I want to remind you that in Narnia, it is currently autumn/fall, as briefly mentioned in the second chapter
Thank you so much for reviewing :) It makes my day every time.
Warning: the chapter is twice as long as a normal chapter and yet it's still very fast-paced. Hopefully that isn't a problem and sorry if it is!
CHAPTER FOUR
REBEL II
"I'm sooo booored," Edmund groaned, lying upside down on his bed. Susan gave him a skeptical look as she placed the scrolls neatly on his desk. "You're perfectly
fine, Ed! Do stop complaining. You have a whole lot of work to do," she reminded him, indicating the scrolls.
He mumbled unintelligible words. "What's that?" Susan asked, smoothing her long green dress.
"I love my sister," Edmund said sweetly and sarcastically, sitting up straight. Susan eyed the fifteen-year-old boy.
"Remember, Ed, you aren't to leave this room for the next two weeks," she said strictly, walking towards the door. She paused. "There are guards watching you."
She stormed out, the door creaking shut behind her. "'Remember, Ed, you aren't to leave this room,'" Edmund mimicked in a high-pitched voice, fluttering
his eyelashes, and released an irritated sigh, slouching on his bed. "Stupid Peter. Stupid Susan. Stupid Lucy. They all seem to forget I have my rights.
I'm a king too you know!"
"Stop whining and do your job!" Susan yelled from a distance outside his door. "NO!" he hollered back defiantly, scowling at the yellowed parchments
folded on his desk. "I'll get Peter!" Susan threatened. That shut the boy up. Usually when Peter got involved, things got ugly. He grumbled inwardly and got to
his feet, shuffling towards his wooden desk soundlessly. He opened the first scroll, scanning the words. Everything looked blurry and unimportant to him.
He signed his name at the bottom of it, not bothering to recall what the matter was even about.
Next, he thought, opening the second tiredly. This one seemed remarkably short.
As he skimmed the words, he found it very fascinating and restarted it, taking the time to thoroughly read it.
"I, King Edmund the Just, will not cause any more mischief. I'm a royal pain in the rear and need to learn to act
like my kingly brother, High King Peter the Magnificent, who is of that title for a reason. I will not pull any more
pranks and I will learn to behave. I most certainly will not run off, fly off, swim off, dance off, jump off,
skip off, or slither off. Signed:," he read aloud.
Ha-ha-ha, very funny Peter, he thought dryly. Instead of signing his name, he wrote at the bottom 'screw you' and folded it back up with satisfaction.
Peter knew that Edmund usually didn't read half the paper, so he thought he could trick his brother into that. Lucky I read it, Edmund conceived.
The letter sparked an idea, though. Why did Edmund just stay in this room? Sure, there were guards positioned by his door and others patrolling
a few stories down on the ground, but surely there were other ways to escape. Infuriating Peter was Edmund's finest skill, after all.
Then, he had an amazing idea. It may not have been wise, but it was definitely brilliant. He got up and paced towards the door.
He opened it and was instantly halted by the two guards keeping watch. "You are not to go anywhere," they boomed.
"Lucy called up at me that the High King wanted to see me," Edmund folded his arms, telling a very cautious lie. They looked at each other
questioningly. "I think His Majesty would have told us-" one of them began, but Edmund cut them off curtly. "He wants to see me."
Despite his disheveled black hair and the fact that he was still in his royal pajamas, he was still a king, and he was threatening at that. His brooding glare was
infamous. The two guards hesitated. "Go ahead, Your Majesty," they mumbled, bowing. "We must escort you, however."
Edmund cursed to himself, running a hand through his ebony hair. "Of course," he said gaily, grinning through clenched teeth. The smile did not quite reach
his sharp brown eyes, despite all of his practice for uncomfortable situations like these.
They took ahold of his arms. "Watch it!" he barked, pulling away. They looked at him, alarmed. "Sorry," he said in a more even voice.
"I would like for you to remain behind me." They did as told. Edmund remembered the events of last night, when he had snuck away, and how
the guards had roughly handled him after shooting him down. If he had told Peter how they treated him, the older boy would be simply furious
with the guards. Even if Peter was an overbearing oaf sometimes, he could be such a mother hen, especially to Edmund. The thought coaxed
a genuine grin out of the Just King.
