[fic] Along the Midnight Edge 14/14
Dec. 31st, 2010 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Along the Midnight Edge
Rating: 18
Genre: drama, romance
Pairings: Edmund/Caspian
Wordcount: 80k
Warnings: it is rated 18 for potentially disturbing themes
Summary: Narnia ended a mere two hundred years after Caspian’s reign, as though he was the climax of her 2,500 years’ history. He was. There were stories unfolding in Narnia of which none of her rulers were aware, and stories must run their natural course, even though their heroes are dead.
[CHAPTER FOURTEEN -- A Clear Midnight]
Edmund had thought the dead world was quiet, but next to the peace and serenity of the wood, the world they had left behind was as noisy as a train station in the heart of London. He breathed and let the golden peacefulness envelop him. Or at least he tried to.
“It’s beautiful,” Caspian said softly. “May we stay here awhile?”
“If you so desire, you may,” Aslan said. “You will find peace here; perhaps in time you will find it in your heart to repent. Perhaps, then, you would be allowed to return to my country.”
“I may?” Caspian asked, emphasising the first syllable.
“Without Edmund.” Aslan’s voice grew wild and low.
Caspian opened his mouth and then closed it again. Even he must have known anger would solve nothing at this point. “You dare to try and separate us? After what you’ve done, after what you’ve made us do, you dare to try and separate us!”
“Caspian,” Edmund began, but he was not allowed to finish.
“I would sooner see the worlds destroyed. I would sooner see you dead!”
“Calm yourself, Caspian,” the lion said. “You accuse me of crimes committed against you, when it was you who destroyed the preordained order of things, brought death upon a world which needed not suffer it.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“You will, because you still do not understand. You’ve torn yourselves apart with a careless promise, to be forever split between two worlds, and so in no other place than here, where all worlds meet, will you feel at peace, when you are not together. Can you comprehend that?”
“Better than you think,” Edmund said, remembering all the nights spent in the dormitories, listening to the sound of breathing and wondering whether somewhere, anywhere at all, Caspian was sleeping too, or did he lie awake, wondering as he was.
“Do you consider this a victory, Edmund?”
“Yes, rather.”
“Then know that for you there shall be no peace here, son of Adam. All who come here find it tranquil and beautiful, but you shan’t. It will be stifling and suffocating, and yet here is where you will return time and again, for it is here that all stories end and all stories begin.”
“Where should I go, then?”
“Anywhere.” Aslan looked around, towards the hundreds of ponds in the sight and billions, undoubtedly hidden in the forest. “Everywhere. You need but to step into any of the ponds to enter its world, but be warned: your journey shall be arduous, as it is not a reward, but punishment.”
Edmund said nothing, but there was a strange kind of calmness in him, despite the prophesied unrest. “I accept,” he said softly.
“Farewell then,” the great lion said, bowing to touch Edmund’s forehead briefly. He did the same to Caspian and then he was gone, like he had never been there.
“Why did you let me say nothing?” Caspian turned to Edmund with fire in his eyes and fury in his voice. “You would leave your siblings, your friends, in his care, when he tried to kill you?”
“Heaven is where they belong,” Edmund said and looked at Rilian, who’d stood back during the talk. “You remained.”
“I don’t think we are quite finished, Edmund. Father.”
“I do owe you the duel, I recall. If you think now is the right time, then I must first find for myself a sword, for I find myself defenceless.”
“No, the duel can wait. I shall be looking forward to it.” Rilian gave Edmund a speculative look. “I might use the time to put down the rules in writing and appoint seconds, just in case.”
“This may prove necessary.”
“I was wondering, what is it that you plan?”
Edmund looked at Caspian, who’d been staring elsewhere. In his gaze there was something much like peace. His anger was draining, replaced by the wondrous peace that the wood bestowed on whoever visited, the peace of timeless serenity.
“I expect we will stay here for some time,” he said, even as the unrest Aslan promised made itself known.
“Then you would choose a world and travel through it,” Rilian finished for him.
“To be fair, there aren’t many other options to pursue.”
“True.” Rilian smiled ruefully. “Well then, as you are about to embark, let me say this--” He stepped closer to Edmund -- this was most perplexing, Edmund found, but he could not move, his limbs defied his orders from the moment Rilian’s hands locked around his wrists -- and kissed him.
Edmund wasn’t expecting it, but evidently he should have, because Rilian kissed with the mindless determination of one who had plans and was fulfilling them, regardless of consequence. Edmund knew the feeling well -- it had driven him the past months (or weeks, or days, however long it had been).
Rilian was staring at him, as much as the angle would allow. He was still cold, Edmund noted absently. It was rather like kissing a marble statue, he imagined, though his experience in that matter was severely limited and the one statue he had kissed lacked teeth.
It didn’t last long -- before Caspian had time to recover from the shock Rilian released him and Edmund stumbled and fell, as his muscles seemed to have forgotten how to hold him upright.
He noted absently that his lip was bleeding. That would be the teeth.
“Interesting,” Edmund said as he got up. “I hadn’t thought that it was dangerous for you to touch me.”
“It is not.”
“Then why the spell?”
Rilian smiled. “For fear of protest, let us assume.” His voice was a little strangled, as Caspian had, upon recovering, grabbed him by the shirt and held him fast against a trunk of a tree.
“Caspian, let him go.”
“Why must you insist on ruining each and every one of my revenge attempts?”
“I only do it when I strongly object to you taking revenge.”
“Which is every single time!”
“Which is twice, so far!”
“Both times it was against Rilian. Surely by now you understand that it is not a fleeting fancy of mine, but a necessary act, borne of genuine concern.”
“I do find it endearing, that you would leap to protect Edmund’s honour in this fashion. How you didn’t end up being my mother, I shall never understand.”
“I see Caspian failed to provide you with adequate education,” Edmund said with a laugh. “Dare I ask what brought this on?”
Rilian smirked. “I can walk between worlds now,” he said, as though that was an answer. “The stars can see through the barriers, but they cannot cross them. I can.”
“I’m happy for you. What is the meaning of this?”
“Only this, father. I have no desire to kill you; I imagine I mustn’t, lest I upset the great lion. But I will not forgive you for killing mother and I swear you shall be repaid in kind.”
“I won’t let you,” Edmund said, laying a restraining a hand on Caspian’s shoulder, in the very same moment as Caspian’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “I dare you to try. I will burn you, burn your precious world to dust if you dare.”
“Then it will be most interesting.” Rilian bowed to them. “Farewell, until we meet again.” He straightened and a shimmering door in the air swallowed him. For a moment before it closed Edmund thought he could see a sky full of stars.
“This will be interesting,” Edmund said, and winced. His hands were starting to shake.
“Are you all right?”
“I think this may be the unease Aslan spoke of.”
“Then we better hurry and choose a pond to depart this place.”
