[fic] On a Transparent Belt of Ether 3/4
Feb. 14th, 2011 02:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: On a Transparent Belt of Ether
Rating: 14
Pairings: Caspian/Edmund
Genre: Romance, drama
Wordcount: 22k
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Edmund the Just made his kingship telling people the right things at the right time. The night before Caspian’s coronation Edmund tells the anxious prince the right thing. It is only later, on board the Dawn Treader that he realises just what his words achieved.
Author's Note: On the whole the movie is best viewed as “the epic love story of Edmund and Caspian,” otherwise it may not be the most formulaic thing committed to film, but it’s certainly close.
Chapter breaks may seem a little awkward - I never planned for chapters. It was supposed to be ten pages, tops.
Betaed byyami_tai. <3 Thank you so much, hun, for all the hard work!
They sailed east from the Floating Island then, on a favourable wind carried them at a steady pace for five days. It was a wondrous time, when each morning he would wake to find Caspian gazing at him with fondness that robbed him of his breath, and every night he would fall asleep in his hammock with his hand stretched out so that he may brush Caspian’s when the ship leaned far enough to that side. The days were busy, for at sea there is always plenty to do, and more still to be done later. Five sunrises they’d seen, but on the fifth day there was no sunset, as the wind picked up and then a storm was upon them.
Edmund had seen a few storms in his time, but none so terrible. They were cast about as though the great ship was no heavier than a walnut, and huge waves eclipsed the sky more than once.
Those were sleepless nights for Edmund, more often than not, and only a little because of the storm. The groundwork had already been done by the nightmares that plagued his head at night. He didn’t remember them, or at the very least tried not to remember.
The days weren’t that different from nights then. The sky was almost as dark and the waters just as turbulent. Edmund woke from a dream; a hateful, hideous vision of death and destruction to rival the battle for Narnia that nearly claimed his life. He jumped out of his hammock and strode through the hold (though in reality he was forced to tread on the wall, as the ship was at such an angle that Edmund feared capsizing) and out into the raging storm. A sailor rushed past him with a soggy rope in his hands and Edmund grasped its end, throwing himself into securing the boat, so that it wouldn’t slide and fall overboard when the wave hit them at this angle. His hands burned before long, but he was the smallest of the men allowed up top (Reepicheep, being as light as a feather, was told in no uncertain terms he was to stay below, as any of the gusts of wind would whip him overboard) and so he could crawl beneath and around obstacles on deck to secure the bindings. Every now and then a wave would wash over his head, but there was no rest to be had amidst the nightmares and the grey skies that threatened to swallow their world whole.
“Enough, Edmund!” Caspian was there, all of sudden, thoroughly soaked by the rain and the seawater, and shaking him. “You need to rest.”
Edmund had barely any strength left in him, so when Caspian wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leapt, as one does when the ship is heeling at a frightful pace and in no certain direction, and thrust them both into the hold, through which they would reach their cabin.
“What is the matter?” Caspian asked, hurriedly pulling Edmund’s soaked shirt off his shaking frame. Edmund’s fingers were so stiff they could hardly move. “Why won’t you sleep? Plenty will remain to be done tomorrow, you will be sick of it yet. I half wonder you aren’t sick of it already.”
“I can’t sleep,” Edmund murmured into the soaked collar of Caspian’s shirt. The king was delightfully warm, though of course a mere moment out in the storm was enough to drench a man to the bone. “I keep having nightmares, I don’t even know what I’m seeing, but it’s terrifying.”
The floor shook underneath their feet and Caspian, and Edmund with him, lost their balance. There was a dull thump overhead and Edmund surmised Eustace hit his head on the boards, as there was a muttered complaint and then snoring again.
“Your Majesties?” came a voice from above and Edmund made a half-hearted effort to disentangle himself from Caspian’s embrace. “Are you well?”
“Quite fine, Reep, go back to sleep.”
“I find it hard, Majesty. Is there anything I can do?”
“Were you a magician, I would have tasked you with preparing some hot ale for King Edmund,” Caspian said. “But here is a harder task: convince his royal highness that sleep is necessary, when he insists on thrusting himself into the midst of the storm whenever I take my eyes off him.”
“I will seriously hurt you,” Edmund hissed at that, but Caspian just laughed and held him tighter, until the cold brought upon by the sea finally started to ebb away.
“It is amazing then that His Highness could run off this often,” Reepicheep said solemnly. Edmund stiffened at that, but there was no reproach, nothing in his voice but a calm observation. “I would never presume to tell your Majesty off, but…” the mouse began and Edmund groaned.
He slept well that night, having succumbed halfway through Reepicheep’s lecture and the following morning the storm gave signs of breaking up. Sure enough, before the next dawn the air was clear again and though the Dawn Treader had taken some damage, mending her was not too difficult, and then, after a few stressful days of no wind and no hope, for the provisions would surely not last for long, land at last.
Edmund didn’t even pretend he wasn’t hiding on the fighting deck, when Caspian intruded on his solitude, as he often did.
“Have you seen anything from up here?”
“A nosy king, who won’t mind his own business,” Edmund said, and it was only partly in jest.
“Why is it such a surprise to you, that I look out for your well-being?”
“I am grateful for your concern, I am. However I can handle myself. I am not an unruly child who needs to be governed.”
“I have never thought of you like that,” Caspian said, a touch offended. “But I do not like having you out of my sight.”
There was precious little Edmund could say to that, because it would have been hard to pretend that he wasn’t watching Caspian walking around the ship from above. He distinctly remembered having this argument with Peter before, too, which made hearing the exact same words from Caspian’s lips a touch more disturbing.
“You are not my brother, nor my superior, nor are you tasked with my well-being, Caspian. Please remember that.”
Caspian’s eyes narrowed. “We should be ready to get to the island soon. Will you come?”
“Of course.”
Perhaps it had to follow, that given the slightest provocation they would be at each other’s throats, though Edmund still watched the proceedings from behind his own eyes with detached interest. He had swung his sword and came at Caspian with murderous intent, which had to be at least somewhat genuine, else why would he be standing there, with a naked sword in his hand?
The deed weighed on him, so that not minutes later he took the -- admittedly, excellent -- excuse to go rushing after the disappeared Eustace, though in that, too, he was foiled, when Caspian insisted on following.
“Cannot take your eyes off me, can you?” Edmund muttered under his breath as they ascended the slope. Gravel fell from where they stepped, but ahead Edmund could see many more such tiny disruptions. Someone had walked here, and the crew had taken the other way. “This way.”
“Will you not look at me?”
Edmund stopped and turned to gaze at Caspian. “I wish to apologise,” he said before the king could say a word. “My behaviour was unpardonable. I have nothing in my defence, and yet I ask your forgiveness, your Majesty.”
He felt quite warm when he saw the expression Caspian levelled his way. It was intense, heated, and yet, though shame clearly played a part, shameless. “I have much to regret in my words and actions, now that my mind is clearer, too. I’d forgiven you already.”
