Alternate prompt 9: Memory Loss/ Amnesia

No warnings. I'll say I'm not entirely pleased wtih this one in terms of execution. At first, I had more of a humorous story in mind. But then, it kept get angstier and angstier until the humour totally disappeared. I've always wondered what memory loss would do to the Pevensies, and this is not half of what I had in mind. But you can write only so much in 4418 words. ;-) Anyway, read on, please. And tell me what you think and if you've found any errors in spelling or grammar. I hope you enjoy!

"Get to Ed first!" Peter yelled through the small opening in the door of his cell. But ignoring his request, Susan helped unlock the door, and then clicked open the manacles he'd been bound in. The damp and slippery ground only marginally decreased his pace as he bolted out of the cell and dashed to his brother's, Susan right on his heels, eyes frantic. Peter didn't know what the witch had done to him. But he'd heard the citations, recognized the ancient Narnian words. It was maddening to sit in that dark hell, listening to his brother's raw screams. He saw Lucy's golden hair disappear into the blackness of the cell. And Peter sprinted, despite his wobbly legs and aching head. He reached the cell, receiving numerous questions about his health from the Narnian soldiers that his sisters had brought with them. But he could only gape at his brother.

"Peter! Oh, thank Aslan you're alright," his brother said with great relief as Lucy worked on his bonds. "I thought she'd killed you. You'd been so quiet these past days. Peter?"

Peter stared in sheer disbelief. He stood frozen. And managed to be separated from his brother for a grand total of three seconds before dashing to his side to take him into a fierce embrace. "She didn't hurt you?"

"No. I don't—I don't think so. I don't remember."

"Edmund?"

Edmund shrugged off Susan's hand, reassuring her with a smile. But she brought them both to a stop, letting the rest of the party trek forward through the trees, and made him turn to her. "Are you certain you're not hurt? Peter seemed quite worried."

"I'm fine. I have Peter to fuss over me. Don't you start, too."

Susan released him, nodding at him. "Come then." And she began dragging him forward.

As Edmund avoided a protruding branch by ducking underneath it, he wondered if he really should be alarmed by his growing headache.

They made camp for the night, stopping at the bank of another foreign river of this alien western land. Being outside of Narnia, still miles away from her borders had left Peter with a sore mind and bitter mood. Especially to see his brother hide his pain from them. He cracked another branch from its middle and tossed it into the crackling fire, the embers sizzled as they rushed up from the fire and then floated away with the gust of cold wind. Peter sighed, breaking another small branch. He used it to adjust the coal pieces, settling them in a more preferred position beneath the wood planks, and threw it into the fire, making more embers rise up. He gazed up at the sky. It must be really late for Cleistius to have risen in the mid-sky already. The brightest star stared down at him, as if scolding him for staying up so late, when his younger siblings were huddled together under the soft blankets, Edmund sandwiched between their sisters. He wore a wry frown, but still looked pleased to feel warm and safe. But Cleistius needn't have given him a scolding. Orieus was there to serve that purpose. Peter sighed, turning to his General who was leaning on his long sword. The other Centaurs had spread around camp, circled around to keep watch.

"You do not wish to sleep? Are you not tired?" the General asked him, dropping more heavily on the blade, to lean towards him. "After almost a month in captivity, King Peter, you need your siblings. As your siblings need you," he said, glancing at his sleeping brother and sisters. Lucy had a frown on her face and Peter could see she missed his presence beside her. "What is it that bothers you? It is finished. The evil has been defeated. The witch is dead. Yet you seem worried."

"Edmund shouldn't be alright." Peter waved his hands, knowing it had come out wrong. "I mean, I heard his screams, Orieus. She was—she had—"

"Hear me, King Peter." Peter turned to him. "Look at your brother. Is he ill?" Peter glanced at his brother, and seeing his flushed, pink face, Peter shook his head. "Is he injured?" There was no blood, no mortal wound slowly draining his life away. Peter was inclined to agree with the Centaur.

