Disclaimer: Belongs to C.S Lewis, not me, sadly enough. 'cause if it had, Edmund would've been in much, much more action.
This kinda came after I watched Prince Caspian yesterday. This is the first fic I've ever written about anything else than Power Rangers, so deal with the whacked feel of it all. I just scribbled down my idea, and this is the result, so bear with me. Reviews are always helpfull :)
Oh, by the way, this is set from Edmund's perspective, as if you couldn't figure it out.
Things will never be the same again
"Peter..."
"Edmund."
His eyes holds hostility. He never looks at me the same way anymore. His blue eyes that used to hold warmth and gentleness are now cold and emotionless while looking at me. His voice does the same, lacking the usual caring tone. And I just can't figure out what exactly I've done wrong this time.
I mean, sure, I've done alot of mistakes, but after we returned from Narnia the first time, Peter once again turned to the big brother I'd always looked up too. And now, that we're back from the majestic land once again, it's like that's all forgotten, and he's gone back to hate me.
I feel so guilty, for not living up to what he wants. Surely I can do it if I really want to, but...it's just to hard for me.
My eyes goes downcast. "Peter, why do you hate me? What have I done to make you feel this way?"
He sighs, and I look up. Peter's shoulders slumps, and he look tired and worn out. "Edmund, Ed...I don't hate you." he says.
"Not really." he adds a few seconds later. He looks thoughtfull. "I'm just a bit tired. We've just returned from the place we've always called home."
He shrugs, then places his hand on my shoulder. "You are my little brother," he says. "And nothing can change that. I'm sorry I've been so hostile, but you must understand that it's not easy." I nod wordlessly.
My eyes sparkle with tears all of a sudden, surprising both me and Peter. He pulls me into a hug, warm and comfortable, but somehow...
Somehow I just know that things will never be the same again.
Ah, I know what you're thinking now: "She wrote this piece of crap just to piss me of or something?"
Well, if you didn't like it, then that's what you think. I don't particularily care.