“Thank you.”
Of course, then they discovered the treasure grove, and Caspian had to ruin the moment of tender understanding with a whispered, “In the face of such discovery, I should be glad to entertain a rematch.”
*****
The altercation at the Dragon Island cave was not fully gone from Edmund’s mind by the time they were on board again, though there were more pressing concerns to address, namely that of cousin Eustace and his unfortunate transformation.
Still, when Edmund found Caspian alone in the cabin, he felt strangely bashful about entering. “Do you wish to be alone?”
Caspian shook his head, so Edmund took a seat next to him. “It’s a fine mess we are in now, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I think so. Have you any counsel?”
“Not really, no.” They sat in silence for a while. Out on board the men were grumbling about dragons and dead weight, some of them, Edmund was alarmed to hear, were genuine. This could prove to be a problem, as his honour demanded he kill any who made an attempt at Eustace’s life, and executing any of Caspian’s crew didn’t bode well. That thought was cut short, however, when Caspian began to speak.
“Edmund,” he said. “I knew what would happen when I went to touch that tree.”
“Excuse me?”
“I dreamed, the night before, and in my dream I saw a thing, I don’t know what it was, but it told me that if I did, then you would have to save me, and that you would be mine if you succeeded.”
“If I succeeded? And you still did it?!” Edmund shot up, whirling round to glare at Caspian. “How could you have been so foolish?”
“I do not regret it. I would do the same even now.”
“You are a wicked fool, then!”
“I’ve only done what I had to do!”
“Had to do? You foolishly risked your life, risked Narnia’s future, and for what?”
“For you, Edmund.”
Edmund bit his lip. “I don’t matter,” he said finally.
This roused Caspian to a rage Edmund thought him incapable of; it was far from the childish display of temper in the cave, far even from what he saw as they faced Miraz. “You are mad, then, if you think yourself so inconsequential,” Caspian hissed in a low voice, stepping so close Edmund could feel the heat of his body.
“I said no such thing. I said I don’t matter, that I shouldn’t matter to you! The very last thing you should be worried about is my favour.”
“Then, pray tell, what should I be worried about? Should I be off romancing some poor girl I barely know, that I do not know, just because her father thinks it would be a grand idea to have a king for a son-in-law?”
“Yes, if the interest of Narnia lies that way!”
Caspian smirked. “Perhaps, and if were you able to look me in the eye and say the same thing, I might have considered it.”
“You are a fool. You are a king, why can’t you remember that you are a king?”
“I know I am, believe me, every hour of every day I remember that I am king and I curse it.” Caspian stepped forward to place his palms above Edmund’s shoulders on the wall. “Stay with me,” he said. “Return to Narnia with me.”
“Return to Narnia? To what end? Would you have me kept as the Calormen Tarkaans keep their slaves, to serve and entertain their masters? Would you have me dressed up like a doll to sit at the foot of your throne, as though I was a favoured pet?” Edmund’s eyes narrowed and he regarded Caspian with cold anger. “I shan’t ever challenge you again; I was wrong to do so. But I wouldn’t suffer it, any more than you would in my place.”
“You would be my king,” Caspian said. It struck Edmund in that moment that he had thought this through thoroughly; that he believed what he was saying and that horrified him. “Hasn’t the High King Peter himself had you as his consort? Narnia thrived then.”
“I should certainly hope not, as Peter is my brother,” Edmund said. “Narnia thrived, as you say, but Narnia had two queens then, too. I rather think the time when two kings could sit side by side and rule in harmony is long past.”
“We could bring it back.”
“Could we? How then do you propose to solve the problem of heirs, as I’m quite certain you would get none out of me?”
Caspian grimaced. “I expect that a queen would be necessary at some point.”
“I am thankful you are seeing sense again. Understand,” he continued in a much gentler tone, “I would be happy as your consort, though undoubtedly you would find me fiery and disagreeable at times.”
“I would expect no less.”
“But Caspian, you would need a queen all the same. Supposing you found a woman that you found agreeable enough to marry and carry your child, why would you think that I could stand it?”
“I have blood-kin in the country. They are loyal to me. I see no reason why a child of my father’s blood couldn’t be king at my passing.”
“You are just as stubborn as an ass.”
Caspian shook his head with a strangled half-laugh. He then looked into Edmund’s eyes with an expression so fierce Edmund feared he would be incinerated on the spot, such was the heat in his chest. “Perhaps I am stubborn. Tell me though, why can’t I have you, when it is you that I want?”
There was a low growl that interrupted them, before Edmund could find his voice in the face of the admission he was rather trying to avoid. They turned, as one, to find the golden relief on the wall moving. Its golden mane shook in time with the small waves rocking the ship.
“Aslan,” Caspian said, awed and not a little terrified.
“My son, you are being quite foolish,” the head said. Edmund lowered his head and in the same moment grasped Caspian’s forearm, which proved to be the only thing to stop the king from lunging at the lion’s likeness.
“Foolish? How is this foolery?”
“You must know that Edmund is not yours to keep,” Aslan said, at which Edmund stepped in front of Caspian.
“Begging your leave, sir, but that is not true.” Because damn it all, if there was even a glimmer of hope Edmund would have stayed, and suffered even the future queen, just for the chance to remain by Caspian’s side.
“My children,” Aslan said, “You know very well you may not remain together forever. You must return to your world, Edmund, when your task is done, and Caspian, you know that you must in time choose another.”
“Why not him!” Caspian cried, stepping round Edmund towards the image of the great lion. “Why not?”
“There is a time and a place, son of Adam, and for Edmund this isn’t it.”
“He could make it his.”
“His family is in his world,” Aslan said kindly. “His future is in his own world.”
“Then I shall go to his world! Surely there is a bridge to take me there, as my ancestors come from that world as well.”
“My son, you have a duty here. To your country and to your people. Narnia must have a king, and so you must have an heir.”
Caspian bit his lip and looked away. Edmund watched warily, for there was a dangerous note of impetuosity in the way he held himself, all too apparent when eventually he started speaking, slowly, as though each word was coming to him from afar. “Then, if I cannot have Edmund, I shall search the world forever, I shall sail from the East to the West, I shall travel the deserts and the oceans, for I swear I will not wed, not unless there is a star fallen from heavens at my side,” Caspian proclaimed passionately. Tears had gathered at the corners of his eyes, as even he knew, he must have known, that the effort was fruitless.
Aslan bowed, as far as the limits of the frame would allow. “Your choice is your own, but remember: you are a King of Narnia,” he said. “Whatever you do, remember that.”
The great relief stilled, leaving the golden lion’s eyes hollow and -- Edmund thought -- sad. Caspian staggered back until his back hit a wall.
“That is not fair!”
“It is not.”
“Don’t you care?” Caspian turned to Edmund with an accusing gaze. “Don’t you wish to stay with me?”
