After a Dream
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Pevensies are the property of CS Lewis, his estate, and possibly Disney.
Summary: The Pevensies will never forget Narnia.
She hasn't forgotten.
Narnia is there – a delicious treasure, a treat, that sometimes gets taken out, only to be put back into the darkness where it belongs – where it can do no harm. Susan paints her face, lines her lips and pretends not to notice Peter's sad expression and Lucy's furious one. She pretends to care about the silly parties and the sillier girls as they fawn over the officers that flirt with them all – and yes, perhaps Susan even enjoys it a little, because at least it means she is alive. She is doing what Aslan wanted, despite what her siblings say.
Edmund understands it. He doesn't get cross with her, like Peter does. He doesn't cry like Lucy does, but he listens, and he talks, and sometimes in the evening, they remember together. When they are safe from Peter's eyes, and Lucy's retribution, they talk about everything, every last, precious memory.
Susan might not have ever agreed with Edmund's choices – but she knows that sometimes the heart wants what it wants, and there is no changing that. She listens to him talk about Cal; holds him when it seems like he might crumble – but always, always Edmund straightens up, pulls himself together before the breaking point… and selfishly, Susan is grateful for it.
She talks of the General. Of their friends and their allies and their wars, but mostly the General. Perhaps this is why she understands Edmund's furious devotion to something that she still can't quite see her way through. She was too afraid to do anything but keep hers silent- at least Narnia's Just was brave enough to speak, to face the fear.
"Sometimes I think they might never forgive me," She murmurs one night, cradling a cup of warm wine. Edmund winces in sympathy. He felt like that once, too.
"… they will, Su. They just..." he swallows. "It's easier to blame someone else for being able to do something you cannot, than to understand why they do it." By Aslan, this he knows. How many times did he jeer at Peter, put him down and try to make him feel inadequate as their brother tried so desperately to fill the shoes of a father who – now Edmund knows more – would have never been half the father Peter was? How many times did he try to knock the High King's feet from under him, and how willing was he to sell his only brother to Jadis? Remembering that old, selfish version of himself still makes Edmund feel sick. He takes another sip of the wine, then sets it aside.
Susan is watching him thoughtfully. "...I am sorry, you know," she murmurs quietly. Edmund looks up in surprise, not quite sure what she has to be sorry for. "… that I wasn't there. When you – when you lost Cal."
The sound of his name is like a hot, white pain. Edmund swallows against the tightness in his throat and tries not to remember that bright morning – he'd been such a fool to think that Aslan would have allowed something that England found abhorrent. He takes a breath. "… you're here now, Su. That's all that matters." His vision is blurring a bit and he hastily blinks any sign of emotion away.
"Wait." Susan's hand is upon his, and Edmund glances up at her, vulnerable, surprised. "I never… explained myself before." She bites her lip. "I didn't disapprove. Not as such, at least. I… know what it is like to have something in one world, then not have it in another. I did not want you to feel that. Especially something like this."
Edmund nods quietly. It takes a moment before he confesses, "I sometimes wonder… if Aslan had Calean killed to prove that he did not approve." Susan gasps a bit and shakes her head, but Edmund can't look at her. The fire has his attention – it had been bright the night of their wedding, too. Would Cal still have been alive if he hadn't married him? Edmund isn't sure he will ever truly know the answer.
"We can never know what he truly wanted, Ed." She murmurs, mirroring her brother's thoughts. "But at least you tried." There's a bitter edge to her voice that Edmund is surprised at. He takes a breath and gathers their glasses, glancing at the clock on the wall.
"… Peter and Lu will be home soon from the dance." Changing the topic seems easier than talking about something like this. He knows that Susan had lovers in Narnia – Edmund isn't blind, after all. But he knows that there are things she's unwilling to dig up, and, unlike Peter and Lucy sometimes, he knows when to leave well alone.
Susan gives him a watery smile and drops a kiss to his forehead. "Best of brothers."
Edmund snorts. "Don't let Pete hear you say that." There's a weak chuckle in response and he reaches forward, squeezing his sister's hand. "You know I'm always here, Su." In response, Susan smiles a little and moves over to the nearby piano. It's old, hasn't been tuned in nearly five years, but the keys still tinkle out sound as she presses down on them.
"Come on, Ed." She encourages gently. "It's been an age."
Edmund snorts and rolls his eyes, then goes up to his rooms to find the violin case that the Professor had gifted him their last week in the country.
When Lucy and Peter return home that night, the soft trill of Edmund's violin, coupled with Susan's piano drift through the house. The strain of an old Narnian tango reaches their ears, and they grin at each other, shedding coats and shoes in their hurry to see for themselves.
Edmund's eyes are closed as he plays, and Susan is grinning ear to ear as her hands fly across the keys. Before Peter knows what he is doing, he takes Lucy into his arms and they are dancing, dancing across the small living-room floor, pretending they are back in the Cair. They dance and play till the sun rises, and as the morning creeps over Finchley, Edmund welcomes Aslan's warmth into their home with the gentle hum of a requiem.
Finis.
Author's N: After a Dream is actually the translated title of the piece I imagine Edmund playing at the end. The actual name of the piece is is Apres Une Reve.
