Theme: What's a Whumpee gotta do to get some sleep around here?

Prompt: Sleep Deprivation

No warnings! Told you I was going to be writing humour! Hope you like it! And the prompt doesn't really have much to do with the story. Just how it begins. Does it disqualify this? But they said we were free to use them in whatever way.

It was really a beautiful morning when Edmund finally left his room for the first time in three days. Now twenty, a man, and a great King, Edmund saw fit to work through the night. And not sleep in three days. As a result of the sleep-deprivation, Edmund's feet were unsteady. And he was wandering the halls like a drunkard. He smiled at the servants who greeted him, hardly able to tell if it was a dryad or a badger. But he heard one of them whisper that they ought to send for his siblings. Edmund was inclined to think that that was actually a very good idea. Because he was going to collapse right there, right then. He counted in time with his steps. One. Two. One again, since he moved backwards. Two. Three. And two again. Three. And ten. Because that's what comes after three. Unable to hold himself up any longer, Edmund fell. But he never hit the ground.

"Oh, your Majesty, are you alright?"

Edmund blinked, looking up at the face of the beautiful red-haired lady who'd saved him. Her fiery red curls brushed past his face. And he melted in their embrace. Her red, lush lips were moving, but he heard nothing. She was talking in slow-motion. Her green eyes were making Edmund internally moan. Her palest cheeks showed a touch of pink. Because she was blushing. Oh. Edmund forced himself to stand up, straightening his royal tunic (one he'd been wearing for two days). Still hazed, it took him a moment to find the lady's hand. He took it and brought it to his lips. Kissing it, he smiled at her.

"I'm quite fine, milady. May I ask, who are you?"

The lady flushed again. "I'm one of Queen Susan's ladies-in-waiting, my King. I was recently employed. We met at Anvard. My brother is a soldier in Archenland, Majesty."

"Ah, I see, lady. You are most welcome in Narnia. But you haven't told me your name."

"I am Isis, my Lord King. But I don't understand why you would wish to know the name of a servant."

"Oh, not a servant, milady. Certainly not a servant. Your beauty would be wasted," Edmund said, lost again in her green, enchanting eyes.

"Ed! There you are! Finally got the time to leave your room, did you? I reckon you haven't—Who's this?" said Peter as he ran to his brother. Edmund didn't reply at first, just staring into those green irises. An ocean resided in them. He couldn't look away. "Ed!" Peter exclaimed, shaking his brother's shoulder. Edmund blinked, breaking out of the trance.

"Peter. Oh, right. This is Isis. Susan's lady-in-waiting."

"Yes, yes. It is a pleasure, milady," Peter said, kissing the lady's hands. She blushed. Edmund coughed, suddenly standing between his brother and the lady, desperate to form some distance between them.

"You should go, Peter. I shall give her a tour. Will milady be pleased?"

Isis opened her mouth to reply, but Peter just had to interrupt, didn't he? Edmund wanted to hear her voice. "But Edmund, you need to rest. How about I show her around?"

"No!" Edmund bellowed, turning. Peter blinked. You don't get to have her! "I'm quite fine, brother. If you will, milady," Edmund said, offering Isis his arm. She linked her arm with his, smiling. "Tell our sisters I will be in the gardens, Peter."

"Edmund—"

But Edmund was already gone with the lady.

"You're telling them this story again? Why this one?"

"Because I like it, Ed. I'm the hero in this one."

"No, you're not."

"But I am!"

"Besides, you don't even tell it right. Let me try."

"No. Now, where was I, good squirrels?"

"The lady took King Edmund!"

Edmund rolled his eyes.

Two days later

"Something's wrong, sisters. Terribly wrong."

"What do you mean, Peter?" Susan asked, sipping her tea. She set her cup down back onto the saucer, and cut a tiny piece of the pastry. Taking the dish in hand, she smiled at her brother, pleased by the beauty of the day. She ate a small piece and choked when Peter suddenly spoke up.

"But he hates girls!"