“Don’t be daft.” Edmund stood stock still, gazing at the likeness of the lion. “I would have given anything to stay. Damn my family and damn England.” Damn the dark future in which his mind was torn apart by visions in mirrors. He turned to Caspian with difficulty. “But, much as I love it, this isn’t my world. Sooner or later, even if I chose to remain and hide from Aslan -- if that’s even possible -- there would be a door that calls to me, and I would fall through it, regardless of wish or will. That’s what happened to us that first time. We’d forgotten all about England, but then there was the hunt and we saw the lamppost and though we tried to stop, we couldn’t, as though there was some invisible force pulling us back.”
Caspian shook his head. “It is not fair, that we should be parted in this way,” he said.
“We are here now, both of us.”
“For how long! Until some strange force whisks you back to the place you came from? Am I to wake each morning worrying whether I find you, or whether you’ll be gone from me?”
“Caspian,” Edmund said, reaching out, trying, if nothing else, to quell the scream that he saw budding. “Hush.”
“How can it be? How can he be so unfair?” Caspian yelled. Edmund’s heart broke, as every word seemed to him raw and torn from Caspian’s soul. “Damn him, and damn Narnia, too, because I will follow you to your world, no matter what!”
“Enough!” Edmund lunged and slammed Caspian against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. “You will remember your place, your Majesty. You are the King of Narnia, as am I, and to her and her people is our duty, first and foremost.”
“Then I don’t want to be king anymore.”
There was a soft knock, and Lucy stood in the open door. “Are you okay? Edmund? I heard yelling.” She was blinking, for it was very bright outside, and Edmund was grateful that she likely couldn’t see in the gloom of the cabin too well.
“We were just arguing, don’t worry about it.” Please, don’t let her come inside, Edmund begged inside his head. Don’t let her see that Caspian is nearly sobbing on the floor, and that I, too, am distressed and hurting, because if she sees she will know it was no argument that rendered us this pathetic. “Actually, can you fetch us some wine?” he said, mustering the most normal voice he could afford.
“Drinian has some fine bottles in his cabin,” Caspian said. He slid to the floor, all energy gone. “Tell him he can have his pick from the royal winery upon our return, tell him he can have the wine cellar, for all I care.”
Lucy nodded, and was gone for some minutes, and when she returned she carried a heavy glass bottle, of what Edmund could tell from the merest glance was the finest Narnian wine. Following her was the captain himself, clearly eager to see where it went.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucy asked when Edmund took the wine from her. He had to press against the door with all his strength to prevent Lord Drinian from tending to his king. “Are you hurt, either of you?”
“We are both fine, Lu, we are. Having a bit of an argument. Just give us some time.” To Drinian Edmund said: “Thank you, Lord Drinian. His Majesty promises this will be replaced, with interest.”
“My King, anything you desire of me, always,” Drinian started saying, but Edmund was already closing the door, despite protests from the other side. There was a latch on the door, thankfully.
They were alone with the bottle. Caspian sat in his corner listlessly, not looking up. Edmund found a goblet, just the one. He filled it up and offered to Caspian, sitting next to him.
“What is the point?” he whispered. “You will be gone, and I will be forced to marry some, some squinty princess. I might as well throw myself overboard and swim east, and maybe then Aslan would judge me worthy, maybe then you would be allowed to stay with me.”
Edmund did not scare easily, but the dead tone of Caspian’s voice shook him. He downed the wine, set both the goblet and the bottle aside, then he cupped the young king’s face with his hands and forced their eyes to meet. “I swear to you,” he said, “that it will not end with my return. I will beg Aslan for the chance to see you again, every day, and I know -- listen to me! -- I know that we will not be parted forever. I swear it!”
“Have you the confidence to make me such a promise?” Caspian asked, and there was a spark of hope in his eyes.
“Yes,” Edmund said, willing the spark to grow, with all his might. He knew about hope and he knew about living with it, and though it was at times painful -- even magic couldn’t make some things as they were before -- it was better than no hope at all. “Even if it takes a lifetime.”
Caspian nodded and Edmund, without really meaning to, but carried by the gentle swaying of the ship, fell forward so that his mouth met Caspian’s and even then he felt much like he was still falling. This was different from the cave, different even -- he was rather shocked to discover -- from the half-remembered sensations of his time as a king in Narnia. He was falling and at the end of the fall he would crash and burn, but anything, even that, would be a small price to pay.
The ship reached the crest of the wave and the momentum saw Caspian detach from the wall, toppling Edmund onto the floor beneath his weight. Any other time Edmund would have resented the easy victory Caspian had over him, certainly any other time he would have fought against it. Not so much now.
It was hard, juggling the experience and inexperience in his mind, but there was also something so primal about it that Edmund scarcely needed to think. His hips shifted and his legs parted, so that he could prop one foot against the floor and Caspian’s weight shifted on top of him and Edmund found that he ached for more contact, even when they were already as close as two people could be.
Caspian lifted himself on his elbows to stare at Edmund. His eyes were still moist, but they were once again fierce and determined. “You swore,” he said. “No matter what. No matter how long.”
The words ”how long” caused an unpleasant constriction inside Edmund’s chest, as though a cold hand was closing around his heart. “Caspian,” he started saying. “All my life, I promise. Even… even if--”
“Even if I should die of old age,” Caspian finished firmly.
Edmund swallowed. The words stuck in his throat as he remembered the horror that struck him when he stood in the ruins of Cair Paravel and understood just what the broken stones meant, a horror so acute one would think these weren’t broken walls but gravestones. He imagined the horror of returning to Narnia only to find himself standing at Caspian’s deathbed, or worse still, his tombstone. He remembered the vision of silence and death, of Caspian’s horrifying end amidst blood and screams.
His imagination failed him then. Even so, what else was there to say, that wouldn’t have been a lie? “Yes. Even then.”
“Then I shall wait, however long it takes.” Despite the advantage Caspian had, his and Edmund’s lips met again in the middle, and they kissed until they ran out of breath. The back of Edmund’s head hit the floor with a dull thump, but it was hard to wonder at the stars in his vision when Caspian was stealing his breath.
Edmund gripped the shirt on Caspian’s back and his fingertips came into contact with naked skin. Caspian shuddered at the touch, and pressed against Edmund with more insistence when he splayed his palm over the small of his back. It was somewhat shocking, even if it shouldn’t be, when the climate in the east was so warm, to find that Caspian radiated heat like a blazing fireplace.
There was silence in the cabin, save for the noise of the waves and the whistling wind, that Edmund had long since learned to dismiss, for at sea it was always there, just like the sky was blue and the water green.
Edmund opened his eyes and watched with great interest as Caspian’s pupils widened and they both exhaled in unison. It was strangely liberating, he thought, to see his own abandon reflected in another’s eyes, the knowledge that something had been promised and that they would both be held to it, for better or worse.
Presently, Edmund began to laugh, and before long Caspian joined in. Soon they were lying side by side on the floor of the cabin, laughing hysterically as though the ceiling was the best joke either of them had ever heard.
