I'm alive! ...And have been working on this fic behind your backs. Hee. Sorry. Well, anyways, since Boo and Kat won't let me burn this like I wanted to, I decided to put it up and get it out of my document manager. I swear, I'm the only one who's even DREAMT of an Ed/Luna story. oo; I think this is the only one to ever live.
Anyways, this is a story about Edmund and Luna. Luna, for those of you who don't know, is a faerie -- the Daughter of Aslan. It helps to read her story, which was NOT written by me, but by Kitty17794. And while I'm on that subject, I have no rights to her, nor Edmund. Luna is owned by Kitty; Edmund is owned by C.S. Lewis.
Yay. Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you can finally read. Please, no flaming.
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There was a festive mood filling the Cair.
Everyone was smiling. Everyone was wishing them well. They were congratulating her, congratulating Peter. It was a flurry. And for once, the preparations everyone was bustling to have done were not mesmerizing Luna as she had imagined them to.
After all, she had betrothed herself to the High King. Wasn't that a celebration in itself? It should have been.
And yet...
She didn't think she was ever alone in feeling outside the festivities. No...no, she knew all along she wasn't. Edmund never seemed truly happy. In fact, he seemed unsettled. Troubled. Luna knew love had never been his game, and it confused him in ways she also found dumbfounding...and yet, here she was. Fated to be bride of Peter Pevensie. How odd love truly is.
She actually didn't think she realized what she had done until the night after he proposed. It was so offsetting...and so unexpected...the only thing she could manage in her stupor was a stuttered 'yes'. But looking back, it seemed as though there was little else she could have said. After all, he was the High King. Saying no to him...was almost inconsiderate from her position. It was just as it should have been.
They...were getting married.
Luna could never get it out of her mind as to how odd the notion sounded. She had always loved Peter. In fact, she had always loved all of the Pevensies; only she had always pictured her love for them to be as the love they held for each other. They were as much as her siblings as they were her responsibility. Yet...Peter and herself were becoming more, it seemed.
Susan and Lucy found the news joyous, and immediately took to the idea. They would talk to her for hours, and they would giggle and laugh as all girls do, talking and setting preparations for the wedding. Susan's mind, Luna soon found, was full of creative and wondrous things, and Lucy's just as well. Yet...even though it was about Luna herself...She soon grew bored of it. Bored of her own wedding!
Perhaps it was because she felt unready. This was so new to her, and she had no idea how to react. She had never been much of a true girl, like some would imagine a girl to be, and took to love with unsure steps. Peter used to be what she considered her closest friend...and yet now, when she is around him she feels uncomfortable. She never used to.
Luna just hoped she would grow used to it soon.
--
"Oh, Luna, aren't you quite excited!?"
The fae had to force a small smile, glancing in Lucy's direction. "I assure you, Lucy, I am."
This time it was Susan's turn to swoon. "There shall be a ball for you; a feast!" Her eyes glittered. "Whom shall we invite? All of Narnia, of course -- the whole country will celebrate for their King's marriage -- but what about Archenland? Shall the Royal Court be invited as well?"
Luna had to shake her head, holding it within her hands as she reclined back in the chair she sat upon. "Whatever you think, Susan," she replied wearily. This was so stressful, talking over such unimportant matter-- Wait. No! This was supposed to be terribly important! This was her marriage with the handsome King of Narnia. Yes, he was. She would believe it...she would she would she would--
She glanced up, somewhat sighing. Oh this was so confusing. Too confusing. Oh so--
She looked up a bit more, someone else catching her attention. Someone walking beyond the pillars of the Courtyard.
It was Edmund.
A fluttering sensation only seemed to bring her nausea as their eyes locked. Something was dreadfully wrong. There was a sadness in his eyes. He needed to speak with--
"Luna?" Her attention was withdrawn from the young King, glancing back at Lucy.
"I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that, Lu."
"I asked if you wanted lilies or roses--"
"Er, actually, can we talk later?" She stood, suddenly uncomfortable and in desire to leave. "I-I need to go."