As his footsteps echoed through the halls, he grazed his hand over the cold walls, the sunlight pouring through the windows. The curtains almost never
veiled them. Personally, Edmund disliked glass; it reminded him of ice, and ice reminded him of his past. His bedroom window was not made of glass
but was rather a large hole with a low cushioned window-seat, and wooden blinds if he ever wanted to shut it or keep the breeze out.
One time, when the blinds had been up and Lucy was on the window-seat reading a book, he accidentally pushed her too hard and she fell two stories landing on a
bush.
He raced down to see if she was okay, panic consuming him, and she was thankfully fine. He was still screamed at by Susan for the next three hours nonstop.
They reached the throne room, and the eldest guard knocked loudly. "Come in," Peter's voice called from inside.
Edmund's eyes darted around nervously, realizing how strange this would be. They would know he had been lying, or Lucy would get in trouble!
"We were informed you wanted to see King Edmund?" they spoke as they walked in the room, conducting the Just King.
"No," Peter's brow furrowed, locking eyes with his raven-haired brother, who hiccuped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Peter raised an eyebrow.
The guards exchanged a look, shrugged, and left to wait outside by the door. "Explain?" Peter said. It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"I *hiccup* heard you needed me," Edmund said falsely, befuddled by his random case of hiccups. "I see that . . ." Peter started with uncertainty.
Edmund hiccuped again.
"Well, I'm kind of busy right now, and you're supposed to be in your room," he said after a few seconds of confused silence. "You're still in your pajamas,"
he added pointedly. "Wait," Edmund said before the older could dismiss him. Peter exhaled. "Yes, Edmund?"
The younger opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he darted towards the doors, sprinting past the guards. "Edmund!" Peter let out an exasperated
noise, standing up. "Do not worry. We will retrieve him and lead him back to his room, Your Highness. Relax," one of the guards reassured him, before going after
the haywire boy. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting back down. "He's such an idiot sometimes."
"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME!" Edmund shouted deliriously, skittering down the hall with the guards at his heels. He looked less like a threatening king and more
like an escaped mental patient, and he was still in those tacky pajamas, much to Susan's shock and disapproval. "Edmund! What in the name of Aslan are you doing
outside of your room-?!" began the flustered Queen, attempting to stop him, but ended up being shoved to the ground involuntarily as her little brother barreled past
her. She let out a short gasp of anger, her bright blue eyes wide with rage. Edmund didn't have the time to apologize as he was
scampering towards the exit. The guards chasing him, noticing his escape route, quickly called out, "SHUT THE GATES! DON'T LET HIM GET OUT!"
Okay, Edmund really was beginning to feel like a prisoner efforting at freedom. Much to his fortune, he was thin and wiry and skilled at these
kinds of things. "BANZAI!" he yelled, leaping through the air and slipping through the gates before the other guards keeping watch could register
their command to shut them. "No!" they exclaimed, and the midnight-haired, brown-eyed, pale-skinned boy slid to a halt in the wet green grass, the gates
slamming shut behind him, too late.
He caught some of the people around were giving him startled, weird looks, but he just stood to his full height and flashed them a cocky grin.
He power walked through the gardens, feeling very self-accomplished. Everybody had their eyes trained on him for a few seconds but then
returned to their work, deciding that this was normal for the esteemed Just King. He was always one to perform extremely random and ignorant stunts.
They'll never catch me now, Edmund snickered in his mind.
To the boy's horror, though, the gates reopened, and the two guards came crashing after him. Edmund panicked and dashed off, swift as a
gazelle, towards the wall. He took a great bound and gripped the walls with his knees and hands, pulling himself up with all the strength he could
muster. He scurried up the wall like a squirrel, his callused hands finding the perfect crevasses for holding onto.
He breathed lightly, swinging nimbly onto the roof. The guards shouted up at him and he just smirked and waved down at them in a friendly
manner before turning and going down the stairs, hurrying as quick as possible. Lucy awaited him at the bottom, tapping her foot angrily.
Edmund faltered. "How did you know-?" he began. "Edmund Pevensie, GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM," she demanded, ignoring his question.
He turned, hearing the guards coming up the wall. It would take more time with them; Edmund had experience climbing walls. When Peter
was angry, it was usually either because
1. Something went wrong
2. Edmund.
And in those dire times when it was Edmund, let's just say that Peter was a relentless chaser. That's when the Just King learned to climb a proper wall.
They didn't teach that stuff in training! Although they might as well . . . just in case Peter went into rampage mode.
