EXSEQUI


Peter paces the cliff overlooking the soon-to-be battle plain. The Telmarine camp lies just beyond sight, hidden by the silent trees. It has been too long. Too long since Peter had sent his brother to the Telmarine camp with only Glenstorm and Wimbleweather for protection. From the look on Caspian's face when the decision to send them had been made, Peter knows he has taken a risk. Miraz has a sense of honor…but only when it suits him.

"King Peter," Caspian's voice breaks through his thoughts and the High King turns to the young man who stands next to him. The future king of Narnia is looking through a scope, lens trained on the trees. "There is movement near the camp."

This is what they have been waiting for: the return of their heralds with Miraz's answer to the challenge for single combat in place of pitched battle. Peter takes the proffered glass and looks out across the field. He frowns. There is more movement then there should be for just Edmund's return, even with a giant. Peter's stomach sinks as he realizes what he is seeing. Not the return of the heralds: it is the marshalling of the Telmarine army.

A sudden terror seizes Peter as he desperately searches the emerging lines of Telmarines. Where are Edmund and the other heralds? Surely they have escaped. They have to escape; Edmund has to escape and return to the How and fight by Peter's side, victorious together as so many times before. Edmund has to escape and…be alive.

The scope almost does not catch it, but the flash of red amongst a sea of blue captures Peter's eye. He nearly stops breathing as he focuses on the three figures in front of the Telmarine army. Miraz rides forward, clad in shining gold armor, his features hidden behind a cruel mask. And in front of Miraz…Peter's throat tightens. A Telmarine soldier pushes a bound and proudly defiant Edmund before him. The young Narnian stands tall, more noble with his recently battered face than Miraz in all his gold.

"No," Peter whispers, his hands tightening around the scope as the Telmarine army stops at Miraz's command, the soldier in front of the Usurper forcing Edmund to his knees in full view of those at the How. Though only Peter has a glass, Caspian and the others who have come to stand beside the High King can just make out the figures in the distance, can understand the terrible, inevitable future.

Peter faintly hears Susan ordering Lucy back inside, but it does not matter to him. Not while he is seeing his brother bend his head towards the How in recognition and in duty, as if knowing his High King is watching. There is no fear on Edmund's face, just a calm acceptance. His mouth moves, and Peter knows that Edmund is reciting the Litany of the Lion, putting his fate in the paws of the King above all Kings and trusting in His grace.

Peter finds himself mouthing the words along with his brother as the Telmarine soldier unsheathes his sword. Then, before Peter can even blink, his brother's body slumps to the ground and the Telmarine is lifting the head by its familiar, dark hair. Peter hears Susan sobbing and he hears screaming. It is only when Caspian pulls him back from the ledge that Peter realizes that the screams are coming from his own throat.

.

Over the past year, Henry Merton and Robert Thomsen, though in two different forms, had bonded somewhat over dealing with the Pevensie brothers. Henry, of course, had to deal with the elder waking up with bone-chilling screams. Thomsen, though, insisted that he had it worse, because the younger Pevensie - dark, silent Edmund - had inexplicably gained a propensity for sleepwalking. The boys in his dormitory had learned the hard way not to try to wake Edmund up, after he nearly broke Morris's neck with his bare hands before fully waking. Henry had shivered when Thomsen had related that story, for it only increased the uneasiness he felt around Edmund.

Having known the Pevensies for years, Henry used to view the dark-haired boy as an annoying pest, always up to no good and picking on smaller children. Then came that strange autumn where Peter returned to school in a daze that soon turned into a sullenness that seemed so at odds with Pevensie's character. And Edmund, annoying little Edmund, had returned with an air of quiet wisdom and eyes that knew too much, saw too much. If Peter had changed completely, Edmund had changed radically, now someone who would fight to protect his brother and others from the bullies and tormenters who used to be his friends. Henry had seen him hold his own against a boy twice his size, and, together, the two Pevensies had been able to beat anyone they went up against. Peter, Henry could understand being a fighter, and a good one at that. Edmund, to put it frankly, just scared him.

Which was why Henry was feeling somewhat nervous as he stood on the school green, eyes searching for the younger Pevensie boy. He spotted the boy walking towards the dormitory, his posture straight and proud, and his eyes ever watchful of his surroundings. Steeling himself, Henry darted over, calling Edmund's name. The younger Pevensie stopped in his tracks, frowning as Henry pulled up beside him. "Merton?"

Henry took a deep breath. "I need to talk to you. About Peven…about your brother."

