Fire and Ice - for TimeMage0955

[nfe-gremlin.livejournal.com]

Title: Fire and Ice
Author: blinkidybah
Recipient: TimeMage0955
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: none
Summary: Edmund falls sick. Peter and Susan worry.

There was no need to speak to Edmund about what was done, Aslan had said, and Edmund was – at least for a time – glad of it. The sun was overhead and there were clean clothes, and food, and if he didn't think very much it was as though it had been nothing but a nightmare.

"There she goes," Edmund said slowly as they watched the rear end of Lucy's procession fade into the dusty horizon of farms and forest. It had taken quite a while, actually – now that they were departed it seemed like she'd taken half of Cair Paravel with her.

"There she goes," Peter agreed lightly. He was still watching the place where they'd vanished, hands flat on hewn stone as he leant on the parapet lining the castle walls. Lucy had never gone off on her own, not in their whole three year reign, and Edmund could see the weight in Peter's shoulders as he pushed off the wall.

"I'm surprised you let her," Edmund joked, still managing to sound half-serious despite himself. It might have been easier if it was a pleasant reason. If good Queen Lucy was only being requested to lead the Spring Festival at Dancing Lawn, Peter might grumble a bit about Court and escaping the sort of dull responsibilities that came with it, but she'd be sent off with a wave by Susan who'd insist it was only fair.

But since it had been a request to aid efforts against Plague spreading in the west, things were rather different.

Peter grinned back at him, understanding as he absent-mindedly brushed his hands on his trousers. He might have been High King, but Lucy was the baby, and none of them had quite gotten used to taking orders yet. "It wasn't as though she really gave me a choice."

Edmund wasn't sure which was worse: that he'd caught a cold exactly one week after Lucy had walked off with Paravel's best doctors, or that Susan noticed it first. She always noticed first, and it was impossible to catch her at it until she'd already decided exactly what was wrong and what she would do to fix it. It had proved a surprising help in learning how to be Kings and Queens of Narnia, but was a huge bother for anyone who was attempting to avoid a fuss.

He very much wanted to avoid a fuss. The last time a fuss had been made about him, he'd nearly died. The entire of it idea made Edmund's skin crawl, even without the occasional chills and cold sweating he had suffered for the last few days. But wanted or no, he had definitely caught Susan's undivided attention when she cornered him coming out of his study.

"Edmund, are you all right?" She was serious – not worried quite yet, but serious – and he had to consider for a moment how he ought to answer that. If it were Peter he could have turned the whole question into a joke, and Lucy would always take him on his word. But Susan only levelled blue eyes at him and waited patiently.

"I'm fine. It's only a cold, that's all." He shifted about as the papers in his arms slid precariously, sheaths threatening to spill across the floor and ruin a good hour of work. They did try to be fair, splitting things equally, but somehow he was always the one to receive the sort of missives that required five in return. The sort that were complicated and unpleasant and ought be kept quiet.

Susan stared at him. "You don't need to work so very hard, Ed."

He pulled his own face into a mirror of hers, flat and thoughtful, but then his brows shot up wryly as he steadied his work.

"You're one to talk," he said smartly, and she only sighed and rolled her eyes a bit and left him to it.

Someone must have brought him to bed, Edmund thought hazily as he came to, blinking at the canopy.

He had been in the South Hall, he knew, talking with a pair of jackdaws who had seemingly found the trail of some of Maugrim's lot. It seemed every time they thought that lot had been taken care of, more popped out of their holes, almost mockingly. And then he'd begun to feel rather dizzy, wave upon wave of creeping cold shooting down his back, though the room itself was terribly warm –

So someone had fetched and carried him to his room. Edmund made a face at his ceiling, already wondering how ridiculous he must have looked. It depended on whether it had been a faun or a Talking Beast to carry him up, he supposed.

He tried to sit up, pausing as his head spun sickeningly. It didn't matter, though, because from nowhere hands were pulling him up. As the world righted itself once more, Edmund took a long look at Peter's face and the empty chair on the side of the bed, and felt even more thoroughly embarrassed. He'd had to be carried to bed by his older brother like some kid. "Leave off it, Pete, I'm all right."