"Lu, right now I kinda can't," he said in a rushed tone, turning back to his sister.
She raised an eyebrow, and he could still hear her foot clicking against the marble floors impatiently.
"Oh, sorry, I'll come back later and ask," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "Hey," Edmund said indignantly. "Sarcasm is my job."
"I KNOW," she said through gritted teeth. "And you're currently supposed to be in your chambers! For the next two weeks! What on earth in your
deranged mind caused you to feel the need to escape ALREADY?!"
He blinked. "I was bored."
Lucy tried to look serious but couldn't help the giggle erupting from her lips. She covered her mouth, her eyes shining. "Edmund, you're crazy."
"Thanks," the Just King said, and bolted past her. "Ah-ah!" Lucy reprimanded, halting him with her hand. "Lucy," he whined, looking back upstairs. "I need to get out
of here!"
"I can help hide you," the younger girl said, her dark hair falling in her face.
"Where?" the king asked desperately, hearing the guards tumble onto the roof. She smiled cunningly, a smile that people who weren't
Edmund rarely saw. "The kitchen, of course!" she said lightly, pulling Edmund after her with a giggle.
The young king did not object because objecting with Lucy meant her handing him over to the guards who were rapidly pursuing him. As long as
Peter didn't find out (which Edmund figured he was bound to anyway.)
The kitchen was large and grandeur, with a large supply of food. The food's aroma made the boy's stomach grumble.
This made him desperately hungry for lunch, seeing the chefs were soon to be preparing it, and it smelled so divine. Looking around he saw
raw vegetables, ripe fruits, and delicious-looking pastries that his mouth watered over.
The Valiant Queen yanked him down the aisle, and underneath one of the counters where there was a glorious display of fresh fish and peppered
onions. There was a cabinet door underneath there, which she opened, and it was empty. She smiled at Edmund, offering him to go inside.
"Wait," Edmund said, ignoring her brilliant plan. "Ed we don't have much time," Lucy said sourly, standing up.
"I know that," Edmund responded, taking a metal pot and filling it to the brim with a jug of cold water. Lucy gave him a curious look.
"What are you doing, Edmund?" she asked inquisitively. He grinned one of those mischievous grins. "You'll see," he stated, and Lucy
saw that look in his eyes. She would have scolded him, knowing what he was going to do, but she instead stood there and watched in fascination.
The prank master could teach her a few things.
"Peter likes soup, am I correct?" Edmund said nonchalantly, gathering a few things. A large, blazing red bottle, a few peppered onions. "Yes,"
Lucy said cautiously, her eyes following his every move. Small potatoes, green parsley.
"I hope they don't mind me helping a bit," her brother smirked, pulling out a wooden spoon. Lucy raised an eyebrow but made no move to stop him.
Oh, if Peter found out she had been helping him, he would be furious with the both of them! The thought made her cringe.
Her brother plopped in the unpeeled potatoes and onions. "Edmund, hurry," Lucy finally said, stirring from her thoughts when she thought
she heard the guards. "We don't have much time." Her eyes looked around fervently, and she saw a luscious chocolate cake on display.
"I'm almost done," Edmund said, stirring the 'soup.' He took the little red bottle and shook it. Lucy attempted to read the label but decided
there was no need. It was most obviously hot sauce.
He unscrewed the lid, much to her surprise. Her eyes widened in astonishment as he promptly poured the hot sauce's entire contents in the bowl;
a pintsworth. She gawked at him as he stirred, an impish grin on his face. "They'll notice," she finally said, smelling the spicy scent and pinching her nose
as she watched the water turn a very ugly shade of red. He shrugged, gently placing a parsley in the middle. He put the lid on the pot.
"Don't they have taste testers?!" Lucy chided at him. "Hmm. I didn't think of that." He stood there for a moment.
Slowly, that evil grin crept across his face, and he looked at Lucy. "What? What is it?" she demanded. "Stop giving me that look!"
"Please help me," he begged, his brown eyes big and pleading.
"What do you want?" Lucy sighed.
"What if you . . . told them you made the soup," Edmund said slowly.
Lucy's eyes widened. "WHAT?! And risk MY reputation?! DO IT YOURSELF, AT LEAST EVERYBODY HATES YOU!"
She took a deep breath. "Sorry, that was totally uncalled for," she said softly. "I'll do it. On one condition."
He raised his eyebrows. "If I get caught, you're taking the blame, and you have to go to two tea parties with me," Lucy finished.
