Title: Were it Not For Love
Author: MooMoogle
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own 'em, but I love them.
A/N: Whew! I can't believe I made so many people that sad! I feel terrible+Laughs+ Ah, I am the center of all misery! Anyway, I'm warning you- Major fluff between Ed and Peter. YES HE'S DEAD! But, it's a dream, but it's a REAL dream, in a way...I did not do Peter's POV, because I stink writing like that. I overuse the word 'I', and it gets jumbled, but it's CENTERED more around Peter. But I did appreciate the reviews, and I would definatly enjoy more! Also, kudos to my favorite Authors for helping me see how to flow my work better...It helps when it doesn't jump from place to place a lot. XD Also, forewarning- I am definatly not good at writing for Peter, and I might be way off on his character. I am very sorry, but Eddy is my best bet- probably why I'm drawing him back into the story- Hey, I don't want my writing to be known only for it's devestation+laughs+
Argh, this was so hard to write, too. I was having major writer's block, so the ending may be a bit disappointing, so I'm very sorry if the story is rather weak this chapter. Please read and review, though! I love reviews!
Well, I'll shut up and let ya'll read.
Chapter Two: Of Brothers
His china blue eyes widened in pure horror as he watched the dagger fall, its blade almost gleaming with delight as it descended. "NO!" screamed Peter, stumbling backwards as his brother's ebon eyes closed…And yet, his voice seemed to have left him from his utter shock, only a gasp escaping his protesting lips.
A fierce roar of triumph echoed out across to the trembling boy. "The Traitor is dead!" The Witch's cold words no longer attempted to restrain her cruel joy. Anger flamed in Peter's cerulean eyes, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. An urge wanted him to go to the Table, to draw the very sword he held and avenge his brother…
But he knew he would be outnumbered very, very easily. With a shuddering sigh, Peter crumpled in the underbrush, his sides heaving with silent sobs, succumbing to his grief.
The young man remained there, shedding his tears silently until the final sounds of the retreating enemy Army vanished. Managing to bring his sobs to a pause, he shakily clambered to his feet, leaving a hand on a tree for support. He kept his gaze on the ground beneath him, afraid to even glance at the scene just a little ways beyond.
He was afraid; afraid just to even look.
Finally mustering up his courage, Peter released his fierce grip on the bark. His steps started out slow, resenting to face the true image…But his emotions washed through him, and he released his grip on sanity, increasing his pace to a run.
Only when he was within feet of the Stone Table did he slow…Only when he was within feet of the lifeless body that lay upon the formation.
His streaming tears fell, if possible, more profusely at the sight of his brother. There on the Stone Table, Edmund looked so small, so fragile…Like a piece of glass.
A piece of shattered glass.
Unable to support himself, he collapsed next to Edmund, threatening to burst into wracking sobs. He surveyed his brother…Wounds and bruises seemed to cover the twelve year old.
"Oh, Edmund," he whispered, thoroughly horrified at his condition. Slowly, he unsheathed his sword, cautiously cutting away the tight ropes that bound his brother. He worked slowly, so very careful as to not afflict another wound, but refused to stop.
Only did he pause when he had tossed aside the bonds that had held Edmund's wrists prisoner for days…Soft sobs finally began to escape Peter, his tears blurring his vision. The skin had been worn away for the most part, having left them a bloodied, wretched mess.
Lastly, he untied the gag from Edmund's cracked lips, casting the cloth to the ground, leaving his brother's head in Peter's lap.
With a single, quivering hand, he ran his fingers tenderly through the dark locks of hair, stroking it ever so softly. He had done this so many times, whether it was to annoy or comfort his little brother…
'I am so, so sorry…' He had seen, almost clearly, the last words his brother had addressed to him. He tipped the boy's calm face towards him, gazing into it with utmost grief.
"I…I know Ed….I know," he said quietly, his sides already shaking from silent sobs. But something shining caught Peter's attention as he looked into the scarred face…
There, on Edmund's cheek, was a soft stream of tears, gently reflecting the moon's glow. He had cried; he had cried at the very end.
Finally unable to restrain his sorrow, Peter burst into wracking sobs, pulling Edmund close to him in a fierce embrace. His wails echoed across the wood behind him, but he no longer cared if anyone heard him; friend or foe.
He remained there, burying his head into his brother's shoulder, seeking any flicker of life. It was a foolish thing to do, but he seemed to have lost his grip on reality. He took in the familiar scent of that same boy that had laughed and romped with him so many years ago…
Finally he slumped, reduced to hiccupping sobs. His cries softened as he looked up at the starry sky. 'I…should be getting back. Susan and Lucy need to know,' he thought faintly. 'Aslan needs to know.'
Peter returned his attention to his little brother he held close, gently brushing a stray lock of hair out of Edmund's tranquil face. "Oh, Eddy..." Peter whispered, unable to trust his own voice. After a moment's hesitation, he gathered himself and stood, carrying Edmund protectively in his arms.