"Don't be stupid," was the muttered response as his brother pushed about pillows and did a great deal of bustling about without actually accomplishing much. The blond boy's mouth was pressed thin as he stared hard at Edmund, examining him like some kind of battle map, and Edmund started to think he wouldn't actually be made fun of at all for having to be carried to bed. Which was, in a way, worse.

"You collapsed in the middle of the Hall and those Birds spread it halfway to Beruna before we got you up here, you idiot. Why didn't you tell anyone you're ill?"

"It's just a cold," Edmund tried very hard not to mutter, or sulk, and for the most part succeeded. Peter attempted to put a hand against his forehead as though he knew what he was doing, and Edmund ducked away, pausing to take a deep breath before trying to getting up again. "I'll be fine in a few days if everyone just stops worrying about me so much."

He managed to stand up for about four seconds before the floor pitched beneath him and his legs shook so hard he fell back with a whoomph onto the bed. Peter caught him properly that time and pushed him down firmly onto the bed, standing straight and tall and managing to look properly king-like. "You're to stay in bed until we say so. Sleep and get better; that's an order."

Edmund wasn't nearly as good as Lucy at ignoring those sort of orders, so instead he only sunk backwards, fighting dizziness and the feeling of being helpless. "I suppose you are High King."

The room went quiet, then, Peter in the chair and Edmund laid in bed, ignoring how foolish he felt and trying to will himself into wellness.

At some point Peter went to arrange some food and possibly a doctor. With no one left to distract him, Edmund began to notice exactly how horrible he really felt, and how tired it made him. He was sweating a bit, cold and clammy, and every so often it felt as though his skin was crawling with hundreds of invisible insects. The worst was how very cold he felt, and how very little the blankets he continued to wrap tighter around himself helped anything.

Eventually he gave up and watched the shadows crawl across his canopy, shivering every now and again while feeling light-headed and a bit out of place. The textures of the walls had become rather surreal, light and dark blurring together, so he closed his eyes and thought about cold, and storms.

"Edmund?" A hand rested on his forehead and he didn't bother to open his eyes, only shaking his head a bit as Susan scraped the chair cross the floor. "Edmund, how are you feeling?"

"Cold," he muttered back, at last too miserable to worry about being a prat or a whiner or a terrible sort of person, "It's frigid in here; I want more blankets."

She clucked her tongue and moved around a bit, at the edge of his hearing while slow, lazy bursts of light crawled over his eyes. Quite suddenly there was something damp and utterly freezing on his forehead, and he hissed as sharp chill knives drove right through his temples into a place of cold and terror. Edmund flailed; wrapped in his quilts, he only tangled himself still further and was left to stare, reproachfully, at his sister as she dabbed at his face with what felt like a handful of snow. She smiled gently. "You're burning up, Ed – you've got a terrible fever. Poor dear."

It was only Susan. Turning away from the cloth and her hands, Edmund repeated it slowly in his head where the words spun away from him into awful what-ifs and has-beens. It was only Susan, and she was helping him. "I have not. I'm freezing."

The dungeon was ice, made of freezing stone and a dim grey light that filtered through ages of frozen filth towards the dungeon floor. Edmund had finally gone mostly numb, fingers difficult to move and toes a lost cause, and still nothing happened. Once, far away, the sound of an awful scream could be heard, followed by a crash and something tearing. At that he crawled as far back into the corner as he might get, pulling the heavy chains after himself. But still nothing happened, and slowly the whole world narrowed into a frozen, dripping sensation crawling down his back till it seemed as though he had been here forever, lost and forgotten.

When she came to fetch him there was the faintest bit of red on the hem of her dress, the only bright thing in the whole castle, and it was only the chilled grey nothingness that had settled over him that kept him from crying out. Something had died – been killed, rather – and perhaps it was his siblings, and he was a murderer.

But then she screamed at him and he was only a traitor, best left here to rot after all.

His back itched when he woke up, blinking slowly as his eyes focused and unfocused again. The stone for a moment was terrifyingly the same, but the trappings were bright reds and golds, and from somewhere came the soft flickering of a light.

