Fic: Nighttime Conversation
Title: Nighttime Conversation
Author: miss_morland
Recipient: narniaexchange
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: "What do you think would happen? If we ever were to go back, I mean?" (Edmund and Peter, after the events of The Horse and His Boy.)
AN: I hope you'll enjoy this -- I found [the] prompt very inspirational, although I didn't use it literally. Many thanks to my beta reader, who knows who she is!
If you ever came to visit Cair Paravel in the Golden Age, you'd know what sort of feasts there were: the sort that goes on for days on end, where everybody gets to eat and drink and dance and sing until they fall over from sheer happiness, exertion and Calormene wine; the sort of feast you read about in fairy tales, but which you can't possibly imagine unless you have actually taken part in one (and I do hope you will have the chance to do so one day).
One such feast, and a great one at that, was also held when the High King Peter came home from his campaign against the Giants of the North, who'd caused Narnia great trouble for some years. He'd defeated them soundly this time, and this was thoroughly celebrated in all of Narnia, but there was also another reason why the feast was held: while the High King was away, enemies had attacked Archenland with the goal of abducting Queen Susan, and it was only thanks to luck and quick actions taken by hitherto unknown friends of Narnia that the plan had failed.
Words of this had reached Peter on his way home, but there was little he could do about it; when he reached the Narnian border, the Battle of Anvard was already over and Prince Rabadash sent back to Calormen in the shape of a donkey (and a miserable donkey he was, too). The castle was full of guests who had come to celebrate both the victory and the High King's return, and for two days the siblings did not have the chance to speak with one another in private.
But one late evening, the third after his brother's return, King Edmund the Just made his way to the High King's quarters, carrying a silver jug and two goblets. Peter had not yet retired for the night; instead, he was standing on the balcony, looking down at the courtyard, where lingering guests were still talking and dancing and giggling drunkenly. At the sight of his brother, he raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"Are you playing at servant, King Edmund?"
"Oh, shut up," said Edmund (they were rarely formal around one another this late at night). "I had a dryad fetch it, but I thought I'd bring it here myself -- unless you'd like the whole court to know that the High King still prefers hot chocolate to mulled wine?"
This was an old joke, for although Peter had never lost his sweet tooth, he'd long ago come to like mulled wine just as much as any Narnian, and so had his siblings. Only occasionally did the four of them remember that there had been a time when they had enjoyed other types of food and drink -- things that are common enough in our world, but which the cooks of Cair Paravel would never think to prepare unless you gave them specific instructions.
They took the jug and the goblets with them out on the balcony, and sat down to watch the familiar stars gleaming in the dark sky, the sounds from the dying party below mingling with other sounds, more common in the night: the distant hooting of owls, the lapping of the waves as the sea nearby hit shore.
The moment was thoroughly peaceful, and the silence utterly welcome after several tumultuous weeks. Edmund was a little sorry to break it, but not enough to stop him from finally asking, "Have you spoken to Susan yet?"
"Yes," Peter said, sipping his chocolate -- in the darkness, he looked less king-like than Edmund had seen him for a long while; the shadows made his face softer, younger. "I told her not to make any hurried decisions."
Edmund let out a long breath which sounded almost like a sigh.
"I know you're worried," Peter continued. "So am I, of course. What happened only serves to show how vulnerable we are -- none of us married, no alliances forged..."
"And yet," said Edmund, "there has not been a lack of offers. Especially not for Su."
"True," said Peter, staring thoughtfully out into the night. "But it's still important that she make the right choice."
They were silent for some minutes. Then Edmund asked, "Would you get married here, Pete?"
Peter hesitated, as if searching for words. Then, "Yes," he said at last. "I would if it served Narnia's interests. How could I expect anything of my siblings which I'm not willing to do myself?"
"Still," said Edmund, not able to let go of his train of thought, "it would be strange, wouldn't it? That is, I know we've been here for half our lives already (and more than that, in Lu's case), and sooner or later we'll grow old here -- but don't you think it's strange to think about? Getting married here and have children, and Mother and Father will never know?"
They rarely spoke about their parents. For the most part, Edmund didn't think about them or England at all -- not because he wanted to forget them, but because it all felt so strange to him, like a dream he'd had years ago and which had nothing to do with his life now. Bringing it up felt a little strange; a part of him almost expected Peter to say he'd no idea what Edmund was talking about.
But Peter sighed, closing his eyes as if faced with an unsolvable problem. When he opened them again, they were shining.
"Yes," he said quietly, looking down at the goblet of chocolate between his hands. Right now, he did not look like the High King at all, and Edmund was reminded of the boy Peter had been before they came to Narnia: brave, but with no object to his life. "Yes, I think it's very strange. I wonder -- if we ever could go back..."
"Do you want to go back?" Edmund asked, without really meaning to; some part of him knew exactly what Peter was wondering, and why.
"No!" said Peter, shaking his head. "No, Ed, that's not what I'm saying. But I wonder sometimes what happened back there. After we left. Do you think..." He paused, like someone who fears what he is about to say. "What do you think Mother and Father said when we disappeared? What do you think happened to the Professor?"
