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bedlamsbardBecause seriously, at this point I need the ego-boost, and also, I swear to God I have in fact been writing.
"You're not Company," Peter -- Breakneck -- says, the tip of his sword at Edmund's throat. "Not one of ours, not one of the other merc companies. What are you, one of the army boys?"
"Not exactly," Edmund says, holding up both his hands, empty.
"Some noble from Piero's court, then? Slumming?"
"I'm not Natarene. I'm Narnian." He watches Breakneck for any reaction, but the only one he gets is surprise.
"On this side of the border?"
"Obviously so."
Breakneck's brows draw together and he licks his lips; the familiar tic makes Edmund's fists clench, his breath caught in his throat. He's Peter.
"Step into the light," Breakneck orders.
"All right," Edmund agrees, moving sideways out of the shadow of the tent and into the main row of the Red Company camp. In the soft light of the lanterns, the differences and similarities between Breakneck and Peter are clearer. He's thinner, a little more wiry, his cheeks hollowed, but his eyes and mouth are the same, his grip on his sword exactly as Oreius taught them.
"I saw you earlier," Breakneck says. "With the captain."
"I came to see him," Edmund says, and Breakneck blinks and lowers his sword before he sheathes it over his shoulder.
"The Company won't break its contract," Breakneck warns. "Why are you still here?"
"I'm looking for you," Edmund says, putting his hands down, slow and carful, keeping them where Breakneck can see them.
"Why?"
You're my brother and my High King is on the tip of his tongue, but Edmund doesn't say it. "I asked Captain Terblanche about you. He said you joined the Red Company a year and a half ago, that the Company found you wandering the wolfswood just beyond the Narnian border and that you had no memory of who or what you were."
"That's true," Breakneck agrees warily. "It's common knowledge. Why do you care?"
"My brother's been missing from Narnia for a year and a half," Edmund says, very softly.
Breakneck blinks in surprise. "Who are you?" he asks, face open and wanting.
"Silvertongue!"
They both turn to see Mathin Terblanche and one of his lieutenants standing at the head of the row of tents.
"Captain?" Edmund says, clenching his fists.
"They're asking for you at the border," Terblanche says, his gaze sharp. "I'll walk you back to your escort."
Edmund looks back at Breakneck's confused face, hearing his own breath rasp in his throat. "Captain --" he begins.
"Silvertongue," Terblanche returns sharply. "Your majesty."
Breakneck gives him a sharp look, his eyes wide and very surprised.
"All right," Edmund agrees, reluctant, and gives Breakneck one more anxious look over his shoulder before he goes to join Terblanche.
"That's my brother," he spits as soon as they're alone. "That's my brother and my High King and I need --"
"He's fighting tomorrow," Terblanche interrupts. "in the Eschmarnat."
"Oh, Aslan," Edmund says, sharp and desperate. "You can let him kill his own people." He rubs a hand over his face.
"You aren't more worried about his own people killing him?" Terblanche questions.
"You recommended him to fight, you know how good he is," Edmund says. "I'm not worried about him. Aslan, I can't take him back, not if he doesn't remember, not now -- but I can't just -- when's he fighting?"
Terblanche blinks. "Sixth, I think. After Lord Jourdain."
It's a stupid plan. It's an impossible plan. It's the sort of plan Peter would have come up with. "All right," Edmund says. "Make sure he's fighting sixth."
"What are you planning to do?" Terblanche asks.
"Not get killed by my brother," Edmund says. "And give Narnia her High King back."
Susan wraps her legs around his waist, letting Peter hold her up as she kisses him. "Su," he breathes, with that faint edge of mingled surprise and desire she's heard from him before.
He walks her backward into his bedroom, pushing the door open behind him, and turns around so that he can sit her down on his bed, standing between her legs and kissing her slowly and sweetly. He's so careful, like he thinks she's going to break, and Susan makes an indeterminate sound in the back of her throat and grabs the front of his shirt in both hands, dragging him closer, knocking him off-balance. She slides backwards and pulls Peter down on top of her.
He shifts automatically so that none of his weight is on her and cups her face in his hands. They're shaking.
"It's all right," she says. "Peter, it's all right." She kisses the corner of his mouth and starts flicking open the buttons on his tunic one by one.
He says, "Susan. Susan," and smears his fingers down her sides and lets them linger on her hips.
Susan's breath catches in her throat. She gets her hands beneath his shirt and slides them up his back, palming the broad mess of scars there. Peter shudders, and when Susan looks up, it's to find his eyes screwed tightly closed.
"Peter," she begs, and he opens his eyes. He kisses her softly.