His head felt slow and it was difficult to move it, as though he were pushing through marmalade. From what seemed a very large distance came a voice before Peter suddenly appeared looking very stern indeed, though his eyes were wide and frightened in the dim room. "Ed? Edmund?"

"Why is it so cold in here?" Edmund asked, or rather meant to ask, voice catching on the thickness in his throat and slurring into something that didn't sound like words at all. He felt himself shivering under the quilts, sweat-soaked and clammy. Peter only looked more concerned, unsure of himself as he glanced at Susan across the bed.

"Can you try and drink something?" Susan asked, her mouth moving a full few seconds before the words sunk into his mind, and Edmund blinked owlishly back. She put a cup to his mouth anyway, water cool – warmer than he was now but cool still – as he gulped it down and watched them both share worried looks when they thought he couldn't see. "You ought to try and sleep."

It was far too difficult to tell her he'd rather not, so instead Edmund leant back into his pillow. It scratched and itched, prickling with a stale roughness, but the room was spinning slowly and it was simply easier to close his eyes.

There was nowhere to go in the sleigh. He had tried to shift away a bit, gaining a precious few inches, but she'd given him such a look that he didn't dare to move again.

Now, though, her eyes were pinned upon the far horizon, ignoring him completely. If felt as though they had driven for hours, the wind and snow whipping around the sleigh the entire time, and now even the exhaustion and worry had faded into a great numb cold spread through Edmund’s limbs.

When she turned to him, he noticed rather slowly. And when she murmured something to herself, and drew him close to examine his face, he hardly felt it. She glared at him, mouth moving in a slow pattern, threats and promises spinning together, but her stole had pressed itself against his face and was soft and warm in the icy expanse.

No one hovered over his bed any longer, which was a great pity, because he rather wanted another drink and definitely wanted the presence of a human being. Instead Susan and Peter stood together, a tight knot of worry and affection standing in his doorway and arguing in hushed whispers. Susan’s hair had escaped from its careful style, and Peter’s shirt must have had something spilled on it at some point.

Edmund curled his fingers around the pillow and tried to eavesdrop, but his head pounded impossibly loud and they were whispering beside. Or trying, at least, frustration or anger causing their voices to raise and crash again, right before he could’ve heard them.

In Peter’s hand, held back a bit from her as though he though she’d snatch it up from him, was Susan’s Horn.

He coughed, once, dryly, and they both spun round to stare at him, looking guilty. As though either had anything to be guilty about ever. His nightmares reached out, wrapping cold strong fingers round his throat and eyes, choking him with his own stupidity and awfulness. He gasped, trying to claw them off, hands brushing along his neck in ungraceful movements, and Susan appeared beside his bed and stopped him.

His hands were numb with the cold anyway, whole body wracked with shivers as the Witch squeezed tighter and tighter. Spots exploded across his eyes, blocking out his sister, blocking out his brother just as he pulled out the now-forgotten horn, and Jadis killed him like she had promised.

"It’s a common enough sickness in Archenland... childhood thing, really, usually we catch it before it’s this bad... yes, rightly so, stoke that fire up higher, please, if you would..."

Edmund opened his eyes to a bright, warm room. Across the room the fireplace was full and crackling, with a kettle set nearby.

"Awake?" The man who bent over into Edmund’s vision was a stranger with a short, thick beard and spectacles balanced on his nose. "Good, good."

"Edmund!" He found himself snatched up suddenly, pulled into a tight hug against Susan. She was warm and smelled of soap, and her hair fell into his eyes. "Oh, you gave us such a terrible scare! We thought... Oh, Ed."

"It's all right. I'm fine," Edmund mumbled, trying to clear his head and feeling oddly light and rested. Susan squeezed him once and he shut up, for once not terribly minding the affections. If he had made her worry so much then she could hug him if she liked.

She released him and stepped back, squeezing him again once more for good measure before the strange man clucked his tongue.

"Your majesty, he'll like as not need more rest."

