Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C.S. Lewis.
A/N: Hey, everyone::grins and waves: Second to last chapter is up. Again, no Flashback at the very beginning (I just couldn't figure out a way to finagle it), but there is a Flashback towards the middle. Enjoy!
Reviewers: All 96 of you, thank you!
Nighttime Demons: I'm pleased to tell you (and hope you're glad to hear) that I'll be taking up Nighttime Demons again as soon as I finish this story. Also, watch out in the final chapter :grins: There's going to be a teaser for a fic I'm planning on posting after I get some of Nighttime Demons finished.
Many Thanks: Kelsey Estel, Hermione Eveningfall, Boleyn, ohcEEcho, EllaJ.W, Capegio, A Amelia Black, Frangipanigirl, Stormythomas, Sara Wolfe, Morwen Pallanen, amidnightkiss, TimeMage0955, Tex110, Jenn1, and Sera and Tails
"Speech"
/Personal Thoughts/
Memories
Multi-Chapter. Non-Slash.
.:Fever:.
Chapter VII: Origins of Love
By Sentimental Star
(Early Morning the Next Day, Cair Paravel)
The cool sea breezes of early morning swept along the edifice of Cair Paravel as he stepped out onto the balcony of his room, tired, but not overly so. He would have expected the wind to be chilly, if it hadn't felt so deliciously good after a night of dancing.
Peter smiled slightly. Never let it be said that the Narnians did not know how to have a good time. Their subjects—such a funny thought, "their" subjects—had celebrated and cavorted well through yesterday night and into the early hours of morning, and had ensured their newly crowned monarchs had celebrated and cavorted, as well. To their hearts' content.
Never had the thirteen-year-old had such feasting, and he knew he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.
All four of the siblings, surprisingly, had lasted the entire coronation ball, and were only now beginning to go to bed. The girls had bid their brothers good-night—well, good morning, anyway—and headed to their rooms around half an hour ago.
Peter had not known where Edmund went, but he assumed it was to take a bath. In truth, he was a little concerned about his younger brother. His movements had been slightly slower than normal, and while Lucy's cordial had worked its wonders, the ten-year-old still seemed a bit sore.
The older boy sighed softly, walking over to the balcony's stone rail, and lightly dropped his chin onto his folded arms, gazing out at the sea. In the distance, the Eastern part of the gray sky was taking on a rosy hue.
He supposed it would take quite some time before he felt fully at ease about his younger brother's safety. Nearly having one's sibling die was not a thing easily forgotten, as he well knew. Particularly when said sibling was Edmund, who seemed likely to get into many more similar mishaps before their time here was through.
"You're going to be the death of me, Ed," he grumped good-naturedly. "Why is it always you?"
"Because trouble usually comes looking for me?" a voice piped up sheepishly from behind him.
A little startled, Peter straightened and turned to face the threshold between the balcony and his bedroom. He blinked, then smiled, "Ed, I thought you'd taken a bath and gone to bed. What are you doing out here?"
Edmund gave a slightly embarrassed smile, cheeks tinged faintly pink, and moved out onto the balcony, footsteps light. "Er…I wanted to say good-night?" he suggested hopefully, hefting himself up to sit on the railing facing Peter.
His older brother chuckled softly, touched. "You don't need to ask, you know, and it's actually good morning, I think."
"Well, good morning, then," Edmund murmured, heels feather-light as they tapped against the rail and eyes on his feet.
Peter cocked his head curiously, raising an eyebrow. "Ed?" He noted with interest that his little brother's blush deepened.
The thirteen-year-old's smile softened and his eyes danced as he thought to himself (privately, of course), that Edmund actually looked quite adorable at the moment.
He wisely choked back his laughter as another thought nudged itself up/He'd just about die if I told him that./
When the younger boy did not seem particularly forthcoming with anymore than a "good morning," Peter turned his attention back to the sea and the sunrise that was gradually lighting up the Eastern sky, waiting him out. Thoughts drifting. As had been a frequent occurrence since they had first heard of Narnia, those thoughts somehow managed to swerve themselves back to Edmund.
(Flashback, Three Years)
The doctor had been puzzled. Sorely puzzled.
