Swatting Flies

There were times when I would have liked very much to burst out of this royal role and tell someone what I thought of them in terms not even the greatest dolt in the world could misunderstand. It wasn't very noble of me, but at times I just didn't care.

I stood in the hall outside the throne room listening to yet another ambassador who somehow thought his liege lord – this time an Archenlander duke who scraped out a living from an estate bordering the Great Desert - was somehow worthy of asking for Susan's hand in marriage. From the sound of it, it seemed she should be thrilled at the prospect of dirt, dust, and camels. I was annoyed because he had waylaid me en route to my dance lesson when official meetings weren't to take place until one o'clock. At the same time I was grateful it was me, not either of my sisters, that he encountered.

Perhaps I was maturing, or perhaps maturity was being thrust upon me, but lately I had become very aware of an odious new phenomenon: suitors. I likened them all to swarming flies. There had been a few coming to Cair Paravel, usually in someone else's name, most of them concentrating their efforts on Peter and Susan as if they would wed someone that couldn't be bothered to ask them personally. After his first shock last year, Peter had learned to smoothly rebuff efforts at forming alliances through marriage. Initially I had been offended at the notion of my sisters being promised to anyone. (That the same thing might happen to me had not occurred yet, I'll admit). Susan and Lucy both seemed far too young until I remembered royalty was often betrothed at ridiculously young ages and, well, we were royalty now. With Peter's absence I was more keenly aware of the regular flow of proposals. I'm not sure what point I actually began to see my sisters as sexual beings (well, Susan, anyway) that would grow up and marry and have children, but I found myself territorial and defensive of them both. I certainly didn't want them leaving Narnia and I knew Peter felt the same way.

And I certainly didn't want them treated like trinkets at a fair. Not by any male alive.

Peter had a distinct expression and certain sigh he used whenever situations like this arose. The expression was narrow-eyed and disgusted, the sigh was to summon his patience. I unconsciously imitated him at that moment. I hadn't realized that being a king would be similar to being a school master responsible for swatting people down and putting them in their place. I had to think that we monarchs had much better things to do with our time than reprimanding petty ambassadors and noblemen. There had to be a way to break them of this annoying habit of constantly asking us to marry them, their children, or their masters.

"I'll remind you, sir, that my sister is thirteen years old," I hinted sternly. He seemed to think I actually had the authority to marry Susan off.

"And so soon a woman," he countered smoothly.

That was certainly not the kind of observation to win my regard. I was already resolved to complain to King Lune about this embassy. We had better things to do with our time than entertain people like this.

"And what is that to you?" I demanded coldly. I glared at him and snapped, "That is my royal sister of whom you speak and not some daughter of a petty noble desperate for connections in court. Quite the reverse in fact, given what I've learned of your master since your arrival. My siblings and I are not bargaining points for a treaty or commodities to be bartered, we are our own persons. Queen Susan rules Narnia in her own name and in her own right. She will choose her consort in due time, not have him chosen for her."

I will admit to a certain pleasure at lashing out at this man. It seemed the most effective way of dealing with him, annoying nuisance that he was, and somehow my words flowed as smoothly as water when I was riled. He'd been here two days, bowing, scraping, eating a lot, and watching the palace women – my sisters included – with assessing, hungry eyes, all the while unaware he was being monitored at every turn. His welcome was already worn out. He didn't even have the virtue of being clever or witty and his gifts had been commonplace. I decided it was time to exercise my authority as King of Narnia.

I glanced at the shadows to check the approximate time. "What luck, Ambassador! It's two hours before noon! You have until then to pack your things."

"Majesty?" he gaped, taken aback.

I smiled my most charming smile. Clearly he had envisioned a long and fattening visit, which he hardly needed. "At that time, sir, a military escort will arrive at your rooms to usher you and your party back to the Archenland border. Please don't return until you learn manners and the proper respect towards all women, from queens to maids to crones, be they plant or animal."

"B-But, King Edmund!"

"Your conduct towards the ladies of Narnia has been infamous and shameful and unbecoming a gentleman. Such things are not tolerated here. Women stand on equal footing with men in Narnia and you would do well to remember that."

He was beyond astonished. I nodded to the guards outside the throne room in case he tried anything foolish and summoned a waiting page. A Magpie flew up, landing on my raised fist and bowing deeply.

"Jeric, please advise Captain Cloudcaster that the Archenland embassy of ten men and servants is leaving at noon and they require an armed escort of fourteen soldiers and one officer to see them safely over the border of their own country. They can meet him at his chambers." Jeric flew off and I motioned to one of the Satyrs at the door. "Please see the ambassador safely to his rooms and send word for his party to be found and likewise escorted to their chambers to help pack. Good day."

I walked away from the flabbergasted Archenlander, sensing the man's indignation and my subjects' amusement, and joined my sisters in the throne room. We had moved our dance lesson to here while the banquet room we normally used was still being cleaned of Fox hair. A Faun musician was setting up in the corner and our dance teacher was measuring the floor with her long strides.

"Ed?" wondered Susan, stepping close. That I was up to something was evident.