Lucy giggled from the other sofa. And Susan was still in the process of tapping her chest and trying to get the stuck piece of pastry slide down her throat. She swallowed and looked at her brother, hoping her face wasn't red from the lack of air. "It is only natural, Peter. You're just jealous."

"Jealous? What?"

"He's been spending all his time with her and you're jealous."

"That's not true!"

Susan sipped her tea. "You've had a number of courters yourself. Remember that Galman lady? If her father hadn't died, you two would be happily married. And I and Lucy would have a nephew to play with. And it would be a nephew."

Lucy giggled again and Peter gave his sister a horrified look. "Susan! I'm only twenty-three!" Peter said, turning red.

"Twenty-four."

Lucy was straight-out laughing now.

Peter scoffed. "And that Galman lady was more interested in Edmund than me. I was going to send her back but I didn't need to."

"But what about others? Lord Dar's niece? She was perfect for you! You have the same hair-colour!"

"Like hair-colour is a decider," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "She was nice and everything. But…"

"But what? What about the Duchess then? What went wrong there?"

"Her head was too big."

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back," Lucy suddenly said, face red from laughing. She could hardly breathe. She left, her laughter still echoing. Susan turned back to her brother.

"These are just excuses, Peter. You are afraid of marriage, aren't you?"

"No, Susan, I'm afraid of women. But at least I've had courters. Edmund was never interested in this sort of stuff. He's married to Narnia."

"We're all married to Narnia," Susan said, sipping more of her tea.

Peter jumped up on his sofa, crossing his legs. He started biting his nails nervously. "He hates girls. He thinks they're all airheads! And I agree!"

"Hey!" Susan said, wrinkling her brows.

"Not you, of course. You're our sisters. You're the only women we're comfortable around. That lady has enchanted our brother, Susan. Please, you've to help me."

"Help you with what?"

Peter just smiled.

"I think I should tell this part of the story, Peter."

"Are you sure we should? They're only children."

"But we want to hear! Please! We promise we won't tell anyone!"

Edmund propped his chin on his palms and just listened. Fiery curls floating, green eyes shining, red lips talking, her beauty was alluring. Isis was talking about how her father would tell her and her brother horror stories at night, and how they'd not sleep for days in end. Then she asked him if he'd been scared sometimes. Edmund blinked, stepping out of the trance again. He swallowed.

"Oh, yes, lady, many times. Before battles. After battles. I've been scared a lot."

"Battles. I've heard you're a warrior," Isis said, shifting closer to him on the sofa. Edmund stiffened, mind racing.

"Ah, yes. A knight, you see, milady," Edmund said, trying his hardest not to stutter. She placed her hand on his. Edmund got goosebumps. "Lady…"

"Hush now," she said, putting a finger on his lips, bringing her face closer to his.

"But lady…" Edmund tried.

"Shush!" she said, her lips now an inch from his. He could feel her breath. "Do you wish to go on, my King?"

"Uh…uh…yes," Edmund said, and she brought her face even closer. Their lips just brushed past. But then a horrible crashing sound thundered throughout the castle. Edmund stood up. And Isis grunted. "What was that?"

"We better go check," Isis said, sighing.

"I told you it was a terrible idea!"

"We needed to get information! And you didn't have a better idea. Now quick. We have to get out before they find us!"

"Why can't you just be happy for him?"

"Because he's enchanted, I know it!"

"You're just jealous of her."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are—"

"Oh, my King." And Peter stopped squirming, giving up on freeing himself from under the cupboard without help, and looked at the door to find his brother and that witch, Isis. His brother was shaking his head at him. Peter opened his mouth to explain but Edmund held up a hand.

"You're unbelievable, Peter. You just can't bear it, can you? That I was the one she chose? How can it be that a lady would choose me over the Magnificent High King?" Peter tried to explain again, feeling his heart rip to shreds at the words, but Edmund continued. "You know what, Peter, you can try all you want. But you can't have her!" And then Edmund locked his lips with the lady. The situation was so awkward, Peter and Susan had to look at the ceiling. The pair drew apart. Peter blinked at his brother. "I'm marrying her."