He descended the small stair of the Stone Table, beginning to cross the green that led into the wood. As he reached the forest's boundary, his brother's head fell limply against Peter's chest. The elder boy threatened to burst into tears as he glanced down at his brother. Softly, he murmured, "Oh, my little devil...You were just out of my reach."
Peter crept silently through the quiet camp; it was still the middle of the night, and obviously he had been the only one to catch the faint howls of the enemy Army. Every now and then, the faint rustle of a satyr or the whinny of a horse would catch his attention, and he would dash into the shadows- he didn't want anyone to know about Edmund…yet.
As he approached Susan and Lucy's tent, he faltered. Biting his lip with anxiety, he stood still, waiting to assure that they were sound asleep before passing.
He kept glancing down at his brother, as though wishing he would just breathe…As he rose his gaze once more, he faltered, nearly yelping in shock.
Aslan's golden eyes gazed at him as the lion stood just a small ways before him. Peter opened his mouth to say something- anything- but his voice seemed to have left him. Numbly, he returned the powerful gaze, unable to do much else.
"Peter." The very word seemed to have so much meaning… "Whom do you carry?"
Peter, quite unready for the question, remained silent for a moment before he said quietly, "Edmund."
He could sense the small flicker of uncertainty in the lion's eyes. "I will assume that is your brother." Peter nodded. "Is he alright?"
A buzz of annoyance flamed inside the boy. His brother, his little brother, was lying, not breathing, in his arms. "No." Aslan remained silent, and Peter hesitantly continued; "He's…he's…" The lump in Peter's throat grew, and he quit talking.
Aslan continued to gaze at him, though now with a somber note. "Do not grieve terribly…Though his loss will be mourned. Without him…The fate of Narnia will be altered very much so."
"Aslan, how can I not grieve? Edmund is… gone! There is nothing more I can say to him! He will never know…" Peter's voice lowered to a whisper. "He will never know that I forgive him…That I love him."
A soft growl vibrated from the lion, causing a tremendous bout of alarm to course through Peter. "He never will know you love him?"
Peter faltered. "I…I don't know. I …I feel like I was too hard on him. And now…" A fresh flow of tears began, and he again stopped, unable to continue.
"There is hope, Peter." A flicker of hope sparkled in his mourning blue eyes.
"Your brother no longer belongs here in this world- It is not his place. But just because he is considered fallen here does not mean his spirit lives on elsewhere."
Peter's brow furrowed. "He…He can come back?"
Aslan shook his great head. "Sadly, nay. Peter, he has died. He cannot come back. He has been murdered, however, in cold blood; there are ways. It is difficult to explain, but I am sure you will understand soon. The only thing that may prevent it will be his treachery. But for now, go back to your shelter and rest. We will spread the grave news tomorrow morning."
The Lion's words were sure and steadfast, but as Peter looked closer, he saw the great, shining tears within those deep, golden eyes. The boy bit his lip, still rather confused, but turned, walking very slowly towards his own tent…And after a moment's pause, the soft treading of Aslan's paws could be heard moving away.
Peter stood amid the many trees of an old, forgotten forest. Their long, thick limbs were covered in odd looking leaves, seeming to shimmer with their own light, blotting out the night sky. He was sitting tiredly against a large trunk of an ancient oak, staring up at the foliage. 'This is odd…' he thought faintly, but it was peace…And that seemed to settle him.
"Peter." The silence snapped, causing Peter to wince. He leapt to his feet, his alarm raised. A hand dropped to his side, seeking Rhindon's hilt, but only met thin air.
His nerves pranced uneasily as he called out, "Speak your name!"
A raven haired boy stepped coolly from the dark shadows, his eyes downcast. The light, even so, was still dim, and Peter could not quite make out the figure. He remained silent, waiting impatiently for a reply.
"Peter, it's me." Edmund finally raised his gaze to him, and though his face was dauntingly calm, his eyes were full of hurt and regret. "Don't you even remember me?"
His china blue eyes opened wide as Peter stared at his brother. "Bloody…" he murmured, blinking. "Ed? Edmund!"
Edmund smiled weakly, nodding slightly. Peter pulled the boy into a warm embrace, running his fingers through the dark hair. "Ed…I don't think I've ever been so happy to see you," he murmured. The younger grinned sheepishly.
Yet Peter sensed the growing guilt in his brother…Edmund suddenly broke away, his smile faded. "Don't," he said quietly.
He received a quizzical look from his elder brother, though he chose to ignore it. "Ed?" He began to lay a comforting arm around Edmund's shoulders, but the boy shied away.
"Stop it, just stop," he muttered, a note of misery entwined in the plea. He turned away from the sanded haired boy, lowering his gaze again to the grassy ground. Peter remained motionless, staring at his brother with guilt. Edmund dropped to his knees, sitting motionless. Finally, he whispered, "I don't deserve to be happy."