“There’s no need to make rash decisions.” Unlike Aslan’s country, though the very same light seemed to be present in both places, Edmund was quite certain he would not break easily here; this was not the kind of place where things happened, Digory had said, and Edmund believed that. This was a place where things were, not necessarily better, or prettier, or more true. They just were.
He forced Caspian to sit on the ground. “Are you well?”
“Of course I am not. What did you expect?”
“It will pass in time. Especially here. You cannot cling to corruption here.”
“What will pass? The fact that I had murdered my wife and would have done the same to my son, had I not been stopped? Or the fact that you thought this might happen and still you said nothing to warn me of the possibility.”
Edmund averted his eyes. Caspian was hurting; it was evident in the tone of his voice, in the slump of his shoulders and he had brought it upon him. “I am not a soothsayer. How was I to know you would kill anyone?”
“Are you deaf and blind?”
Edmund bit his lip then hissed, when he remembered the cut. “I’m not.”
“I would have done it even without the corruption,” Caspian said softly. He raised his head and looked into Edmund’s eyes. “I waited for the opportunity when you were gone, and prayed that I would have one.”
“Their plan was revolting. I do not blame you.”
Caspian sprang to his feet. “Is that all you have to say? Is this so easy for you, to watch others bloody their hands for you, when you walk away unscathed?” He whirled and punched the nearest tree, then he did it again and again, until his knuckles were a bloody mess, and he would have kept at it, had Edmund not leapt to restrain him.
“Hit me instead,” he whispered into Caspian’s ear, wrapping his arms around him, burrowing his face in Caspian’s neck. “Surely I deserve it more than the tree. I could have stopped you. You are right, I knew what you thought. I pride myself on knowing how you think, so I knew. I am to blame for what you feel right now.” He hesitated. “I love you and I used you, but it is so much worse, because it was not to keep us safe. This, this banishment didn’t need to happen at all and the only reason it did is because I chose it. I hated Aslan’s land, it suffocated me, even if it made you happy, I--” Edmund inhaled sharply. There was so much guilt in him, so much fear, because even if he had wanted what he got, even if he didn’t regret the choices that had led him to this place, here and now was the true gamble. He would have stood anything at all, death, annihilation, the loss of his whole family and his world (wherever that might be), but if Caspian couldn’t forgive him, then he would have lost.
“I brought Susan with me as bait for the creatures, to force your hand,” he continued and Caspian shivered. “They wouldn’t attack me, I feared, even when I was in mortal flesh -- they feared me so much when I was dead. I brought with me one I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist.
“If you wish to punish anyone, let it be me. I think I deserve it more than you do.”
“You would use your own sister as bait? To make me renounce everything I held dear in Narnia?” Caspian freed himself from Edmund’s embrace, pushed him to the ground and knelt atop him. One of his hands was raised threateningly, while the other was splayed on Edmund’s chest, pinning him down, wholly unnecessarily, as Edmund wasn’t inclined to fight in the slightest. He merely watched as Caspian closed his fist and didn’t flinch when it came down, just short of his face.
“I don’t know what I’m asking for, do I?” Caspian wrapped his mouth around the words, savoured their texture and taste. There was a halo of light and leaves about his dark head, alighting on the loose hair that floated about his face and for the life of him Edmund didn’t know what thoughts were flitting through his mind.
Edmund closed his eyes and smiled lightly. “I thought you wouldn’t.”
Caspian spoke as one waking from a dream. Perhaps, in a way, he was; if he ever dreamed of romance that was sublime and pure in its intention. If that was the case, the waking must have come too late, and it was far too late to turn back.
Edmund waited for what felt like hours, listening to the silence of the forest. It struck him how alien it was, how utterly uncanny. There were no birds, no rustling to indicate the presence of squirrels or mice or other rodents. There was no wind, therefore the leaves and needles did not move. There was no creature to tread on the grass, either. There were so many ponds, but not even a hint of a splash. Yet, for the motionless atmosphere, the air was fresh and alive.
He needed to be out of here, Edmund thought at last, when the silence threatened to suffocate him. Then -- only then -- did he feel the gentle lapping upon his bloodied lip.
Caspian’s tongue tasted of iron when it slipped into Edmund’s mouth.
Edmund arched his back, but found himself restrained by the grip Caspian had on his wrists, by the weight on his hips. His only success was that Caspian drew a sharp breath at the unexpected movement and pressed against him in retaliation.
Any victory was short-lived, at best. Caspian returned the favour with another bruising kiss, which quickly slid from Edmund’s mouth and onto his neck and the juncture of his shoulder, to reach the fresh mark that marred his throat. The fastenings of his shirt were undone, and Caspian latched onto the mark on Edmund’s chest, worrying the flesh with his teeth and Edmund clenched his jaws and mewled.
He could have stayed silent through torture and through injury, but he was nigh powerless against the waves of heat that caused by the touch of Caspian’s lips and tongue upon the mark. It couldn’t have been safe, he thought when his breath caught and he worried the cut of his lip open anew. He felt as though he would break under Caspian’s ministrations, as though his whole being was touched simultaneously, and it was both stimulating and frightening. He would surely break in Caspian’s hands. He would be torn open and all this would have been for naught; he would remain a formless spectre with no memory, haunting this sacred place.
He’d deserve it, too, he thought in despair. Every moment of losing what he was would surely be prolonged into agony, he would feel it all: every memory slipping away from him, every second which made him Edmund, every moment spent with Caspian, too few of those, they would be gone and he would watch them all go, leaving him bare and terrified, like a new-born, doomed to never learn, never progress, stuck in this place without time as a nameless creature of no past and no future.
Sulphur and flame would have been his preference -- sulphur, flame and memory. It would have been heaven, in comparison.
Caspian had used Edmund’s distraction to hold both his hands above his head, and then to use the shirt Edmund was wearing to tie them together. Edmund watched him do so without so much as a peep, though his heart was hammering wildly. The knots were tight enough to force his elbows up and his spine to arch over the soft grass.
Caspian’s teeth scraped against the flesh of Edmund’s chest, then bit into it, and they were not the teasing bites meant to entice. These would leave nasty bruises right next to the mark of the knife, over his heart and that would have been good, to have Caspian end him, for good, to have Caspian save him from this hell.
There were fingernails digging into the tender skin on Edmund’s back, hard enough to draw blood. Edmund made no sound.
Caspian sat up and looked down at him with what might have been despair, but for the lust in his gaze.
Edmund should have been ashamed of how easy this was. Caspian might have been hurting and coming to terms with his crimes and those committed around and against him, but given a willing body and an opportunity he would inevitably fall prey to carnal desire sooner rather than later. Already his eyes were feral and dark, already his touch was feverish. Edmund arched into his touch, feeling the echoes of Caspian’s desire, and found himself pushed back to the ground rather brutally. His arms strained under the pressure but Caspian didn’t let him go just yet.
