Younger: Part I

"Every morning you are younger than you ever will be, enjoy the day."

Edmund sneezed, causing himself to shake violently. Carelessly, he wiped his nose—which he suspected was very red—with his sleeve, and adjusted on the bed, wanting to drift into a peaceful slumber again.

Something tugged at his hair. Now, he would have immediately jerked awake under normal circumstances. But he was sick. And dazed. And not interested in doing anything but sleep. But the hair-pulling was starting to annoy him. He groaned, slapping away the hand. The hand came back and this time it flicked his nose.

"BLOOP!"

He reared up, his hand instantly grabbed the collar of the intruder and he yanked him towards the bed. His other hand grabbed the knife that he always kept under his pillow and he pressed the blade onto the intruder's throat, blinking repeatedly, trying to get his misty vision to refocus. The figure before him sharpened and he blinked again.

It was a little kid.

"Please don't kill me!" the kid squealed, his eyes squeezed shut, and he held his breath, trying not to move in the slightest. Edmund blinked again, pulling back the knife. He had almost slit a child's throat. Oh, Aslan.

"Thank you," the kid said.

"For what?"

"For not killing me."

Edmund smiled. He looked no older than six, hair tousled, nightclothes on, cheeks flushed with pink, blue eyes filled with mischief. Edmund's first assumption was that he was probably one of Susan's guests from Archenland; considering he had been sick for so long that he had no memory of the past four days, it was likely new guests had arrived during that time without his knowledge.

"Who are you?" It was the question that Edmund was just about to ask. But he sighed.

"I'm Edmund."

The kid's eyes lit up. "My little brother's name's Edmund, too!"

Edmund chuckled. "Well, I should like to meet him one of these days. He'd want to meet his namesake, wouldn't he?"

The kid frowned. "What's a namesake?"

Edmund laughed. "Nothing. What's your name?"

"I'm Peter!" the kid squealed with delight, extending his tiny hand towards him. Edmund shook it, puzzled.

"You're named after the High King?"

"The High King?"

The boy looked just as confused as Edmund. He scratched his head and looked at him, tilting his head.

"You don't know the High King? But you didn't know me either, so I suppose—" said Edmund. "What's your full name?"

"Peter Pevensie!"

Edmund froze. Absolutely not. There was no way on earth this little kid was his older brother. But the resemblance was there, and Edmund could not deny it. Golden hair, light tan, blue, shimmering eyes, the same smile. But no! He simply refused to accept it. This could not be! Peter (Edmund was still hesitant to call him that) seemed to notice that Edmund had phased out and waved his hand in front of his eyes.

"Edmund?"

Edmund blinked and then gulped. "Yes?"

"Where are we?"

"Cair Paravel."

"Ca'r what?"

"Cair Paravel."

"What?"

"Cair Paravel!"

"What?" Peter asked with a chuckle and Edmund frowned, realising what the little kid was doing. Edmund then stood up, taking Peter by the arm. He tried not to stagger on his feet but the cold had left him dizzy. He really, really hated colds.

Peter tugged at his sleeve. Edmund looked down. Peter barely reached his waist. Seemed that for the first time in his life, he was taller than his brother. But no! This was not his brother. This was one of those stupid, lame pranks of Peter's. Yes, a trick. Peter just wanted to annoy him. But when he was sick? And knowing Peter, his brother wouldn't have left his side, especially when he was bedridden and unconscious. So, that meant—

He stopped in the middle of the hallway and knelt in front of the kid that was presumably his brother who had somehow turned into a six-year-old. Edmund sighed. And a chain of questions followed.

"How old are you?"

"I'm almost six! You see, my birthday is next month and mum says—"

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Three. Susan, Lucy and Eddie."

"How old is your brother?"

"Ed's two. He's a baby, really. Mum says he can't talk yet but I swear I heard him say my name! He said, 'Pe-tah'!"

Edmund gulped hard. This was not turning out as he had desperately wanted. "What's your mum's name?"

"Helen!"

"Oh, Aslan help me," said Edmund, shaking his head.

"Aslan?" Peter asked, looking confused again. Edmund turned to his older (younger?) brother again.

"He's the Lion."

"Lion! I love lions! Can I see him?"

"You can't just call Him. He's not a tame Lion, you know."