"Just cleaning up the Cair a bit, Su," I assured her. Before she could respond the teacher clapped her hands for us to start the lesson. I smirked as I bowed over Susan's hand as we started the first dance, feeling rather smug.

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"You what?"

"Threw him out of Narnia," I repeated. "It's my country, too!"

"We never even saw him!" protested Susan, though I knew she wasn't angry.

Lucy giggled, then tried to keep a straight face with little success. We were seated at our evening meal, just the three of us, in our private chambers. Though he was always welcome and his presence was a joy, Aslan occasionally gave us time entirely to ourselves. I don't know how he knew, but he always seemed to sense when we needed to talk unencumbered by the presence of our elders. This was such a night. I was picking at my food. I noticed that we were being served far more of my favorite dishes than usual and I knew my sisters were trying to get me to eat more. I tried, but my stomach was staging a rebellion.

"Susan, he was rude and a letch. He treated you like something that he could buy for his petty duke that couldn't even show up himself and address you. I won't stand for that. You're my sisters and you're both heads of state, not bargaining chips."

I expected Susan to say something more, but instead she only leaned back in her chair, staring at me for a moment before pouring me more wine. Finally she smiled and said simply, "Thank you, Edmund."

"The pleasure was mine, believe me." I nibbled on some bread. "Especially since Cloudcaster picked fourteen male soldiers under Xati to escort them out."

They laughed at the notion of the tough, fiery Centaur officer ordering her men and the ambassador about. Oh, that poor Archenlander was in for the lesson of a lifetime! I'll admit it was an image I cherished.

"I have been thinking about something, though," I continued.

"What?" wondered Lucy.

"Well...I expect some day we'll all get married. At least you two," I added hastily, hoping to forestall any ideas they might get. Susan smirked knowingly. Lucy giggled again as she dumped another slice of roast on my plate when I was looking at our sister, proving my theory that they were conspiring against my lack of appetite. "Anyway...Narnia doesn't want any more queens than you two and she certainly doesn't need any more kings. I think we should make a law that whomever one of us marries will have the title of king consort or queen consort or royal consort or some such. Maybe prince or princess, but not king or queen. That way, at least, all these declarations of love that come pouring in will be thinned out a bit when they figure out they won't be crowned heads. And hopefully the girls will get less obnoxious about marrying Peter, once they find out they'll never be the High King's queen."

They were silent for a moment, staring at me, and I thought perhaps they might hate the suggestion. Then Susan lowered her silverware with a faint metallic ring. "Edmund Randall Pevensie, you are brilliant," she said with a grin.

"You hide it well," added Lucy just so I could glower at her, which I did to make us both happy.

"It's a very good idea and you're right, it will thin out the ranks of marriage proposals."

I attacked the slice of meat, knowing I had to eat more and figuring Peter was probably longing for anything half so delicious. "I'll work on it with Cheroom tomorrow. It can be my first law."

Susan raised her wine in a toast. "To our consorts."

"Whoever they are," added Lucy.

I tapped my goblet against theirs, glad they embraced my idea, and finished, "Aslan's blessing upon them, and us, and our High King."

Wherever he may be, I thought, and downed the wine.

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I should not have eaten so much.

It was closing on midnight and I was walking the corridors of Cair Paravel with Aslan, my stomach aching and nausea making me feel as if I might be sick at any moment. I had drunk some foul tea the healer gave me to little avail and so now I roamed the halls and wished I could curl up into a ball and have this all just go away. I sank my hand into the Lion's mane, thinking of how we in Narnia swore by this mane or those claws or that mighty roar with such reverence and yet here he was walking alongside me. Though true he was not a tame Lion, Aslan was at the moment the most tender and gentle of beasts. He was silent and supporting and exactly what I needed at that moment. I wondered if he could love me as much as I loved him.

I paused, my stomach threatening to heave. I flinched, my free hand automatically going to the wound and my other hand closing on a hank of mane. Aslan stopped as well, waiting until I drew a shuddering breath as the spasm eased. I leaned against him and he braced himself for my slight weight, a deep purr rising in his throat.

"Aslan," I asked quietly, hating myself for doubting. Every night around this time anxiety and anticipation stripped away my courage. I so overwhelmed with misery that I couldn't keep my misgivings at bay as I waited once again to be made the human sacrifice on Jadis' altar. "Will Peter make it?"

He seemed to look beyond me for a moment, then he said, "I would not have sent him unless I had every faith that he would be successful."

I sniffed, blaming the tears that threatened to escape in the nausea gripping me. "I know. It...just...hurts. I wish it would end."

"Do not despair, Edmund," whispered Aslan, his eyes full of understanding. "Know that he loves you and will not rest until you are freed."

"I miss him," I admitted, the thought of my brother giving me comfort in the face of despair.

"And he misses you and thinks of you always. For his sake, you must endure and believe. Come. It is almost midnight. Your sisters are waiting."

I sighed and continued down the hall. A few steps later I paused and looked behind me. I thought I had sensed...

I shook my head. It must have been my imagination.