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bantha_fodderAn Upside-Down Vision, by Pen
The Chronicles of Narnia, Edmund, rated PG.
I own none of these characters.
Beta by Claira.
For Lizzen, on the anniversary of her birth.
"It's very clean," says Edmund. "Are you sure no one has been sleeping here?"
"The Badgers said no one has lived in Cair Paravel for more than a hundred years," says Susan.
"Then where is the dust?" Edmund asks, running a hand down the mantle. "I'm not sure we can believe them." Mr Beaver looks shocked, and Mrs Beaver suggests she might require a bit of a lie down.
"Edmund," snaps Lucy, crossly. "The Beavers wouldn't lie."
Edmund nods his head. "They're not lying," he agrees. "But that doesn't mean they're right. A place this clean after a hundred years - it has to be magic."
"Edmund," says Peter as he enters the room, Tumnus close behind him. "It is Aslan's will that we stay here, and stay here we shall."
"It was Her," Mrs Beaver whispers to Lucy as Edmund steps into the hall. "She would never stay here. She could feel Aslan here, clear as day, even when He was across the sea."
"Shh," hisses Lucy, and she runs to catch up to Edmund. Slips her hand into his, and holds fast.
If she could not bear the place, then he had better stay.
Aslan will keep him safe.
*
He picks a room that she would have hated, small and heavy and bright. His walls are scarlet and his curtains are purple, and when Lucy asks he just laughs. "Purple," he says, "For we are Kings and Queens now, Lucy." She smiles at him, and in the silence of her joy he continues to speak. "And red, because I am The Traitor."
When she frowns, the lines run deep in her cheeks and across her brow, and he imagines the blood spilling from her body, running across the frozen ground.
As if she reads his thoughts, she leans across and holds him tight. "Don't be silly, Edmund. You are no more a traitor than Susan, for thinking we should turn back."
He rests his chin on her head, and knows that he has picked the right room.
*
They take meals in the gardens; outside on the plains before the castle and down beside the water. Peter scolds them for enjoying too many picnics, and for not helping to guide Narnia, and Edmund thinks he knows what Peter means, but when Lucy laughs he forgets. He asks her to dance to the beat of the winds and the singing of the birds, and they do.
Lucy dances her way into the castle, and Peter rests a hand on Edmund's shoulder. "Brother," he says. "She is only young, and should not be out so much."
"Brother," says Edmund, and shrugs away from Peter's touch. "She's only young, and need not sit on her throne."
Peter says, "You have no such excuse, Brother."
"You would have her play alone?" Edmund counters, and when Peter blinks he knows he has won.
He follows the sound of Lucy's dancing feet, and when she smiles at him his step falters. "Ed!" she grins and dances closer. She throws her arms around his neck and rubs her nose with his. "Mister Tumnus has said he will play music for us!"
"Has he?" he asks, and his stomach lurches.
The fawn plays his music until Lucy falls asleep, her head in Edmund's lap, and he is small but he carries her on his own.
*
Edmund sits in a chair, legs over one arm as he idly turns the pages of a Narnian epic. He reads a line or two or three, and looks up; watches the shape of Lucy's arm as she lies on the floor and draws.
"Brother," says Susan from the door, her back straight, "I have not yet seen you on your throne."
"Sister," says Edmund without looking up from Lucy's slowing pencil, "I have not yet seen you in your own rooms."
Susan coughs. "Lu, don't lie on the floors. You have a desk."
Lucy rolls onto her back, and rests her hair on her drawing. Watches Susan depart. "Will I be so boring when I am older, Ed?" she asks.
"No," he says, "You will never be like that."
She laughs, and goes back to drawing.
Edmund thinks about his throne. Thinks about her.
*
He sits on his throne, chin in one hand, and looks over at the supplicants.
"We ask for King Edmund," says one, husks sharp and fur long. "The White Witch had us under a spell, and we beg forgiveness and leniency."
Edmund looks away. Thinks about Aslan, and thinks about her. He takes a breath, and looks at the supplicant.
He sees nothing there, and says, "No." The supplicant is led away; they have ways of dealing with traitors, and he must believe that true remorse shows on the skin.
He leaves before petitions are finished for the day, and when he vomits into his toilet, Lucy's cool hands rest on the back of his neck.
He is Just, and he must believe that.
"Brother," Lucy says, and it is not a question, nor a reproach.
He breathes in.
*
As he grows, his throne becomes more comfortable.
He believes in himself, in Aslan; in the rule of his family and in Narnia.
Lucy smiles beside him, and they ride into battle.