When he finally moved, Edmund was on the verge of biting through his tongue, but still he wouldn’t make a sound; he wouldn’t dare. Caspian didn’t go far, in any case -- just far enough to remove their boots and trousers, and for a moment Edmund was free, but for the bindings on his arms.
He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
Caspian returned to him then, roughly pushing Edmund’s legs apart, even as he bent to mark Edmund’s shoulder with his teeth. His fingernails left red, angry marks wherever they trailed. Blood blossomed on some of them, red, perfect, like ripe berries, which burst and smeared at the merest touch. Caspian only noticed when his hand came to grip Edmund’s chin, and he stared at the red staining his fingertips in fascination, pressed a thumb to a darkening mark on Edmund’s hip, dragged the red line across his stomach.
Slowly, he brought the bloodied fingers to his lips, licking the redness off them. Edmund watched his tongue dance, watched Caspian watch him in turn. Watched him, as long as he was able to, as long as the awkward angle of his spine would allow him to, until Caspian slid down his body, pressed his mouth against the stinging scratch mark on his abdomen, gripping his hip so hard Edmund felt the bone within strain.
A rough hand brushed his erection and Edmund trembled, though there was pain mixed with the pleasure. He felt the storm within him rage. Holding it in was an effort almost beyond human strength, and it would get so much worse before it could be better. Caspian spread him open without a trace of tenderness, forcing submission, pushed into him without care.
This was perhaps not what Edmund would have done in Caspian’s position -- surely it would have been easier were he on his hands and knees. Surely much less effort would have to be expended. Absently, Edmund made a note to become better versed in torture techniques, if only for the theoretical value and possible anatomical insight, even if surely there could be no lasting damage done, not here, not when he was already dead and the stone knife was buried in the newly reborn world.
Caspian jerked against him, violently. Edmund looked at his face and found his heart lurching. Caspian’s eyes were truly dead and dark with despair, and Edmund thought that he almost, almost understood the reason for it -- it couldn’t have been the killing of Lilliandil; he had been almost peaceful about the act. It couldn’t have been Rilian; it couldn’t have been the loss of heaven…
It was but the work of a moment to undo the knots holding his arms together. Edmund might not have been the sailor Caspian was, but the skill of letting himself be bound in such a way as to allow for easy untying was one he had cultivated. It was a little harder to flip them over, but Caspian was so out of balance he barely took notice, until he was lying on his back and Edmund’s hands were on his shoulders.
“You’re hurting me.” Edmund whispered.
“You let me,” Caspian whispered back.
They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Caspian looked away and started picking on a blade of grass. “Such a shame you stopped me when you did. I was about to fetch the blade.” He spoke in earnest, Edmund realised. He should perhaps be surprised. He wasn’t.
“You don’t have a knife.”
“Am I to understand you have never taken to having pieces of garments fashioned into weapons? Such an oversight from the illustrious ancient king.”
“I would rather solve problems before it comes to blows.” Edmund closed his eyes and leaned back. Caspian shuddered underneath him, gasped for breath. When finally his hands crept up Edmund’s thighs they were trembling, but that was fine, that was perfect, as Edmund was trembling too. “I don’t fancy hurting.”
Caspian muttered something vague in response. Then, a little louder, “Are you…”
“Bruises and scratches,” Edmund said, rocking against Caspian’s hips. He rather enjoyed how the motion made him throw his head back and groan, how it seemed to shoot up his spine in a blinding flash, regardless of the pain. “Nothing worse.”
“I should have you put in the stocks for this.” An empty threat, if there ever was one. Edmund barely held in a laugh.
“You worry you hurt me and yet you want me in stocks.”
“Edmund,” Caspian said, angrily, but the anger was short lived. He reached out, brushed his fingers against Edmund’s lips, lingering briefly on the nasty cut there. Edmund leaned into the gentle touch. He had been truthful; he did not enjoy inflicting pain, nor having in inflicted on him. Still, he was aroused now, and Caspian would inevitably break, whether through sexual release or the emotional turmoil, which was already threatening to overwhelm him. It would be far safer to console him when he was spent and sleepy, Edmund thought, so, mindless of the ache, he began rocking in Caspian’s lap.
As expected, Caspian shuddered and then let out a moan, a low, lovely sound that Edmund found reverberating in his body. He shook and then arched, gripping Edmund’s hips, as he reached completion. He held Edmund’s gaze as the pleasure washed through him, as it rocked gently until all the energy was spent and Caspian was free of the turmoil, spent -- aching, but free.
It was then that Edmund noticed he was shaking too. Why would he? He was not cold and he was not wounded, for surely the scratches were not enough to cause more than casual discomfort. Nevertheless, the shaking got so bad that Caspian, though he should by rights be too distracted to notice, had taken hold of Edmund’s hands, lifted him off his body and laid him on the ground.
“It is all right,” he said softly. His beard tickled Edmund’s ear. “There’s no need for that.” His teasing fingers skimmed the pale skin of Edmund’s belly, coming to rest at his cock.
“Need for what?” Edmund tried asking, but it was so hard to form coherent words, when his whole body was trembling too violently to even draw a proper breath. Caspian’s face obscured his vision of the sky -- what sky, he wondered absently, as he could see only the leaves and the whiteness beyond, shining through like a giant midday sun, too close for the moderate temperature -- and his warm body was warm and heavy on top of his. Edmund thought, just for a moment, that he was to die, then, no matter the promises and thinly veiled threats made by lions. His eyes closed and he let out a moan.
“Ed,” Caspian was saying softly. He lay on his side, absently drawing patterns on Edmund’s abdomen.
Edmund turned his head to look at him, but his vision was blurry, as though he was removed from the world by a sheet of wet glass.
“We will be fine,” Caspian said. “I promise. No matter what awaits us, we will be fine.”
“I cannot help but think you are disregarding a monstrous amount of facts.” If the words came out sounding like half-sobs, Edmund was glad no one was there to notice. “We are nowhere near fine; I don’t think there’s a hope of us ever being fine.”
“Don’t cry.”
“I am not crying.”
“I could cite a monstrous amount of facts that point to the contrary.”
Edmund grinned, an effort thoroughly spoiled by a bout of hiccoughs. “Naturally,” he said as Caspian started laughing.
If perhaps the tears flowed freely then, if Caspian had to wrap him in his arms and cling as though there were wild horses trying to tear them apart, Edmund preferred not to take notice. He hid his face in the juncture of Caspian’s neck and shoulder and wept, for the brother and sisters he had lost, and would probably never see again, who wouldn’t cry for him or even recall his name. He wept for the sister who would mourn and bury another sibling, who would be alone in the world, until she could rejoin her family and forget him. He wept for Caspian, who had been greatly wronged, and for Rilian, who had achieved everything his people wished for him and lost his family for it.
He wept for the world of peace he’d abandoned and could never return to; he wept for the dissolving of the illusions of innocence he held dear. He cried, because still he couldn’t find it in him to feel guilt, couldn’t regret his actions, couldn’t ask for a greater reward than the one he’d received, when he had gone against everything he should have blindly obeyed.