"He isn't, Orieus. But—"

"He is just fine, Peter. Now sleep. For you need it."

Peter smiled grimly and hauled himself up, leaving the fallen tree's stiff seat. He walked to his siblings, savouring their subconscious smiles. Crawling underneath the blankets beside Lucy, he slipped an arm across to his brother's forehead, brushing his too long hair off his face. He glowered, knowing his wasn't much better. He fingers tangled into his brother's hair. And Peter slept with a smile on his face.

When morning came, Lucy was the first of her siblings to wake. She yawned, stretching out her stiff arms. It was a peaceful morn, even outside of Narnia, she could help feel home. Birds singing, the pink sky, the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water to glint brightly. It was all pleasant and serene until Edmund growled.

"Peter! Get your fingers out of my hair! It hurts!" Susan was jolted awake, and Peter was half-ready to draw his sword, absolutely startled by the loud yell. But he blinked, rubbed his eyes with his free hand and laughed. Edmund crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. "Do you care to explain?"

Lucy moved back to get a good look at the scene, and could not stifle her amused giggles. Edmund's hair now almost reached his shoulders and overnight, Peter's fingers had weaved their way into his hair, forming a great, looking-almost-unsolvable tangle. Susan was laughing too, but she crawled on her knees to their brothers and slowly worked to free Peter's fingers from Ed's hair. Edmund looked ready to scratch Peter's face off with his angered expression. But Peter was still laughing. "Susan!" Edmund said, grimacing in pain.

Susan frowned. "It's not my fault you have so many great knots in your hair. After we've had breakfast, you both should come to me. I'll cut your hair, for Aslan knows you need it. Will you look at this?" she said, holding a tuft of Edmund's hair straight with her fingers. "It's longer than Lucy's!"

"We were captive for a month!" Edmund protested, snatching back his free hair. Peter was rubbing his index finger, still laughing. Edmund turned to him. "You're no better!" And Peter really wasn't.

"Alright, alright, enough. I'll go see Orieus, ask him what we're having for breakfast. Su, why don't you cut their hair until then? Otherwise you'll be eating your hair along with your meal." When Peter and Ed both backed away, Lucy shrugged. "Or you could always tie them up in a braid. Like I and Susan do."

Their eyes widened. "Mine first!"

After Susan very skilfully cut Peter and Edmund's hair (they both now found odd that it was didn't even reach their ears) and they had breakfast—buttered toast, soup, and coffee for Peter—Edmund quietly slipped away, hoping his siblings wouldn't notice his absence before he could go back. He avoided another over-grown root and twisted away from a branch. And when he thought he was finally deep enough and away from the camp, he sat down on a flat rock, sighing. He rubbed his temples, the headache was growing worse. He had barely managed to eat his breakfast without screaming. His nerves felt ready to burst when he chewed.

He leaned back against the tree, letting out another sigh. He wondered why Peter refused to take his eyes off him for even a second, or let him go as far as an arm's length from him. He was completely fine. Not counting the headache, of course. Yesterday, he had remembered how they'd been captured, what the witch had done to them. He just didn't remember the events of the past four days. But now, he'd forgotten everything. Every detail. It was all foggy. His mind felt dusty. The memories fading and drifting away. It was so odd. It felt almost sickening. To try and grab a memory that was floating just out of his grasp. And then feel it grow even fainter with every try. Until it completely disappeared and he couldn't even remember its existence.

He shuddered. And then came the distant call. Peter's voice.

"Ed!"

Edmund sighed. He stood up, cursing the witch for giving him this unbearable headache. "I'm here, Pete! Coming!"

"He's fallen asleep again, Su," Peter whispered to her, leaning towards her, adjusting on the saddle. "He's fallen asleep on a horse," he added. "He's fallen asleep Riding. A. Horse.

Susan gave him a huff, soothing the whinnying creature that was carrying her by rubbing its neck. "That's normal, Peter. He's exhausted," Susan assured him, smiling now.

