[fic] Once a King (G, Narnia)
I told you I was going to write Narnia fic...*g* First posted fic of 2006!
Title: Once a King
Author: Rynne
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: G
Word count: 1,111
Summary: They don't feel like children anymore. Pevensie gen, post-LWW.
Notes: Some slight spoilers for The Horse and His Boy, but nothing very big.
It took longer than he would have thought to get used to being a child again. Especially when he remembered being a king.
When he mentioned it, Peter started to say, "Verily, if it be so difficult--" and then he stopped, shook his head, and said carefully, "Chin up, Ed. You'll get used to it again in no time."
But it was hard to believe that when he would trip over himself on the stairs, because he remembered his legs being longer. It was hard when he started at his own voice, because he was used to it being deeper. It was hard when he overheard Lucy telling Susan, "For a few days I thought I was late, and then I remembered that I'm too young to have started yet," and hurried away, because he knew what they were talking about and thought it too private for him to consider too deeply, women and their mysteries even when they were just young girls. And it was hard when he dreamed memories, of friends and tournaments and feasts, and things he couldn't reach again.
He found Susan crying in the room she shared with Lucy once, and she threw herself into his open arms and sobbed, "I saw a robin today, Edmund, a big one, and I thought.... I called out to it, and it flew away, spooked. And I remembered the robin that led us to Mr Beaver--"
"Shh, Su," he murmured, and stroked her hair as if they were back on the Splendour Hyaline after the mess with Prince Rabadash in Calormen. "Remember what the Professor said, how he thinks we'll get back someday. We'll not be stuck in this dreary world forever." Rain splattered against the windowpanes, thick, fat drops like Susan's tears, and he glanced outside to where everything seemed washed of color before focusing on his elder sister again.
She pulled back a bit and looked at him, then gathered her dignity about her, giving him a queenly smile. "I do hope so," she replied. "Talking to animals gives one such perspective..."
When he found Lucy one night in the spare room, sleeping with her back against the wardrobe and a smudged embroidered handkerchief spread over her knee, he wasn't surprised. He shook her shoulder gently to wake her up, because he wasn't big enough to carry her himself anymore, and she blinked sleepily at him.
"Come on, Lucy," he said softly, stepping back and giving her room to stand up. She did, using the wardrobe to help, and the handkerchief almost fluttered to the floor before she leant down and grabbed it. "Let's get you to bed." He held out a hand to her.
"I'm not a child," she said, and she didn't sound like one. She placed a hand over his, just as if he was escorting her through the halls, as he'd done a thousand times before in Cair Paravel. "I just couldn't sleep."
But he reminded her gently, "You are a child. We both are."
"Are we?" she asked, as they stepped through the door into the hall and closed it behind them. Then she sighed and slid her hand into his, a little girl holding hands with her big brother. "I don't feel like one anymore."
"Neither do I," he said. "But we've got years to grow up still. Perhaps we'll feel like children again before we're done being them." They stopped in front of her door, left slightly ajar, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Good night, valiant Lucy."
Another time he found Peter, staring up at the crossed swords over the mantel in an unused study. "I feel so lazy," he said. "I haven't practiced in weeks, since we came back, and I keep feeling like I'm going to be made a fool of at the next tournament in the Lone Islands."
Edmund didn't quite know what to say. He was no stranger to counseling Susan and Lucy, because he'd learned to listen in Narnia, and many came to hear the judgments of King Edmund the Just. But this was Peter the Magnificent, the High King, the strong one. He would always hear Edmund's counsel, but it had never seemed that he would not know what to do without it.
Though Edmund had been feeling strange and lost and out of place since returning to England, he felt even more so when looking at his king and elder brother, gazing at a pair of heirloom swords with a queer longing on his face.
"I think Professor Kirke wouldn't mind if we took them down and tried a few passes," Edmund said finally, to break the tense, awkward silence and to get that queer look off Peter's face. "We wouldn't want to get too out of practice. The Lone Islanders will get arrogant, and we'll have to work extra hard to put them in their place."
Peter looked at him then, a High King's measuring gaze, finally drawn away from the swords. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he let it out he was just Peter again.
"Even if the Professor doesn't mind, the Macready will," he said. With one last glance back at the swords over the mantel, he turned and started to walk away. But when he reached Edmund, he stopped, took Edmund by the shoulders, and slowly, carefully, kissed him on both cheeks. There was a whisper of, "Thank you, brother," and then he was gone.
The Professor's house was full of reminders, of where they had been and where they were now, of things that they'd gained and lost. It had also been a great beginning, and Edmund didn't know where they would be when they found the ending, but he suspected it would be in Narnia. "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen," both Aslan and the Professor had said, but it was growing harder to feel like a king when he wasn't in Narnia anymore.
When their mother wrote them after the Blitz ended, saying that their father was home in London on leave and that they could come back as well, and Edmund settled again into the home he almost felt he'd outgrown, he was almost glad to be away from the Professor's house, away from the reminders.
He wasn't King Edmund in London. Lucy and Susan weren't queens, and Peter wasn't High King. There was nothing in their parents' house to remind them of the kingdom they'd found and lost, except each other, and so it became easier to be children again, and let their other selves sleep.