Susan shifts her weight and rolls them over, straddling Peter and letting her skirts pool around her thighs. She reaches back to get the buttons of her dress and then pulls it off over her head.
Peter's hands brush lightly over her bare skin, then a little more firmly, familiar on her hips. She leans down and kisses him open-mouthed.
Susan settles lightly on his thighs, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she bends her head to kiss him. Peter's hands come up to twine tightly in her hair.
Eustace's jaw drops.
Peter tilts his head to get a deeper angle, and Edmund says something that makes them both laugh and pull away. In the flickering firelight, Susan's face is bright and animated and Peter's amused, honest and open for the first time since they were children. He pulls Susan back down for another kiss, and then Edmund gets up and walks over. For one wild moment Eustace thinks he's going to put an end to this, whatever in blazes this is, and then he tangles one hand in Peter's hair and one hand in Susan's and turns their heads so that he can kiss them, one after the other.
"In the name of God," Jill says softly from behind him. "In the name of God." Her voice is tight and breathless, a little strained, and when Eustace turns his head to look at her he sees that her cheeks are flushed scarlet. She twists the fabric of her shirt between her fingers and doesn't look away. "But they're -- they're siblings, how can they --"
Eustace glances back and then away as quickly as he can. Edmund is pressing kisses into the side of Peter's neck, one hand splayed across Susan's back as she kisses Peter open-mouthed, curling her fingers into Edmund's sword-belt, just brushing Peter's. They're not doing this for the first time or even the second, and it makes Eustace flush, looking at them. How could they, indeed.
He looks across the fire at Luccy and sees her watching with a sharp frown on her face. Eustace is relieved that she makes no move to join her brothers and sister. He doesn't think he could stand anymore of this, whatever this is.
Susan laughs, low and amused in the back of her throat, and Peter turns his head up to grin at her. He looks happy. Susan slides off his lap and catches his hands, pulling him upright. Peter kisses her, then turns his head to kiss Edmund. And then all three of them vanish into the trees.
Eustace doesn't want to think about where they're going. Or what they're going to do when they get there.
Abruptly, Lucy stands up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder with a shake of her head. "I'm going to bed," she declares. "Would you like to join me, Tirian?"
Eustace knows Tirian well enough to tell suprrise -- and a little dismay -- when he sees it, but his face is calm and polite when he says, "It would not be proper, your highness."
"To hell with proper," but Tirian just smiles and shakes his head.
Frustration flares in Lucy's eyes as she looks around, scanning the circle for -- Eustace doesn't know what she's looking for, and tries not to blanch when her gaze falls on him and Jill. Then she looks at Vespasian, sitting beside Tirian with most of his attention on the lump of limewood and the carving knife in his hands.
"Vespasian," she singsongs.
He glances up, attention distracted as he gives her an edge of a smile. "Queen Lucy?"
"My brother's obviously occupied tonight," she says, smirking at him. It's an expression full of promise and Eustace finds himself in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than he'd been a minute ago, at least, after the older three Pevensies left and before Lucy got up.
"So he is," Vespasian notes, the dismissal clear. He turns his head back down to his whittling.
Lucy looks briefly shaken, then the now-familiar Pevensie mask slides into place. "Good night, then," she says, and leaves the circle from the opposite direction her siblings went. She's heading towards the Red Company camp, Eustace realizes, and he tries not to think about that too closely. There are a lot of things he doesn't want to think about tonight.
Tirian and Vespasian exchange a long look, but neither one says anything. In the shadows and shifting firelight, they suddenly look very alike. Eustace blinks a little in surprise; he's never seen the resemblance before, just the differences.
"We should probably go to bed too," Eustace decides suddenly. "Or at least, I am. It's pretty late."
Jill scrambles up too. "Me too," she says. "I mean, we don't know tomorrow will bring. It could be anything."
"Good night," Tirian says, his voice dry, and Jill slips her hands into Eustace's as they head off towards their shared homewood tree.
Eustace doesn't particularly like the homewood trees -- they're primitive, crudely made, and a little too muchh like hiding in a hole for his taste. He's had more than enough of that after Underworld. Edmund says that most Narnians lived in homewood trees during the Golden Age, which seems like pure madness. Why anyone would willingly submit themselves to this claustrophobia-inducing hellhole --
They duck inside, both of them wincing in unison -- it's too close inside, too dark, too small, and it's nearly warm enough that they could sleep outside, which Eustace would inifinitely prefer. Even one of the treehouses would be preferable.
Still, it's warmer inside than outside -- the homewood trees hold heat -- and Eustace takes his jacket off, then unbuckles his sword-belt and hangs it up.