Peter scowled fiercely, crossing his arms. Edmund had never seen such a rapid change of mood as he saw then. The frown vanished in a second's time and Peter smiled curiously, looking around. He spun around on his heels, enthusiasm practically sprinkling from him. With eyes that were earnest and too innocent looking for Edmund's liking, Peter asked, "Is this…is this a castle?"

"Why, yes it is. It's built on the shore of the eastern sea, on top of the hill. There's the Great Hall, and the Courtroom and the—"

Edmund went on for some time, taking pride in his words, it had been long before he had had the pleasure of describing his marvellous home to someone. What he didn't realise was that during that time, while his eyes were seeing the various sights he was describing, a very bored six-year-old Peter had quietly slipped away, tiptoeing towards the end of the hallway. Upon reaching the corner, he had spotted the courtyard and an apple orchard. And of course, like any normal six-year child, he had been fascinated and had run out.

All this while, Edmund was still describing the castle of Cair Paravel to someone who wasn't even there. "—the treasure room is for when—" Edmund froze. "Peter?" he said, standing up and swaying on his feet a little. There was no movement in the hallway, so he called again, a little more loudly this time, "Peter!" Upon getting no response, he screamed, "PETER!" Only silence followed.

"I'm going to kill him."

Meanwhile, Peter had stumbled into the courtyard, staring at the tall trees excitedly. On top of the trees, there were apples hanging from the branches. They looked so red and so lush, and delicious. His mouth was already watering. But how to get to them? Why, there was only one logical explanation! He had to climb the tree! He ran to the trunk of one the tallest trees. Why the tallest, you ask? Because Peter was six!

He reached the trunk and then scratched his head. What to do now? Puzzled by his own silliness, he hugged the tree. There's no reason for why he did so. Maybe he was expecting Mr. Tree to hug him back and take him to the apples above, at the top.

"What are you doing?"

Peter let go of the tree and turned. His eyes widened. "What are YOU?!" he yelled in astonishment, running towards the—what to call it? —goat thing! The goat thing backed away when Peter sprinted towards it, looking rather afraid. But Peter didn't stop until there was less than a foot between them. Then he smiled at the creature, and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm…I'm Tumnus. And who might you be?"

"I'm Peter!" Peter shouted but then he remembered that Edmund had wanted to know his full name, so he shouted again, "I'm Peter Pevensie!"

Tum—what was his name? Well, the goat thing blinked and then looked at him with bewildered eyes. "How?" he muttered to himself.

"PETER!" came a roaring voice from the edge of the courtyard and Peter looked past Mr. Tumnus to find Edmund hurrying towards him on stumbling feet.

You see, while Peter had been occupied with Mr. Tree and Mr. Tum—the goat thing—Edmund had searched the whole Cair for his older—no, younger—brother, and had almost fainted in the Throne Room when the fever had spiked up. It was still high but Edmund could manage. He had survived worse.

"Peter, you come back here!"

Edmund, angered by his brother's irresponsible behaviour and hardly being able to make out the blurry figure in front of him as his brother's, never noticed the presence of Mr. Tumnus in the courtyard. He merely grabbed Peter by the arm—rather harshly if you ask poor Peter—and forced him out of the courtyard, leaving a baffled Mr. Tumnus behind to gape.

"Now, I don't know how you turned into a six-year-old but we have to find a way to fix this. What's the last thing you remember before coming here?"

Peter tilted his head again, shutting his eyes. Then he opened them and said, "I remember waking up here, beside you, on the bed."

"Before that?"

Peter shook his head. Edmund leaned against the head of the bed and buried his face in his hands. Why? Why did these things always happen to him? When the room suddenly felt too hot, he pushed off his covers. Poor Peter stumbled back when the sheets hit him. Edmund never even noticed. He rubbed his sore eyes and then…

"AA—CHOO!"

The sneeze left a racking pain in his chest. And then a coughing fit followed. When finally, the coughs stopped, he lied down on the bed, and felt his forehead with the back of his hand. He was burning up. Oh, Aslan, why? Why?

"You're sick."

"To say the least."

"I don't like that you're sick."

"What?" he asked, turning to his side to face his brother.

"I don't like that you're sick," Peter repeated with a frown.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Edmund rolled to his back again. "Well, you can't exactly help me. No one can help me. Susan and Lucy's rooms were empty. They're not at Cair. Oh, I remember! The treaty with Galma! They must have sailed to Galma. You should have gone with them, too. Then, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

Peter shot him another confused look. Edmund sighed. It would be no good trying to explain Peter how he was supposed to be twenty-one years old and Edmund's older brother. Edmund turned to the six-year-old.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Peter yawned, and then without any warning, he flicked Edmund's forehead. "Bloop!"

