A/N: PETER AND EDMUND ARE NOT RELATED! Also the language is Latin, and most of the things said in Latin during this story are unimportant, but if you really want to know what they say msg me and I'll send you a translation. Hope you like it
Also Edmund's past (since it is different in this story) will be revealed later on! So don't ask about the family ring! It will be revealed if I continue this story.
Četri pēc tronī zelta
Mūsu karali un Queen valdīt
Defeater no ragana
Bow leju! Bow leju!
Valdīt uz visiem laikiem!
The room glowed and sang of celebration. Gold garland wove through the hallways, silver vines wrapping around the thick columns of stone. Couples twisted and swayed to the music, a beautiful dance on the marble ground. Dukes gathered around, shyly glancing at the rulers as if silently asking permission to speak to them. Suitors filed into the room, checking their complexions and nervously scrunching their hair as they bowed in front of the magnificent two.
The Queen, beautiful in appearance, sat with a golden crown upon a golden throne. She was charming, dark hair cascading down her back in gentle waves. Suitors threw themselves at her feet, asking her permission to court. She denied them with a smile of an angel, and danced with her brother. Queen Susan the Gentle, the High Queen of Narnia.
Dark in appearance, the king sat on the throne. A golden crown clashed against his coal-colored hair. Haunted eyes held each gaze that dared glancing at him, a secret resting behind. Handsome, wise, and just, the king reigned.. They worshipped him, falling to their knees and bowing their heads in respect. Princesses and duchesses blushed when he looked their way, turning to avoid his intense gaze. High King Edmund the Just, Ruler over all of Narnia.
They loved their rulers, the defeaters of the Witch. Their song continued, whispering words of prophecy and of blessings.
King Edmund, however, was rather confused by these songs. Their voices were beautiful, pleasant to the ears, but he did not enjoy them. He suspects it's because he doesn't understand them. No, not one word. He sighs, mumbling something about how if they were going to sing about him, they could at least sing in English so he could understand them. He frowned again, cursing his lack of knowledge on languages. He didn't even know what language they were speaking.
"Beautiful, aren't they, my fair king?"
He turned to look at who dared to interrupt his important train of thought.
A duke, looking to be in his mid-fifties with thick long black hair and a beard that covered a good portion of his face, stood beside him with a goblet of wine in his right hand and another in his left. He offered it the king, who gladly accepted. "The singers, that is."
"Yes, beautiful indeed." He hated speaking with such a formal tongue, wasn't he a teenager? "How fair thee, my lord?"
The man chuckled gently, turning to catch Peter's eye before sipping from his goblet. "Please do not refer to me as my lord, Your Majesty. I am of a lower title."
"That does not grant me permission to treat you as I would a commoner, my lord." He half muttered. Turning his head away, he watched as Susan danced with a young prince, laughing merrily
"How goes Narnia?"
"Fine, fine. Working on setting up a calendar, so that we may keep track of the years and months. Susan's idea." He smirked, remembering when Susan had first brought it up.
"Fine idea, your Majesty. How is thy issue with the slaves going?" He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Slaves? I banned slavery years ago, my lord. There is no slavery in Narnia." He turned to look at the rather confused man, cocking an eyebrow.
"Then I must have been mistaken." The man whispered.
"I'm afraid that you have lost me."
"Narnia's borders run beyond River Rush, do they not?"
"Yes."
"Interesting. Troubling, yet interesting." He mumbled.
"Speak your mind, duke." Edmund felt the familiar anxiety rising in his chest, and he swallowed a good portion of his wine as if to quench the burning in his chest..
"I have come from Archland, far across the Narnian border. I took shelter in a town not far from River Rush." He turned to look at the king in the eye. "Slavery continues there. I had thought you had banned slavery, but I was not sure, so I took no action. For this, I am sorry."
"Do not apologize, my lord." Edmund's eyebrows furrowed and he stroked his thumb over the neck of the goblet. "How severe is the situation?"
"Does the severity of the matter change the urgency in which it must be dealt with?"
"No, but it does in fact change the severity of the punishment." He narrowed his eyes. "I ask again, how severe is the situation?"
The man saddened, his shoulders slumping forward. "They are the living dead, my king. Their bodies are of bones, and their backs are marked with scars from numerous beatings. They speak with a voice of the dead, their eyes see no hope. Many are dead in the body, many dying, and all of them have died in the mind."
Edmund bit the inside of his lip, taking another sip from his wine. "How many, do you estimate, there be?"
"Their number is small, only that of a small village."
"Your knowledge has revealed an urgent situation that will be dealt with immediately. As a reward, you will be provided with shelter and food until you depart." He bowed slightly to the man.