"No, you don't understand. You don't know, Susan. You—"

"Then tell me," Susan said.

Peter shook his head. "We should stop. It's almost dusk."

Susan nodded, now feeling uneasy, seeing the single tear trickle down her brother's cheek. He wiped it away. And the narrow opening she'd seen disappeared. He'd closed in on himself again. Not Peter. But the High King. Susan could do naught but pray.

They had come across another river; and though they were significantly closer to Narnia, Peter still felt bitter. She was still almost fifty miles away. The fauns had taken the guard tonight. So, the Centaurs, except Orieus all slept around the large fire they'd lit only meters away from the siblings. Some had laid down but most slept standing, their upper bodies leaning on their steel swords. At the slightest sign of danger, they would instantly be ready to fight.

"Peter?"

Peter smiled at his littlest sister and shifted to allow her to sit beside him on the blanket. He held his cloak up to let her snuggle beneath it. And then wrapped it around her. "Warm enough?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling. "Su's asleep. And Edmund—"

"Edmund never woke," Peter said, smiling grimly as he recalled how he'd carried his brother to camp. "Do you think he's alright, Lucy?" Peter asked, swallowing a lump to see Orieus' gaze fixed on him. The Centaur worried too much. Oh, then was Peter any better?

She nuzzled into him, her hair tickling his neck. But he stifled his giggles. "I think he's fine, Peter. Just tired."

"That's what Su said." Peter sighed. "Whatever is on your mind, Orieus, I would like to know," he told the Centaur who flicked his tail and galloped closer to them, rousing the dwarfs sleeping near with the thuds. Grunting, they turned and slept once more with their hands on their ears.

Orieus laughed softly, and then said, "I think you need to ask him that question, not your sisters. If King Edmund is in any discomfort, I am sure he would tell you."

"Peter?" a sleepy voice asked from their left, disturbing the dwarfs' sleep again. "Peter?"

But Peter was already by his brother's side. He asked him to stop rubbing his eyes—they were red and sore—and then led him towards his sister and Orieus. Orieus had already fetched them another blanket which he gave to Peter once he'd settled Ed beside Lucy, letting her take him in an embrace. He wrapped the thick blanket around his brother, tucking him in. Then sat beside him, taking him from Lucy. "Ed?" Edmund sobbed. Peter looked once at Lucy; she frowned. "Edmund? Ed, what is it? Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts. And I can't—I can't remember Mum."

"What?" Lucy asked, bewildered. They all remembered Mum. But Peter shushed her with a look.

"What do you mean, Ed?" Peter asked, stroking his short hair.

He sniffed, burying his face in his neck. "I don't remember her. I can't remember anything about her."

"It's alright, Ed. I can hardly remember anything from the other place. It's been six years."

"But I can't even remember her name!" Edmund cried. Peter saw Susan wake and Lucy furrow her brows. "I know I remembered her before. Her face. Her name. Her smell. I could remember, Peter. I don't. I don't remember anything!"

Peter took his brother's face in his hands. "Look at me. Look at me, Ed." Edmund did, his watery eyes fixed on him. "Now, do you remember Narnia?"

"Yes."

"Beruna?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember Aslan?"

"Yes. I could never forget Him, Peter. Of course, I remember."

"Then it's enough."

Susan and Lucy had now smothered Edmund into a makeshift hug from one side, whispering soothing words into his hair. "Our mother's name is Helen, Edmund. Do you remember now?"

Edmund shook his head. "No. Nothing."

"It's alright. It'll come to you," Susan said, making Edmund turn to her. "Promise. Your mind is just tired."

He shook his head again. "No, Su. I can—I can feel it. I can feel them fade away. The memories. And my headache…I'm scared, Peter!" he exclaimed.

"It's okay, Ed. We'll figure it out. It's okay," Peter whispered, cradling his brother. And in seconds, he'd fallen asleep again. Peter kissed his hair, laying him down next to him on the blanket. He spread the blanket more evenly over him and began stroking his hair.

