later, when perhaps the snow had settled? You do realise that Susan will rather have our heads if we catch cold?"

"Susan?" Edmund chuckled softly. "Nay, brother. Tis Lucy we must fear. But we'll press on. We're almost there, from all accounts." His face darkened, and I felt uncertainty strike the pit of my stomach. I opened my mouth to question him once more, but Edmund had already turned, and begun to walk once more. I followed with a resigned sigh, wishing for nothing more than hot cocoa, and some of Susan's spiced bread.

We walked for what seemed like hours, but was probably more likely only another half an hour or so. Several times my brother had to stop, and converse with the Hawk, and each time his mood seemed to grow a little darker, until I was almost ready to call it a day, and simply head us back home. Eventually, though, he seemed to freeze in the middle of ... Wherever we were, his eyes staring straight ahead at something I had yet to see. "Ed?" I frowned, moving forward and treading to his side, noting with concerned how he seemed to shiver a little. I sighed - he was a protector of the people, and of his family, and yet his own health and happiness never seemed to matter to Edmund; something that greatly irked all three of us, his siblings. Sometimes I wondered whether he realised, truly, how selfless he really was. I squeezed his shoulder with a gloved hand, my concern for him mounting. When he turned to me, his eyes were full of sadness, and I had to swallow a slight lump in my throat at such emotion.

"I'm aware that you won't approve of this, Peter. I understand you're trying to protect me, and I thank you for it," he paused, briefly, meeting my eyes. "But I cannot live in denial forever. It would be an insult. To Narnia, to Aslan. To our reign." I watched my brother in silence. He had grown. By Aslan, he had grown. Where was my younger brother, the cheeky, smart-mouthed boy I had known? In his place there stood no longer a boy, but a man… though still young, Edmund carried the weight of someone who had been through great terrors. I felt my throat tighten, and looked away, swallowing. "Peter?" Edmund's voice was quiet, and I sighed softly, half wishing he didn't know me so well.

"Nothing, Ed."

He studied me for a good long minute, and eventually nodded. "Shall we?" I inclined my head in assent, and we walked on, our clad feet crunching a little in the half-frozen snow. The Stone Table loomed ahead, and I swallowed a little, hesitating, Our company, realising where we were headed, had fallen back a little to give us privacy, and even Mochni was flying behind, rather than ahead of us. I stopped, watching as Edmund stepped forward, until he reached the Table, watching his breath come out in cold cloud against the icy air, his eyes firmly planted on the Table. He stood in silence, seemingly frozen to the spot. After a few minutes I moved over, pressing a hand gently to his shoulder.

"Edmund?" He swallowed, taking a slow breath. "I wanted to see. To understand," he said quietly. "Such a sacrifice, for such a worthless person… it should have been me, Peter. I should have been killed."

"No, Ed. You being killed would have done us no good," My voice was firm; I would not allow for a moment longer these thoughts to continue. "Ed, Aslan returned to us because of the Deep Magic. I shan't go into it all now, but know this: He knew what He was doing when He made this sacrifice. Please, do not berate yourself. If you had been sacrificed, you would not have returned. And a brotherless brother makes for a dull King," That earned a tiny smile from my silent sibling, and Edmund hesitated briefly before stepping forward, kneeling next to the table and pressing a firm kiss to the Stone.

"I may never understand what happened here," He murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. "But thank you, Aslan. For bringing me back to my siblings. For delivering me." For a moment he knelt there, and though I worried for his health, for the state of his trousers that would soon most likely grow soaked from the snow, I kept quiet. There was something almost sacred in what Edmund was doing, and I was loath to interrupt. Eventually, he stood, giving me a shaken smile, taking a slow breath before stepping away from the Table, and shrugging his coat a little further around his body.

"To the Castle, brother?" I queried, and he nodded. We walked in companionable silence until it grew dark, and we reached the camping point for the night. It was still a few hours walk to the Cair, but the Centaurs were anxious we stop, warning us that the Stars were showing signs of unrest. As one well knows, to question a Centaur is considered great foolishness, for they are the watchers of the stars and the keepers of the past, and so we delegated to their wishes, admittedly somewhat grateful for the rest.

Edmund was quiet, thoughtful as we set up camp, and I kept glancing back toward him, half worried he was falling into a depressive state of some sort, like he had when we had first been crowned. He caught staring at him, and gave me a slight smile. "Speak your thoughts, Pete. I can hear them from here," he teased, but his voice held a level of sadness I could not understand. I shrugged a little, swallowing.

"You seem distant," I admitted. "Anything on your mind?" He shrugged a little, with a smile.

"I just realised…. It's been six weeks since our coming here, Peter. Four since our crowning. I fear I'll never feel worthy of the title." He admitted. "So much that happened… was my fault. My selfishness—" His voice cracked, and he took a shuddered breath.

"Edmund. The past is in the past. Lay it to rest." My voice was firm, as I rested a hand upon the brunette's shoulder. "What's done is done."

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. "Easier spoken than achieved, Peter," he admitted. "I cannot forget what was done so easily."

"Then do not forget. But remember, respect, and learn. Keep the past in the past, but learn for the future."

He gave a slight smile. "When did you become so wise, brother?"

I chuckled lightly, nudging him. "Oh Ed, I've always been wise…. You just failed to notice." My brother laughed, and my heart rose at the sound that had been distant for so long. I could not remember hearing Edmund laugh so freely since before the War in England, before father had been called away, before all the trouble with that horrid school. It warmed my heart, and fuelled hope in me. Narnia's Just King might yet recover from all that had been done unto him (most of which I had still no notion of, for Edmund would not speak of it to me, or to anyone else), and we might yet be close as we once were. Bridges were already being mended, after all.

A ruffle of my hair was the reaction from my slightly-shivering brother, and he rolled his eyes, nudging me. "Idiot. I always knew you were wise… I just failed to acknowledge it. Don't want you getting big headed, after all. Though you do make rather a good brother, you know." He gave me a half smile, and I chuckled softly.

"Nice to hear, oh Just One." He rolled his eyes, with a slight smile. I pulled him closer as we edged toward our new home, feeling somewhat happier about things between Edmund and I; knowing that, as with all things, it might take time, but eventually, that he and I might become the greatest of friends, of allies.

-Finis

Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk. ~Susan Scarf Merrell

Author's N: Thoughts, criticisms and comments are welcomed.