Disclaimer: I don't own the Pevensies. They're just all I have to think about on a 9-Hour drive to South Carolina.
I don't own the italicized lyrics, either. They're The Fray's. The first line is from Oceans and the others are from She Is.
Figure since I'm so far gone, oceans away, I can lay my saber down today
Peter firmly pressed his heels into his mount's side until the stallion moved into a brisk trot. "Come on, Ed!" he called behind him. "Su'll be upset if we're much later."
Edmund rolled his eyes in response as Phillip picked up the pace without any urging. "We're not late, Peter. You're just anxious to get back."
"Oh, don't tell me you're not excited too. You know Susan will have a big homecoming celebration as soon as our brigade appears on the horizon."
"We've only been gone a week," Ed replied, faking exasperation when in all actuality he knew that it didn't matter. Susan always insisted there be some sort of festivity whenever they returned from expeditions, no matter how long the trip was.
"Try explaining that to your older sister," Peter laughed. He always tried to act like the welcoming parties were bothersome, while the truth was he always enjoyed the small celebration. It was a welcome relief to enjoy a bit of fun when returning from a tiresome outing.
Edmund smiled and nodded, knowing that his brother was right. After a moment of riding in silence, he pivoted at the hip in his saddle to glance back at the small cadre of three centaur soldiers and a dryad trained in the art of healing. A mischievous smirk spread slowly across the young King's face before he hissed, "Watch this," back at the group. Then in one swift motion he turned back to face forward and spurred Philip, to which the chestnut horse heaved a defiant 'umph' before lunging into a gallop. As the pair passed Peter, Ed extended a hand and struck his brother in the back of the head. Peter yelped in surprise, but the bewildered look on his face was soon replaced with a mutinous glare.
"Oh you'll pay for that," the High King growled before he, too, spurred his horse into a gallop. The two raced across the fields, the brigade following close behind, until the long grasses gradually disappeared into the white sands of the beaches of the Eastern Ocean. Cair Paravel loomed ahead; its awe-inspiring presence causing the King's to slow their horses. Peter looked up at the shimmering castle and drew in a deep breath of the salty ocean breeze. Smiling in contentment, he exhaled, "Home.."
As the group entered through the Cair's gates, a sense of worry simmered in the pit of Peter's stomach. There was no jubilation or festivities in the courtyard, only furtive glances lined with sympathy and sorrow. Something wasn't right. A King's return was supposed to be reason enough for a joyous function, not a gloomy silence. As he dismounted a small servant boy hurried over to take the reins and lead the horse to the stables. The boy made special cautions to avoid the High King's gaze, which only confused Peter even more. Once the stable hand was leading the stallion away, Peter turned to look at his brother and saw a confused expression that echoed his own.
"Peter.." Edmund started with a questioning glance.
"I don't know, Ed," Peter replied before the question was voiced. He knew what his brother would say, for he was thinking the same thing.
The younger King shook his head. "Me neither."
Chancing a glance at the soldiers that had accompanied them, it was easy to see that they didn't know what was going on either.
Taking a deep breath and shrugging his shoulders, Peter said with a determination, "Well, let's find out." With that he made his way towards the open doors and stepped through, his brother following close behind. A nymph sat in a chair near the entrance, fiddling with the edges of her blue dress. At the sound of the Kings' footsteps, however, she jumped to her feet, lowering in a hasty bow before stepping forwards. "Your Majesties.."
The nymph's sudden liveliness surprised Peter, but he soon recovered and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Madame.."
"I come with instructions from your sister to greet you. If you will, follow me," the nymph said in a shaky voice, still fiddling with her hands and avoiding the King's gaze.
"Of course," Peter replied before the creature scuttled off down the hall. The High King shot a wary glance at his brother before the two followed her.
This is going to break me clean in two
This is going to bring me close to you
The nymph led them down hallways and corridors until they stopped in front of the healer's asylum. Peter's worry only heightened as he glanced at the door before looking back at the nymph in question. She nodded and motioned towards the door. Peter then looked behind him, seeing only his brother waiting patiently. The centaur soldiers must not have followed.
"Come on, Peter," Edmund said, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder.
Peter remembered a time just hours before when he had told Edmund the same thing, anxious to return home. Now that he stared at the door to the healing room, a different kind of anxiety enveloped him. From the look on the nymph's face, and the sorrowful glances he had received from others in the castle, he knew that whatever, or whoever, was behind that door was definitely not going to be pleasant.