Peter looked at his sisters, then at Orieus who'd turned grim.

Peter smiled.

Despite his own fears slowly swallowing him alive.

Susan woke to a terrified yelp the next morning, trails of dried tears still on her face. She hastily untangled herself from the blankets and rose from her seat, whipping around frantically until she finally saw her siblings. She could hold back a gasp.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Edmund was screaming, digging further into the tree, knees drawn up to his chest, and hands covering his ears, almost crushing his skull.

Susan was already running towards them, shoving past the Narnians, and telling them to give her brother some space, air to breathe. They dispersed on her command, still looking perplexed by their King's peculiar behaviour. Susan was ready to dash to her brother but Lucy's hand on her shoulder stopped her. She glanced at Peter who'd crouched in front of Edmund and was now conversing with him in soothing tones. But Susan doubted Ed heard anything over his own yells. Peter seemed to realise the same thing and slowly crawled on all fours to his brother. Edmund flinched away from him, but Peter took his hands in his, gazing profoundly into his eyes. Edmund relaxed—to an extent. Peter cradled Edmund's face in his hands, saying, "What's your name?"

"I don't know! Please!" Edmund pleaded, shutting his eyes. Susan's heart shattered.

"Tell. Me. Your. Name."

"I told you! I don't know! I don't remember!"

"Yes, you do. You do. Okay, tell me my name then. Say it."

Edmund's ragged, panting breathes ceased as his breathing evened out and he gulped. "P…Peter."

"See? You remember," Peter assured, pulling him in for a crushing hug. "It's okay."

Susan yearned to be with her brothers. But when she took a step forward, Lucy stopped her again, saying, "Wait."

And Susan waited, tapping her foot restlessly, arms crossed, thoughts of all kinds swirling in her mind. She couldn't even think properly. She waited until Peter had rocked their brother to sleep again. And then she sprinted to them. Peter's tears fell on his brother's face as he wept, unable to understand what had just happened. Lucy hushed him as Susan took Edmund from him. He resisted only for a second, then seeing Susan's face, he let him go, burying his face in his youngest sister's shoulder. "Peter?"

But Peter wept harder, breaking his vow that he'd never let his sisters see him cry. For the third time.

"Sire?" That was Grib's voice, the master dwarf. "Sire, what should we do?"

Peter turned to him, refusing to meet Lucy's eyes because he knew he'd made her cry. He swallowed. "Let him rest. We'll begin our journey tomorrow," he told the dwarf; he bowed and left his sight. "And Orieus?" Orieus looked up, surrounded by more Centaurs. "Take your soldiers and search the forest for food." He turned to Susan again. "Give him to me. You should have some breakfast. Go on, you two," Peter said, gently shoving Lucy towards the camp. He took Edmund from Susan and shoved her along with Lucy. The sisters gave him a look but then nodded. And were off.

Pressing a light kiss to his brother's hair, Peter whispered, "Aslan, please, keep him safe."

"Peter. Peter. Peter!"

Peter jerked awake, hand instinctively to the pommel of his sword, but he relaxed instantly to see his brother. He reached for him, tugging at the hem of his shirt to get him to sit down. Ed did, and Peter frowned to see tears on his face. "Ed, what is it?"

"Where are we?"

Peter smiled. "We'd been taken captive, remember? We're just a little West of Narnia."

Edmund, at first, blinked, as if recalling something. Then the expression faded and he tilted his head, and asked innocently something Peter never thought he would have to hear from his siblings, "What's Narnia?"

But Peter still said kindly, "Narnia, Ed. Our home."

Edmund began rubbing his temples. "I don't—I don't remember. I don't..." He gazed around, and gasped, shifting closer to Peter. "Peter, what are these things?"