"TWO? Ugh. Fine," Edmund gave in.
He climbed into the cabinet and shut the little door. It was a tight fit, but it was big enough. Light streamed through the cracks and Edmund tried to get a peek out of
them. Lucy left, taking the pot with her, as to re-enter in a few moments.
He waited for a while when chefs burst into the room, getting to work almost immediately. Soon the room was filled with the clanking of spoons, sizzling, and
the rich aroma of spices as the chefs began making the grand meal.
Edmund twitched with anticipation, ignoring the delicious smells.
The doors opened loudly, and all of the servants looked up from their duty at the High King who was standing there. Edmund's eyes widened as everything
went silent, the merry sounds of the kitchen vanishing into quiet, all except for the fading sizzle of cooked meat. That's not Lucy, he thought.
"Have you seen King Edmund?" Peter smiled. Edmund knew his brother's smiles, unlike most people. Peter was obviously putting on a friendly facade
when Edmund could clearly see that he was actually deathly furious. He found out I escaped, didn't he? Edmund thought.
"No, Your Highness," one of the chefs bowed, who the Just King recognized as the head chef, Rie.
"That's unfortunate," Peter sighed his voice hardening. "I would rather like to see him."
"Is he not in his chambers, Your Highness?" a mousy woman with two golden braids piped up. "I was informed that they shot him down and you banished him to his
room."
Peter looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean by shot him down?"
The mousy woman blushed and Edmund slowly closed his eyes, sighing. If they could finish up this conversation, a lot of things would be avoided.
Lucy, where are you? Now would be a good time to come in and offer the soup.
"I thought . . . I thought you ordered them to-?" the woman stuttered. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend Your Highness-"
"Ordered them to what?" Peter demanded, his voice dangerously low.
"To shoot him down! From the sky! With arrows!" the woman exclaimed, confused. Peter stiffened. "Was he injured?"
The cooks all exchanged looks. "No," the mousy woman said.
Peter seemed to relax a bit, relief evident on his face before he quickly concealed it. "Please tell me if you find him." He was gone.
Before all of the disturbed chefs could return to their duty, a voice rang out, "Rie!" Lucy came into the room, her hair a mess and breathing hard, as if she had
just ran down a long flight of steps.
Ah, so that was her plan. Smart, Edmund praised in his mind. When there was a distraction occupying them.
"I made this stew," she said proudly, setting it on the counter. Of course, all of the chefs trusted sweet innocent Lucy, so they wouldn't
question her for one second. "Ooh! Your Majesty! What kind?" asked Rie, bending down to look her in the eyes. She smiled brightly,
a smile that gave her dimples and could light up an entire room. "I made it spicy," she said, sounding simply adorable.
"May I try it, Queen Lucy?" Rie humored her. "No! It's a surprise taste," she said simply. "I made it for the High King. It's his favorite soup."
The cooks exchanged a look; they had never heard of this favorite soup, but as I said before, most beings trusted dear young Lucy
a great deal, much more than anyone in the entire kingdom could trust Edmund (except for his family). The thought made the boy jealous, but he quickly erased
it from his mind. There's no need to envy.
"Okay then, my queen," Rie said hesitantly. Lucy beamed at him and scurried out of the room.
Edmund sighed and slumped back against the wood. He could take a nap in here. It was much better than writing scrolls, at least.
The Just King awoke in a cramped position to the sound of voices. He opened his bleary eyes and yawned, stretching, when his hand smacked into the top
of the cabinet and he recoiled quickly, not daring to hiss in pain as he remembered what he was doing in here and what his mission had been.
The voices were coming from the Dining Hall, and he presumed that the feast was started. He peeked through the cracks to make
sure that nobody was in here and crept silently out the door, careful not to let the hinges creak. The kitchen floor was cool against his feet.
He sneaked over and opened the door that led into the Dining Room just a bit, so he could peer at his siblings and the other attendants.
He looked around to find Lucy, who was carefully eating a scone. She caught his gaze (girls seemed to have the uncanny ability to suspect when someone was
looking at them; it was queer to Edmund how they did it.)
She smirked and nodded in Peter's direction. The soup, she mouthed. Edmund looked at Peter, slinking back a little just in case Peter
really was a girl and had that uncanny superpower to sense people too.