Strangely enough, Edmund had never thought about this -- or rather, he'd never let himself think about it. He swallowed. "I don't know," he said slowly. "There might have been some trouble. Still... He'd know what to say, wouldn't he? Or rather, what not to say?"
"Well, yes," Peter said, not sounding very convinced. "I suppose so."
Edmund reached for the jug and emptied it into each of their goblets. "Pete," he said as he settled back, "What do you think would happen? If we ever were to go back, I mean?"
Peter didn't answer at first. Then he said, frowning, "I honestly don't know. We're too old already to do the things we did back then, aren't we? Going to school and all that." He paused; then muttered, so quietly Edmund barely heard him, "Maybe no-one would even recognise us."
"Maybe," Edmund said quietly. Then he shrugged, smiling. "I wonder what we would have done, though, if we'd never come here to begin with. Do you think Susan would have taken up archery in England?"
Peter let out a snort of laughter (he sounded very much like a school-boy in that moment). "Never! I might have taken up fencing, though -- at school," he added thoughtfully. "Even though a foil can never compare to a real sword... But I wouldn't have known the difference, would I?" He turned to look at Edmund. "What would you have done, Ed?"
Edmund looked down at his hands. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "I think -- it always felt like I did things because I had to, back then, as if there were never things worth doing for their own sake. Do you understand? Pete?" The thoughts of what he'd done and what he'd chosen not to do were heavy on his mind, but he did not elaborate; he knew Peter remembered as well as he did.
"I think so," Peter said, looking at him thoughtfully. "I think you would have found them eventually. King Edmund the Just... If we were back in England, you ought perhaps to have tried for the bar."
Edmund ducked his head. "You think so?" he asked, unexpectedly warmed by the words; for although the High King often praised his brother for his wise decisions, Peter and Edmund Pevensie had rarely said any unequivocally nice things to each other, back home.
"I do." Peter reached out a hand to grasp his shoulder, and smiled. "You'd make a great lawyer, Ed."
It was funny, how all these years had passed, and still his brother's approval meant more to him than almost anything. Edmund smiled back, then clinked his goblet to Peter's, and together they drank the rest of the chocolate, gazing up at the stars.
Original Prompt:
What I want: Peter and Edmund brotherly fic, preferably in Golden Age, but England works too.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: "It is better to be in chains with friends, than to be in a garden with strangers." -Persian Proverb
What I definitely don't want in my fic: Slash, incest, or heavy fluffyness.
Author: miss_morland
Recipient: narniaexchange
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: "What do you think would happen? If we ever were to go back, I mean?" (Edmund and Peter, after the events of The Horse and His Boy.)
AN: I hope you'll enjoy this -- I found [the] prompt very inspirational, although I didn't use it literally. Many thanks to my beta reader, who knows who she is!
If you ever came to visit Cair Paravel in the Golden Age, you'd know what sort of feasts there were: the sort that goes on for days on end, where everybody gets to eat and drink and dance and sing until they fall over from sheer happiness, exertion and Calormene wine; the sort of feast you read about in fairy tales, but which you can't possibly imagine unless you have actually taken part in one (and I do hope you will have the chance to do so one day).
One such feast, and a great one at that, was also held when the High King Peter came home from his campaign against the Giants of the North, who'd caused Narnia great trouble for some years. He'd defeated them soundly this time, and this was thoroughly celebrated in all of Narnia, but there was also another reason why the feast was held: while the High King was away, enemies had attacked Archenland with the goal of abducting Queen Susan, and it was only thanks to luck and quick actions taken by hitherto unknown friends of Narnia that the plan had failed.
Words of this had reached Peter on his way home, but there was little he could do about it; when he reached the Narnian border, the Battle of Anvard was already over and Prince Rabadash sent back to Calormen in the shape of a donkey (and a miserable donkey he was, too). The castle was full of guests who had come to celebrate both the victory and the High King's return, and for two days the siblings did not have the chance to speak with one another in private.
But one late evening, the third after his brother's return, King Edmund the Just made his way to the High King's quarters, carrying a silver jug and two goblets. Peter had not yet retired for the night; instead, he was standing on the balcony, looking down at the courtyard, where lingering guests were still talking and dancing and giggling drunkenly. At the sight of his brother, he raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"Are you playing at servant, King Edmund?"
"Oh, shut up," said Edmund (they were rarely formal around one another this late at night). "I had a dryad fetch it, but I thought I'd bring it here myself -- unless you'd like the whole court to know that the High King still prefers hot chocolate to mulled wine?"
This was an old joke, for although Peter had never lost his sweet tooth, he'd long ago come to like mulled wine just as much as any Narnian, and so had his siblings. Only occasionally did the four of them remember that there had been a time when they had enjoyed other types of food and drink -- things that are common enough in our world, but which the cooks of Cair Paravel would never think to prepare unless you gave them specific instructions.