Eddy who, after that first waking, had gradually been able to stay more and more awake, waited (rather impatiently) for the dozen-th test the doctor had run on him to be over. A small pout on his face clearly told his parents and Peter that he was starting to feel much better.
Finally, with a sigh, the doctor took his stethoscope out of his ears and gently lowered the seven-year-old's pajama top. A thoughtful frown was on the man's face as he stood and began packing away his various instruments as Edmund watched with some interest.
"I don't understand it, Mrs. Pevensie. Even though the penicillin and other antibiotics I prescribed seem to have worked well, his fever took a dangerous turn when he fell unconscious. According to all the research I've read, and all the conditions I've seen, he should have, at the very least, not woken so soon, if at all. He very well could have died," the gray-eyed adult advised, his inability to understand frustrating him enough that he was not quite so careful of what he said.
Consequently, at those words, a small gasp came from their mother as their father's face paled slightly. Peter himself felt sick to his stomach. Had it really been so close?
Swallowing uncomfortably and feeling rather light-headed, he glanced at his brother beside him in the bed who had heard that last part and was now frowning slightly, watching the doctor.
The doctor seemed to have realized what he said. Flushing slightly, he cleared his throat, "My apologies, I did not intend for that to come out as it did. I am just trying to make some sense of this, but I can't. This is nothing short of a miracle."
Apparently, Edmund did not like that explanation. "Nah-unh!" he exclaimed indignantly, drawing the adults' attention to him. "Not a miracle." He suddenly pointed to a very startled older brother. "Peter."
Peter felt his cheeks blaze at his little brother's simple, but heartfelt declaration, ducking his head and shyly peeking up through his wayward sandy-blond hair as everyone's attention shifted to him.
A smile slowly spread across their father's face. "Now that wouldn't surprise me a bit," he remarked warmly, gently tussling his oldest son's hair. "Considering he has barely left his side."
Their mother laughed softly. "Yes, even when he was supposed to be in bed himself."
The doctor regarded Peter quietly for a moment, before a slow smile, echoing their father's, touched his lips. Suddenly, he winked, smile turning into a grin, "Still a miracle then, just in different packaging."
And while the grown-ups talked, Eddy grinned at him and snuggled into Peter's lap.
The ten-year-old, not trusting himself to speak, slipped his arms around Edmund's waist and held him tight, pressing a kiss to the younger boy's forehead before resting his cheek on top of the younger boy's head.
(End Flashback)
"Peter."
His name broke into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. The thirteen-year-old found himself back on the balcony at Cair Paravel with his ten-year-old brother still sitting beside him on the rail.
Shaking his head to clear it, he turned to the younger boy, slightly caught off guard, "Yes?"
Edmund glanced at him, biting his lip uncertainly, before looking down at his feet again. Hesitantly, he spoke up, "Yesterday, after the coronation…I meant to tell you, but we were so busy celebrating with everyone that I didn't get the chance."
Peter lifted his head, glancing narrow-eyed at his brother. "If this has something to do with the wine…"
That statement was so sudden that it surprised a laugh out of the younger boy, who gently swatted the thirteen-year-old's shoulder. "Yes, about that…" he began, eyes dancing.
His older brother made a face. "Well, how was I supposed to know it was wine?"
"I don't know, perhaps the fact that it was served in a goblet?" Edmund teased warmly, voice mirthful.
Peter blushed slightly. "I thought it was juice!"
The younger boy started laughing. "You…you're hopeless, Peter," he gasped out a few moments later, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he started to calm down.
He expected his brother to come back with some witty remark, but only silence greeted him.
Puzzled, he turned and found Peter quietly watching him with a fond smile on his face.
"What?" Edmund asked with a small frown, feeling his cheeks beginning to sting.
The older boy merely shook his head, still smiling. "It's good to see you laughing again," he murmured.
The ten-year-old looked thoughtful at that, going back to lightly kicking his heels against the balcony. "It was Aslan, really," he finally replied, then shot something of a quirky grin at his older brother. "You and the girls some, too. Narnia and its—our people—as well." He held out one of his hands, making sure the other still kept him balanced on the rail, and examined it closely. Softly, almost to himself, he remarked, "It's different here. Just…different. More magical, more peaceful, now that the Witch is gone. I don't think I would have gotten a second chance back at home—England, I mean."