"Anything to serve Narnia. May Aslan bless you, High King Edmund."
He finished his drink, setting down the empty goblet and making his way towards his gentle sister. It was not hard to find the beautiful woman, and he gently grasped her elbow.
"Please excuse us, my friend." He nodded towards the prince who she had been dancing with.
"Brother, what is your reason for this untimely interruption?" She scowled when he pulled her into a darker corner, his back to the crowd.
"Sod it, Susan, I am your brother, do not speak to me in such formality." He turned to glance towards the dancing crowd. "I am afraid that our laws have gone unsuccessful in some places."
"What are you talking about, Ed?" Her eyes turned soft and she grabbed the cuff of his sleeve.
"Slavery continues in the west. From what I have heard, it is an extremely severe situation."
"What? We banned slav-"
"I am aware, but some of chosen to ignore it." He glanced at her. "This situation is urgent, Su."
She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder and sighing. "How do you plan to deal with this? Slave owners are not exactly the kindest of men."
"I will visit them and discuss a treaty."
"You mustn't go alone! They will have your head on a platter!" She tightened her grip on his sleeve, tugging him closer to her. "Please, Ed, you must be safe."
"I will take a few of my men; there is no reason to fret."
"With you, there's always a reason to fret."
"Gee, thanks." He smirked, before his face turned solemn again. "If I am to free the slaves there, what am I to do with them?"
"Feed them and give them a place to rest their heads. We shall help them make a new start in this world, my brother."
"I will speak to Mr. Tumnus about calling a meeting to discuss this." He turned to look at the crowd again. "Your Prince Charming awaits you; I'd hate to keep you any longer."
"Brother..." She warned. "Slavery is more important than princes."
"No use ruining the party over something that can't be dealt with until tomorrow, right?" He smirked. "Plus he might be 'the one'."
"Oh shut up, Edmund." She cuffed the side of his jaw, smirking when he grabbed it in mock pain.
"Enjoy yourself, Susan." They emerged from the darkened corner together, smiling as suspicious glances were pointed at them.
Edmund took a seat in his throat, turning down any dance offered to him, he was in no mood to dance or speak. When the clock finally struck midnight, Edmund took his leave. The party ended not soon after, and Susan retired to her room.
When morning came, the king, dressed in fine garments of silk, summoned Tumnus to him. The faun, now shorter than the king, bowed to him.
"You have requested my presence, dear king?"
"Yes, yes. I am afraid that there is a situation in the west." He twisted the golden crown in his hand, debating whether or not to wear it. "A severe situation that needs immediate action."
"What is this you are speaking of, your Majesty?" The faun begun to look nervous, twisting the scarf in his fingers.
"Slavery. Slavery in the west, just past River Rush."
"Well, King Edmund, I suggest you call forth a council meeting. They will give you advice on what course of action should be taken." He offered a faint smile. "I am sorry I am not of much help."
"It's quite alright, my dear friend. You are one of my most loyal advisors; this situation is just difficult to deal with." He tried smiling, but it ended in a grimace.
Tumnus offered his last comfort before scurrying away to call forth a council meeting. Susan, her advisors, three dukes, and four of his own advisors were called to sit at the wooden oak table. Susan sat to his right, his main advisor to his left, and his guard behind him.
"Why have you called us here, Your Majesty?" The man, his third advisor, was only a few years older than himself, but much thinner in form. "Your servant Tumnus said it was of an urgent matter."
Whispers filled the room as they questioned what it could be.
"I'm afraid it is." He stood to his feet, raising his right hand to call attention, the room falling completely silent "Our people have betrayed us."
They stared at him, mumbling amongst themselves. Edmund reached up, adjusting his crown before continuing on. "Slavery continues in the far west, just inside the border. To my understanding, the situation is far worse than I could have ever come to imagine."
"You are suggesting that our own people would willingly disobey and betray us?" An advisor to his laughed shortly. "You have lost your head, King Edmund. We searched the land when you passed the law; there were no remains of any slavery."
"The law was passed five years ago, time has passed. New towns have been founded." His main advisor fixed the other with an angry expression. "Logically, it is very possible that this situation came into being several years ago and we have looked over it."
"This cannot be true." An older man whispered.
Edmund took a large breath. "I'm afraid it is, my friend, I'm afraid it is."
"You have no evidence!" One shouted.
"A witness has told me of this. I put my trust in my people."
"You trust too easily!" They hummed in agreement and Edmund sat down, slumping forward in his chair.
"Silence!" Susan raised her right hand and the room fell silent again. "There will be no chaos, just order."