"But the wedding is tomorrow!" cried Lucy. "We need to know what flowers--"
Luna shook her head. "Why don't you surprise me?"
Before the Queen could reply, Luna left the Courtyard, searching for the King. Nothing. Looking up and down the hall, she searched for any trace, any whisper, walking down a little ways. "Edmund!" she cried softly, waiting, listening for a reply.
Her call went unanswered.
He was gone.
--
Luna found herself wandering the Western Courtyard that night.
As a Daughter of the Moon, she found her origins comforting when she felt empty, for she did. The small wafts of moonlight brought her happiness, even as it waned. She knew she should be resting. She knew she should be prepared for what tomorrow would bring.
The very words came to her. They were from a different being, a different tone, and yet when they reached her, she could not be startled, no matter how sudden they came. She turned, looking up at Edmund. There was still that air of sadness that distracted her so.
They sat on a corner bench. He looked at her. She looked at him.
She asked him what was wrong.
He remained silent, looking away. She prodded him gently.
"I'm no fool, Ed," she whispered.
He moaned softly. "It's not right...it's too late..." He turned away. He was trembling. Quietly, she stroked his hair, waiting, watching, gently coaxing the truth from him.
It was when he finally put his lips to hers, did she realize.
Her emptiness was gone. This was the ecstasy. This was the fullness.
Her love had been mispaired; now, it was soothed.
He held her close when he kissed her, full and sweet, fondling her hair, pulling her closer, resting his hands on her hips. And yet his hands never seemed to stop moving. An electric sort of shock seemed to run through her, leaving her shaken, almost senseless. She felt dizzy, falling against him, ruffling his hair, exploring his back--
She pulled away slightly, gasping for air. No. No no no. No no no no no. "Edmund, w-we can't. If P-Peter--"
His face contorted. "Who cares about Peter?!" he cried. His voice was harsh, strangled. The tears streamed. "Peter's not here!"
He pulled her to him again, meeting her lips, moaning softly, holding her so close, so close, and never letting go. She cried gently, letting him kiss her, letting him embrace her, because the fact of the matter was, she did not care about Peter. It was so horrid, so dreadful, as the truth can be. But it was the truth, and so she let him be, crying and kissing so softly, so sweetly, it only made her cry all the more.
This could not be. Tomorrow, the boundaries would be set. It would end as quietly as it had begun.
"I love you, Lady Luna Braveheart," he whispered in her ear. "I will always regret not telling you earlier." And she cried once more at his words, feeling so very lost, so confused over why she had blindly bound herself to Peter. She rested her forehead upon his shoulder, her long platinum falling over her shoulders and providing a curtain from the outside world. It was just them in that small, quiet moment. Just Luna and Edmund. Edmund and Luna.
"I have to go." His words shattered her reverie. She looked up in despair. He swallowed thickly. "You...were right. I...can't do this. I can't be seen with you." He choked softly. "After all...you're marrying my brother."
"Don't go." Please, don't go.
He shook his head. "I can't do this to Peter. It must end."
She fought back down a sob, letting it die in her throat as he allowed one more bliss, brushing her lips gently. "I have to go." She nodded. She knew. She understood.
He was sad once more. Her heart was breaking. She could feel it, tearing itself to pieces, relentless. His hands slipped from hers as he turned from her, pausing only once, before leaving her well alone within the Courtyard.
Luna softly let loose a shuddering sigh. She looked down, her gaze falling to a bed of roses. They were so elegant, withdrawn, timid to bloom fully even though they were past due.
Except one.
One was blackened, dry, it's bud in mid-bloom. She bent down and plucked it. A loose petal broke away, swirling and diving as it fell, before landing quietly upon the ground.
It was dead. Dead.
She fondled it, plucking away dry leaves, turning it over in her hands, watching as a thick brier prodded her fingertip, drawing a thick pearl of dark blood. Such a trecherous beauty. So harmful, but the elegance of the flower helped to sooth the pain. She held the rose close to her chest, breathing softly.
She wanted roses at her wedding.