A/N - WARNING - a fair amount of blood/gore in this chapter. Not a terrible amount, but if you're crazy squeamish, I warned you.
They filled his heart with strength.
"Oh, Edmund..."
Tears of pain dripped from dark eyes falling shut as he hissed through clenched teeth; shredded, raw skin exposed to the cool night air as Peter looked him up and down, completely lost for words. Peter wiped the tears from Edmund's eyes even as he himself cried, filled with so much grief for his brother's condition as he took the white rag in his hand and wrung it, unsure where to even start.
There was so much blood.
Edmund raised his weary eyes, reaching out to grip the pole of the tent so as to steady himself. Shallow, nervous breaths filled the air as he stood, shivering, stripped to his torn shorts, allowing only his brother and his Savior to experience this nightmare with him. Lucy had begged and pleaded with him to let her use her gift from Father Christmas; she was so giving of herself, so generous even to those who abused her. Edmund took a sharp breath as the breeze floated over his open wounds, stinging him.
"These are scars I need to keep, Lucy. They're reminders."
He needed to remember. Moonlight diffused in through the canvas of the tent, staining the grass and casting odd shadows alongside the low candle light. He breathed deeply, the clean scent of Narnia calming him slightly.
"You're an absolute lunatic!" She had shouted in protest, and hearing her say this in his mind brought a warm, fond glow to his heart, knowing she wouldn't understand, and perhaps never would.
But he certainly did.
Peter laid a hand on his shoulder, suffering inwardly. One look into his eyes, and Edmund felt his heart shudder and ache. The pain he felt was reflected back to him in his brother's eyes, and for this he wished he could have undone every single act all the way back to stepping into the wardrobe for the first time. Edmund sighed, turning his head to find The Lion, sitting patiently nearby, waiting. The look of pure compassion in His eyes was enough. Taking a deep breath, he rooted himself once more, shutting his eyes.
"I'm ready."
Peter hesitated, but placed the cloth gingerly against Edmund's ragged, grisly back, and Edmund immediately stiffened, biting down hard on his tongue so as not to howl in agony as the herbs in the warm water penetrated deep into the gashes, driving out the debris and cleansing the area. He gasped, stepping away from Peter for a few moments, eyes squeezed shut. His brother came close, taking his cold hand in his warm one, quiet. Eventually, Edmund opened his eyes, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he muttered dully, turning away from Peter's grasp, feeling so much less than he. Bile rose bitterly in his throat as his senses were assaulted from all angles. He gasped in shock, breeze kicking up and chilling him to his bones. Ice...
"Weak," She spat, flecks of his blood staining her cold white cheeks. His pleading and unearthly howls filled the chamber following each crack, her cool, amused laughter breaking him. "Sons of Adam were never meant to be kings. Weak."
His throat rending itself raw, darkness consumed him.
He felt Aslan's eyes upon him from the other side of the tent. He looked to him, tears welling up in his misery, hoping against hope to be saved from the demons rising in his chest and holding him. He saw tears in the Lion's eyes, and he was comforted, warmth seeping into his being once more. He cast his eyes downward, nodding hesitantly for Peter to begin again.
If I can be strong, I can make up for my mistakes...
The cloth hit his skin and he dug his fingernails into the tent pole, hissing and scrunching up his whole face in agony. It burned him to his very core - he felt as though he would truly die. He had been dancing with death the past few days, it seemed; this was not the first time he felt so very close to the edge of the icy sensation threatening to overtake him. He endured it for a few minutes before Peter reached the deepest cuts.
He screamed.
Peter immediately stopped, startled, rushing to his brother and gripping his forearms. Edmund's knees went weak, leaning into the blond for support. Peter shook uncontrollably, his heart racing and his breathing very harsh. "Oh, Ed..." He choked, voice strangled. Edmund lifted his head to Peter's, pleading.
"Peter," he said in a small voice, forcing Peter to lean in even closer, "I need you to gag me."
His brother paled completely. "Edmund..."
"If you don't, I'm going to wake up the whole camp. Please," he begged, knowing this had to be done. Peter unwillingly but obediently rose to his feet and found another rag, handing it gently but regretfully to his brother. Edmund took it and stuffed it into his mouth, sinking his teeth into it and shivering at the resemblance to his treatment the night before. He gripped the beam of the tent once more, and nodded despairingly. Peter was overcome with heartache, wishing for this all to be past as he closed his eyes and placed the rag to his brother's back once more.
Pass over pass over pass of the rag across his torn skin, the water purifying him and causing him so much anguish and distress that after a few minutes he sank to his knees, tears streaming, sobs muffled by the cloth. He couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough, and he would never escape his past.
"Weak!"
At this point Aslan came near, crouching down to nuzzle his head beneath Edmund's, acting as support and lifting him to shaking feet again. Edmund simply cried, wrapping his arms around His mighty neck and allowing Him to support his full weight as he could not carry on any longer. Aslan solemnly nodded to Peter to continue.