"King Edmund, if I may be so kind to speak, couldn't they be foreign travelers that have founded a town on our land, unaware of our laws?" The one that had spoke was young, younger than Edmund himself, and nervous.
"Do not defend the traitors of our land!" The older one crackled, his fiery temper rising.
"They are not traitors! Criminals maybe, but not traitors!"
"They have gone against our own Just King, who was appointed by Aslan himself. Thus they are traitors of Aslan! They are not worthy of being defended!"
"Are you calling our own king unworthy?"
The room fell silent, the man gasping as he came to realization on what he had said. Susan shut her eyes, reaching to place her hand over Edmund's, who had gone still. He moved his hand away, pushing his fingers into his temple. His eyes saw red, his heart felt pain, and his blood ran cold.
"Edmund…" Susan whispered, her voice broken as well.
Another moment of silence passed before the young man lurched forward, banging his knee on the table. "My king, I am deeply sor-"
"Quiet now, we have strayed from topic." Edmund stood again. "How will we resolve this issue? That is the original question."
"War?" The young one whispered.
"No, no, no. War is no way to solve the matters of a sinful heart." He glanced towards his main advisor. "I will journey west and discuss the matter with them."
"Out of question." Susan shook her head, hair falling over her shoulder. "Far too dangerous."
"I am a fine swordsman, I can defend myself."
"No doubt you are skilled, but there are more of them than there are of you." The wisest spoke.
"Send Aliken."
Edmund shuddered. His look-alike was not exactly a good decoy for him. Sure, they shared the same hair color, skin tone, and eyes, but their build couldn't be more different. Aliken's frame was thin and bony; no muscle in his arms or legs, he stood four inches shorter than Edmund and his voice had yet to hit puberty. Overall, Edmund did not think his look-like was anything like him. Oh, did he fail to mention that Aliken was obnoxious? He never stopped talking, and if he did it was only to do some violent body movement (he labeled this movement "dancing") that made the man look like he was mental…or having seizures.
"I would like to do this myself." He spoke after a shuddering minute.
"We cannot let you, your Majesty."
His hand curled into a fist and he raised his eyes to lock onto the oldest advisor. "You have no authority over me. I am king."
"Edmund." Susan scolded.
"We are advisors of the Table of the Lion. We have authority."
"I take my leave tomorrow, with or without your consent." He turned his back away, his boots clicking together as he moved towards the door. "Meeting closed."
"Edmund, stop." Susan stood, her hand extending towards him. "Please, just listen to us."
"How can you expect me to stay behind and let another man resolve the situation when my people are dying? Dying, Susan!" He whispered.
"Our people, Edmund. Our people are dying." She turned to look at Tumnus, who had entered through the backdoor. "Tumnus and I have conjured up a plan. Please, listen to it."
He looked at her hand, the smooth skin that stretched over long fingers. Upon her left ring finger, she wore a silver ring. Engraved in the silver were the words 'family: J.S.E.R.'. The same ring clung to his finger and he twisted it in his hand. "Alright."
Fine silks were replaced with black cotton, a golden crown with a black hood, Rhindon with a simple army sword, and a title with a commoner's name.
James, the bodyguard of High King Edmund the Just. Edmund despised it.
How do you take the name 'Edmund' and twist it into 'James'? What had Susan been thinking when she had come up with his decoy name?
"Aliken, please stand straight." Susan sounded exasperated. "No, no, shoulder's back. Like a king!"
Edmund rolled his eyes, shifting his position so he sat comfortably upon the horse's back. Philip turned to look at him from his position up front. Edmund just smirked, mouthing 'good luck' to his friend and turning his attention to the horse he currently sat on. A dumb non-talking horse with a coal black coat, just like the other bodyguard's horse, named Cobalt. He missed Philip, his loyal steed, but unfortunately Aliken, his decoy, was riding him.
He had to to pull this off. It was all quite clever, really. Edmund was to go as one of Aliken's two bodyguards, and investigate behind the scenes while Aliken pretended to be him. Unfortunately, Aliken wasn't cooperating.
The boy couldn't even stand right.
"Edmund, are you ready?" Susan whispered, gently laying her hand against his shoulder.
"Yes." He bent down, gently placing a swift kiss upon the top of her hair. "Be good, my Queen."
"You too, my brother, stay safe." She pulled away, smiling up at him.
He said no more, but turned his horse away and directed his decoy forward. He took up the flank of Philip, side by side with the other bodyguard. The Narnian flags, strapped to the saddle and whipping around in the wind, rose high above their heads.
(Peter's POV)
The sun was much too hot, the air much too humid, and the water too scarce. Blood dripped from chapped lips, throats stung with dehydration, and hands bled with blisters. We did not complain, we couldn't. Our backs ached, and our vision swam, but we said nothing.
