Hey reader, so I'm planning on making this into a short story...hopefully everything goes as planned ;)
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Narnia or any of the Pevensies.
Even before she was born, they knew she was different. At first, the discovery that a beloved monarch would soon grace the kingdom of Narnia with a little bundle of joy was cause for celebration. Large feasts were thrown in honor of the news, with the happy couple waving shyly from the front of the room. Of all the revelers, none were more supportive or more elated than the three other sovereigns. An older brother and sister proudly watched the baby boy of their family grow up with a kind of bittersweet happiness. While a younger sister had not stopped bouncing from joy and excitement since being told the news - well she was she was going to be an Auntie! Everything was going wonderfully.
It wasn't until five months into the pregnancy that things started going awry. It began when Edmund noticed that, although it was June, his wife seemed to be shivering quite often. Even more so than a drafty castle should allow. She also appeared to be wearing clothes more suitable for the winter months. When he questioned her about this she waved it off as the beginnings of a summer cold. Her husband made sure the court healers were immediately informed. And since no chance was to be taken with the well beings of a beloved consort and the soon to be prince or princess, the exasperated young lady was put on bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy.
Unexpectedly, instead of getting better, her 'cold' slowly grew worse. And to the dismay of her care givers, her temperature started to drop. They kept the fire place in her and Edmund's room burning brightly, the fire places in the adjoining rooms and all the fire places in their wing of the castle. She was wrapped in dozens of the Cair's warmest blankets, dressed in her heaviest winter clothing and when they could no longer layer her own clothing she used Edmund's larger coats. Still, her shivering steadily increased, while her body temperature dropped. When the baby was finally ready to be born, she was barely coherent. Her distraught husband was doing only slightly better. It was all his siblings could do to keep him from slipping into a depression as cold and lonely as his wife's strange illness.
Nearly all of the castle's healing staff was present for the birth. And only Aslan himself would have been able to keep either Queen from assisting them. Lucy was there at the ready, poised for action, the top already off of her cordial. Susan busied herself with fetching the supplies the healers called for, her motherly instincts allowing nothing less. This arrangement left poor Peter to tend to his nigh hysterical brother. He paced the entire time, and went through four pipes of tobacco, or as his brother lovingly put it, his left lung.
It was four agonizingly long hours later, the sun was just beginning to show, turning the Eastern Sea a shining gold, when the weary pair of brothers heard the most precious sound in the known world: a baby's cry. Before Peter could hold him back, Edmund had shot through the door and barged into the makeshift delivery room. The sight that greeted him was not the blissful one he had been expecting. But, rather, a tense atmosphere that resembled the chaotic conditions of a field hospital in the midst of battle.
Edmund stood in the door way for a few moments, stunned. When he regained his composure, he quickly scanned the ranks of healers, looking for someone who could give him the answers he sought. Spotting a frantic Susan, he practically ran over a few unlucky people to get to her.
"Su! Su what's going on?" Edmund yelled before reaching her.
"Oh, Edmund, I'm sorry! I can't- I don't have time!" She answered with out bothering to look at him as she retrieved the herb she was instructed to get and ran back across the room to hand it to a waiting healer.
Desperately, Edmund whipped his head wildly to and fro looking for anybody who could be of help. He spotted Peter in the door way, who had wisely chosen to wait in the hall, pointing to a lone figure in the back of the room. He recognized Feleina, an old leopard and the head healer, sitting calmly in an arm chair, watching the proceedings with a detached interest. Edmund immediately made a beeline for her, once again disregarding any who may have been in his path. By the time he reached her, he was breathing heavily from his stress. Luckily, he retained some form of his common sense and remembered his courtly manners while greeting her. The elder healer tended to be fastidious about propriety and what not, especially when it pertained to her.
"My lady," he said as he bowed his head in a hasty greeting, "please, what's going on?"
The old cat regarded him silently for a moment. She bent her head in respect. "Your Majesty. There was an unexpected complication with the birth. Though both mother and daughter are out of immediate danger," she added when she noted his panicky expression.
Edmund let out a shaky breath, "A daughter?" he wondered quietly to himself. Then to Feleina, "What was the problem?"
"Well, Your Majesties may have noticed," she gestured to Edmund and Peter, who had silently crept along the wall to stand next to his brother, "the absence of your baby's crying." At the words "your baby" Edmund visibly sucked in a breath, and then quickly let it out when he realized what she was implying.
"I thought you said they were both fine?" he quickly asked.
"She is. I believe it is simply a reaction to cold, or,more accurately, the lack thereof." When neither king commented, she continued. "You obviously heard her first cry judging by the way barged in here;" Edmund had the humility to look sheepish. "But you failed to heed their abrupt stop. I believe that she abruptly realized she was actually comfortable and there was no reason for her to be crying. This would mean she feels more at home in a colder environment, and also explains why her temperature is about 85 degrees, 13 degrees lower than it should be, and particularly dangerous for a newborn.
At this news, Peter and Edmund exchanged grave glances. "That, at least, explains her mother's low temperature, which, I may add, is steadily returning to normal."
Edmund suddenly swayed on his feet, and Peter reflexively grabbed him before he could fall. Feleina gracefully vacated the arm chair, and the younger king willingly fell into it.
"What can be done?" Edmund asked the wizened healer.
"At this point, nothing," she replied solemnly. The young father dropped his head into his hands, shaking his head in despair.
"Nothing but pray," Peter added giving his brother's shoulder a squeeze. And pray they did. Along with the entire kingdom of Narnia. For the new child that hung precariously onto her new life. For the young mother and father who were helpless to ensure the well being of their precious child. And for Aslan to deliver their new princess from this deadly ordeal.
A/N: So, yes, I know the descriptions of Edmund's wife are vague -because I wanted it like that. Everyone has their own descriptions of the Pevensies' significant others, and people tend to get defensive if every authors description isn't just like theirs. I do it and you know you do it too. ;D So I wanted to leave this kinda like a mad-lib, you know fill in the blanks. Hopefully it works. Let me know what you think.
Oh, and I fell in love with Almyra's idea of Edmund smoking a pipe so I borrowed it. I hope she doesn't mind, hehehe...