The laughter dwindled slowly, and as it did several things became clearer to Edmund. One, his shaking fingers were white with the effort of gripping Caspian’s hand, two, Caspian’s were equally digging into his, and three, his heart would not stop hammering.
It was hard to disentangle his fingers when Caspian fought him all the way, but even he was placated when Edmund buried them in the fastenings of Caspian’s shirt, which were, all of sudden, ridiculously complicated.
“Bloody kingdom for a knife,” Edmund managed, having succeeded in hopelessly tangling the fastenings instead of untying them. Caspian laughed, and sat up, slipping the shirt effortlessly over his head. “Or that,” Edmund said as Caspian pulled him to his knees and helped him out of his shirt.
“Do you often resort to weapons when garments get the better of you?” Caspian asked breathlessly as they embraced, and Edmund kissed him, since he had no better response.
Not a single lamp was lit, the only light they had came from the half-opened windows, and that was fine, magnificent even, for in the dusk they could pretend they were alone and never to be parted.
Caspian kissed, it seemed to Edmund, much like he did everything, with mindless determination and utter focus on the task. It was in equal parts elating and horrifying, though at the moment it was mostly arousing. Possibly also a little bit itchy, as Edmund had yet to get used to the feel of hair on his own face, yet alone someone else’s.
“I could shave,” Caspian suggested, when he saw Edmund rub his itching chin in earnest.
“By all means, if you can spare the time,” Edmund told him and was rewarded with yet another fervent kiss, the enthusiasm of which very nearly toppled them over.
There was plenty of fuss to be made still around their boots and breeches, and not for the first time Edmund cursed Narnian fashions, sensible though they might be for insisting on tying every last garment securely, so that they wouldn’t come loose in battle. What a waste of time and what a bother to frantic hands when nudity was required more urgently than the next breath!
As troublesome as the experience was, they conquered it, and were presently kneeling naked, facing each other, with little more than a foot of air between them, air that crackled with enough force to pull planets together. Resistance was the last thing on Edmund’s mind when Caspian reached out of him, though what followed would probably be called a tumble by most people, and there was some fight involved. Caspian came out victorious, or at least as victorious as one can be in a game where there is no loser by definition.
They kissed again, more hungrily now, as time seemed rushed and unmercifully taking from them the scant moments they had together. Caspian’s hand was on Edmund’s thigh, with his thumb working a maddeningly slow patter across the sensitive skin there; Edmund suspected that it was only fair, when his own was stroking the ridges of Caspian’s spine.
Caspian was surprisingly heavy and yet not heavy enough. The frustration of having him this close and yet not close enough was burning, like the heat of a great fire on a cold night, when one is standing so close that it hurts and yet the cold drives one further into the open flame, where there is nothing but a glorious, painful death, worse than in battle, for at least there was something much like a victory, even in defeat. Here, Edmund knew that letting go was to be the end of him, for he would nevermore be without Caspian, even if they were driven apart by their respective worlds and Aslan himself.
Edmund opened his eyes wide and found that Caspian had done the same. They were looking at one another with such joyous wonder as, Edmund imagined, the poets wrote about, and that, he thought later, was his undoing.
There was no telling how much time had passed before they could breathe, or think again. Edmund didn’t much care, until he was forced to, when his back protested about the wooden floors only being covered with a thin rug, on which he lay. There would, perhaps, be more comfort if they were in a bed, or at least on a bunk, but still Edmund felt he wouldn’t have traded the moment for anything. His back ached, and his shoulder blades must have been red and sore, worried by the coarse threads of the rug, but in all honesty neither that, nor the ache and the stickiness could diminish the experience.
Caspian moved to lay beside him, so close that their shoulders touched. Edmund felt a pleasant chill travel through him every time Caspian took a deeper breath than normal and his arm nudged Edmund’s.
“I could have died just now and been content,” Caspian said.
“I could hit you right now and still not be sure you learned a thing.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither do you.”
“Edmund,” Caspian started saying, but soon fell silent when Edmund rolled onto his side to press a kiss against his chest. There was a scar there, across the side of Caspian’s ribs and trailing down towards his navel.
“A war with giants?” Edmund asked, and his mouth grazed the mark as he spoke. Most familiar, that kind of wound. Few others, save for centaurs, had the strength to cut through chain-mail with such a clean slice, and through chain-mail it must have been, for there were telltale marks where the severed links had dug into the skin.
Caspian shuddered. “Yes. I was careless towards the end of the battle; we were winning, I started celebrating too soon, and then one caught me with his spear.”
“I trust he was repaid in kind?”
“I cut the tendons in his heel and then speared his head through the eye socket, when I had it in my range.”
“Good.”
There was more to say, more to share. Caspian’s body bore more scars, whose history Edmund wished to know; more stories to be told, more words and caresses to be exchanged than they would ever have time for, he feared. “We should get up,” he said reluctantly.
Caspian muttered something rude into his hair, causing Edmund to laugh, but of course there was nothing for it. His hold on Edmund loosened and without looking at one another much they started to dress again.
“Now I could really do with a bath,” Edmund said as he fastened his breeches. He stiffened when he felt a gentle hand on his back, over the rug burn, then trailing the length of his spine.
“This will hurt later.”
“Mild discomfort, no more. I’m sure we’ve all slept on hard ground before, this can hardly be worse.”
Edmund moved to put his shirt on, but dared not to move, because Caspian’s warm breath moved over his spine, pausing between his shoulder blades to deliver a kiss. He allowed it, letting himself fall back into Caspian’s embrace and sighed.
“You are not marked much,” Caspian said, as his fingers pressed against Edmund’s side, hard enough to elicit a laugh. With his other hand the king reached for the wine Drinian brought them.
“I had my share. The magic that takes us from this world erases any such traces.”
“Were you wounded in battles?”
“More times than I care to count. For every time you’ve heard of Narnia being a thriving country, there was a battle to ensure it, and I have been wounded in a few.” Caspian’s hand paused just short of Edmund’s shoulder, close to his heart. “Here, for instance,” Edmund said without a pause, “I was stabbed by a spy from Calormen, when his treachery became known to me and I foolishly confronted him over it.”
“Was he slaughtered painfully for the crime?”
“Peter wasn’t feeling particularly merciful but unfortunately for him, Lucy wasn’t far from my side that day and so she was the one to take vengeance in my name.”
“I fear to imagine Lucy doing things I would have done then.”
“Thank the lion,” Edmund said, as Caspian bowed to reach his neck with his lips. “No, Lucy had a distaste for torture and I am most grateful. Watching her drive an axe through the assassin was discomforting enough.”
“An axe?”
“Susan is a brilliant archer, but she has a soft heart. It is Lucy you must fear when you cross a line.”
“I cannot say I am greatly surprised,” Caspian said and his hold on Edmund tightened, until Edmund bent his head back so they could kiss languidly, hoping to stave off the return to the world for a few more minutes. For those few minutes, they succeeded.