"Aslan, help us!" Women cried, clinging their children to their chests. "Deliver us, please!"
"Silentium,famulus!" A crackle of a whip, a woman falls silent.
The sun beat down, burning the flesh off our backs. Sweat ran down the side of our foreheads, mixing in with the tears that flowed.
"Traho , mancipium! Traho! Vos spurcamen!"
We heaved forward, pulling the taught lines over our back. The large wall came to stand behind us. While we waited for the others to ground the wall into place, the we stood, hands rubbing raw from the rope.
I pulled back slightly, pulling more of the line towards me to take pressure off the old man behind me. My biceps ached, and I bit my lip to keep from crying from the pain in my blistered hands.
"Traho!"
One spit on me, and yet, I did not fight. Why would I fight them? What was the point of fighting something only to receive more punishment? Besides, I was the half-breed. The most despicable of slaves. My eyes and hair were fair, a clear blue and light yellow, like that of an Archenlander, my father was too blame, while my skin was gold like that of a Calormen, my mother to blame. Half-breed, a mutt. Racist.
My sister's skin was fair, like that of an Archenlander, and her eyes dark like a Calormen. Both of us were sold into slavery for our appearance, for our blood. They had taken my father too, leaving me the man of the house for several years before they taken me. I was only ten when I had arrived here, and yet I felt like I had been here since birth.
A sudden commotion flew throughout the camp. People gasped and pointed towards the horizon, smiles stretching on their faces for the first time in decades. I turned, wiping my sweat-matted hair from my face, and shading my eyes with my hand.
Flags. That's all I saw. Red and gold flags with a design embroidered in silver. A lion, it looked to be. Aslan.
"Rex! Rex of Narnia! Planto via pro rex!"
Slaves fell to their knees as the horses slowed to a canter, then a trot. The king himself was hidden from view by two of his front guards. I did not move as the Narnian ruler came to a halt in front of a slave master a few feet away from me. I had never seen the legendary ruler before, only heard stories. I watched as the slave master turned angry before calming and explaining something. The king nodded and the slave master smiled a yellow-toothed smile.
The slave master suddenly turned to me, gesturing widely. "Vos! Dimidium-semino, adveho hic! Iam!"
I frowned when I heard the language, but nodded and jogged to where he stood. I bowed when I reached the slave master, my eyes never raising to meet the king's. It was disrespectful for a man of my status to meet a king's eyes, let alone speak to him.
"Take suus equus ut stabilis" The man hissed, turning his attention back to the king. "Exspectata, meus senior. Nos es laetus vos have adeo saluto. Meus vernula mos take vestri equus ut vos may epulor nobis."
The king looked confused, and I hid a smirk. No one really ever knew what the slave masters said, their language a mix of several. Only after eight years, did I finally learn their language and still my tongue felt foreign to it.
"Gratias ago vos sir. Meus Rex rgis quod ego mos laetus suo vos parumper epulum gratia confero policies nostri pax. Ego mos, vero, tutela pro meus own equus. Gratias ago vos."
I stopped in surprise, the king knew our language? Yet, upon listening to him, I came to realize it was not the king, but his guard. I glanced past the king and to the royal servant. His eyes were trained on the slave master's, but they flickered to mine and he offered a smile. I looked away, ashamed of my status. Though the man was a servant, he was not a slave and therefore I was not to communicate with him.
"Supervacuus, bonus vir. Meus vernula mos take tutela of is." My master slowly reached forward, gently holding the reins of the king's horse.
The two guards in front swung down first, coming to stand on either side of the king's horse. When the king's feet finally touched the ground, I came to realize that the man was not as tall as I had imagined, or as old. He was several inches shorter than me, four or five by estimate, and his face looked to be around the age of fifteen. I was rather surprised by this, but said nothing of it.
The master gave a harsh shove to my shoulder and I quickly grabbed the lead of the horse, leading it towards the stables. I could hear footsteps behind me, then suddenly beside me. I turned my head to glance at the man, noticing that he was around the same height, and like no other man I had seen before. His eyes and hair were dark, coal-black you could say, but his skin was the fairest I had ever come to see. Half-breed, as well?
He turned to smile at me again, his intense gaze resting on mine. I turned away quickly, guilt rising into my chest. It was disrespectful.
He is not at your level, you must not speak to him.
"Quis est vestri nomen?" Of course, he had to go and talk to me. I did not reply, but instead continued forward. He repeated himself once more, and still I did not answer. The air between us became thick with tension and I heard a shaky breath emerge from his lips. "Commodo compello mihi , Ego sum of vestri campester. Vel summitto, nonnullus vires narrow."