Eventually he had cried his last, and yet he remained unwilling to move. He was in some discomfort -- Caspian was heavy and angular, the forest floor was rich in stones and irregularities that dug into his naked skin. The scratches were starting to itch, the bruises ached.
“I have no regrets,” Caspian whispered into his ear. “I know what pains you, for it hurts me as well, but I wish you to know that I do not regret losing that which is now out of our reach. Not when I have you.”
Edmund closed his eyes, breathed in the warm air of the forest, the salty scent of Caspian and tasted it on his tongue. Perhaps that was what being forgiven was like, he wondered. Not the blinding, immaculate absolution he’d expected, had hoped for, but a warm, flawed hand in his, taking on half the burden, until it seemed quite small.
“Sooner or later your meagre expectations will come back to haunt you,” he said. The tip of his nose brushed Caspian’s when he turned his head and they stared at one another cross-eyed.
“It has taken many deaths and, from what I gather, a major catastrophe to ensure this. I would hardly call it meagre, when the scope seems to be more on the cosmic scale.”
“I was referring to ends rather than means.”
“So was I.”
Edmund sighed. “Despite better judgement, I cannot help but agree.”
“I’ve started to doubt your judgement’s value. Particularly now.”
Edmund stared at the luminescent ceiling of leaves above.
“I can’t have you doing something like that again, Edmund. Especially when you are so adept at making me think I know what I’m doing,” Caspian turned, so that he could fix his eyes on the same spot Edmund found so engrossing.
“Don’t you usually know what you’re doing?”
“I usually think I know what I’m doing, as you were so kind to demonstrate.” Caspian grinned. “I find it’s easier not to think, but to let the event guide me into what must be done.”
“That’s foolish.”
“Then I remember you think too hard, and it depresses you, and I know I’m right.”
“Now this is idiocy.”
“I understand that better than you think.”
“I very much doubt it.”
Edmund closed his eyes. “Would you leave me?”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“I have wondered if it would be possible for you to leave me. Or,” he continued reluctantly, “for me to leave you.”
“And would it?”
“I don’t know.” Liar, Edmund’s very amused inner voice told him. You could no more leave Caspian than you could abandon your own brain at the side of the road, and not only because you are now bound together by promises and curses. “I don’t think so.”
“That at least is something to be thankful for.”
“Is it really? We are not safe to be around, don’t you see?”
Caspian grinned. “Only when whoever is around means us harm, and then I would be inclined not to care.”
“Tell that to my siblings.”
“You haven’t actually harmed them.”
“If you perceive not losing me as not harming, then I wonder why is it we are even talking about this.” In the end this would hurt Edmund more than it hurt them, when they wouldn’t even remember, but Peter’s face when they said good-bye was pained and Edmund regretted every minute he would have to go on, believing that he had failed to protect and save his little brother.
“I confess, this I have not considered.”
“So I’m noticing.”
“Still, they will be fine,” Caspian said. “As I recall you only started to remember Susan after it had already began to go wrong, and it is my understanding that it only began to go wrong to allow for an ending. It is my understanding that they are well now.”
“You are not terribly sympathetic.”
“I emerged victorious from the scuffle and I have no audience to feign magnanimity before.”
“You emerged a violent murder.”
“Which more than accounts for the lack of empathy, wouldn’t you say?”
There was silence. “What do we do now?”
“I should like to stay here forever. It is so peaceful.” Caspian closed his eyes and breathed and Edmund tried biting his lip to quell the feeling of unease and dread. He didn’t want to spend another minute in the forest, lest he become paranoid.
“I cannot,” he said quietly, when his still bleeding lip resisted further harm. “I don’t feel well.”
“I do believe some progress has been made,” Caspian said, rolling onto his side to press the pad of his thumb to Edmund’s mouth. “Thank you.”
“This doesn’t exactly solve our troubles.”
“It solves enough. I’m ready to depart this very minute.”
“We need not hurry that much. Aslan said I wouldn’t find peace here, not that I would be violently ill for staying longer than an hour.”
“There’s no cause to remain when you are not comfortable.”
“I can stand to be here for some time.” Edmund smiled at nothing in particular. “I promise I shan’t overexert myself. I don’t think I would like a repeat performance.” The words were hard to say, when Caspian’s mouth was brushing his and the endless forest was suddenly as small as the two of them.
“Me neither,” Caspian said and his gaze was dark, but it was not the empty, distant darkness the corruption had brought on, but something human, something soft and desperate. In it was the need to wrap Edmund in a protective cocoon and never let him go; in it was all the love that would soon make them both sick, if there was nothing else.
“Perhaps a little while,” Edmund said, “and then we shall go.”
Caspian smiled and their lips met, in a slow, almost chaste, caress that was nothing at all like lovemaking but rather like the return home, to a dearest, oldest friend.
*****
They had no means by which to measure time. They felt neither hunger nor sleepiness; the forest never changed; there was neither day nor night. Edmund was forced to conclude that there was no time in this strange place that was between all others.
Eventually, however, he found he could no longer go on. His hands had started shaking; at first there were the gentle tremors of fingers such as one might experience when agitated, but then he would have trouble with buttons and fastenings. He would clutch his hands together and the shaking would cease for a while. However when it returned it would be twice as bad.
The shaking was not quite so bad as the fear, growing in the back of his mind. It had been unease and a vaguely defined ache, such as one might experience when looking into a dark, abandoned house, right after reading a horror novel, but the longer they stayed the more defined it became, whilst always staying just out of reach.
“I cannot bear it any longer,” Edmund said at last, talking to a great oak, if it was an oak -- the shape of the leaves was off -- similar, but if he looked at them long enough they were too big, too meaty to be any kind of trees that England, or even Narnia, might grow.
There was the hint of a smile in the kiss he felt against his hair. “Then we shall go.”
And so, they came to stand at the edge of a pool, no more than two yards across, in which the light gleamed the brightest. “Have you any idea what shall we find in it?” Caspian asked.
Edmund had none. He didn’t even know whether the magic that transported him and Susan out of the forest would work without a ring to ignite it. Perhaps this was to be his punishment, to go mad from the nameless, formless nightmares in his waking state, as Caspian watched.
He rejected the thought.
“Given that we managed to overcome millennia-old plots, a marriage and separate worlds, I dare to be hopeful now,” Caspian said.
Edmund laughed. “Yes, it does sound like we have very little to fear.”
“In case the world is horrid enough to separate us right away,” Caspian said, and instead of finishing the sentence kissed Edmund on the lips. It was a promise, an affirmation, a token. Edmund returned the kiss with equal passion.
Their hands entwined and they took the step forward, into the water. Though the pool was less than a few inches deep, they fell for what seemed like hours, and with every passing moment Edmund felt his heart lighten.