"What!" Peter and Susan both exclaimed, baffled by their brother's declaration. "You're joking, right? He's joking, right?" Peter said, glancing from his brother to Susan.

"No," Edmund said. He pulled the lady close with one arm. "We don't want a grand wedding. Just her brother and father. And some of our closest friends. You can come, too, Peter. If you want. Come on, love."

And the two left. Peter blinked at the empty doorway and turned to his sister. "He's joking, right?"

Three days later

"I'm going to strangle that witch!"

"Peter—" Lucy said, trying to get her pacing brother to sit down. Peter shook off her hand.

"I'm going to kill her. Yes, strangle her to death!"

"Peter! How are these threats going to help?" Susan yelled, falling onto the wide, sleek bed. "I and Lucy have tried talking to him numerous times. But he just won't listen. Whatever spell she has him under is a strong one."

"Oh, you believe it's a spell, too, now! If you'd just listened to me before—"

"We did! And it didn't help! Now think," Susan said, thinking. Lucy sat beside her sister.

"I'm happy for him," she said. Peter stopped abruptly and gave his littlest sister the sharpest glare.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I'm happy for him! Have you seen how much he's been laughing this past week? What if he just really loves her?"

"No, no, no," Peter said, laughing. "He hates tittering ladies like her! He's only twenty! He never told me he wanted to get married!"

"He doesn't have to tell you everything, Peter. He's not ten anymore. He hasn't been ten for ten years now. Just accept it."

"Susan, will you please talk to our sister? She's talking mad!"

"Peter—"

"No, don't you dare! Don't you dare! Do you know why I left all those ladies, Susan? You wanted to know, right? You want to know what I'm really afraid of?"

"Peter, please—"

"I'm afraid of losing my family!" Peter thundered, making his sisters flinch. "You just don't understand, do you? You don't…you don't understand!" Peter ran his hands through his hair. "She'll take him away. She'll take him!"

"Peter, they're going to stay right here. With us," Lucy offered, feeling guilty now.

"No! He'll stay here with her. He never talks to me anymore. He—I can't. I can't let her take my brother!"

"PETER! How dare you!"

Before Peter could so much as blink, his collar was seized and he was pinned against the wall. Edmund punched him across the face, making him see stars for a moment. Peter shook his head, trying to focus again. But Edmund punched him again.

"Edmund!" his sisters exclaimed.

"Look at me!" Peter did. "I'm going to kill you."

"What?"

"You don't deserve the title of High King!" Another punch. Peter licked his lips, barely able to make out Edmund's face in front of him. Peter could feel a trickle of blood flowing down his temple. "I'm going to kill you." And then he was punched again. Peter's head dropped ahead.

"Edmund, stop it!" their sisters said, trying to hold him back. "You'll kill him!"

Edmund let him fall to the ground. And Peter happily welcomed the rest. He groaned, looking up.

"Edmund, no!"

Edmund had his sword pointed at him, ready to kill.

Peter waited.

"And then he stabbed me!"

"Peter, please don't lie to the squirrels."

"But—"

"Shut up. Let me tell you what happened, okay?"

Edmund stared at his brother, panting heavily, sword still pointed at his brother. Peter never moved. He was just waiting. His face showed acceptance. Edmund then suddenly realized where he was, what he was doing. And he immediately dropped his sword. He took some trembling breaths and fell beside his brother.

"Peter, are you alright?"

"I think so—"

"What? That's not right! You'd beaten me to a pulp! I was dying!"

"You barely had a scratch on you, Peter. Moving on. So, dear cousins, where was I? Oh, yes. So, King Peter was alright. And I apologized to him."

"That's it? That's all you're going to tell them? What about how you sobbed like a child in my lap?!"

