AN: For those of you who don't know this yet, there is a trailer for this fanfic on youtube, you can link to it through my profile if you like.
Susan's chamber was no longer pitch black; the curtains on one of the least conspicuous windows were pulled open to let some light in, but of course, she wore the veil to 'protect her eyes'.
Her pride made her claim she had simply gotten tired of being in the dark, but that wasn't really true. The elder princess of Ettinsmoor had developed rather a hatred for lighted rooms ever since she was cursed with ugliness and was too proud to allow herself to step out of the shadows. Even now, in her own chamber, wearing her veiled headdress, she stood mostly in the places where the dressers blocked the light and cast black lines against the carpet below her feet.
The real reason she had allowed herself to let the light in, was because she had the oddest feeling that the crown prince-though he had no reason to-would call again today, and she would not let herself be shamed by having a royal visitor sitting in the dark with her again. Ugly or not, she was, in her core, a princess. Princess Susan of Ettinsmoor; once beloved of the people-adored of the court.
You are a princess, she scolded herself silently, so be a princess.
The knock came; the crown prince was at the door, hoping he would not find the tear-stained face of the younger princess but the hidden one of the elder, instead. Anything to relieve him of the guilt. For he did feel guilty, in spite of the trust he placed so firmly and unwaveringly in his sick brother's hands. There was a spot in his heart that was little Lucy's from the moment the sweet girl had arrived at court, a brotherly-even fatherly-protective affection that nagged at him constantly and made his ribs ache at the thought of her displeasure. He was disappointed in her, he did not believe her, he had made up his mind. But it pained him. It pained him deeply.
His conviction that Lucy had told a lie-and a rather silly one at that-didn't fade, yet it made him uneasy. After all, if someone were to hear of her saying that and recall to mind the calormene and his tale of Edmund dancing with demons and suspect Lucy of the same insanity...oh, Aslan, it should be too awful for words! If anyone might accuse them of favoritism towards their own because they would not commit the insane princess (the people of Ettinsmoor were of a closer race to the Narnians and Archenlanders than the Calormenes were), it might even be a cause of war! Peter's head spun wildly; he knew he must calm down at once, he was being extreme. No one who spoke to dear Lucy for more than five seconds would think she was a threat, especially in comparison to the raving Calormene who'd screamed himself quite hoarse over the matter. And a child's fairies were not at all the same things as demons; Peter had always felt rather put-out with the sort of people who put them in the same category.
"Good day, crown prince," Susan greeted him with a bit of awkward stiffness in her tone. It was uncomfortable to be around him, both because she was ugly and did not want him to see her, and because she had heard already-news traveled fast-of his disbelieving her sister's story. In truth, she didn't believe it either, it seemed too dreadfully fantastic to be more than just a fable, but that didn't make seeing this young royal any easier.
"Your eyes are improving, Princess?" he asked, trying-somewhat unsuccessfully-to put a more verbal warmth between them.
"No," she replied quickly, lest he should ever even suggest she remove her veil. "I may be ill for ever."
"No one is ill for ever,"
"Your brother is."
Peter winced at her directness.
"I'm sorry," Susan amended. "I'm being vile, you must hate me."
"I don't," said Peter, coming all the way into the room and shutting the door behind him so that they couldn't be over-heard. "I'm only pained because I know it isn't true."
"What isn't true?"
"My brother-" Peter swallowed hard. "-my brother will not be for ever ill."
"He will get better?"
"No."
Susan closed her eyes behind the veil and moaned inwardly, feeling sorry both for the invalid boy and for the sad-eyed young man in front of her. She wished she could say something that didn't sound heartless, that she wasn't so bitter. The crown prince of Narnia deserved a better companion; why he came back to see her she couldn't fathom.
Peter knew she was clever enough to understand what he was insinuating without his flat-out repeating that his brother would eventually die. There was no hope of the boy getting better. Everyone at court knew that-sooner or later-their youngest prince would leave them all. Everyone knew someday the little white body with the bloodied feet would be buried in a marble tomb-probably near the orchard, or maybe close to the eastern sea. Edmund was unlikely to live to see his fifteenth birthday; he would be fourteen for ever, the princeling who never grew up. No one looked to him for political power anymore, they looked only to his elder brother-the stronger, older prince who would one day be their king.
"Sometimes I wish I could be the one who never aged, who died before-" Peter stopped himself; these were his thoughts, but he had never shared them before, not with anyone. Perhaps he felt that Susan would somehow understand. "-Ed wouldn't be a bad king, the people would love him, in time."
"You wish you could switch places with him," Susan noted, not seeming terribly surprised.
"You state it."
"Yes," said Susan, "I've noticed how you act about it."
"He's my brother, Susan." No more bothering with formal titles for the time being. "I don't know if I can endure to rule an entire country without him."