Then, at the very end, there was light.
END.
Rating: 18
Genre: drama, romance
Pairings: Edmund/Caspian
Wordcount: 80k
Warnings: it is rated 18 for potentially disturbing themes
Summary: Narnia ended a mere two hundred years after Caspian’s reign, as though he was the climax of her 2,500 years’ history. He was. There were stories unfolding in Narnia of which none of her rulers were aware, and stories must run their natural course, even though their heroes are dead.
[CHAPTER FOURTEEN -- A Clear Midnight]
Edmund had thought the dead world was quiet, but next to the peace and serenity of the wood, the world they had left behind was as noisy as a train station in the heart of London. He breathed and let the golden peacefulness envelop him. Or at least he tried to.
“It’s beautiful,” Caspian said softly. “May we stay here awhile?”
“If you so desire, you may,” Aslan said. “You will find peace here; perhaps in time you will find it in your heart to repent. Perhaps, then, you would be allowed to return to my country.”
“I may?” Caspian asked, emphasising the first syllable.
“Without Edmund.” Aslan’s voice grew wild and low.
Caspian opened his mouth and then closed it again. Even he must have known anger would solve nothing at this point. “You dare to try and separate us? After what you’ve done, after what you’ve made us do, you dare to try and separate us!”
“Caspian,” Edmund began, but he was not allowed to finish.
“I would sooner see the worlds destroyed. I would sooner see you dead!”
“Calm yourself, Caspian,” the lion said. “You accuse me of crimes committed against you, when it was you who destroyed the preordained order of things, brought death upon a world which needed not suffer it.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“You will, because you still do not understand. You’ve torn yourselves apart with a careless promise, to be forever split between two worlds, and so in no other place than here, where all worlds meet, will you feel at peace, when you are not together. Can you comprehend that?”
“Better than you think,” Edmund said, remembering all the nights spent in the dormitories, listening to the sound of breathing and wondering whether somewhere, anywhere at all, Caspian was sleeping too, or did he lie awake, wondering as he was.
“Do you consider this a victory, Edmund?”
“Yes, rather.”
“Then know that for you there shall be no peace here, son of Adam. All who come here find it tranquil and beautiful, but you shan’t. It will be stifling and suffocating, and yet here is where you will return time and again, for it is here that all stories end and all stories begin.”
“Where should I go, then?”
“Anywhere.” Aslan looked around, towards the hundreds of ponds in the sight and billions, undoubtedly hidden in the forest. “Everywhere. You need but to step into any of the ponds to enter its world, but be warned: your journey shall be arduous, as it is not a reward, but punishment.”
Edmund said nothing, but there was a strange kind of calmness in him, despite the prophesied unrest. “I accept,” he said softly.
“Farewell then,” the great lion said, bowing to touch Edmund’s forehead briefly. He did the same to Caspian and then he was gone, like he had never been there.
“Why did you let me say nothing?” Caspian turned to Edmund with fire in his eyes and fury in his voice. “You would leave your siblings, your friends, in his care, when he tried to kill you?”
“Heaven is where they belong,” Edmund said and looked at Rilian, who’d stood back during the talk. “You remained.”
“I don’t think we are quite finished, Edmund. Father.”
“I do owe you the duel, I recall. If you think now is the right time, then I must first find for myself a sword, for I find myself defenceless.”
“No, the duel can wait. I shall be looking forward to it.” Rilian gave Edmund a speculative look. “I might use the time to put down the rules in writing and appoint seconds, just in case.”
“This may prove necessary.”
“I was wondering, what is it that you plan?”
Edmund looked at Caspian, who’d been staring elsewhere. In his gaze there was something much like peace. His anger was draining, replaced by the wondrous peace that the wood bestowed on whoever visited, the peace of timeless serenity.
“I expect we will stay here for some time,” he said, even as the unrest Aslan promised made itself known.
“Then you would choose a world and travel through it,” Rilian finished for him.
“To be fair, there aren’t many other options to pursue.”
“True.” Rilian smiled ruefully. “Well then, as you are about to embark, let me say this--” He stepped closer to Edmund -- this was most perplexing, Edmund found, but he could not move, his limbs defied his orders from the moment Rilian’s hands locked around his wrists -- and kissed him.
Edmund wasn’t expecting it, but evidently he should have, because Rilian kissed with the mindless determination of one who had plans and was fulfilling them, regardless of consequence. Edmund knew the feeling well -- it had driven him the past months (or weeks, or days, however long it had been).
Rilian was staring at him, as much as the angle would allow. He was still cold, Edmund noted absently. It was rather like kissing a marble statue, he imagined, though his experience in that matter was severely limited and the one statue he had kissed lacked teeth.
It didn’t last long -- before Caspian had time to recover from the shock Rilian released him and Edmund stumbled and fell, as his muscles seemed to have forgotten how to hold him upright.
He noted absently that his lip was bleeding. That would be the teeth.
“Interesting,” Edmund said as he got up. “I hadn’t thought that it was dangerous for you to touch me.”
“It is not.”
“Then why the spell?”
Rilian smiled. “For fear of protest, let us assume.” His voice was a little strangled, as Caspian had, upon recovering, grabbed him by the shirt and held him fast against a trunk of a tree.
“Caspian, let him go.”
“Why must you insist on ruining each and every one of my revenge attempts?”
“I only do it when I strongly object to you taking revenge.”
“Which is every single time!”
“Which is twice, so far!”
“Both times it was against Rilian. Surely by now you understand that it is not a fleeting fancy of mine, but a necessary act, borne of genuine concern.”
“I do find it endearing, that you would leap to protect Edmund’s honour in this fashion. How you didn’t end up being my mother, I shall never understand.”
“I see Caspian failed to provide you with adequate education,” Edmund said with a laugh. “Dare I ask what brought this on?”
Rilian smirked. “I can walk between worlds now,” he said, as though that was an answer. “The stars can see through the barriers, but they cannot cross them. I can.”
“I’m happy for you. What is the meaning of this?”
“Only this, father. I have no desire to kill you; I imagine I mustn’t, lest I upset the great lion. But I will not forgive you for killing mother and I swear you shall be repaid in kind.”
“I won’t let you,” Edmund said, laying a restraining a hand on Caspian’s shoulder, in the very same moment as Caspian’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “I dare you to try. I will burn you, burn your precious world to dust if you dare.”
“Then it will be most interesting.” Rilian bowed to them. “Farewell, until we meet again.” He straightened and a shimmering door in the air swallowed him. For a moment before it closed Edmund thought he could see a sky full of stars.
“This will be interesting,” Edmund said, and winced. His hands were starting to shake.
“Are you all right?”
“I think this may be the unease Aslan spoke of.”
“Then we better hurry and choose a pond to depart this place.”