Lucy was right; the Just King had woken up just in time to watch his practical joke unveil. A humble servant poured that disgusting,
heavily spiced brew into a small china bowl, and it was so strong that the instant Edmund took a whiff from fifteen feet away
he nearly gagged. The chefs must have warmed it up so that it would taste better, but Edmund doubted it would taste that great.
Peter smelled the broth. He looked bewildered but masked a reaction, thanking the servant gracefully and asking in a tone
as to not give away that the soup smelled like flaming horse crap, "I do say, what is this fine soup?"
"Queen Lucy - ahem, somebody wanted it to be a pleasant surprise," the servant smiled, curtsying and walking away.
C'mon Pete . . . just try it . . . I know you're curious . . . Edmund urged in his thoughts. It oughta be your favorite.
Peter seemed to be avoiding the soup, smiling rather falsely and even having the manners to cover it with a cloth. How rude! I worked hard on
that soup! Edmund thought angrily. He knew Lucy must be thinking the same thing because she shot him an agitated, desperate look.
Ask him about it, Edmund mouthed to his sister, who sighed but complied. "High King Peter, have you tried the stew? I heard it's
excellent," she said aloud. The table went silent. "Why yes, it's scrumptious," Peter said smoothly, ignoring the blatant stares of the guests.
"Really? I haven't seen you take a bite," Lucy said, looking at her plate calmly while twirling her hair around her finger. She looked
up at him, her eyes big and mocking. Peter looked like he was going to pop.
Edmund praised Lucy in his mind; usually only Edmund himself could achieve this level of annoyance from their uptight brother within ten seconds.
Susan cleared her throat. "I'm sure it's lovely. Would you let me try some?" she asked, trying to break the tension.
Uh oh. This wasn't according to plan. Lucy shot her raven-haired brother a panicked look, but he merely shrugged.
Luckily, Peter refused to be embarrassed as such in front of all the other people. "I'll try it, just to make sure it is good," he said
a bit too rushed, and took his spoon, his hand trembling above the stew. He can face bloody battles and depressing deaths, but he can't
face soup from hell. Ah yes, I see why they call him High King, Edmund thought flatly.
Peter finally took a sip, everyone's eyes trained on him. For they could all smell how terrible the bowl reeked.
As soon as he swallowed he gagged, unsteadily placing the soup on his plate and coughing. "It tastes like burning garbage,"
he wheezed, trying to take a long gulp of water and ending up spilling it all over himself. When he tried to stand up he accidentally
bumped his soup bowl and it spilled upside down all over him too. He leaped to his feet. The poor king was trying so hard to keep his composure,
but his tongue felt like it was on fire and he needed water. He clumsily reached for the water jar, his mouth burning so much
it brought the sting of a tear to his eye, and he promptly knocked it over, and that tumbled off the table and shattered on the ground. He swore
under his breath, (which Edmund thought he heard 'I'm going to kill Ed'). "Can I get some water?!" he called, and a servant or two rushed into the room,
taking in the scene with perplexed looks. "I said water," Peter griped. They blinked. "Oh! Your Majesty!" they blushed and hurried out, fetching
another pitcher of water. Peter turned to sit back down but slipped in the puddle of water and broken glass, instinctively reaching out for something to hold onto.
He grabbed the white, gold-linen table cloth and yanked it down misfortunately, and several plates clattered to the floor along with a series of food. An entire loaf of
bread landed directly on his head as he braced himself for the ground.
Susan covered her eyes and Lucy held her breath, trying desperately hard not to erupt into giggles. All of the guests
sat there in dumbfounded shock at what they were witnessing.
This is glorious, Edmund thought, grinning from ear to ear. He was going to have leverage for the next few years.
The servants returned and gasped at the sight of their High King on the ground, food splattered around him. "I'm fine," he said snippily, climbing into
his chair. Susan peeked from under her fingers and Lucy looked red, like if she didn't laugh she'd explode into a thousand pieces.
All of the guests were very repulsed.
Peter took the water greedily, gulping the entire pitcher down. He exhaled in relief. "Thank you," he sighed, handing the pitcher back to the bemused servant.
All the guests continued to be repulsed.
Peter drummed his fingers against the table. "What?" he said as everyone stared at him like he was insane, and Lucy was so red Susan feared her sister
really was going to pass out. Edmund began laughing, he couldn't help it. The situation was just too hilarious.
Two of his siblings glared at him while Lucy fainted against the table.
"EDMUND I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" Peter shouted as his brother cracked up.