Control

A/N: Okay, I did some major writing over the holidays, and decided this needed an end. Oh, btw, it IS now titled 'Control', so, yeah. This is not the last chapter, I'm gonna hold onto that for a few days, but it kinda takes place a little bit before the end of the last chapter. Okay. Here we go…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter Seven

They were searching for Peter when he felt it.

Edmund froze. Something in his head exploded, a voice screamed. It cried out for him, to him. It needed him; his brother needed him.

"What is it?" Susan asked, her face pale with fear. "Edmund? Is it Peter? Is he hurt?"

"Oh God. Oh God…" Edmund broke into a run, headed straight for the forest; Peter was there, he knew it… Peter was there, and he needed his brother's help.

"EDMUND!" Susan screamed, not understanding. She chased after him, nearly tripping on her skirts.

The anger flooded Edmund's brain, but it didn't consume him as he suspected it consumed Peter. Instead, it gave him a sort of buzz, the rush of adrenaline he needed to keep searching.

"PETER!" Edmund shouted, glancing about him frantically, searching for his king, searching for his brother. Then he froze again.

The anger had faded, replaced by a cold stream of emptiness that overtook Edmund's emotions, grasped his heart, sent him crashing to his knees. The emptiness flooded is very being, he could feel its cold grip everywhere, could feel the chilled hand in his chest. He could feel it. It was nothing. Absolute nothingness.

Then, Edmund felt some of his own blood warm his frozen body, felt the pounding of his heart beat back the cold, and he knew. Oh god how he knew. The power of it all sent him face first to the ground, the tears already falling from his cheeks and mixing with the freezing snow, melting it a little. He knew. Oh, how he knew. He was sick to his stomach, stunned, shocked, crying yet unable to express his emotions, the utter darkness he felt, the utter sadness, utter despair. He knew. He knew.

His brother was dead.

"Peter." It came out in a choking gasp, then again. "Peter." Stronger and stronger, again and again, as he had called many times. "Peter. Peter! PETER!" Edmund had called so many, times, and he had always gotten a response. "PETER!"

This time, there was no response. It was all true, what Edmund felt was true, everything, all the horrors were true, the world was dark and black and lonely. It was true.

The king was dead.

Edmund's brother was dead.

A/N: This is sad, I think… I was almost crying writing it. So, please review, give me constructive criticism, and all that jazz, because I am serious about being a writer, and I want to know where I could improve. Thank you.