"We agreed not to talk about that, Peter. Now, shut up! But the story is not finished, dear friends. Oh, no. I had been freed of the enchantment, yes. But the witch was still a threat. To us and to Narnia."

"Oh, oh! You tell the story better than King Peter!"

Peter rolled his eyes.

"So what did you do, King Edmund?" asked the littlest squirrel, jumping up and down on a root.

Edmund opened his mouth to answer but Peter interrupted. "Oh, he didn't do anything, good cousins."

"So, was it you?" the squirrel asked, skittering towards him, going too fast for Peter to even catch his movements. He hopped onto his lap. And Peter swallowed. "Did you kill the bad lady, King Peter? Like you said you would?"

"I—"

"He did nothing of that sort, cousin!" said Susan. The brothers turned to find her and Lucy making their way to them. They shifted to one corner of the picnic mat, allowing their sisters to sit with them. Susan picked the squirrel up. He giggled. "Our brothers protect us. But we protect them, too, my cousin. It was I and Queen Lucy that rid Narnia of the witch."

"How?"

"It happened thus: After…"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Lucy asked, giggling as she fed Edmund more blood—err, ketchup.

"Oh, very much, dear sister," Edmund said, licking his lips to taste more of the ketchup. "It's hot!"

"Shut up, Ed. Now, tell me, how long can you hold your breath?" Susan asked, sewing a dagger so it would hang from his tunic.

"About five minutes," Edmund replied, proud.

"That's rot! Tell us the truth?" Lucy said, spilling more ketchup over the wound in his abdomen.

"No, really! Five minutes!" Edmund said, swallowing more of the ketchup.

"I've seen you drown in thirty seconds, Edmund. Now tell us the truth. It is vital that we know the truth," Susan said, moving back to admire her handiwork. The dagger was holding up and with all the fake guts splattered around the wound, and fake blood— "Yeah, just leave. I can't see this." She shoved her brother out the door. And he collapsed right there. "Hold the ball under your armpit! It'll stop your heartbeat!"* Susan said, tossing him the squash ball.

"Wha—"

"Trust me," Susan said.

"Alright," Edmund said, sighing. He put the ball under his armpit and laid down. Before he shut his eyes, he said, "Three and a half minutes! Swear!"

Susan and Lucy shut the door. "He means two minutes," Susan said.

"Yeah."

"But wait! Where's King Peter!" the squirrels asked, anxious.

"I will always hate you three for this," Peter said, his arms crossed, and lips curled into a frown. "How could you not tell me!"

"Peter—" Edmund tried, rubbing his brother's back.

"After all we've been through, you still thought it was alright to put me through something so traumatic? I wept for four hours in that cell! Four hours of non-stop tears until you finally came to get me and I saw Ed. I felt like I was dying!"

"But you were the one who made the act believable, Peter," Susan said. Peter pouted like a child, and Susan turned back to the squirrels. "And then…"

Susan didn't need to fake her tears. Just seeing her brother like this made her cry. She was sobbing into Lucy's shoulder when Peter finally found the time to show up. They had only a minute and a half left now. Peter shoved past the crowd, muttering apologies, his voice was shaking. Oh, Susan dreaded this part.

"Ed, wha—"

Peter tried to reach for his brother but Susan shoved him away, gathering Edmund's body in her arms. "Don't you dare touch him! You killed him!"

"What? Susan—"

"Take him!"

"No!" Peter struggled past the Narnians who were trying to hold him back. He fell beside his brother. And taking his pulse, he screamed. "Edmuuuund!"

Susan had to flinch. But she shielded her brother's body from Peter. "Take him!"

Peter thrashed and twisted violently in the Centaurs' hold. "Let me go! Let me go to my brother! I didn't kill him! For Aslan's sake, release me!"

"Take him to the dungeons. He shall stay there before we can arrange for a trial."

"Let me go!"

"Oh," said the squirrels grimly, looking at Peter.

"I told you it was cruel."

"Oh, come on, Peter. I winked at you!" Edmund exclaimed. Susan raised her brows at him. Such a risk?