"Hey!" Edmund said, rubbing his forehead.

Peter chuckled. "You're funny like that." Then he yawned again, blinking tiredly. "You look like Eddie." Another yawn. "He has black hair like you." Peter covered his mouth when another yawn escaped him. "I'm sleepy…"

Edmund sat up, sniffing while he did so. "Can you find your way to Peter's chambers?"

"Whot?" Peter asked, barely keeping his eyes open.

"Fine, you can sleep here." Edmund lied down and gestured towards the empty space beside him, asking his brother to join him. "Come on then." Little Peter fell onto the bed, yawning again. "If you start snoring or kicking me in your sleep, I will shove you off the bed, alright?"

Peter laughed out loud, turning to Edmund. His blue eyes were suddenly wide open and he was staring at him expectantly. Edmund, whose own eyes were drooping, sighed and asked the kid,

"What?"

"Tell me a story?"

"Just go to sleep," Edmund said sharply, turning to the other side.

"Pleaaaseeee!" Peter whined. And Edmund covered his ears with the pillow. He was sick with a fever for Aslan's sake!

"Please?"

"Shut up."

"You're not very nice, you know." Peter shook him by the shoulder. "I can't fall asleep until you tell me a story!" He shook him again, more violently this time. Edmund groaned and buried himself further into the bed, fully intent on ignoring his brother until he finally gave up.

"Pleaaseee!"

Another shake. Oh, Aslan, please, why?

"Please!"

"Fine!" Edmund roared, jerking up from the bed. The loudness of his voice must have startled his brother for his brother was looking at him with scared eyes. His head started pounding. Great. A headache. Edmund extended his arm towards Peter.

"Come on."

Little Peter looked hesitant but in the end, snuggled close to Edmund.

"What story do you want to hear?"

"Any you like."

Edmund decided to tell the one he knew best. One he had lived himself. "Once there were four children, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy—"

"Those are my siblings' names!"

"What a strange coincidence, eh?" Edmund smiled. "This story is about something that happened to them when they were…"

Edmund recounted all that had happened. By the time he reached Mr. Tumnus and Lucy's part of the story, Peter's head had fallen onto his chest, and he was snoring quietly. Edmund muttered a quick "thank you" to the Lion and settled Peter onto the bed, placing the blanket over him. Edmund finally lied down in peace. He didn't remember falling asleep.

~o~

"—are you sure, Tumnus?"

"That is the High King. He said so himself."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He said his name is Peter Pevensie."

"Not many know of the sovereigns' full name. And you say you saw King Edmund in the courtyard, up and about?"

"Yes."

"It's impossible, Tumnus. King Edmund is…he's dying. He could not be…He has been asleep for four days now."

Edmund moaned, and muttered something that even he didn't understand.

"See? He's awake!"

"But it's not possible…"

"Shut up, please!" Edmund yelled, throwing a pillow at the two voices.

"King Edmund! You're awake!"

Edmund sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Thanks to you, Orieus. And be quiet, you'll wake Peter," he said, turning to his brother, who was curled up in a ball next to him, looking too innocent.

"Oh, my King!" Orieus exclaimed. "My King, you're awake and you're healthy!"

There was a tingling sensation in his nose. He disregarded it. "I wouldn't be too sure…AA—CHOO!" He rubbed his nose. "—about that."

Orieus and Tumnus then quietly walked towards the bed and scrutinised his sleeping brother with astonished eyes. Edmund let them take their time. This would not be easy to explain.

Orieus looked up at Edmund again. "This…child is…" He looked at Peter again. "…is the High King?"

"I know it's hard to believe—"

"Ahhh!"

Mr. Tumnus startled back at Peter's scream. Peter immediately moved towards Edmund, curling himself against his side. Edmund wrapped an arm around his brother's shivering form.

"It's alright, Pete. They're friends."

Peter nodded, burying his face into his brother's chest.

"I just got scared."

"I know."

"Majesty, if that is indeed High King Peter then-"

"We'll fix this."

"How?"

"I have no clue." He glanced at the two bewildered faces. "Any ideas?"