dust deleted scene

[bedlamsbard]

This is the very first scene I ever wrote for Dust, back when I thought I was just going to be writing miscellaneous scenes from all over the place. (Back when I thought it was just concepts. Gee, remember those days? Sometime before I got 47K in?)



"Pete," Tirian hears, and goes still, because that's King Edmund's voice. He fumbles his breeches closed and peers out from behind the big oak tree, seeing Edmund pacing restlessly back and forth in a patch of dappled sunlight.

The High King's with him, leaning against a tree-trunk with his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "What's so important, Ed?" he asks.

Edmund, in front of him, takes a few short steps back and forth, then turns to face his brother. "How can you?" he spits out furiously. "She turned her back on Narnia, turned her back on us -- how can you act like nothing's happened at all, like it's ten years ago and we're sitting on our thrones in Cair Paravel again?"

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his expression implacable. "I don't," he says, "act like nothing's happened at all. Things change, Ed. Even us. Especially us."

Tirian should go, because he's not supposed to be hearing this, but he knows now how well the High King can hear the faintest footstep, and the leaves rustle. He doesn't want to let Peter know he's here.

"She betrayed us," Edmund snarls. "Don't you remember the things she said? The way she looked at us? If that's not betrayal -- you killed traitors, once, and she betrayed us."

"So did you, once," Peter says softly, and Edmund's eyes flare wide.

"Fuck, Pete," he says. "That was completely different --"

"Was it?" Peter says, pushing himself up off the tree. "She hasn't sold out Narnia yet."

"She didn't believe in Narnia."

"No," the High King corrects. "She believed. You don't try to forget something that never happened. And can you blame her for it, Ed?"

"Yes," Edmund says viciously.

"I don't," Peter replies. "I almost envy her it."

Edmund takes half a step forward, then stops. "Pete, you'd never --"

"No," Peter says. "No, I wouldn't. But it's different for me. I couldn't walk away from Narnia if I wanted. You don't know what it's like, Ed. I could live every hour of every day of the rest of my life in England, and for every minute of it I'd still be a foreigner, still be an exile, still be a refugee. There's nothing I can do to change that, whether I want it or not. And there are days I've wanted it. I'd ask if you knew what it's like to be a stranger in your birth-country, but I know you do. And I know that for you, it eventually went away. Not for me. Maybe not for Susan; I don't know. We haven't talked. But I do know that if I hadn't had the war to distract me, I would have gone insane. I thought about it, you know," he adds, lips quirking a little. "But it wasn't a very attractive prospect. And I had the war."

"Pete," Edmund says, his face twisting, and reaches out for his brother, the movement oddly clumsy for such a graceful man. The High King turns his face into his brother's palm. The moment is so tender, so personal, that Tirian feels the heat rise to his cheeks watching.

"It's all right, you know," Peter says, his voice gentle. "I figured out a long time ago that we don't remember the same ways."

"Damn him," Edmund hisses, letting his hand drop. "Do you think he knew he was doing this to us?"

Peter doesn't answer.

"Do you want me to apolgize?" Edmund continues after a moment, his voice normal.

"We've progressed beyond my having to give you orders to that effect, I think," Peter says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's your decision -- or not. Just remember that I am trying to conquer a country here, and the dissent isn't good for the ranks. And I need you both. I always have."

Edmund's face works silently. "I can't forgive her," he says.

"I'm not asking you to," Peter says. "But I need you both at my side, and I can't have that if she's afraid to speak to you and you can't look at her without yelling."

Edmund blows out his cheeks. It makes him look very young. "All right," he says at last. "I'll do my duty. For now."

The High King nods. "That's all I've ever asked. Now," he adds, grinning a little, suddenly less stern and implacable, "do you mind if we get back to breakfast? Everyone else should be up right now."

"Of course you're thinking of your stomach," Edmund grumbles, and punches him in the arm. They go off together, leaves crunching beneath their booted feet, and at the last moment Peter looks over his shoulder straight at Tirian.



Also, because I'm conceited, apparently, I am going to talk about it.

I was holding onto it because I was still hoping to reuse elements of it, but right now I'm relatively certain that's not going to happen -- Susan and Edmund already worked out their problems, and while Lucy and Susan haven't done so yet, I don't think there's going to be a confrontation about this. Which I'm disappointed about because of the traitor/betrayal exchange between Peter and Edmund.

This was written before I had any idea of the scale Dust would be on, so there are hints here of the situation they're in -- small camp, possibly on the move, not as formal as the Arn Abedin camp we see in Dust. Tirian POV; I didn't want this from Peter or Edmund's POV.

I am extremely fond of Peter's soliloquy, and I may reuse that.

Comments

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Ah, so it's not forgotten LIKE SO MUCH ELSE LEWIS. *cough* I am having a moment; ignore me.