On to Part Four
Rating: 14
Pairings: Caspian/Edmund
Genre: Romance, drama
Wordcount: 22k
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Edmund the Just made his kingship telling people the right things at the right time. The night before Caspian’s coronation Edmund tells the anxious prince the right thing. It is only later, on board the Dawn Treader that he realises just what his words achieved.
Author's Note: On the whole the movie is best viewed as “the epic love story of Edmund and Caspian,” otherwise it may not be the most formulaic thing committed to film, but it’s certainly close.
Chapter breaks may seem a little awkward - I never planned for chapters. It was supposed to be ten pages, tops.
Betaed by
yami_tai. <3 Thank you so much, hun, for all the hard work!They sailed east from the Floating Island then, on a favourable wind carried them at a steady pace for five days. It was a wondrous time, when each morning he would wake to find Caspian gazing at him with fondness that robbed him of his breath, and every night he would fall asleep in his hammock with his hand stretched out so that he may brush Caspian’s when the ship leaned far enough to that side. The days were busy, for at sea there is always plenty to do, and more still to be done later. Five sunrises they’d seen, but on the fifth day there was no sunset, as the wind picked up and then a storm was upon them.
Edmund had seen a few storms in his time, but none so terrible. They were cast about as though the great ship was no heavier than a walnut, and huge waves eclipsed the sky more than once.
Those were sleepless nights for Edmund, more often than not, and only a little because of the storm. The groundwork had already been done by the nightmares that plagued his head at night. He didn’t remember them, or at the very least tried not to remember.
The days weren’t that different from nights then. The sky was almost as dark and the waters just as turbulent. Edmund woke from a dream; a hateful, hideous vision of death and destruction to rival the battle for Narnia that nearly claimed his life. He jumped out of his hammock and strode through the hold (though in reality he was forced to tread on the wall, as the ship was at such an angle that Edmund feared capsizing) and out into the raging storm. A sailor rushed past him with a soggy rope in his hands and Edmund grasped its end, throwing himself into securing the boat, so that it wouldn’t slide and fall overboard when the wave hit them at this angle. His hands burned before long, but he was the smallest of the men allowed up top (Reepicheep, being as light as a feather, was told in no uncertain terms he was to stay below, as any of the gusts of wind would whip him overboard) and so he could crawl beneath and around obstacles on deck to secure the bindings. Every now and then a wave would wash over his head, but there was no rest to be had amidst the nightmares and the grey skies that threatened to swallow their world whole.
“Enough, Edmund!” Caspian was there, all of sudden, thoroughly soaked by the rain and the seawater, and shaking him. “You need to rest.”
Edmund had barely any strength left in him, so when Caspian wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leapt, as one does when the ship is heeling at a frightful pace and in no certain direction, and thrust them both into the hold, through which they would reach their cabin.
“What is the matter?” Caspian asked, hurriedly pulling Edmund’s soaked shirt off his shaking frame. Edmund’s fingers were so stiff they could hardly move. “Why won’t you sleep? Plenty will remain to be done tomorrow, you will be sick of it yet. I half wonder you aren’t sick of it already.”
“I can’t sleep,” Edmund murmured into the soaked collar of Caspian’s shirt. The king was delightfully warm, though of course a mere moment out in the storm was enough to drench a man to the bone. “I keep having nightmares, I don’t even know what I’m seeing, but it’s terrifying.”
The floor shook underneath their feet and Caspian, and Edmund with him, lost their balance. There was a dull thump overhead and Edmund surmised Eustace hit his head on the boards, as there was a muttered complaint and then snoring again.
“Your Majesties?” came a voice from above and Edmund made a half-hearted effort to disentangle himself from Caspian’s embrace. “Are you well?”
“Quite fine, Reep, go back to sleep.”
“I find it hard, Majesty. Is there anything I can do?”
“Were you a magician, I would have tasked you with preparing some hot ale for King Edmund,” Caspian said. “But here is a harder task: convince his royal highness that sleep is necessary, when he insists on thrusting himself into the midst of the storm whenever I take my eyes off him.”
“I will seriously hurt you,” Edmund hissed at that, but Caspian just laughed and held him tighter, until the cold brought upon by the sea finally started to ebb away.
“It is amazing then that His Highness could run off this often,” Reepicheep said solemnly. Edmund stiffened at that, but there was no reproach, nothing in his voice but a calm observation. “I would never presume to tell your Majesty off, but…” the mouse began and Edmund groaned.
He slept well that night, having succumbed halfway through Reepicheep’s lecture and the following morning the storm gave signs of breaking up. Sure enough, before the next dawn the air was clear again and though the Dawn Treader had taken some damage, mending her was not too difficult, and then, after a few stressful days of no wind and no hope, for the provisions would surely not last for long, land at last.
Edmund didn’t even pretend he wasn’t hiding on the fighting deck, when Caspian intruded on his solitude, as he often did.
“Have you seen anything from up here?”
“A nosy king, who won’t mind his own business,” Edmund said, and it was only partly in jest.
“Why is it such a surprise to you, that I look out for your well-being?”
“I am grateful for your concern, I am. However I can handle myself. I am not an unruly child who needs to be governed.”
“I have never thought of you like that,” Caspian said, a touch offended. “But I do not like having you out of my sight.”
There was precious little Edmund could say to that, because it would have been hard to pretend that he wasn’t watching Caspian walking around the ship from above. He distinctly remembered having this argument with Peter before, too, which made hearing the exact same words from Caspian’s lips a touch more disturbing.
“You are not my brother, nor my superior, nor are you tasked with my well-being, Caspian. Please remember that.”
Caspian’s eyes narrowed. “We should be ready to get to the island soon. Will you come?”
“Of course.”
Perhaps it had to follow, that given the slightest provocation they would be at each other’s throats, though Edmund still watched the proceedings from behind his own eyes with detached interest. He had swung his sword and came at Caspian with murderous intent, which had to be at least somewhat genuine, else why would he be standing there, with a naked sword in his hand?
The deed weighed on him, so that not minutes later he took the -- admittedly, excellent -- excuse to go rushing after the disappeared Eustace, though in that, too, he was foiled, when Caspian insisted on following.
“Cannot take your eyes off me, can you?” Edmund muttered under his breath as they ascended the slope. Gravel fell from where they stepped, but ahead Edmund could see many more such tiny disruptions. Someone had walked here, and the crew had taken the other way. “This way.”
“Will you not look at me?”
Edmund stopped and turned to gaze at Caspian. “I wish to apologise,” he said before the king could say a word. “My behaviour was unpardonable. I have nothing in my defence, and yet I ask your forgiveness, your Majesty.”
He felt quite warm when he saw the expression Caspian levelled his way. It was intense, heated, and yet, though shame clearly played a part, shameless. “I have much to regret in my words and actions, now that my mind is clearer, too. I’d forgiven you already.”
“Thank you.”