"Lucy really wanted to help him, you do know that..."
Peter sighed, half-wanting to cry. "I know," -he thought of the sad little tear-stained face and the ache plagued him again- "she's a good girl."
It was pathetic-almost laughable-how Peter described Lucy's behavior, but Susan didn't scoff at it-because she felt the same way. "I never thought she could save him, though."
"Nor did I," Peter admitted sadly. Except, maybe, deep down in the part of his heart where he liked to believe in the impossible, he wanted to think she could, that maybe there was something...but, no, she had already failed. It was sad to think that an innocent girl had to be humiliated over his brother's unavoidable death.
Meantime, Lucy was standing rather sadly in one of the back corridors; the ones with window-sized arches that over-looked some of the flower-and-vegetable gardens. Her eyes lingered on rows of beets and poppies but she took none of it in, blinded by held-back tears, her knuckles quite white from gripping the bottom sill of the arch so tightly. The slightly chill wind whipped meanly at her cheeks-it was not a very warm day-and she didn't even care. She felt all alone, and not only because there was no one else in the corridor with her. The crown prince's not believing her story had left her as little more than an apparition in Cair Paravel's court. How she could possibly stand knowing why Edmund was dying and just watch him fade away as helplessly as if she hadn't a clue, was beyond her.
"How did you do it?" a raspy voice behind her asked, making her jump.
Edmund stood behind her, sickly as ever, clutching onto a gold-and-oak cane for support, wobbling over towards her.
"Do what?" Lucy wiped her tears away on the back of her sleeve; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not again, not after how he had treated her that morning.
"How did you follow me?" he clarified with a hollow cough.
"Do the servants know you're out of bed?" Lucy asked pointedly. She owed him no explanation.
"No," Edmund croaked, his eyes narrowing, "and you're not going to tell them."
"Of course not, your highness." said Lucy bitterly, sounding a little like Susan when she was in one of her more stuck-up moods. "You'll only lie again."
Those words stung more than he let on. "I only do what I have to and, besides, you can't prove I lied."
"I shouldn't have to," she whispered, the tears returning in spite of her best efforts. "I've never told a single untruth to your brother."
Edmund knew he'd told a hundred 'untruths' to Peter, and that wasn't even counting all the petty ones having nothing to do with his secret. He felt bad about it; there was no real reason Peter should believe him, except that they were brothers.
"Lucy," Edmund said softly, reaching out with one hand, still clutching the cane as tightly as he could with the other. "Come back with me to my sick chamber, I want to show you something."
I wont go with him, Lucy thought indignantly, I wont!
"Forgive me," he murmured hoarsely.
"Why should I?"
"Because, Lucy of Ettinsmoor, you are a merciful princess." There seemed to be some level of teasing in his words, though she couldn't be sure because of the weak voice that spoke them.
"You are perfectly beastly, do you know that?" Lucy scowled tartly.
"I was nine years old, do you know that?"
She was taken aback. "What?"
"When I was cursed, or rather, when I cursed myself."
"What did you do?" Lucy shivered and took a step backwards, afraid of the answer. "Why-"
"I'll tell you," Edmund said. "I will tell you everything-I'll lie if you try to tell another living soul-but since you already know, I'll tell you."
A new thought occurred to her and her brows furrowed angrily at him. "You took the crackernut, didn't you?"
"Of course I did." he rolled his eyes.
"How dare you!"
"Lucy, I can't stand up much longer, I'll fall down if I keep this up, come back with me."
Sensing his desperation, Lucy agreed, but only on one condition. "If I come back with you now, you take me back with you to the fairy court tonight."
Edmund gritted his teeth at her. "Never!"
"Then you go back to your chamber alone," Lucy masked her eagerness to forgive and forget, hoping to weaken his resolve.
"I hate you." Edmund coughed furiously, his face hot with the embarrassment of being so harshly dealt with. He couldn't believe he'd almost given this girl-this stupid, thoughtless, stuck-up girl-his secret in its entirety. She didn't deserve it.
"I only wanted to help you." she said sort of quietly.
Leaning close to her face, angry, tired, and frustrated, Edmund hissed, "I don't want your help."
"You almost told me-" Lucy started.
"Forget it," Edmund snapped. "I don't want to tell you anything. I don't even like you! Just bloody leave me alone!"
You came to see me, she couldn't help thinking to herself as she bit her lower lip and started walking away.
Edmund hated himself-he didn't mean a word of what he'd just said. He did like her-and that only made it worse. He had been fine with everything...he had accepted his fate...and then this...this girl, this princess, this child destined to someday grow up and become a woman after he was long dead...had come into the picture. He did not need a reason to regret giving up his life.
AN: Thoughts? Please review.