END
The Chronicles of Narnia, Edmund, rated PG.
I own none of these characters.
Beta by Claira.
For Lizzen, on the anniversary of her birth.
"It's very clean," says Edmund. "Are you sure no one has been sleeping here?"
"The Badgers said no one has lived in Cair Paravel for more than a hundred years," says Susan.
"Then where is the dust?" Edmund asks, running a hand down the mantle. "I'm not sure we can believe them." Mr Beaver looks shocked, and Mrs Beaver suggests she might require a bit of a lie down.
"Edmund," snaps Lucy, crossly. "The Beavers wouldn't lie."
Edmund nods his head. "They're not lying," he agrees. "But that doesn't mean they're right. A place this clean after a hundred years - it has to be magic."
"Edmund," says Peter as he enters the room, Tumnus close behind him. "It is Aslan's will that we stay here, and stay here we shall."
"It was Her," Mrs Beaver whispers to Lucy as Edmund steps into the hall. "She would never stay here. She could feel Aslan here, clear as day, even when He was across the sea."
"Shh," hisses Lucy, and she runs to catch up to Edmund. Slips her hand into his, and holds fast.
If she could not bear the place, then he had better stay.
Aslan will keep him safe.
*
He picks a room that she would have hated, small and heavy and bright. His walls are scarlet and his curtains are purple, and when Lucy asks he just laughs. "Purple," he says, "For we are Kings and Queens now, Lucy." She smiles at him, and in the silence of her joy he continues to speak. "And red, because I am The Traitor."
When she frowns, the lines run deep in her cheeks and across her brow, and he imagines the blood spilling from her body, running across the frozen ground.
As if she reads his thoughts, she leans across and holds him tight. "Don't be silly, Edmund. You are no more a traitor than Susan, for thinking we should turn back."
He rests his chin on her head, and knows that he has picked the right room.
*
They take meals in the gardens; outside on the plains before the castle and down beside the water. Peter scolds them for enjoying too many picnics, and for not helping to guide Narnia, and Edmund thinks he knows what Peter means, but when Lucy laughs he forgets. He asks her to dance to the beat of the winds and the singing of the birds, and they do.
Lucy dances her way into the castle, and Peter rests a hand on Edmund's shoulder. "Brother," he says. "She is only young, and should not be out so much."
"Brother," says Edmund, and shrugs away from Peter's touch. "She's only young, and need not sit on her throne."
Peter says, "You have no such excuse, Brother."
"You would have her play alone?" Edmund counters, and when Peter blinks he knows he has won.
He follows the sound of Lucy's dancing feet, and when she smiles at him his step falters. "Ed!" she grins and dances closer. She throws her arms around his neck and rubs her nose with his. "Mister Tumnus has said he will play music for us!"
"Has he?" he asks, and his stomach lurches.
The fawn plays his music until Lucy falls asleep, her head in Edmund's lap, and he is small but he carries her on his own.
*
Edmund sits in a chair, legs over one arm as he idly turns the pages of a Narnian epic. He reads a line or two or three, and looks up; watches the shape of Lucy's arm as she lies on the floor and draws.
"Brother," says Susan from the door, her back straight, "I have not yet seen you on your throne."
"Sister," says Edmund without looking up from Lucy's slowing pencil, "I have not yet seen you in your own rooms."
Susan coughs. "Lu, don't lie on the floors. You have a desk."
Lucy rolls onto her back, and rests her hair on her drawing. Watches Susan depart. "Will I be so boring when I am older, Ed?" she asks.
"No," he says, "You will never be like that."
She laughs, and goes back to drawing.
Edmund thinks about his throne. Thinks about her.
*
He sits on his throne, chin in one hand, and looks over at the supplicants.
"We ask for King Edmund," says one, husks sharp and fur long. "The White Witch had us under a spell, and we beg forgiveness and leniency."
Edmund looks away. Thinks about Aslan, and thinks about her. He takes a breath, and looks at the supplicant.
He sees nothing there, and says, "No." The supplicant is led away; they have ways of dealing with traitors, and he must believe that true remorse shows on the skin.
He leaves before petitions are finished for the day, and when he vomits into his toilet, Lucy's cool hands rest on the back of his neck.
He is Just, and he must believe that.
"Brother," Lucy says, and it is not a question, nor a reproach.
He breathes in.
*
As he grows, his throne becomes more comfortable.
He believes in himself, in Aslan; in the rule of his family and in Narnia.
Lucy smiles beside him, and they ride into battle.
END
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Date: 2006-04-16 06:50 pm (UTC)