Of course, then they discovered the treasure grove, and Caspian had to ruin the moment of tender understanding with a whispered, “In the face of such discovery, I should be glad to entertain a rematch.”
*****
The altercation at the Dragon Island cave was not fully gone from Edmund’s mind by the time they were on board again, though there were more pressing concerns to address, namely that of cousin Eustace and his unfortunate transformation.
Still, when Edmund found Caspian alone in the cabin, he felt strangely bashful about entering. “Do you wish to be alone?”
Caspian shook his head, so Edmund took a seat next to him. “It’s a fine mess we are in now, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I think so. Have you any counsel?”
“Not really, no.” They sat in silence for a while. Out on board the men were grumbling about dragons and dead weight, some of them, Edmund was alarmed to hear, were genuine. This could prove to be a problem, as his honour demanded he kill any who made an attempt at Eustace’s life, and executing any of Caspian’s crew didn’t bode well. That thought was cut short, however, when Caspian began to speak.
“Edmund,” he said. “I knew what would happen when I went to touch that tree.”
“Excuse me?”
“I dreamed, the night before, and in my dream I saw a thing, I don’t know what it was, but it told me that if I did, then you would have to save me, and that you would be mine if you succeeded.”
“If I succeeded? And you still did it?!” Edmund shot up, whirling round to glare at Caspian. “How could you have been so foolish?”
“I do not regret it. I would do the same even now.”
“You are a wicked fool, then!”
“I’ve only done what I had to do!”
“Had to do? You foolishly risked your life, risked Narnia’s future, and for what?”
“For you, Edmund.”
Edmund bit his lip. “I don’t matter,” he said finally.
This roused Caspian to a rage Edmund thought him incapable of; it was far from the childish display of temper in the cave, far even from what he saw as they faced Miraz. “You are mad, then, if you think yourself so inconsequential,” Caspian hissed in a low voice, stepping so close Edmund could feel the heat of his body.
“I said no such thing. I said I don’t matter, that I shouldn’t matter to you! The very last thing you should be worried about is my favour.”
“Then, pray tell, what should I be worried about? Should I be off romancing some poor girl I barely know, that I do not know, just because her father thinks it would be a grand idea to have a king for a son-in-law?”
“Yes, if the interest of Narnia lies that way!”
Caspian smirked. “Perhaps, and if were you able to look me in the eye and say the same thing, I might have considered it.”
“You are a fool. You are a king, why can’t you remember that you are a king?”
“I know I am, believe me, every hour of every day I remember that I am king and I curse it.” Caspian stepped forward to place his palms above Edmund’s shoulders on the wall. “Stay with me,” he said. “Return to Narnia with me.”
“Return to Narnia? To what end? Would you have me kept as the Calormen Tarkaans keep their slaves, to serve and entertain their masters? Would you have me dressed up like a doll to sit at the foot of your throne, as though I was a favoured pet?” Edmund’s eyes narrowed and he regarded Caspian with cold anger. “I shan’t ever challenge you again; I was wrong to do so. But I wouldn’t suffer it, any more than you would in my place.”
“You would be my king,” Caspian said. It struck Edmund in that moment that he had thought this through thoroughly; that he believed what he was saying and that horrified him. “Hasn’t the High King Peter himself had you as his consort? Narnia thrived then.”
“I should certainly hope not, as Peter is my brother,” Edmund said. “Narnia thrived, as you say, but Narnia had two queens then, too. I rather think the time when two kings could sit side by side and rule in harmony is long past.”
“We could bring it back.”
“Could we? How then do you propose to solve the problem of heirs, as I’m quite certain you would get none out of me?”
Caspian grimaced. “I expect that a queen would be necessary at some point.”
“I am thankful you are seeing sense again. Understand,” he continued in a much gentler tone, “I would be happy as your consort, though undoubtedly you would find me fiery and disagreeable at times.”
“I would expect no less.”
“But Caspian, you would need a queen all the same. Supposing you found a woman that you found agreeable enough to marry and carry your child, why would you think that I could stand it?”
“I have blood-kin in the country. They are loyal to me. I see no reason why a child of my father’s blood couldn’t be king at my passing.”
“You are just as stubborn as an ass.”
Caspian shook his head with a strangled half-laugh. He then looked into Edmund’s eyes with an expression so fierce Edmund feared he would be incinerated on the spot, such was the heat in his chest. “Perhaps I am stubborn. Tell me though, why can’t I have you, when it is you that I want?”
There was a low growl that interrupted them, before Edmund could find his voice in the face of the admission he was rather trying to avoid. They turned, as one, to find the golden relief on the wall moving. Its golden mane shook in time with the small waves rocking the ship.
“Aslan,” Caspian said, awed and not a little terrified.
“My son, you are being quite foolish,” the head said. Edmund lowered his head and in the same moment grasped Caspian’s forearm, which proved to be the only thing to stop the king from lunging at the lion’s likeness.
“Foolish? How is this foolery?”
“You must know that Edmund is not yours to keep,” Aslan said, at which Edmund stepped in front of Caspian.
“Begging your leave, sir, but that is not true.” Because damn it all, if there was even a glimmer of hope Edmund would have stayed, and suffered even the future queen, just for the chance to remain by Caspian’s side.
“My children,” Aslan said, “You know very well you may not remain together forever. You must return to your world, Edmund, when your task is done, and Caspian, you know that you must in time choose another.”
“Why not him!” Caspian cried, stepping round Edmund towards the image of the great lion. “Why not?”
“There is a time and a place, son of Adam, and for Edmund this isn’t it.”
“He could make it his.”
“His family is in his world,” Aslan said kindly. “His future is in his own world.”
“Then I shall go to his world! Surely there is a bridge to take me there, as my ancestors come from that world as well.”
“My son, you have a duty here. To your country and to your people. Narnia must have a king, and so you must have an heir.”
Caspian bit his lip and looked away. Edmund watched warily, for there was a dangerous note of impetuosity in the way he held himself, all too apparent when eventually he started speaking, slowly, as though each word was coming to him from afar. “Then, if I cannot have Edmund, I shall search the world forever, I shall sail from the East to the West, I shall travel the deserts and the oceans, for I swear I will not wed, not unless there is a star fallen from heavens at my side,” Caspian proclaimed passionately. Tears had gathered at the corners of his eyes, as even he knew, he must have known, that the effort was fruitless.
Aslan bowed, as far as the limits of the frame would allow. “Your choice is your own, but remember: you are a King of Narnia,” he said. “Whatever you do, remember that.”
The great relief stilled, leaving the golden lion’s eyes hollow and -- Edmund thought -- sad. Caspian staggered back until his back hit a wall.
“That is not fair!”
“It is not.”
“Don’t you care?” Caspian turned to Edmund with an accusing gaze. “Don’t you wish to stay with me?”