“There’s no need to make rash decisions.” Unlike Aslan’s country, though the very same light seemed to be present in both places, Edmund was quite certain he would not break easily here; this was not the kind of place where things happened, Digory had said, and Edmund believed that. This was a place where things were, not necessarily better, or prettier, or more true. They just were.
He forced Caspian to sit on the ground. “Are you well?”
“Of course I am not. What did you expect?”
“It will pass in time. Especially here. You cannot cling to corruption here.”
“What will pass? The fact that I had murdered my wife and would have done the same to my son, had I not been stopped? Or the fact that you thought this might happen and still you said nothing to warn me of the possibility.”
Edmund averted his eyes. Caspian was hurting; it was evident in the tone of his voice, in the slump of his shoulders and he had brought it upon him. “I am not a soothsayer. How was I to know you would kill anyone?”
“Are you deaf and blind?”
Edmund bit his lip then hissed, when he remembered the cut. “I’m not.”
“I would have done it even without the corruption,” Caspian said softly. He raised his head and looked into Edmund’s eyes. “I waited for the opportunity when you were gone, and prayed that I would have one.”
“Their plan was revolting. I do not blame you.”
Caspian sprang to his feet. “Is that all you have to say? Is this so easy for you, to watch others bloody their hands for you, when you walk away unscathed?” He whirled and punched the nearest tree, then he did it again and again, until his knuckles were a bloody mess, and he would have kept at it, had Edmund not leapt to restrain him.
“Hit me instead,” he whispered into Caspian’s ear, wrapping his arms around him, burrowing his face in Caspian’s neck. “Surely I deserve it more than the tree. I could have stopped you. You are right, I knew what you thought. I pride myself on knowing how you think, so I knew. I am to blame for what you feel right now.” He hesitated. “I love you and I used you, but it is so much worse, because it was not to keep us safe. This, this banishment didn’t need to happen at all and the only reason it did is because I chose it. I hated Aslan’s land, it suffocated me, even if it made you happy, I--” Edmund inhaled sharply. There was so much guilt in him, so much fear, because even if he had wanted what he got, even if he didn’t regret the choices that had led him to this place, here and now was the true gamble. He would have stood anything at all, death, annihilation, the loss of his whole family and his world (wherever that might be), but if Caspian couldn’t forgive him, then he would have lost.
“I brought Susan with me as bait for the creatures, to force your hand,” he continued and Caspian shivered. “They wouldn’t attack me, I feared, even when I was in mortal flesh -- they feared me so much when I was dead. I brought with me one I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist.
“If you wish to punish anyone, let it be me. I think I deserve it more than you do.”
“You would use your own sister as bait? To make me renounce everything I held dear in Narnia?” Caspian freed himself from Edmund’s embrace, pushed him to the ground and knelt atop him. One of his hands was raised threateningly, while the other was splayed on Edmund’s chest, pinning him down, wholly unnecessarily, as Edmund wasn’t inclined to fight in the slightest. He merely watched as Caspian closed his fist and didn’t flinch when it came down, just short of his face.
“I don’t know what I’m asking for, do I?” Caspian wrapped his mouth around the words, savoured their texture and taste. There was a halo of light and leaves about his dark head, alighting on the loose hair that floated about his face and for the life of him Edmund didn’t know what thoughts were flitting through his mind.
Edmund closed his eyes and smiled lightly. “I thought you wouldn’t.”
Caspian spoke as one waking from a dream. Perhaps, in a way, he was; if he ever dreamed of romance that was sublime and pure in its intention. If that was the case, the waking must have come too late, and it was far too late to turn back.
Edmund waited for what felt like hours, listening to the silence of the forest. It struck him how alien it was, how utterly uncanny. There were no birds, no rustling to indicate the presence of squirrels or mice or other rodents. There was no wind, therefore the leaves and needles did not move. There was no creature to tread on the grass, either. There were so many ponds, but not even a hint of a splash. Yet, for the motionless atmosphere, the air was fresh and alive.
He needed to be out of here, Edmund thought at last, when the silence threatened to suffocate him. Then -- only then -- did he feel the gentle lapping upon his bloodied lip.
Caspian’s tongue tasted of iron when it slipped into Edmund’s mouth.
Edmund arched his back, but found himself restrained by the grip Caspian had on his wrists, by the weight on his hips. His only success was that Caspian drew a sharp breath at the unexpected movement and pressed against him in retaliation.
Any victory was short-lived, at best. Caspian returned the favour with another bruising kiss, which quickly slid from Edmund’s mouth and onto his neck and the juncture of his shoulder, to reach the fresh mark that marred his throat. The fastenings of his shirt were undone, and Caspian latched onto the mark on Edmund’s chest, worrying the flesh with his teeth and Edmund clenched his jaws and mewled.
He could have stayed silent through torture and through injury, but he was nigh powerless against the waves of heat that caused by the touch of Caspian’s lips and tongue upon the mark. It couldn’t have been safe, he thought when his breath caught and he worried the cut of his lip open anew. He felt as though he would break under Caspian’s ministrations, as though his whole being was touched simultaneously, and it was both stimulating and frightening. He would surely break in Caspian’s hands. He would be torn open and all this would have been for naught; he would remain a formless spectre with no memory, haunting this sacred place.
He’d deserve it, too, he thought in despair. Every moment of losing what he was would surely be prolonged into agony, he would feel it all: every memory slipping away from him, every second which made him Edmund, every moment spent with Caspian, too few of those, they would be gone and he would watch them all go, leaving him bare and terrified, like a new-born, doomed to never learn, never progress, stuck in this place without time as a nameless creature of no past and no future.
Sulphur and flame would have been his preference -- sulphur, flame and memory. It would have been heaven, in comparison.
Caspian had used Edmund’s distraction to hold both his hands above his head, and then to use the shirt Edmund was wearing to tie them together. Edmund watched him do so without so much as a peep, though his heart was hammering wildly. The knots were tight enough to force his elbows up and his spine to arch over the soft grass.
Caspian’s teeth scraped against the flesh of Edmund’s chest, then bit into it, and they were not the teasing bites meant to entice. These would leave nasty bruises right next to the mark of the knife, over his heart and that would have been good, to have Caspian end him, for good, to have Caspian save him from this hell.
There were fingernails digging into the tender skin on Edmund’s back, hard enough to draw blood. Edmund made no sound.
Caspian sat up and looked down at him with what might have been despair, but for the lust in his gaze.
Edmund should have been ashamed of how easy this was. Caspian might have been hurting and coming to terms with his crimes and those committed around and against him, but given a willing body and an opportunity he would inevitably fall prey to carnal desire sooner rather than later. Already his eyes were feral and dark, already his touch was feverish. Edmund arched into his touch, feeling the echoes of Caspian’s desire, and found himself pushed back to the ground rather brutally. His arms strained under the pressure but Caspian didn’t let him go just yet.