"What? No, you didn't," Peter said with conviction, voice quavering as he remembered what had happened.

"I did! Like this!" And then Edmund gave him the quickest wink one could imagine. Only the squirrels saw it.

"You call that a wink? Edmund! If you wanted to tell me, you could've just breathed!"

"And then you would've joyously embraced me and told everyone of our plan! A wink would've warned you. And it was way subtler. You're just not observant. It was your own fault."

"You little—"

"Peter!" both his sisters exclaimed, gesturing at the squirrels who were blinking rapidly at all of them.

Peter rubbed his head. "Right, sorry. I think I should tell this part?"

"Go on!" exclaimed the squirrels.

"Right. So…"

"It can't be true…It…Oh, Aslan, please!"

Peter couldn't breathe through his tears. Knees pressed against his chest, and chin propped up on them, Peter was rocking on the ground, hiding in the darkness. Hiding from the truth. The cold, stinging truth.

"No need to get all poetic!"

"Shut up, Ed. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I was weeping in my cell. And then the lady came."

Peter stood up and flinched back when the cell door opened. Dim light poured in. And a silhouette walked in. Peter blinked, trying to make out the figure. But then light reflected off her red curls. And Peter knew.

"You jealous bastard."

"Peter!" all three exclaimed.

Peter rubbed his head again. "Sorry. But it really was what she said! Not lying!"

"Just tell the story," Edmund said, rolling his eyes.

And before Peter could react, the lady curled her pale and fair hand into a fist. And Peter could suddenly not breathe. His hands went to this throat and he fell to his knees, choking. She circled him, sneering. Giving him the deadliest glares.

"You couldn't bear to see your brother happy, could you? So jealous that I loved him and not you. Do you wonder, High King, why I loved him? And why I despise you?"

Peter would have told her she was a—

"Don't you dare say it, Peter," Lucy warned, gripping his arm.

"Right, sorry. I would have told her she was an angel from heaven with a beautiful rainbow wand!"

But he was choking, struggling to get even a little air inside his lungs. He crawled away from the lady when she advanced on him, taking small, enchanting steps. Her hands moved and he was pulled to her. She grabbed his face and lifted him off the ground, his feet dangling beneath him. He twisted, but no use. Her grip was firm.

Bringing her face closer to his, she said, "I loved him because he was more of a man than you. A better King. A Kinder King. Smarter. Devious and sly. Cunning yet merciful. He was perfect. And his eyes…Oh…"

"You know, now I think we shouldn't have killed her. She was rather nice."

"Shut up, Edmund!"

Peter's vision had gone dark and he was unconscious by the time his siblings burst in.

"Not true. No. He was perfectly fine. Just a little bruise around the neck. That's all," Edmund told the squirrels.

"Oh, let me have my fun! And then…"

"Get away from him!" growled Edmund, sword pointed at the lady. Susan and Lucy, too, had rushed in with bows ready in hand. The lady dropped Peter, letting him form a heap on the ground. He coughed, gasping, his face red, and eyes red and rheumy from the corners. He crawled to the wall, still not having noticed his brother. He hid in the corner as the battle unfolded; he didn't see how the lady knocked the bow out of Susan's hand with another subtle movement of her fingers, but she was too slow to anticipate Lucy's attack. His littlest sister tackled Isis to the ground, pinning her hands. She struggled, now rendered powerless. Susan took the opportunity to put an arrow through her.

Peter still sat in the corner, eyes squeezed shut, hands covering his ears, heart still broken, mind racing, blood pumping in his veins. Frankly, he was terrified. But then someone cupped his face. Now, he knew that touch. He knew the faint voice that was saying his name. And he almost didn't dare believe. Didn't dare to allow his heart to be shattered a second time. He looked up. And was immediately sobbing.

"It's okay, it is. Come on," Edmund said, pulling his brother close. "I'm alive. I'm alive."

Peter just cried.

"Peter, that's beautiful!" said Lucy, resting her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm, since she noticed he was tearing up again. Susan wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

"It really was."