Dark eyes narrowed and Henry forced himself not to step backwards, reminded himself that he was a full three years older than Edmund and should not be intimidated. Edmund shifted so that he was fully facing Henry. "What's wrong?"

Henry shifted his feet. "He's been having those nightmares again."

A wave of sadness passed over Edmund's face, but he quickly schooled his features. "I'm not really surprised he's been having some nightmares now."

As usual, Henry noted that Edmund remained vague about what exactly caused the nightmares. "It's worse, though. Worse than last autumn, even. He's been waking up nearly every night. And before, he only woke up screaming some of the time; now we can basically expect to be woken up." There was no change in Edmund's expression, so he continued to expand on his worry. "He's not getting any sleep either. He wakes up in the middle of the night and then just reads or stands by the window until morning. Edmund…" There, a flicker of surprise at Henry using his given name so seriously. "I think he's making himself sick. He will make himself sick if this keeps up. And he won't listen to me or tell me what's wrong, won't talk to anyone, so I figured it was best just to tell you and hope you can knock some sense into him."

Finished with his little speech, Henry stood back, observing Edmund's reaction. The boy's dark eyes were flashing with something, some anger or worry or fear. When Henry saw him purse his lips tightly together, he knew he had gotten through. Edmund straightened his shoulders. "Thank you, Merton, for bringing this to my attention. Don't worry, I'll look after Peter." Turning, the younger boy walked away, and Henry found himself feeling rather sorry for Pevensie, who would very soon be dealing with a very displeased little brother.

Edmund stormed away, glowering at anyone in his path. He knew something was wrong with Peter, he knew it, but the idiot had brushed off his concern and insisted he was alright. Last time I listen to him. I should know better by now than to take Peter's word that he's doing fine. Of course, Edmund himself had been sleepwalking far more than usual, but the Just King was conveniently ignoring his own problems as he continued to mentally yell at his brother.

The silent berating continued until Edmund came to the school rugby pitch where the team was holding a practice game. He watched, glowering, as his brother ran with the ball, heading down field to attempt to score a try. Unfortunately, the rather burly player following Peter managed to bring him down in a rough tackle. Edmund's frown deepened as Peter remained on the ground, despite having released the ball. Seeing the same, the coach stopped the play and jogged onto the pitch toward his downed player.

It was no surprise to anyone that Edmund beat him there, already checking Peter for injuries before the coach was halfway down the field. "Shove off, Ed," mumbled Peter groggily, swatting at Edmund's hands.

Edmund ignored him, not knowing if he should be relieved that he had not found any broken bones to explain the lack of movement. "Peter, just tell me what's wrong."

"Head hurts. And tired." Peter scowled into the grass, not even turning to look at his brother who was now poking his head, searching for bruises or bumps. "Just give me a moment."

Feeling Peter's forehead, Edmund sighed. He was burning up. "No moments. I'm taking you to the nurse."

"Fever?"

Edmund turned, and looked up at the coach. Mr. Henson was a rather kind, if gruff, man, who understood well that the Pevensie boys took care of each other and there wasn't any use trying to get in their way. Edmund appreciated that about the man. "Yes, sir. Fever and exhaustion and probably a cold as well." Mr. Henson knew better, from previous experience, than to offer to take the older Pevensie to the nurse. Instead, he helped Edmund get Peter to his feet and sent them on their way before starting up the practice again.

Neither Pevensie spoke on the way to the infirmary: Peter was feeling too awful, and Edmund knew that Peter's head would not appreciate a lot of talking. When they reached the infirmary, Edmund grimaced. He did not know this nurse, an older, stern-looking woman, and he knew he would likely have to fight to keep her from throwing him out while she examined Peter. And he certainly was not going to leave his sick brother by himself.

As expected, the nurse, Mrs. Willows, was not happy to have a student disobey her order to leave. She only gave in to Edmund's stubbornness when it became clear that she would not be able to examine her patient unless she relented. Edmund's victory was short-lived, however. Mrs. Willows did a basic, cursory examination and then dosed Peter with a sedative that knocked him straight out, before Edmund could even move to stop her.

Oh, he was going to have words with her about that! Lucy would have been appalled that the nurse had not done a more thorough examination, but Edmund was more irate that she gave Peter a sedative, without even bothering to ask if he wanted one! While Edmund was sure Peter could use the sleep, he also knew that Peter's nightmares were usually only strengthened by the use of tranquilizing drugs; and Peter certainly did not need that right now, if Merton's concerns were even close to valid. Edmund only hoped that, if the nightmares started, he would be able to wake his older brother.


exsequi: to execute, to carry out, to suffer, to endure