They took the jug and the goblets with them out on the balcony, and sat down to watch the familiar stars gleaming in the dark sky, the sounds from the dying party below mingling with other sounds, more common in the night: the distant hooting of owls, the lapping of the waves as the sea nearby hit shore.
The moment was thoroughly peaceful, and the silence utterly welcome after several tumultuous weeks. Edmund was a little sorry to break it, but not enough to stop him from finally asking, "Have you spoken to Susan yet?"
"Yes," Peter said, sipping his chocolate -- in the darkness, he looked less king-like than Edmund had seen him for a long while; the shadows made his face softer, younger. "I told her not to make any hurried decisions."
Edmund let out a long breath which sounded almost like a sigh.
"I know you're worried," Peter continued. "So am I, of course. What happened only serves to show how vulnerable we are -- none of us married, no alliances forged..."
"And yet," said Edmund, "there has not been a lack of offers. Especially not for Su."
"True," said Peter, staring thoughtfully out into the night. "But it's still important that she make the right choice."
They were silent for some minutes. Then Edmund asked, "Would you get married here, Pete?"
Peter hesitated, as if searching for words. Then, "Yes," he said at last. "I would if it served Narnia's interests. How could I expect anything of my siblings which I'm not willing to do myself?"
"Still," said Edmund, not able to let go of his train of thought, "it would be strange, wouldn't it? That is, I know we've been here for half our lives already (and more than that, in Lu's case), and sooner or later we'll grow old here -- but don't you think it's strange to think about? Getting married here and have children, and Mother and Father will never know?"
They rarely spoke about their parents. For the most part, Edmund didn't think about them or England at all -- not because he wanted to forget them, but because it all felt so strange to him, like a dream he'd had years ago and which had nothing to do with his life now. Bringing it up felt a little strange; a part of him almost expected Peter to say he'd no idea what Edmund was talking about.
But Peter sighed, closing his eyes as if faced with an unsolvable problem. When he opened them again, they were shining.
"Yes," he said quietly, looking down at the goblet of chocolate between his hands. Right now, he did not look like the High King at all, and Edmund was reminded of the boy Peter had been before they came to Narnia: brave, but with no object to his life. "Yes, I think it's very strange. I wonder -- if we ever could go back..."
"Do you want to go back?" Edmund asked, without really meaning to; some part of him knew exactly what Peter was wondering, and why.
"No!" said Peter, shaking his head. "No, Ed, that's not what I'm saying. But I wonder sometimes what happened back there. After we left. Do you think..." He paused, like someone who fears what he is about to say. "What do you think Mother and Father said when we disappeared? What do you think happened to the Professor?"
Strangely enough, Edmund had never thought about this -- or rather, he'd never let himself think about it. He swallowed. "I don't know," he said slowly. "There might have been some trouble. Still... He'd know what to say, wouldn't he? Or rather, what not to say?"
"Well, yes," Peter said, not sounding very convinced. "I suppose so."
Edmund reached for the jug and emptied it into each of their goblets. "Pete," he said as he settled back, "What do you think would happen? If we ever were to go back, I mean?"
Peter didn't answer at first. Then he said, frowning, "I honestly don't know. We're too old already to do the things we did back then, aren't we? Going to school and all that." He paused; then muttered, so quietly Edmund barely heard him, "Maybe no-one would even recognise us."
"Maybe," Edmund said quietly. Then he shrugged, smiling. "I wonder what we would have done, though, if we'd never come here to begin with. Do you think Susan would have taken up archery in England?"
Peter let out a snort of laughter (he sounded very much like a school-boy in that moment). "Never! I might have taken up fencing, though -- at school," he added thoughtfully. "Even though a foil can never compare to a real sword... But I wouldn't have known the difference, would I?" He turned to look at Edmund. "What would you have done, Ed?"
Edmund looked down at his hands. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "I think -- it always felt like I did things because I had to, back then, as if there were never things worth doing for their own sake. Do you understand? Pete?" The thoughts of what he'd done and what he'd chosen not to do were heavy on his mind, but he did not elaborate; he knew Peter remembered as well as he did.
"I think so," Peter said, looking at him thoughtfully. "I think you would have found them eventually. King Edmund the Just... If we were back in England, you ought perhaps to have tried for the bar."
Edmund ducked his head. "You think so?" he asked, unexpectedly warmed by the words; for although the High King often praised his brother for his wise decisions, Peter and Edmund Pevensie had rarely said any unequivocally nice things to each other, back home.
"I do." Peter reached out a hand to grasp his shoulder, and smiled. "You'd make a great lawyer, Ed."
It was funny, how all these years had passed, and still his brother's approval meant more to him than almost anything. Edmund smiled back, then clinked his goblet to Peter's, and together they drank the rest of the chocolate, gazing up at the stars.
Original Prompt:
What I want: Peter and Edmund brotherly fic, preferably in Golden Age, but England works too.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: "It is better to be in chains with friends, than to be in a garden with strangers." -Persian Proverb
What I definitely don't want in my fic: Slash, incest, or heavy fluffyness.