“Don’t be daft.” Edmund stood stock still, gazing at the likeness of the lion. “I would have given anything to stay. Damn my family and damn England.” Damn the dark future in which his mind was torn apart by visions in mirrors. He turned to Caspian with difficulty. “But, much as I love it, this isn’t my world. Sooner or later, even if I chose to remain and hide from Aslan -- if that’s even possible -- there would be a door that calls to me, and I would fall through it, regardless of wish or will. That’s what happened to us that first time. We’d forgotten all about England, but then there was the hunt and we saw the lamppost and though we tried to stop, we couldn’t, as though there was some invisible force pulling us back.”
Caspian shook his head. “It is not fair, that we should be parted in this way,” he said.
“We are here now, both of us.”
“For how long! Until some strange force whisks you back to the place you came from? Am I to wake each morning worrying whether I find you, or whether you’ll be gone from me?”
“Caspian,” Edmund said, reaching out, trying, if nothing else, to quell the scream that he saw budding. “Hush.”
“How can it be? How can he be so unfair?” Caspian yelled. Edmund’s heart broke, as every word seemed to him raw and torn from Caspian’s soul. “Damn him, and damn Narnia, too, because I will follow you to your world, no matter what!”
“Enough!” Edmund lunged and slammed Caspian against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. “You will remember your place, your Majesty. You are the King of Narnia, as am I, and to her and her people is our duty, first and foremost.”
“Then I don’t want to be king anymore.”
There was a soft knock, and Lucy stood in the open door. “Are you okay? Edmund? I heard yelling.” She was blinking, for it was very bright outside, and Edmund was grateful that she likely couldn’t see in the gloom of the cabin too well.
“We were just arguing, don’t worry about it.” Please, don’t let her come inside, Edmund begged inside his head. Don’t let her see that Caspian is nearly sobbing on the floor, and that I, too, am distressed and hurting, because if she sees she will know it was no argument that rendered us this pathetic. “Actually, can you fetch us some wine?” he said, mustering the most normal voice he could afford.
“Drinian has some fine bottles in his cabin,” Caspian said. He slid to the floor, all energy gone. “Tell him he can have his pick from the royal winery upon our return, tell him he can have the wine cellar, for all I care.”
Lucy nodded, and was gone for some minutes, and when she returned she carried a heavy glass bottle, of what Edmund could tell from the merest glance was the finest Narnian wine. Following her was the captain himself, clearly eager to see where it went.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucy asked when Edmund took the wine from her. He had to press against the door with all his strength to prevent Lord Drinian from tending to his king. “Are you hurt, either of you?”
“We are both fine, Lu, we are. Having a bit of an argument. Just give us some time.” To Drinian Edmund said: “Thank you, Lord Drinian. His Majesty promises this will be replaced, with interest.”
“My King, anything you desire of me, always,” Drinian started saying, but Edmund was already closing the door, despite protests from the other side. There was a latch on the door, thankfully.
They were alone with the bottle. Caspian sat in his corner listlessly, not looking up. Edmund found a goblet, just the one. He filled it up and offered to Caspian, sitting next to him.
“What is the point?” he whispered. “You will be gone, and I will be forced to marry some, some squinty princess. I might as well throw myself overboard and swim east, and maybe then Aslan would judge me worthy, maybe then you would be allowed to stay with me.”
Edmund did not scare easily, but the dead tone of Caspian’s voice shook him. He downed the wine, set both the goblet and the bottle aside, then he cupped the young king’s face with his hands and forced their eyes to meet. “I swear to you,” he said, “that it will not end with my return. I will beg Aslan for the chance to see you again, every day, and I know -- listen to me! -- I know that we will not be parted forever. I swear it!”
“Have you the confidence to make me such a promise?” Caspian asked, and there was a spark of hope in his eyes.
“Yes,” Edmund said, willing the spark to grow, with all his might. He knew about hope and he knew about living with it, and though it was at times painful -- even magic couldn’t make some things as they were before -- it was better than no hope at all. “Even if it takes a lifetime.”
Caspian nodded and Edmund, without really meaning to, but carried by the gentle swaying of the ship, fell forward so that his mouth met Caspian’s and even then he felt much like he was still falling. This was different from the cave, different even -- he was rather shocked to discover -- from the half-remembered sensations of his time as a king in Narnia. He was falling and at the end of the fall he would crash and burn, but anything, even that, would be a small price to pay.
The ship reached the crest of the wave and the momentum saw Caspian detach from the wall, toppling Edmund onto the floor beneath his weight. Any other time Edmund would have resented the easy victory Caspian had over him, certainly any other time he would have fought against it. Not so much now.
It was hard, juggling the experience and inexperience in his mind, but there was also something so primal about it that Edmund scarcely needed to think. His hips shifted and his legs parted, so that he could prop one foot against the floor and Caspian’s weight shifted on top of him and Edmund found that he ached for more contact, even when they were already as close as two people could be.
Caspian lifted himself on his elbows to stare at Edmund. His eyes were still moist, but they were once again fierce and determined. “You swore,” he said. “No matter what. No matter how long.”
The words ”how long” caused an unpleasant constriction inside Edmund’s chest, as though a cold hand was closing around his heart. “Caspian,” he started saying. “All my life, I promise. Even… even if--”
“Even if I should die of old age,” Caspian finished firmly.
Edmund swallowed. The words stuck in his throat as he remembered the horror that struck him when he stood in the ruins of Cair Paravel and understood just what the broken stones meant, a horror so acute one would think these weren’t broken walls but gravestones. He imagined the horror of returning to Narnia only to find himself standing at Caspian’s deathbed, or worse still, his tombstone. He remembered the vision of silence and death, of Caspian’s horrifying end amidst blood and screams.
His imagination failed him then. Even so, what else was there to say, that wouldn’t have been a lie? “Yes. Even then.”
“Then I shall wait, however long it takes.” Despite the advantage Caspian had, his and Edmund’s lips met again in the middle, and they kissed until they ran out of breath. The back of Edmund’s head hit the floor with a dull thump, but it was hard to wonder at the stars in his vision when Caspian was stealing his breath.
Edmund gripped the shirt on Caspian’s back and his fingertips came into contact with naked skin. Caspian shuddered at the touch, and pressed against Edmund with more insistence when he splayed his palm over the small of his back. It was somewhat shocking, even if it shouldn’t be, when the climate in the east was so warm, to find that Caspian radiated heat like a blazing fireplace.
There was silence in the cabin, save for the noise of the waves and the whistling wind, that Edmund had long since learned to dismiss, for at sea it was always there, just like the sky was blue and the water green.
Edmund opened his eyes and watched with great interest as Caspian’s pupils widened and they both exhaled in unison. It was strangely liberating, he thought, to see his own abandon reflected in another’s eyes, the knowledge that something had been promised and that they would both be held to it, for better or worse.
Presently, Edmund began to laugh, and before long Caspian joined in. Soon they were lying side by side on the floor of the cabin, laughing hysterically as though the ceiling was the best joke either of them had ever heard.