Title: Once a King
Author: Rynne
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: G
Word count: 1,111
Summary: They don't feel like children anymore. Pevensie gen, post-LWW.
Notes: Some slight spoilers for The Horse and His Boy, but nothing very big.
It took longer than he would have thought to get used to being a child again. Especially when he remembered being a king.
When he mentioned it, Peter started to say, "Verily, if it be so difficult--" and then he stopped, shook his head, and said carefully, "Chin up, Ed. You'll get used to it again in no time."
But it was hard to believe that when he would trip over himself on the stairs, because he remembered his legs being longer. It was hard when he started at his own voice, because he was used to it being deeper. It was hard when he overheard Lucy telling Susan, "For a few days I thought I was late, and then I remembered that I'm too young to have started yet," and hurried away, because he knew what they were talking about and thought it too private for him to consider too deeply, women and their mysteries even when they were just young girls. And it was hard when he dreamed memories, of friends and tournaments and feasts, and things he couldn't reach again.
He found Susan crying in the room she shared with Lucy once, and she threw herself into his open arms and sobbed, "I saw a robin today, Edmund, a big one, and I thought.... I called out to it, and it flew away, spooked. And I remembered the robin that led us to Mr Beaver--"
"Shh, Su," he murmured, and stroked her hair as if they were back on the Splendour Hyaline after the mess with Prince Rabadash in Calormen. "Remember what the Professor said, how he thinks we'll get back someday. We'll not be stuck in this dreary world forever." Rain splattered against the windowpanes, thick, fat drops like Susan's tears, and he glanced outside to where everything seemed washed of color before focusing on his elder sister again.
She pulled back a bit and looked at him, then gathered her dignity about her, giving him a queenly smile. "I do hope so," she replied. "Talking to animals gives one such perspective..."
When he found Lucy one night in the spare room, sleeping with her back against the wardrobe and a smudged embroidered handkerchief spread over her knee, he wasn't surprised. He shook her shoulder gently to wake her up, because he wasn't big enough to carry her himself anymore, and she blinked sleepily at him.
"Come on, Lucy," he said softly, stepping back and giving her room to stand up. She did, using the wardrobe to help, and the handkerchief almost fluttered to the floor before she leant down and grabbed it. "Let's get you to bed." He held out a hand to her.
"I'm not a child," she said, and she didn't sound like one. She placed a hand over his, just as if he was escorting her through the halls, as he'd done a thousand times before in Cair Paravel. "I just couldn't sleep."
But he reminded her gently, "You are a child. We both are."
"Are we?" she asked, as they stepped through the door into the hall and closed it behind them. Then she sighed and slid her hand into his, a little girl holding hands with her big brother. "I don't feel like one anymore."
"Neither do I," he said. "But we've got years to grow up still. Perhaps we'll feel like children again before we're done being them." They stopped in front of her door, left slightly ajar, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Good night, valiant Lucy."
Another time he found Peter, staring up at the crossed swords over the mantel in an unused study. "I feel so lazy," he said. "I haven't practiced in weeks, since we came back, and I keep feeling like I'm going to be made a fool of at the next tournament in the Lone Islands."
Edmund didn't quite know what to say. He was no stranger to counseling Susan and Lucy, because he'd learned to listen in Narnia, and many came to hear the judgments of King Edmund the Just. But this was Peter the Magnificent, the High King, the strong one. He would always hear Edmund's counsel, but it had never seemed that he would not know what to do without it.
Though Edmund had been feeling strange and lost and out of place since returning to England, he felt even more so when looking at his king and elder brother, gazing at a pair of heirloom swords with a queer longing on his face.
"I think Professor Kirke wouldn't mind if we took them down and tried a few passes," Edmund said finally, to break the tense, awkward silence and to get that queer look off Peter's face. "We wouldn't want to get too out of practice. The Lone Islanders will get arrogant, and we'll have to work extra hard to put them in their place."
Peter looked at him then, a High King's measuring gaze, finally drawn away from the swords. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he let it out he was just Peter again.
"Even if the Professor doesn't mind, the Macready will," he said. With one last glance back at the swords over the mantel, he turned and started to walk away. But when he reached Edmund, he stopped, took Edmund by the shoulders, and slowly, carefully, kissed him on both cheeks. There was a whisper of, "Thank you, brother," and then he was gone.
The Professor's house was full of reminders, of where they had been and where they were now, of things that they'd gained and lost. It had also been a great beginning, and Edmund didn't know where they would be when they found the ending, but he suspected it would be in Narnia. "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen," both Aslan and the Professor had said, but it was growing harder to feel like a king when he wasn't in Narnia anymore.
When their mother wrote them after the Blitz ended, saying that their father was home in London on leave and that they could come back as well, and Edmund settled again into the home he almost felt he'd outgrown, he was almost glad to be away from the Professor's house, away from the reminders.
He wasn't King Edmund in London. Lucy and Susan weren't queens, and Peter wasn't High King. There was nothing in their parents' house to remind them of the kingdom they'd found and lost, except each other, and so it became easier to be children again, and let their other selves sleep.