A little more...
Dec. 3rd, 2010 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_songsmithYes, this IS badly out of order:
Edmund found his brother on the eastern wall, squinting into the sunrise. He settled beside Peter in silence, leaning on the cool stone. Neither spoke until the sun was well-risen. "Cair Paravel," Edmund said. "You didn't tell me that."
"I didn't want to talk about it. Think about it. anything."
"Fair enough." They watched the waves roll in for a while, the gulls wheeling in the sky and the terns hopping along the beach below them. "Can you talk about it now?"
Peter took a deep breath, flexing his hands on the wall as if drawing strength from it. "The Cair was shattered, Ed. Hardly a wall left standing. I didn't see it happen, I just --" He broke off, turned away from the water abruptly, putting his back tot he wall and tipping his head back to regard the Cair's towers, graceful and strong. "I dreamt I was walking through her ruins, and I could hardly tell where I was."
"That's worse than invading Telmarines?" Edmund kept his voice very carefully neutral, mild. He wanted Peter to talk to him, not retreate into a defensive shell.
"Invading Telmarines I could *do* something about!" he answered hotly, then slumped back against the wall. "If I'd been there. Am there. Will be there? Ed, d'you think all these dreams we've been having...."
"Well, I don't think you need to worry about the Cair vanishing out from under you," Edmund retorted, strving for levity. It worked, a little; Peter's lips quirked into a half-smile. Edmund sighed and turned to lean against the wall as well. "I think..." he began, watching the morning breeze snap the lion banners out straight, "I think our dreams are what *would* have been, if we hadn't come back. What *could* be, now. But Peter, 'could be' isn't 'will be.'"
"I know," Peter replied softly. "I won't -- *we* won't let it happen."
A flicker of motion caught Edmund's eye, and he nudged his brother. "There's something that will cheer you," he said, pointing.
Just visible about the bult of the castle, a second flag was climbing the north tower. The flutter of white shone painfully brilliant in the morning light, until it rose high enough for the breeze to pluck at it, spreading its folds and revealing the red lion of Narnian to all the world. Peter watched it dance there, tension draining from his face and frame. Edmund felt the shift as something in his brother settled and rooted once more. "Finally," Peter murmured, and he didn't mean the night's delay. Edmund considered several responses, but before he could choose one, his brother's eyes widened. "We'll be innundated by noon!"
He couldn't help it; he laughed. "You underestimate our people, brother," he said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. "The throne room will be full before we finish breakfast."
A frown appeared between Peter's brows. Some days Edmund wished he could outlaw worrying, at least for Peter. "They won't take this wel," he predicted, his gesture encompassing their child's bodies. "The Council had a hard enough time."
"This is the will of Aslan. Narnia will understand that."
"*I* hardly understand it," Peter countered. "I'm supposed to ask them to trust what I have little faith in?"
"Don't let Lucy hear you say that," he answered automatically, but he was turning Peter's words over in his mind. He didn't understand it either, though he'd tried to, both before and after they'd returned to Narnia. Perhaps Lucy's approach of blind faith really was the best in this case, but Edmund had had a belly full of willfully blinding himself years ago; it wasn't in his nature to accept without question any more. "His reasons aren't always understandable, I suppose," he said reflectively. "His concerns are very different."
"Narnia's well-being is what it is, Ed." There was a tight note in Peter's voice that set off warning bells in Edmunds head, though he'd never heard that particular tone from his brother before.
"True," he said, carefully feeling his way past Peter's temper, "but he... I'm not sure he thinks in the same scale we do. Remember what the Professor said about Jadis?"
"That's not really very comforting, Ed." To his relief, the brittleness had been replaced with familar wry humor. The shadow lurking in his brother's eyes had troubled him all year; edging him further into anxiety each time it broke through. He'd thought they'd finally set it to rest in England after winter term, but either they hadn't banished it completely or the dreams had brought it back, for he'd been seeing flashes of it all summer. He'd hoped that returning to Narnia would have banished it, but it seemed not. Was this how Peter had felt, those early days after the Witch?
"I never claimed to be the optimist in this family," Edmund said mildly, leaning a little to the right so that their shoulders bumped. Peter shoved him back playfully.
"Some help you are. Just for that, *you* can deal with petitioners today."
"Nonsense," he fired back, knowing full well it would be all of them or none. "They'll want to see the High King, Your Mag--"
"Don't you dare!" Peter yelped. Edmund grinned, pleased to see his brother's good humor restored.