Each scream that broke the quiet stillness seared Peter's heart, and it was all he could do to not simply gather his brother in his arms and end this misery. But the healer, after examining Edmund closely, gravely informed them both that if his wounds weren't attended to before midnight, the infection would become lethal very quickly. She made up another bowl of spiced water, gave Peter the supplies and told him they could do it privately if they wished.
Edmund let loose another wretched sound from behind the gag, back heaving as he sobbed into The Lion's mane. Peter was so thankful for Aslan's presence - he himself would have broken a long time ago had it not been for the strength the Lion was providing him. He was sure Edmund felt the same way.
"I'm sorry, Edmund," he muttered uselessly, rinsing the bloodied rag and wringing it again. Edmund only cried bitterly, completely limp against Aslan's side. Peter's intense, burning hatred for the Witch continued to simmer in his heart, growing with each rending scream from his brother. She did this. She took his brother from his protection; she beat and marred him nearly beyond recognition, inside and out. Peter's fury only grew hotter as the minutes ticked by, accompanied only by Edmund's breathless weeping as he finished the area on his back. Taking his brother's wrists, he did the same, though the cuts weren't nearly as deep as the whip marks on his back.
She had beaten him to the point of unconsciousness, Edmund had confessed to him quietly, only with Aslan standing near. Edmund found strength in Aslan's presence, and Peter knew it wouldn't be very long before he would open up completely to him on his own, without the Lion physically near. The small details he revealed to Peter were horrific, and he could scarce believe his brother was alive. By the grace of The Lion, Edmund had survived, and only by that grace, they all knew.
Dark hair fluttered beneath the warm breeze of Aslan's calming breath, washing over Edmund like a tidal wave. "It is over," He spoke over him, finality in His voice. Edmund did not move from his position against The Lion's side, trembling quietly. Peter hurriedly prepared the wrappings, speaking in a soft voice. "Edmund, I have to apply a salve before I bandage you," he said, quietly laying a steadying hand upon his shoulder. He bit his lip when he felt the iciness of his brother's skin bite against his fingers. He scooped some of the foul-smelling cream into his palm, and delicately but generously applied it to each slash. Though it did not come with the same searing pain, Edmund still cried out, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he gripped His Savior's fur, desperate. "Peace," Aslan whispered over him, whiskers tickling Edmund's cheeks.
After what felt like several long, agonizing centuries, Edmund's wounds were cleansed. Peter wrapped him carefully in gauze, taking care not to pain him further as he dressed him. Pulling away from Aslan at long last, Edmund looked into His golden eyes, and felt so emotionally empty; he had nothing left to give. Peter dropped to the ground beside his brother, draping a warm blanket over his shoulders and taking his hand in his own; he was fully drained as well, eyes red from his tears. Edmund leaned his forehead against The Lion's, not breaking eye contact. He whispered apologies, tangling his fingers in His mane. "I'm not strong enough, Aslan," he exhaled, quieter even than the breeze. Aslan's expression turned disapproving suddenly, scolding. "Edmund," he rumbled, causing him to shrink away. "You will never be able to pay the price for your failures - whether or not you have strength - and this is my greatest Gift to you. You must not dishonor Me."
The thin, broken boy shook between Aslan's paws, crushed. Peter's heart broke for him again, not for the first time that day. Aslan's expression softened. "You were made for Greatness, Child. You were made for Me. I will make you Strong. I will make you like Me, and nothing can stand in your way." The Great Lion's gaze shifted to Peter as well, including him in His statement. "You are Mine, and you are not weak. You are Mine, Son of Adam, and you will never be alone again." His voice was just a whisper now, warm and golden and everything Edmund needed as he continued to play with the Lion's mane, tears falling silently once more, grateful beyond words. "I'm sorry," he muttered, unable to say anything else. A wild Lion's kiss planted itself on his forehead, and he closed his eyes.
"You are Mine. Your weakness is far away; you left it with Her. She can't lie to you anymore. You are Mine."
So wholly, wonderfully, happily His.
Edmund leaned against His side, exhausted beyond words. Peter scooted close to him, wrapping his arms around his wan form, drawing him close, his heart lifted and thanking Aslan over and over in a continuous joyful mantra he had begun that morning. He played idly with the long raven locks of Edmund's hair, so filled with love and sorrow for his brother's suffering, but hopeful. He listened to the sound of deep, quiet breaths, indicating his brother's peaceful sleep. "I love you, Ed," he whispered softly, pulling him closer.
"I love you, too," was the murmured response, and Peter's heart was filled to overflowing.
The Lion rumbled in a large golden purr, sheltering both of His sons between His paws, guarding their slumber and keeping them from nighttime demons. They slept, hearts strengthened and binded together like never before. Edmund finally felt absolute peace, caught up in two sets of loving arms - held by his Lion and his brother.
His heart beat strong.
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