Peter gave a little sitting bow and said, "Thank you."

"No."

The three siblings and the squirrels turned to Edmund. "What?"

"That did not happen."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, blinking.

"You punched me! Four times!"

"Well, the sod that was you deserved it! You traumatized me!"

Lucy and Susan giggled. Edmund scoffed. "As soon as he saw me, he punched me! Right across the face. Broke my jaw! He never even apologized! And it wasn't even my idea! It was Susan's!"

"I hugged you afterwards, didn't I?"

"Yeah. After breaking my jaw!"

"Oh, come on, I'm sorry," Peter said, giving Edmund a brotherly hug. Edmund didn't welcome it but returned it nevertheless. "I love you, Ed. Forgive me?" Edmund rolled his eyes but nodded into Peter's shoulder.

"Well, what happened?" asked the littlest squirrel.

Susan answered, "We buried her, of course. And then…everything went back to normal."

"For a week. Then Peter and Edmund had to go fight in the North. And Peter came back with a bashed head—"

"Oh, don't remind me," Peter told Lucy, standing up. He stumbled once—his legs were asleep. He walked to the basket his sisters had put under the tree and pulled out a sandwich. He took a bite.

"You were dying to get injured in the story a moment ago! What happened now?" Edmund asked as he stood up, too, to join his brother.

"Fictional injuries are good; they make you the hero. Real ones aren't; they're nightmares. And…"

"Peter?" Edmund asked when his brother suddenly stopped talking. "What is it?" Peter dropped the sandwich. "Peter!" Edmund exclaimed when Peter fell to his knees. "Pete? Peter? Hey! Talk to me! What is it? Peter!"

But Peter had stopped breathing. Edmund panicked. "PETER!" He took his pulse and—

"No! No, no, no…You…Peter!" Edmund cried, pulling his brother's still body close. "Peter, please…" he said, sobbing uncontrollably now.

But Peter never responded. His heart wasn't—

But it was.

He could hear his heartbeat.

"I'm going to kill you, you bloody idiot!" Edmund said when Peter pulled apart, laughing in his face. "You're a dolt!"

Peter had proved to be the wiser and was already running away from his brother.

"You're a dead man walking, Peter!" Edmund said, running after him.

Susan and Lucy giggled, turning back to the squirrels who looked confused. "Why did King Peter do that, Queen Susan?"

"Revenge, my good cousin, is a sweet thing," Susan told him, smiling. Lucy bumped her shoulder, snickering again.

"Run, Edmund, run!"

Susan barely had enough time to catch the squash ball Peter tossed her as her brothers ran past them. "Wha—Oh."

"My Kings!" exclaimed Princess Alaura, running after Peter and Edmund with her skirts gathered in her hands. "But you said you'd teach me how to swordfight!"

Susan glanced at Lucy. "Leave them?"

Lucy picked her saucer and raised her cup of tea. The squirrels all blinked. "Leave them. It's been nearly a year since someone tried."

"I'm going to enjoy this."

"Me, too, sister dear. Me, too."

Fin

*Some sections of artery sit over a bone or thick muscle, allowing you to feel its movement by pressing it. These are what are commonly referred to as your pulse; the most useful ones are at your neck (carotid artery), armpit (brachial artery), wrist (radial artery), knee (popliteal artery), groin (femoral artery) and ankle (tibial artery).
By pressing against the tennis ball, you are slowing the rate at which blood can flow through the arm's brachial artery and slowing the pulse rate, until it is difficult to feel at all. ~Arianna Lee on Quora

And yes, I found out about it on Sherlock. :-)

Author's note: I really am pleased with this story. And it might be a little rushed and not my best writing. But I'm really pleased. Tell me what you think! And also, I'm sorry I've been late in responding to reviews. I've been sick. And the pills have made me dizzy.

Response to P: Thank you very much! I'm sorry I scared you again. I scared myself, too!

With love,

~Pacifia