Peter reached out and gently captured his younger brother's hand, smiling (a trifle sadly) when the other boy's slightly startled gaze fell on him again. "I'm glad you did, Ed," he answered quietly.
Edmund cocked his head somewhat, silently regarding the older boy. "I know," he said at last, pinning his brother with an indefinable look.
Under the steadiness of that gaze, the thirteen-year-old straightened, rather surprised. He blinked. "Ed?"
A tiny smile touched the younger boy's lips as he withdrew his hand from Peter's. For a moment, it seemed to the teenager his brother might hop off the rail and head back into the castle, but something stayed Edmund's retreat.
Unexpectedly, he reached out and gently brushed the older boy's bangs away from his face, keeping their eyes locked. "I meant to tell you after the coronation," he repeated quietly, picking up their earlier conversation, "but yesterday…when Mr. Tumnus put that crown on your head…you truly did look Magnificent, Peter." The smile slipped, but affection still shone in his dark brown gaze, "I was so proud of you. Still am, actually. Never thought I'd say it, but it's true." He carefully leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Peter's forehead, very, very softly whispering, "I love you."
As his older brother's breathing hitched, Edmund pulled back with a second shy smile into wide china blue eyes and quickly slid off the railing, a prominent blush on his cheeks. With a muttered "'Night" (in spite of the fact that it had already been established as morning), the ten-year-old hastily made for the threshold leading into Peter's room as the first rays of dawn suddenly broke out over the balcony.
He barely made it past his brother.
Peter recovered himself in enough time to swiftly grab his the other boy's hand, spinning around, "Ed, wait!"
Edmund halted, slightly tense and facing front, fingers entwined with Peter's. He said nothing.
The thirteen-year-old slowly drew the ten-year-old closer, back towards him. "You…you're really…you meant that?" he asked uncertainly, sounding horribly insecure.
The younger boy finally turned, shakily rolling his eyes. "Of course, you dolt," he managed, a trembling, uncertain grin on his lips. "Why else would I say it?"
Peter gave a tremulous smile in return and knelt on one knee in front of his little brother, keeping their hands tangled together. He hesitated at first, then lightly pushed back Edmund's lengthening bangs with his free hand, "I know," he whispered, "you…you just haven't said it…in a long time."
As guilt flashed in the younger boy's eyes and he dropped his gaze, Peter shook his head and moved his hands to frame his brother's face, tilting his chin back up. "I didn't say that to condemn you, Ed," he reprimanded softly. He cracked another grin. "Besides, aren't big brothers supposed to be the ones to tell their younger brothers how proud they are?"
Edmund gave a choked laugh. "Yes, well, the younger brother beat the older brother in this case, I'm afraid," he pointed out, voice thick.
Peter kept smiling, pulling the ten-year-old into a tight hug. The type only he (according to Edmund) could give. It was not as desperate as the hug on the battlefield had been two days ago, nor was it as bone-crushingly tight as the one he had trapped his younger brother in when the other boy had first returned to Aslan's camp.
This was Peter's real hug, and one neither of them had shared in well over a year.
But that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered today was that he had his little brother back. Today he could hold Edmund close and cherish it.
His brother's pride and, most of all, his brother's love meant the world to him. Plus one thousand more.
To Be Concluded…
A/N: :groans slightly and rubs back of neck: That had to be one of the hardest chapters to write. And I'm not entirely sure why. :sighs: This didn't turn out quite like I had planned, but maybe that's just because I'm tired :makes a face:. Anyway, what did you think? I hope it's just as good as my other six.
One more chapter to go—the Epilogue—and then I'll be finished. Hmm…I might try to post again on Sunday (since I know a few people are going to poke and prod me 'til I do :winks: ), but no promises. It's actually more likely to be up this coming week, but we'll see. Please keep an eye out all the same!
Next Chapter (Epilogue): Origins of Change, taking place after the children return to England.