The laughter dwindled slowly, and as it did several things became clearer to Edmund. One, his shaking fingers were white with the effort of gripping Caspian’s hand, two, Caspian’s were equally digging into his, and three, his heart would not stop hammering.
It was hard to disentangle his fingers when Caspian fought him all the way, but even he was placated when Edmund buried them in the fastenings of Caspian’s shirt, which were, all of sudden, ridiculously complicated.
“Bloody kingdom for a knife,” Edmund managed, having succeeded in hopelessly tangling the fastenings instead of untying them. Caspian laughed, and sat up, slipping the shirt effortlessly over his head. “Or that,” Edmund said as Caspian pulled him to his knees and helped him out of his shirt.
“Do you often resort to weapons when garments get the better of you?” Caspian asked breathlessly as they embraced, and Edmund kissed him, since he had no better response.
Not a single lamp was lit, the only light they had came from the half-opened windows, and that was fine, magnificent even, for in the dusk they could pretend they were alone and never to be parted.
Caspian kissed, it seemed to Edmund, much like he did everything, with mindless determination and utter focus on the task. It was in equal parts elating and horrifying, though at the moment it was mostly arousing. Possibly also a little bit itchy, as Edmund had yet to get used to the feel of hair on his own face, yet alone someone else’s.
“I could shave,” Caspian suggested, when he saw Edmund rub his itching chin in earnest.
“By all means, if you can spare the time,” Edmund told him and was rewarded with yet another fervent kiss, the enthusiasm of which very nearly toppled them over.
There was plenty of fuss to be made still around their boots and breeches, and not for the first time Edmund cursed Narnian fashions, sensible though they might be for insisting on tying every last garment securely, so that they wouldn’t come loose in battle. What a waste of time and what a bother to frantic hands when nudity was required more urgently than the next breath!
As troublesome as the experience was, they conquered it, and were presently kneeling naked, facing each other, with little more than a foot of air between them, air that crackled with enough force to pull planets together. Resistance was the last thing on Edmund’s mind when Caspian reached out of him, though what followed would probably be called a tumble by most people, and there was some fight involved. Caspian came out victorious, or at least as victorious as one can be in a game where there is no loser by definition.
They kissed again, more hungrily now, as time seemed rushed and unmercifully taking from them the scant moments they had together. Caspian’s hand was on Edmund’s thigh, with his thumb working a maddeningly slow patter across the sensitive skin there; Edmund suspected that it was only fair, when his own was stroking the ridges of Caspian’s spine.
Caspian was surprisingly heavy and yet not heavy enough. The frustration of having him this close and yet not close enough was burning, like the heat of a great fire on a cold night, when one is standing so close that it hurts and yet the cold drives one further into the open flame, where there is nothing but a glorious, painful death, worse than in battle, for at least there was something much like a victory, even in defeat. Here, Edmund knew that letting go was to be the end of him, for he would nevermore be without Caspian, even if they were driven apart by their respective worlds and Aslan himself.
Edmund opened his eyes wide and found that Caspian had done the same. They were looking at one another with such joyous wonder as, Edmund imagined, the poets wrote about, and that, he thought later, was his undoing.
There was no telling how much time had passed before they could breathe, or think again. Edmund didn’t much care, until he was forced to, when his back protested about the wooden floors only being covered with a thin rug, on which he lay. There would, perhaps, be more comfort if they were in a bed, or at least on a bunk, but still Edmund felt he wouldn’t have traded the moment for anything. His back ached, and his shoulder blades must have been red and sore, worried by the coarse threads of the rug, but in all honesty neither that, nor the ache and the stickiness could diminish the experience.
Caspian moved to lay beside him, so close that their shoulders touched. Edmund felt a pleasant chill travel through him every time Caspian took a deeper breath than normal and his arm nudged Edmund’s.
“I could have died just now and been content,” Caspian said.
“I could hit you right now and still not be sure you learned a thing.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither do you.”
“Edmund,” Caspian started saying, but soon fell silent when Edmund rolled onto his side to press a kiss against his chest. There was a scar there, across the side of Caspian’s ribs and trailing down towards his navel.
“A war with giants?” Edmund asked, and his mouth grazed the mark as he spoke. Most familiar, that kind of wound. Few others, save for centaurs, had the strength to cut through chain-mail with such a clean slice, and through chain-mail it must have been, for there were telltale marks where the severed links had dug into the skin.
Caspian shuddered. “Yes. I was careless towards the end of the battle; we were winning, I started celebrating too soon, and then one caught me with his spear.”
“I trust he was repaid in kind?”
“I cut the tendons in his heel and then speared his head through the eye socket, when I had it in my range.”
“Good.”
There was more to say, more to share. Caspian’s body bore more scars, whose history Edmund wished to know; more stories to be told, more words and caresses to be exchanged than they would ever have time for, he feared. “We should get up,” he said reluctantly.
Caspian muttered something rude into his hair, causing Edmund to laugh, but of course there was nothing for it. His hold on Edmund loosened and without looking at one another much they started to dress again.
“Now I could really do with a bath,” Edmund said as he fastened his breeches. He stiffened when he felt a gentle hand on his back, over the rug burn, then trailing the length of his spine.
“This will hurt later.”
“Mild discomfort, no more. I’m sure we’ve all slept on hard ground before, this can hardly be worse.”
Edmund moved to put his shirt on, but dared not to move, because Caspian’s warm breath moved over his spine, pausing between his shoulder blades to deliver a kiss. He allowed it, letting himself fall back into Caspian’s embrace and sighed.
“You are not marked much,” Caspian said, as his fingers pressed against Edmund’s side, hard enough to elicit a laugh. With his other hand the king reached for the wine Drinian brought them.
“I had my share. The magic that takes us from this world erases any such traces.”
“Were you wounded in battles?”
“More times than I care to count. For every time you’ve heard of Narnia being a thriving country, there was a battle to ensure it, and I have been wounded in a few.” Caspian’s hand paused just short of Edmund’s shoulder, close to his heart. “Here, for instance,” Edmund said without a pause, “I was stabbed by a spy from Calormen, when his treachery became known to me and I foolishly confronted him over it.”
“Was he slaughtered painfully for the crime?”
“Peter wasn’t feeling particularly merciful but unfortunately for him, Lucy wasn’t far from my side that day and so she was the one to take vengeance in my name.”
“I fear to imagine Lucy doing things I would have done then.”
“Thank the lion,” Edmund said, as Caspian bowed to reach his neck with his lips. “No, Lucy had a distaste for torture and I am most grateful. Watching her drive an axe through the assassin was discomforting enough.”
“An axe?”
“Susan is a brilliant archer, but she has a soft heart. It is Lucy you must fear when you cross a line.”
“I cannot say I am greatly surprised,” Caspian said and his hold on Edmund tightened, until Edmund bent his head back so they could kiss languidly, hoping to stave off the return to the world for a few more minutes. For those few minutes, they succeeded.
On to Part Four