Lower? Than me? The only things worse than a half-breed slave were criminals. Not everyday thieving criminals, but traitors. My mother once told me that traitors were the worst of the people on earth, and that they had a specific place reserved for them in the Witch's Country.
"Peter." I mumbled, barely audible.
"Ed-James." He stumbled over his words, but said nothing more. "James."
"Iucunditas" I mumbled.
"Do you speak other languages?' He asked slowly, his tongue dragging out over each word, as if I wouldn't understand it.
"Yes." I found the latch to open the stable door, leading the horse inside and tying him to the stall door.
He made a hum of approval before he led the other horse to the other stall door. "You are a slave?"
I rolled my eyes, but did not turn to face him. "Yes."
He said nothing for a moment, completely run out of ideas. I heard him shift around for a brush, and I half-expected him to ask me for one, but I never heard his request. I turned to glance at him and was slightly shocked when I saw him running a curry comb over the horse's silk coat. He turned to look at me, offering me that tight-lipped smirk.
I said nothing and turned back to finish brushing the king's horse. When I had finished brushing his horse, I moved to the second. Only two more to go. My hand's brushed over the glistening coat and I closed my eyes, imagining I was back home, ten years ago, brushing the talking horse I had owned.
My dreams were interrupted by the clicking of boots, and I looked to my right to see the young man working beside me. He did not say anything, but continued brushing in silence. I appreciated the silence; I had grown use to it over the years. Most slaves were far too tired and sick to speak, let alone hold a conversation.
I wanted to say something to him, but what was there to say? I was not use to conversing with other human beings.
"Do you live at the castle? With the Kings and Queens?" I mumbled after a moment of thinking.
He smiled gently, almost sadly. "With the king and queen, yes. Cair Paravel."
"Is it nice there?" I moved to the other side of the horse, my voice staying low the entire time.
"Oh yes, very beautiful. It is like living in a dream." His voice was distant, eyes staring off into something I couldn't see. "A beautiful country, no doubt."
"Are you happy there?"
"Yes, everyone is. You would be too."
"I'm sure I would." I whispered, my heart clenching painfully in my chest. I would never know what it was like to roam the halls of Cair Paravel. I was destined to a life of starvation, dehydration, and sunburn.
"You'll see it one day." He moved onto the third horse, our backs facing each other.
I did not say anything at first, my voice lost at his sudden promise. "I will not."
"No, I ha-my king has come to free you. You will see it, I promise."
I dropped my brush against the stable door, leading the horse into the stall and bolting the door behind him. I turned briskly away, my heart pulsating rapidly. "You give false hope."
"Peter." My name sounded foreign on his lips. "I know that you have faced disappointment before, but I can assure you that you may hold onto the hope we bring. We will succeed."
"You speak out of your place." I mumbled. He was acting like he was the king. I would not have him spreading false hope just to go and crush the hearts of the young ones.
"No."
I waited for him to elaborate, but he did not and instead turned to face the horse again, his hands working over the dark coat. I stared at him for a moment longer, my hands clenching and unclenching by my sides. He frustrated me and I could not figure out why.
A flash of metal caught my attention and I narrowed my eyes at his hip. A sword, a real Narnian sword. On the other hip, hung another. Twin blades, a skilled swordsman.
"You are a swordsman." I stated, my voice dropping to monotone.
"Yes."
I took a deep breath, resting against a stall door. I saw him turn to face me before placing the final horse into its own stall and setting the brush down. He approached me, almost cautiously. I narrowed my eyes at him, taking a step back.
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
He raised his hands as if to show his innocence. "Why are you so quick to judge me? I want nothing, but to help you."
My eyes saddened and I turned away, crossing my arms in front of my chest, a nervous habit of mine. "We are not treated nicely, not unless something is wanted of us."
"I want nothing of you. I just want your trust."
I looked at his eyes, noticing the way they did not look away from mine. He was the first to not be disgusted by me. I shook my head. "You cannot have my trust."
He sighed, and then dropped his hands. "Understood and with this, I take my leave."
I turned to look at his back, which was turned to me. He faced me once more, before taking his hands to his throat and unlinking a chain.
"Show this to everyone you know." He took my hand and I tensed. Something cold was pressed into my hands and he took his hand away before I could push him away myself. "Show them there is hope."
His back turned to me and I watched him leave before I unclasped my hand. There in the center of my palm, was a medallion. Engraved in it was the face of the Great Lion, his mouth opened in a permanent roar. Along the edges of the gold was a sentence.
Hope and forgiveness are found in the mouth of the Lion.
A/N: Should I continue?