Peter moved next to his brother, sitting beside him. "Oh, Edmund…" Edmund paused, but still refused to look up.
"Peter, I am so, so sorry," Edmund whispered. "I really am…" Tears were flowing down the boy's face now. Peter bit his lip, his eyes watering with sympathy. Gently, he placed his arm around the boy's shoulders, and Edmund leaned into him, trembling.
"Peter, do you forgive me?" Peter looked down at his brother, meeting the eyes so identical to their Father's at long last.
"Of course, Ed," he assured softly, stroking the dark hair. "Of course."
Edmund smiled weakly, whispering, "Thank you, Peter." Quite suddenly, the boy crumpled against his brother, his body shaking with wracking sobs he had long held. Almost out of instinct, Peter pulled his brother closer as he cried, moving a tender hand up and down Edmund's back.
"There," he murmured, a steady stream of tears falling from his own eyes as he repressed sobs. "Shh…" Edmund dug his fingers into the soft leather tunic his brother wore, burying his head in Peter's shoulder. More nonsense meant for comfort escaped Peter's lips as he slowly consoled his brother, the sobs beginning to drone away.
Finally, Edmund' cries receded as he lay in Peter's protective arms. He sniffed, falling limp. After a few minutes silence, he whispered, "It hurt, Peter."
Peter's tears fell faster, reaching a hand up to stroke his brother's raven hair. "It hurt me, too."
Edmund pulled his head away, staring at his brother with eyes red from crying. Peter forced a small, weak smile, though it faded quickly.
"Ed, when I found you there…I couldn't believe what that Witch had done to my little brother. It was so clear you had endured a living hell…But to…to…to kill you…" Edmund lowered his eyes to the ground, his guilt gripping him again- "That…she will pay at the Battle."
"Peter, I deserved to be there! I was a bloody traitor! She told me, right before she…did it, that it was a law- all traitors are hers." Edmund's face went the wrong sort of shape that it does when you try to hold back tears. "And I just…betrayed you! And Su! And Lucy!" A growl of self hate vibrated in his throat.
"I was doomed to die."
More tears spilled from Peter's cerulean eyes, causing a fresh stream to flow from Edmund's. In desperation, Edmund turned away, unwilling to watch his brother suffer grief. He felt Peter's hand clasp his shoulder and gave a start, but did not pull away.
"I've already forgiven you, Ed."
The words were so full of that oh-so-familiar firmness, and yet, they were so soft, so understanding…Edmund turned back to his brother, his face finally filled with true peace.
"Thank you, Peter…" Peter smiled…And after a moment's pause, Edmund returned it.
"I know you're not in the wrong though…You were just trying to look after us; and poor Lucy…" Edmund murmured, looking rather regretful; "I will never get to tell her I'm sorry…I was so spiteful to her…"
Peter could see Edmund was getting drawn back to his misery and Peter gave his brother's shoulder a small squeeze. Edmund gave a small start, drawing his attention away from the past. Peter locked his eyes with Edmund's.
"Ed, don't.
Stop. You're torturing yourself. You made a mistake- leave it at
that," said Peter, a hint of warning in his voice. Fierce pride
glowed in Edmund's eyes, and he opened his mouth to rebuke, but
Peter cut him off; "Ed…Eddy…I said stop. Please."
Alarm etched across Edmund's face, but it was replaced with contentment and remembrance. "You…You haven't called me that in years," he said softly. "Not since we were-"
"Friends." Edmund looked slightly taken aback, and Peter shot him a firm look. "Don't even try to act surprised. Ever since you started at that boarding school, we've always had a row over something…And ever since Dad left, we've been utterly terrible to each other." Seeing the look of guilt pass over his brother, Peter continued, "It's not just your fault, Ed! I shouldn't have been so bossy…It's my turn to be sorry."
The boys fell silent after that, sitting side by side, Edmund leaning into Peter's soft embrace. There seemed to be nothing more to say for the time being…They were at calm, and both were afraid to break the quiet. Peter occasionally glanced down at his brother, reassuring that Edmund's mind hadn't traced back to unwanted sorrows…Reassuring that his brother was there.
A time later, Peter finally broke the silence. "Ed." The boy looked up, blinking his eyes blearily. Peter gave a small smile at the tired, almost innocent face. Gently, he brushed a dark lock of hair from the freckled face, a look of pure sincerity crossing his features. "I love you, Eddy," he whispered. "And I miss you."
Edmund returned the smile sleepily. "I love you, too…And I'll be waiting for you.' With that, Edmund closed his dark eyes, falling fast asleep in his brother's lap…And soon afterwards, slumber took Peter as well.
A/N: Okay, so how was that? A bit weird, falling asleep in your sleep, but oh well. I wanted it to end on a slightly melancholy note, slightly content...Again, please review, but if you have flames, please keep them low...+looks hopeful+