Susan let him go and smiled wanly, and Edmund was left confused. All his recent memories were a blur of nightmares and cold sweat.

"It seems," Peter drawled from the other side of the bed, and though he looked calm his eyes were rather bright as he grinned at his brother, "That a couple weeks ago Lune decided to send emissaries to discuss trade. Including Dr. Drinn."

The man with the beard bowed, smiling. "It appears you caught a touch of Archenland Hill Fever. It's common enough back home, but of course you Narnians wouldn't have been exposed. Sweating it out, that's the key. Heat."

Edmund grinned crookedly at his brother. He'd caused them trouble and they'd forgive him, but he could deflect some bit more of it. "I told you I was cold."

"You did." Peter laughed, though it sounded tight and strange, and his returning grin was serious at the same time. "You also said you were fine."

"Well, I am now, aren't I?"

Quietly, from the corner of his eye, Susan glanced at the Archenlander who only nodded and poured a cup from the kettle. Peter, though, was still serious.

"Maybe, Ed, but you gave us a scare. The things you said..." Peter and Susan exchanged a long look and she continued.

"You mustn’t be so afraid to be a burden," she said slowly, sitting on the corner of the bed. "You’re our brother."

"Yes." Edmund glanced at his hands a moment and then looked back up, small smile real and sincere. "I know."

Original Prompt:
What I want: Edmund falls seriously ill early on in the Golden Age (first 3 years or so), Lucy is away and can't get back with the cordial, and Peter and Susan have to take care of Ed. Sibling Fluff. Movieverse in looks of characters, but the actual plot doesn't have to pertain to the movie.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: Edmund's nightmares about his time with the witch
What I definitely don't want in my fic: Slash, incest, Pevensie bashing, Suspian, Luspian, Mary-Sue, Marty-Stu, Tumnus/Lucy, romance

Comments

[angel-in-tears.livejournal.com]

This was fantastic I love the cross between Edmund being sick and the nightmare's about his time with the witch.
I also love how cute Susan and Peter are, and how worried they are!
Awesome work :)

[rthstewart.livejournal.com]

You, mystery writer, have done an excellent job with this prompt! It was a great idea to first send Lucy off doing something important and second to tie Edmund's illness to his ongoing guilt with Jadis. Very nicely done!

[snacky]

Oh, I really liked how you filled this prompt. Poor Edmund, so sick, and poor Peter and Susan, so worried! Good job tying it in with Edmund's time with Jadis.

[min023.livejournal.com]

I really like what you've done here. I love how we get the view of Lucy going off, and the worry of her siblings. Then, suddenly, boom - Edmund is sick and in the grip of delirium. Then the return of the Witch and ice, plus fever and fire. Nice tie-up : )

Wonderful!

[(Anonymous)]

This made me so happy! I'm sorry my prompt was so long and specific, but you did an excellent job and it brightened up my day! The characters were very well done and I loved how you gave Lucy a plausible reason for leaving. Great job and thank you!

[ilysia-039.livejournal.com]

Oh, well done! So well written, with just, or so I thought, the right about of lingering emotion from the Witch (so many people overdo it) to make this fantastic.

[wingedflight21.livejournal.com]

You did a brilliant job with this prompt! I've seen a few Pevensie-has-a-fever fics before, but this one surpasses all of them, in my opinion. I love that Lucy has left to fight a plague, which not only ties in very well with Edmund's fever but also gives her a job to do as Queen besides being the cute youngest one. As for Edmund's nightmares, they really did have that nightmare-feverish quality of a brief scene of heightened emotion (or rather, in this case, a heightened sense of numbed emotion). Very well done!

[venilia.livejournal.com]

Awwww! Oh, the last few sentences just killed me with loveliness! ♥

[liminalliz.livejournal.com]

a;lsjdfla;skjdf oh man it was like christmas was here at last when I read this fic. EDMUND FOREVER HAUNTED, MY FAVORITE KIND OF EDMUND. This was gorgeously executed! Wonderful fic.

[miss-morland.livejournal.com]

What a lovely portrayal of Edmund and his relationship with his siblings! I enjoyed this a lot. :-)