Edmund found his brother on the eastern wall, squinting into the sunrise. He settled beside Peter in silence, leaning on the cool stone. Neither spoke until the sun was well-risen. "Cair Paravel," Edmund said. "You didn't tell me that."
"I didn't want to talk about it. Think about it. anything."
"Fair enough." They watched the waves roll in for a while, the gulls wheeling in the sky and the terns hopping along the beach below them. "Can you talk about it now?"
Peter took a deep breath, flexing his hands on the wall as if drawing strength from it. "The Cair was shattered, Ed. Hardly a wall left standing. I didn't see it happen, I just --" He broke off, turned away from the water abruptly, putting his back tot he wall and tipping his head back to regard the Cair's towers, graceful and strong. "I dreamt I was walking through her ruins, and I could hardly tell where I was."
"That's worse than invading Telmarines?" Edmund kept his voice very carefully neutral, mild. He wanted Peter to talk to him, not retreate into a defensive shell.
"Invading Telmarines I could *do* something about!" he answered hotly, then slumped back against the wall. "If I'd been there. Am there. Will be there? Ed, d'you think all these dreams we've been having...."
"Well, I don't think you need to worry about the Cair vanishing out from under you," Edmund retorted, strving for levity. It worked, a little; Peter's lips quirked into a half-smile. Edmund sighed and turned to lean against the wall as well. "I think..." he began, watching the morning breeze snap the lion banners out straight, "I think our dreams are what *would* have been, if we hadn't come back. What *could* be, now. But Peter, 'could be' isn't 'will be.'"
"I know," Peter replied softly. "I won't -- *we* won't let it happen."
A flicker of motion caught Edmund's eye, and he nudged his brother. "There's something that will cheer you," he said, pointing.
Just visible about the bult of the castle, a second flag was climbing the north tower. The flutter of white shone painfully brilliant in the morning light, until it rose high enough for the breeze to pluck at it, spreading its folds and revealing the red lion of Narnian to all the world. Peter watched it dance there, tension draining from his face and frame. Edmund felt the shift as something in his brother settled and rooted once more. "Finally," Peter murmured, and he didn't mean the night's delay. Edmund considered several responses, but before he could choose one, his brother's eyes widened. "We'll be innundated by noon!"
He couldn't help it; he laughed. "You underestimate our people, brother," he said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. "The throne room will be full before we finish breakfast."
A frown appeared between Peter's brows. Some days Edmund wished he could outlaw worrying, at least for Peter. "They won't take this wel," he predicted, his gesture encompassing their child's bodies. "The Council had a hard enough time."
"This is the will of Aslan. Narnia will understand that."
"*I* hardly understand it," Peter countered. "I'm supposed to ask them to trust what I have little faith in?"
"Don't let Lucy hear you say that," he answered automatically, but he was turning Peter's words over in his mind. He didn't understand it either, though he'd tried to, both before and after they'd returned to Narnia. Perhaps Lucy's approach of blind faith really was the best in this case, but Edmund had had a belly full of willfully blinding himself years ago; it wasn't in his nature to accept without question any more. "His reasons aren't always understandable, I suppose," he said reflectively. "His concerns are very different."
"Narnia's well-being is what it is, Ed." There was a tight note in Peter's voice that set off warning bells in Edmunds head, though he'd never heard that particular tone from his brother before.
"True," he said, carefully feeling his way past Peter's temper, "but he... I'm not sure he thinks in the same scale we do. Remember what the Professor said about Jadis?"
"That's not really very comforting, Ed." To his relief, the brittleness had been replaced with familar wry humor. The shadow lurking in his brother's eyes had troubled him all year; edging him further into anxiety each time it broke through. He'd thought they'd finally set it to rest in England after winter term, but either they hadn't banished it completely or the dreams had brought it back, for he'd been seeing flashes of it all summer. He'd hoped that returning to Narnia would have banished it, but it seemed not. Was this how Peter had felt, those early days after the Witch?
"I never claimed to be the optimist in this family," Edmund said mildly, leaning a little to the right so that their shoulders bumped. Peter shoved him back playfully.
"Some help you are. Just for that, *you* can deal with petitioners today."
"Nonsense," he fired back, knowing full well it would be all of them or none. "They'll want to see the High King, Your Mag--"
"Don't you dare!" Peter yelped. Edmund grinned, pleased to see his brother's good humor restored.