A/N: Right, so this is my first fanfiction, and I have yet to read the books about Narnia so if you find any inaccurate trivia, feel free to send me a message (the same goes for potential mistakes in grammar or language). I have all of you amazing writers to thank for creating this piece, Tonzura123, Sentimental Star and TikiTyler9, just to mention a few. Thank you for (unconsciously) inspiring me and helping me in finding the courage to post this story.

Lastly, I hope you enjoy it, and if not... well, that's okay too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any of the characters, obviously.

.::. A War Without Weapons .::.

~Prologue~

It started on their way back.

First there were only small signs, easy to miss if you didn't know what to look for or if you just didn't pay close enough attention: the latter of which Peter always did. He noticed almost immediately the slow growing shadow that spread over his brother's dark eyes, making them change from their normal alertness to an alarming sort of lethargy. He started to draw back from the rest of the group – not often enough for it to be too apparent, but just slightly more than usual – and his characteristic smirk and snappy remarks grew fewer and fewer by each day.

Although Peter hadn't thought too much of it at the time, after all, they were all tired from their journey and his brother had always been quite a solitary person – the former which was exactly what Edmund had said when his somewhat worried brother had asked about his obvious lack of energy – but he would later recognize those to be the first signs, small as they were, and blame himself for not reacting to them sooner.

On their third day heading back, they were attacked by a small pack of Fells, former devotees of the White Witch, and by then, his little brother had begun to give in to severe coughing fits.

The fight couldn't have lasted longer than a few minutes, and hadn't been particularly tough either, but it was well too apparent that it had left Edmund exhausted, so much so, in fact, that he almost fell out of the saddle the following day. He didn't though, just barely hanging on and in the last minute pulling himself back up, but Peter had seen it, and that was when the alarm bells seriously began to chime in his head.

They made camp earlier than usual that day, simply because Peter feared that Edmund might actually fall off his horse and hurt himself if they didn't. He never admitted that was the reason behind them stopping, of course, but he'd felt his brother's disapproving scowl burning in his back.

"You're being ridiculous" they younger one had stated a while later, when they were unsaddling their horses. "We should keep moving. There are still a few hours of light before darkness falls."

"No, we should rest" Peter had said, cautiously eyeing his brother. "If we were to be attacked again, we wouldn't want to be too fatigued to stay on horseback, would we?"

Edmund had blushed at that, but was, as always, unrelenting.

"Peter, I'm fine" he'd stubbornly insisted. "And the odds of us encountering any more of Her strays this close to Cair Paravel are virtually nonexistent. Besides, we're only a couple of days ride from home, the sooner we arrive, the sooner we can all rest in our proper beds." He'd sounded so calm and reassuring, his words practical and to the point, and for a moment he seemed almost back to his old, pigheaded self… had it not been for the slight hoarseness in his voice and the way that he stood, lazily leaning against his horse's side. When nightfall came, the wicked coughing of a fifthteen year old was all that broke the otherwise silent campsite.

Needless to say, Peter hadn't been the least convinced that he was "fine".

When they arrived at Cair Paravel two days later, Edmund had been so overrun with fever and his body trembling so badly from the harsh coughing, that he had to be carried to his chambers.

Peter had stormed through the hallway to the girls' sleeping quarters in desperate search for Lucy, or, more accurately, her cordial, but only found Susan, who seemed to be on her way down to greet them, dressed in a long lilac dress and an equally long coat to protect her from the wind.

"Where's Lucy!" Peter had asked, his voice coated in ill-concealed worry and fear. In two quick steps he was in front of Susan, shaking her by the shoulders. "Where is she!"

"Peter- Peter, calm down!" his sister had said, startled. "She still hasn't returned from Archenland. She won't for a few days."

She spoke carefully, slowly, as if trying not to frighten him.

Peter just stared dumbly at her.

"She's in Archenland…" he finally repeated and released his sister from his grip. Panic struck at his very core as the words sunk in. She was in Archenland!

"Yes, in Archenland. You sent her there to see if she could help Countess Luna with the illness that is spreading among her people, remember?" Susan rubbed her arms where Peter's hands had just been present and eyed him worriedly. "What is so urgent that you need Lucy anywa-…"

Her eyes widened as realization struck; there was only one thing, one thing that could make her older brother act this erratically, one thing that could make him lose his head so completely and forget all about composure and self-control.

When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled, but the alarm rang through all the same.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where is Edmund?"

{…}

"It's probably just a cold…"Susan said meekly less than a minute later, when they both stood at Edmund's bed, clasping each other's hands and helplessly watching their little brother gasp for air while his body jerked in never-ending spasms.

That was three days ago.

A/N: Good/Bad? Boring/Intriguing? Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

/Linguam