"Edmund!" Peter yelled, losing his calm. "Stop this nonsense. You have to remember! Narnia. Our home. Our Kingdom. How can you forget? Narnia!" Peter shook him, rattling his teeth. But he still looked clueless. "Edmund! Don't you remember? Don't you remember our first battle? Beruna? Do you remember Jadis?"

At her mention, Edmund closed his eyes, whispering, "No."

And then his nose started bleeding. That scared Peter out of his wits. "Ed?" he asked, tapping his cheek once. But Edmund collapsed, going utterly limp in his arms. "Edmund!" Peter screamed, shaking him. But he didn't wake till morning.

In the morning, it took a lot of convincing to get Edmund to eat. He was scared Orieus would eat him. As Peter took another mouthful of the toast, he noticed Lucy was glaring at him. Susan had cooled off after yelling at him. But Lucy was still angry. They had a right to be. But Peter had been flustered. Afraid. He knew he shouldn't have yelled at his brother, his brother who didn't remember Narnia, and definitely shouldn't have asked him about Jadis, which made him pass out. Oh, Aslan, what a fool he had been.

"Ed, you alright?" he asked his brother who was drinking his tea.

"Yes. Just confused. About a lot of things. Why don't I remember anything, Peter?" he asked, turning to him. He was conscious that his sisters were listening to the conversation and would probably stop him before he could do something foolish.

"What do you remember, Ed?"

"Not much. Nothing. Just—I only know I know you. I don't…Peter, what if I forget you too?"

By this time, Susan and Lucy had stepped in. Edmund smiled at them as both sat down beside him on the grass, forming a circle. "Do you remember the first winter in Narnia?" Lucy asked in a gentle voice.

"But that's just it, Lu. I don't remember Narnia."

Susan visible stifled a gasp. But she said, "Then if you remember us, you must remember Narnia. How can you not? Ed, if this is some sort of a joke—"

But Edmund turned away, reluctant to see his sisters see him weep. Peter stood up. "Where are you going?" Lucy asked, rubbing her elder brother's arm.

"To the witch's dungeons. We need to find out what she did to him. And then reverse it."

"Peter—"

"I can't!" Peter shouted, bringing a stop to all activity in the camp. All eyes stared at him as he continued, "I can't see this. I can't sit around and wait for him to ask my name."

"Peter, please don't go," Edmund pleaded.

"Ed—"

"Please. I—I know I'll forget. If you go, I'll—"

Peter swallowed a lump. "I won't. It's alright, Ed. I'll send Orieus. Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"It all keeps drifting away. If I try to recall, it hurts. It hurts so much."

"It's okay. It doesn't matter, Edmund. It doesn't matter. It doesn't."

As Lucy and Susan waved the Centaurs goodbye—they were now a distant black smudge moving down the slope—Peter wondered if his brother would remember him when he would wake up. If he even would wake up. Whatever that witch had done to him, Peter knew, oh, he knew it would haunt them. In this way, he had not expected. Would his brother remember him? A small voice in his mind scoffed at him. And when the sun set, hiding behind the tall, steep mountains in the West that marked the borders of Narnia, Peter wept once more, dreading whatever awaited them in the morning.

Lucy's sleep was disturbed when she hears yells coming from behind her. If she'd woken to the sweet tunes of the birds and the sun's light filtering through her eyelids, she would've almost believed they were camping in the Woods, like they had so many times before. But then she remembered. She wished to scream in frustration but gathered herself, and stood up. She raced in the direction of the sounds. Reaching her siblings, she gasped loudly, trembling. But Susan held her where she was, urging to her be quiet. Or she might just kill Peter.

"You can't kill me, Ed."

"I don't know you."

"But you can't kill me."

Edmund dug the sword deeper into his brother's neck. "I don't know you," he repeated more firmly, making his meaning clear. "Unless you tell me where I am, I will kill you."

"I've already told you. West of Narnia," Peter said, his hands raised in surrender. He'd been pushed back against the tree. "Edmund—"

"Not my name!"

"Then what is your name? Can you remember?"