When he finally moved, Edmund was on the verge of biting through his tongue, but still he wouldn’t make a sound; he wouldn’t dare. Caspian didn’t go far, in any case -- just far enough to remove their boots and trousers, and for a moment Edmund was free, but for the bindings on his arms.
He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
Caspian returned to him then, roughly pushing Edmund’s legs apart, even as he bent to mark Edmund’s shoulder with his teeth. His fingernails left red, angry marks wherever they trailed. Blood blossomed on some of them, red, perfect, like ripe berries, which burst and smeared at the merest touch. Caspian only noticed when his hand came to grip Edmund’s chin, and he stared at the red staining his fingertips in fascination, pressed a thumb to a darkening mark on Edmund’s hip, dragged the red line across his stomach.
Slowly, he brought the bloodied fingers to his lips, licking the redness off them. Edmund watched his tongue dance, watched Caspian watch him in turn. Watched him, as long as he was able to, as long as the awkward angle of his spine would allow him to, until Caspian slid down his body, pressed his mouth against the stinging scratch mark on his abdomen, gripping his hip so hard Edmund felt the bone within strain.
A rough hand brushed his erection and Edmund trembled, though there was pain mixed with the pleasure. He felt the storm within him rage. Holding it in was an effort almost beyond human strength, and it would get so much worse before it could be better. Caspian spread him open without a trace of tenderness, forcing submission, pushed into him without care.
This was perhaps not what Edmund would have done in Caspian’s position -- surely it would have been easier were he on his hands and knees. Surely much less effort would have to be expended. Absently, Edmund made a note to become better versed in torture techniques, if only for the theoretical value and possible anatomical insight, even if surely there could be no lasting damage done, not here, not when he was already dead and the stone knife was buried in the newly reborn world.
Caspian jerked against him, violently. Edmund looked at his face and found his heart lurching. Caspian’s eyes were truly dead and dark with despair, and Edmund thought that he almost, almost understood the reason for it -- it couldn’t have been the killing of Lilliandil; he had been almost peaceful about the act. It couldn’t have been Rilian; it couldn’t have been the loss of heaven…
It was but the work of a moment to undo the knots holding his arms together. Edmund might not have been the sailor Caspian was, but the skill of letting himself be bound in such a way as to allow for easy untying was one he had cultivated. It was a little harder to flip them over, but Caspian was so out of balance he barely took notice, until he was lying on his back and Edmund’s hands were on his shoulders.
“You’re hurting me.” Edmund whispered.
“You let me,” Caspian whispered back.
They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Caspian looked away and started picking on a blade of grass. “Such a shame you stopped me when you did. I was about to fetch the blade.” He spoke in earnest, Edmund realised. He should perhaps be surprised. He wasn’t.
“You don’t have a knife.”
“Am I to understand you have never taken to having pieces of garments fashioned into weapons? Such an oversight from the illustrious ancient king.”
“I would rather solve problems before it comes to blows.” Edmund closed his eyes and leaned back. Caspian shuddered underneath him, gasped for breath. When finally his hands crept up Edmund’s thighs they were trembling, but that was fine, that was perfect, as Edmund was trembling too. “I don’t fancy hurting.”
Caspian muttered something vague in response. Then, a little louder, “Are you…”
“Bruises and scratches,” Edmund said, rocking against Caspian’s hips. He rather enjoyed how the motion made him throw his head back and groan, how it seemed to shoot up his spine in a blinding flash, regardless of the pain. “Nothing worse.”
“I should have you put in the stocks for this.” An empty threat, if there ever was one. Edmund barely held in a laugh.
“You worry you hurt me and yet you want me in stocks.”
“Edmund,” Caspian said, angrily, but the anger was short lived. He reached out, brushed his fingers against Edmund’s lips, lingering briefly on the nasty cut there. Edmund leaned into the gentle touch. He had been truthful; he did not enjoy inflicting pain, nor having in inflicted on him. Still, he was aroused now, and Caspian would inevitably break, whether through sexual release or the emotional turmoil, which was already threatening to overwhelm him. It would be far safer to console him when he was spent and sleepy, Edmund thought, so, mindless of the ache, he began rocking in Caspian’s lap.
As expected, Caspian shuddered and then let out a moan, a low, lovely sound that Edmund found reverberating in his body. He shook and then arched, gripping Edmund’s hips, as he reached completion. He held Edmund’s gaze as the pleasure washed through him, as it rocked gently until all the energy was spent and Caspian was free of the turmoil, spent -- aching, but free.
It was then that Edmund noticed he was shaking too. Why would he? He was not cold and he was not wounded, for surely the scratches were not enough to cause more than casual discomfort. Nevertheless, the shaking got so bad that Caspian, though he should by rights be too distracted to notice, had taken hold of Edmund’s hands, lifted him off his body and laid him on the ground.
“It is all right,” he said softly. His beard tickled Edmund’s ear. “There’s no need for that.” His teasing fingers skimmed the pale skin of Edmund’s belly, coming to rest at his cock.
“Need for what?” Edmund tried asking, but it was so hard to form coherent words, when his whole body was trembling too violently to even draw a proper breath. Caspian’s face obscured his vision of the sky -- what sky, he wondered absently, as he could see only the leaves and the whiteness beyond, shining through like a giant midday sun, too close for the moderate temperature -- and his warm body was warm and heavy on top of his. Edmund thought, just for a moment, that he was to die, then, no matter the promises and thinly veiled threats made by lions. His eyes closed and he let out a moan.
“Ed,” Caspian was saying softly. He lay on his side, absently drawing patterns on Edmund’s abdomen.
Edmund turned his head to look at him, but his vision was blurry, as though he was removed from the world by a sheet of wet glass.
“We will be fine,” Caspian said. “I promise. No matter what awaits us, we will be fine.”
“I cannot help but think you are disregarding a monstrous amount of facts.” If the words came out sounding like half-sobs, Edmund was glad no one was there to notice. “We are nowhere near fine; I don’t think there’s a hope of us ever being fine.”
“Don’t cry.”
“I am not crying.”
“I could cite a monstrous amount of facts that point to the contrary.”
Edmund grinned, an effort thoroughly spoiled by a bout of hiccoughs. “Naturally,” he said as Caspian started laughing.
If perhaps the tears flowed freely then, if Caspian had to wrap him in his arms and cling as though there were wild horses trying to tear them apart, Edmund preferred not to take notice. He hid his face in the juncture of Caspian’s neck and shoulder and wept, for the brother and sisters he had lost, and would probably never see again, who wouldn’t cry for him or even recall his name. He wept for the sister who would mourn and bury another sibling, who would be alone in the world, until she could rejoin her family and forget him. He wept for Caspian, who had been greatly wronged, and for Rilian, who had achieved everything his people wished for him and lost his family for it.
He wept for the world of peace he’d abandoned and could never return to; he wept for the dissolving of the illusions of innocence he held dear. He cried, because still he couldn’t find it in him to feel guilt, couldn’t regret his actions, couldn’t ask for a greater reward than the one he’d received, when he had gone against everything he should have blindly obeyed.