'You fret too much' a tiny voice inside his head assured, and Peter tried to swallow the worriment. He reached forward and opened the door with a creak, stepping into a room that smelled of different herbs and liquids, some wonderful and some not so delightful. Surveying the chamber, a sense of relief clouded the worry as he realized there was nothing to be concerned about in here, save the horrible odor coming from a greenish substance on one of the shelves nearby.
Suddenly a dryad emerged from behind one of the large cases wearing the same pitiful look that the nymph beheld. Upon seeing the Kings her shoulders only seemed to sag further, but she kept her composure and bowed quickly. "Your Highnesses, if you will," she said, beckoning them to follow her. Peter shook his head in exasperation; this was all so confusing. Yet he obediently followed her, curiosity getting the best of him, and made sure his brother was close behind.
This is going to bring me clarity
This'll take the heart right out of me
The dryad guided them through rows of shelves and cases holding all kinds of potions and herbs until she finally stopped at a wooden door at the back of the room. She turned the knob and the door swung open to reveal another darker room. Peter stepped through the archway into the room, feeling his brother's presence behind him, and squinted his eyes in the darkness. As his vision adjusted to the dim lighting, the figure of his sister could be seen kneeling in the center of the room.
"Su?" he said, still trying to make out other details of the room.
The figure didn't move, much less voice any reply, and Peter moved closer. He could tell a table stretched out before her, but what lay on that table he could not tell. It looked almost like.. a body? No, that couldn't be right.
But as he moved closer still, his suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed a body. More specifically, his baby sister's body.
This is going to bring me to my knees
I just want to hold you close to me
A pained wail crossed his lips involuntarily and he rushed forward before crumpling to his knees at the head of the table. He reached a hand up to his youngest sister's face and pressed gentle fingers against her cheek. Yet instead of feeling the warmth of life, his fingertips were met with only a lifeless chill.
The tears threatened to spill over, but he willed himself not to cry. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. Looking up at the dryad that still stood at the doorway, he asked in a shaky voice, "How?"
"It started yesterday. Her Majesty Queen Susan brought Queen Lucy into the ward, and the latter showed signs of fatigue, flushed cheeks, fever, and retching; typical symptoms of the simple flu. It seems it was much more, though," the dryad said before she was interrupted by the High King.
"Yes, much more, obviously," he said angrily, clenching his teeth.
The dryad held up her hands in surrender. "With all due respect, Your Majesty has not allowed me to finish. As I was saying, Her Highness had all the symptoms of a common flu. She was administered opiate and barbiturate and left to rest. I watched over her all night, occasionally checking her temperature and providing more mild sedatives. As the night wore on, however, her fever only worsened, reaching extreme temperatures. It was then that I called for the cordial, and when retrieved I administered only a drop, as instructed by Your Majesties. It did nothing for the Queen, however, and I was left to wait for the fever to peak. It never did, though, and in nearly two hours she passed away."
Peter's mind swirled as he tried to make sense of it all, to no avail. "So you're saying it was the fever that killed her, not the sickness?"
"Partly. My suspicion is that the virus somehow worked itself into her bloodstream. Her immune system detected the illness and worked to extract it by the retching, but the virus was not to be found. This confused her immune system, and it resolved to burning out the illness with a fever. However, the virus was protected within her bloodstream, and her fever only rose and rose until finally her body could not endure it anymore."
Peter bit his lip, barely comprehending the dryad's words. He tenderly stroked his littlest sister's hair, a blank stare etched on his face. He still had questions, though. "How did the cordial not work?" he asked without looking at the dryad.
"I have wondered the same thing, Your Highness. I suspect it is because the Queen was overcome with an illness, not an injury, and the juice of the fire flower has been recorded only for healing injuries, not sickness."
The High King nodded. Loophole.
"This is an extremely rare illness," the dryadcontinued, "In all my years of experience I've never seen anything like it before. It must have been Aslan's will."
Peter suddenly froze, his features becoming rigid. Finally, he could withhold the tears no longer. They spilled over onto his cheeks, flowing freely down his face. He clutched the tiny body to his chest, unaware when his brother fled from the room with a wail or when his other sister brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them. He was oblivious to the dryad's departure and his own wails that filled the room.
His only focus was on one thought- "Why couldn't Aslan have taken me instead of her?"