"Stop!" Edmund yelled, gripping the hilt of the sword more tightly. "Stop it. You're giving me a headache."

"You are Narnia's King, Edmund. My Knight. My brother. Just try to remember. Just a little. Orieus is already at the dungeons. He'll—"

Edmund's eyes shone in the morning light. "King?"

"Aslan's King." Edmund dropped the sword. "You remember Him? Ed? Edmund?"

"I don't remember. I can't. I can't grab them. They keep leaving. They keep leaving me! I can't take it anymore!" Edmund said, sinking to the ground. "It hurts! Aslan!"

The Narnians who'd formed a circle around the Kings, watching anxiously, glanced at each other, their hearts breaking for the young King. Lucy wished desperately to be by her brother's side, but Susan shook her head. This, Edmund had to go through alone.

"You remember Him, don't you? Tell me, Ed, who is Aslan?"

"Stop!" Edmund yelled, flinching away from Peter who was taking steady steps towards him. "It hurts!"

"Tell me!" Peter insisted, kneeling beside his brother. He forced him to uncover his ears, pinning his hands down. "Look at me." Edmund refused to. "Tell me. Who is Aslan?"

"Please don't. Stop. Stop it!"

"Just tell me."

"I don't know!"

"You do. You remember Him. You love Him."

"Please. Please, stop. It hurts!" Edmund repeated, his breathing now laboured

"Tell me."

"Please."

"Who is He?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know."

"But you love Him?"

"Yes."

And he went lax once more in Peter's arms, nose bleeding again. And fevered eyes showing through the narrow slits. And Peter knew. They'd lost him.

"He's dying, my King. The fever is killing him," said Grib. "Out here in the wild, we have no means to—"

Susan held up a hand. "Enough has been said, Grib."

"I'm sorry," with the words, the dwarf left. Peter's eyes never left his brother. He could still remember that cold look, the threats, the unfamiliar voice, the horrible feeling that his brother was gone, snatched away. He'd come back. For a second, he was there. And now, they'd lost him again.

"Peter?" Lucy asked, wetting the cloth with cold water once more. "Peter, please, you can't mourn someone who isn't dead. We can't give up. Peter? Peter!"

"Tell me when he dies," Peter said as he began trekking into the woods.

"Do you remember?"

"I can't. Please, it hurts."

"Do you remember Me?"

Peter ducked under another low branch, his face emotionless, eyes tearless. Just fiery, filled with fury. Not here. Not yet.

"I don't know."

"Do you love Me?"

Peter heard the sound of water. Falling. The river rushing past the shore. And he kept walking.

"Do you love Me, My son?"

"Yes."

Then let that be enough."

Reaching the cliff of the waterfall, Peter screamed, "Give him back!"

"But what of all I've left behind? All that I love?"

"I am all that you love."

"Give him back! How dare You! How dare You take him again! Give him back!" Peter screamed, falling to his knees.

"But what of them? Won't they miss me?"

The Lion smiled.

"Give him back. Please. Give him back, Aslan. Or take me with."

"You say it hurts when you try to remember. Are you willing to bear that hurt in order to return? Are you willing?"

Edmund considered, hesitating only for a second. "Yes."

"Then close your eyes."

And Orieus struck the purple stone with his sword, breaking it into two.

"Aslan?" Peter whispered. His voice was lonely. His reply only a whoosh of the wind. "Why? So many times. He's been hurt so many times. And now You've taken him. Return him, Aslan. Please, give him back."

"He did."

Peter shook his head, laughing. He didn't look back.

"Scared you'll find a ghost?"

"Scared I'll throttle you."

"It really hurt to come back, you know. You could at least give me a hug."

"Shut up," Peter said. Then sniffed, and finally turned. "You git!" he said, slowly walking his brother. "You absolute dolt!" he said, punching his shoulder. Then he pulled him in for another rib-crushing hug.

"That's my line."

"I hate you."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I can't help loving you."