Eventually he had cried his last, and yet he remained unwilling to move. He was in some discomfort -- Caspian was heavy and angular, the forest floor was rich in stones and irregularities that dug into his naked skin. The scratches were starting to itch, the bruises ached.
“I have no regrets,” Caspian whispered into his ear. “I know what pains you, for it hurts me as well, but I wish you to know that I do not regret losing that which is now out of our reach. Not when I have you.”
Edmund closed his eyes, breathed in the warm air of the forest, the salty scent of Caspian and tasted it on his tongue. Perhaps that was what being forgiven was like, he wondered. Not the blinding, immaculate absolution he’d expected, had hoped for, but a warm, flawed hand in his, taking on half the burden, until it seemed quite small.
“Sooner or later your meagre expectations will come back to haunt you,” he said. The tip of his nose brushed Caspian’s when he turned his head and they stared at one another cross-eyed.
“It has taken many deaths and, from what I gather, a major catastrophe to ensure this. I would hardly call it meagre, when the scope seems to be more on the cosmic scale.”
“I was referring to ends rather than means.”
“So was I.”
Edmund sighed. “Despite better judgement, I cannot help but agree.”
“I’ve started to doubt your judgement’s value. Particularly now.”
Edmund stared at the luminescent ceiling of leaves above.
“I can’t have you doing something like that again, Edmund. Especially when you are so adept at making me think I know what I’m doing,” Caspian turned, so that he could fix his eyes on the same spot Edmund found so engrossing.
“Don’t you usually know what you’re doing?”
“I usually think I know what I’m doing, as you were so kind to demonstrate.” Caspian grinned. “I find it’s easier not to think, but to let the event guide me into what must be done.”
“That’s foolish.”
“Then I remember you think too hard, and it depresses you, and I know I’m right.”
“Now this is idiocy.”
“I understand that better than you think.”
“I very much doubt it.”
Edmund closed his eyes. “Would you leave me?”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“I have wondered if it would be possible for you to leave me. Or,” he continued reluctantly, “for me to leave you.”
“And would it?”
“I don’t know.” Liar, Edmund’s very amused inner voice told him. You could no more leave Caspian than you could abandon your own brain at the side of the road, and not only because you are now bound together by promises and curses. “I don’t think so.”
“That at least is something to be thankful for.”
“Is it really? We are not safe to be around, don’t you see?”
Caspian grinned. “Only when whoever is around means us harm, and then I would be inclined not to care.”
“Tell that to my siblings.”
“You haven’t actually harmed them.”
“If you perceive not losing me as not harming, then I wonder why is it we are even talking about this.” In the end this would hurt Edmund more than it hurt them, when they wouldn’t even remember, but Peter’s face when they said good-bye was pained and Edmund regretted every minute he would have to go on, believing that he had failed to protect and save his little brother.
“I confess, this I have not considered.”
“So I’m noticing.”
“Still, they will be fine,” Caspian said. “As I recall you only started to remember Susan after it had already began to go wrong, and it is my understanding that it only began to go wrong to allow for an ending. It is my understanding that they are well now.”
“You are not terribly sympathetic.”
“I emerged victorious from the scuffle and I have no audience to feign magnanimity before.”
“You emerged a violent murder.”
“Which more than accounts for the lack of empathy, wouldn’t you say?”
There was silence. “What do we do now?”
“I should like to stay here forever. It is so peaceful.” Caspian closed his eyes and breathed and Edmund tried biting his lip to quell the feeling of unease and dread. He didn’t want to spend another minute in the forest, lest he become paranoid.
“I cannot,” he said quietly, when his still bleeding lip resisted further harm. “I don’t feel well.”
“I do believe some progress has been made,” Caspian said, rolling onto his side to press the pad of his thumb to Edmund’s mouth. “Thank you.”
“This doesn’t exactly solve our troubles.”
“It solves enough. I’m ready to depart this very minute.”
“We need not hurry that much. Aslan said I wouldn’t find peace here, not that I would be violently ill for staying longer than an hour.”
“There’s no cause to remain when you are not comfortable.”
“I can stand to be here for some time.” Edmund smiled at nothing in particular. “I promise I shan’t overexert myself. I don’t think I would like a repeat performance.” The words were hard to say, when Caspian’s mouth was brushing his and the endless forest was suddenly as small as the two of them.
“Me neither,” Caspian said and his gaze was dark, but it was not the empty, distant darkness the corruption had brought on, but something human, something soft and desperate. In it was the need to wrap Edmund in a protective cocoon and never let him go; in it was all the love that would soon make them both sick, if there was nothing else.
“Perhaps a little while,” Edmund said, “and then we shall go.”
Caspian smiled and their lips met, in a slow, almost chaste, caress that was nothing at all like lovemaking but rather like the return home, to a dearest, oldest friend.
*****
They had no means by which to measure time. They felt neither hunger nor sleepiness; the forest never changed; there was neither day nor night. Edmund was forced to conclude that there was no time in this strange place that was between all others.
Eventually, however, he found he could no longer go on. His hands had started shaking; at first there were the gentle tremors of fingers such as one might experience when agitated, but then he would have trouble with buttons and fastenings. He would clutch his hands together and the shaking would cease for a while. However when it returned it would be twice as bad.
The shaking was not quite so bad as the fear, growing in the back of his mind. It had been unease and a vaguely defined ache, such as one might experience when looking into a dark, abandoned house, right after reading a horror novel, but the longer they stayed the more defined it became, whilst always staying just out of reach.
“I cannot bear it any longer,” Edmund said at last, talking to a great oak, if it was an oak -- the shape of the leaves was off -- similar, but if he looked at them long enough they were too big, too meaty to be any kind of trees that England, or even Narnia, might grow.
There was the hint of a smile in the kiss he felt against his hair. “Then we shall go.”
And so, they came to stand at the edge of a pool, no more than two yards across, in which the light gleamed the brightest. “Have you any idea what shall we find in it?” Caspian asked.
Edmund had none. He didn’t even know whether the magic that transported him and Susan out of the forest would work without a ring to ignite it. Perhaps this was to be his punishment, to go mad from the nameless, formless nightmares in his waking state, as Caspian watched.
He rejected the thought.
“Given that we managed to overcome millennia-old plots, a marriage and separate worlds, I dare to be hopeful now,” Caspian said.
Edmund laughed. “Yes, it does sound like we have very little to fear.”
“In case the world is horrid enough to separate us right away,” Caspian said, and instead of finishing the sentence kissed Edmund on the lips. It was a promise, an affirmation, a token. Edmund returned the kiss with equal passion.
Their hands entwined and they took the step forward, into the water. Though the pool was less than a few inches deep, they fell for what seemed like hours, and with every passing moment Edmund felt his heart lighten.
Then, at the very end, there was light.
END.