"They're crazy," Jill declares, taking her hair out of its tight braid. "Did they know -- I mean, do you think they -- back in England --"
That's high up on the list of things Eustace never wants to think about, ever, and he says as much. Of course, it also means that the next thing he thinks about is Edmund leaning low over Peter to take his glass of whiskey off the table beside him, Peter smiling up at him with the expression sweet and open. It had seemed perfectly ordinary at the time, but when Eustace looks back there are a thousand tiny moments between the Pevensies that are just as uncomfortably intimate, just as -- wanting. There's no other word for it.
"They scare me," Jill admits abruptly.
They scare Eustace too, but he's not about to say that out loud. "So don't think about them," he says, holding out his arms for her.
She puts her arms around his neck and stands up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. They've only slept together a couple of times, but they share a bed most nights; they're all each other has left of England. Narnia's -- well, Narnia is Narnia, and many things, but one of those things isn't home and never will be. Right now, Narnia is a warzone, and an ugly one. There's nothing beautiful or friendly about it.
"Happily," Jill says firmly. She kisses the corner of his mouth. "I missed you."
"So did I," Eustace says. "I wish you'd been there."
"I wish you'd been here," Jill says and kisses him on the mouth.
Eustace wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her back. Jill's whipcord and muscle; they all are. But that's familiar; they've been here for a while. This is Narnia; it strips them down to bare bones every time they're here. Eustace isn't sure whether he appreciates it or not. At least they're here together.
"You're not Company," Peter -- Breakneck -- says, the tip of his sword at Edmund's throat. "Not one of ours, not one of the other merc companies. What are you, one of the army boys?"
"Not exactly," Edmund says, holding up both his hands, empty.
"Some noble from Piero's court, then? Slumming?"
"I'm not Natarene. I'm Narnian." He watches Breakneck for any reaction, but the only one he gets is surprise.
"On this side of the border?"
"Obviously so."
Breakneck's brows draw together and he licks his lips; the familiar tic makes Edmund's fists clench, his breath caught in his throat. He's Peter.
"Step into the light," Breakneck orders.
"All right," Edmund agrees, moving sideways out of the shadow of the tent and into the main row of the Red Company camp. In the soft light of the lanterns, the differences and similarities between Breakneck and Peter are clearer. He's thinner, a little more wiry, his cheeks hollowed, but his eyes and mouth are the same, his grip on his sword exactly as Oreius taught them.
"I saw you earlier," Breakneck says. "With the captain."
"I came to see him," Edmund says, and Breakneck blinks and lowers his sword before he sheathes it over his shoulder.
"The Company won't break its contract," Breakneck warns. "Why are you still here?"
"I'm looking for you," Edmund says, putting his hands down, slow and carful, keeping them where Breakneck can see them.
"Why?"
You're my brother and my High King is on the tip of his tongue, but Edmund doesn't say it. "I asked Captain Terblanche about you. He said you joined the Red Company a year and a half ago, that the Company found you wandering the wolfswood just beyond the Narnian border and that you had no memory of who or what you were."
"That's true," Breakneck agrees warily. "It's common knowledge. Why do you care?"
"My brother's been missing from Narnia for a year and a half," Edmund says, very softly.
Breakneck blinks in surprise. "Who are you?" he asks, face open and wanting.
"Silvertongue!"
They both turn to see Mathin Terblanche and one of his lieutenants standing at the head of the row of tents.
"Captain?" Edmund says, clenching his fists.
"They're asking for you at the border," Terblanche says, his gaze sharp. "I'll walk you back to your escort."
Edmund looks back at Breakneck's confused face, hearing his own breath rasp in his throat. "Captain --" he begins.
"Silvertongue," Terblanche returns sharply. "Your majesty."
Breakneck gives him a sharp look, his eyes wide and very surprised.
"All right," Edmund agrees, reluctant, and gives Breakneck one more anxious look over his shoulder before he goes to join Terblanche.
"That's my brother," he spits as soon as they're alone. "That's my brother and my High King and I need --"
"He's fighting tomorrow," Terblanche interrupts. "in the Eschmarnat."
"Oh, Aslan," Edmund says, sharp and desperate. "You can let him kill his own people." He rubs a hand over his face.
"You aren't more worried about his own people killing him?" Terblanche questions.
"You recommended him to fight, you know how good he is," Edmund says. "I'm not worried about him. Aslan, I can't take him back, not if he doesn't remember, not now -- but I can't just -- when's he fighting?"
Terblanche blinks. "Sixth, I think. After Lord Jourdain."
It's a stupid plan. It's an impossible plan. It's the sort of plan Peter would have come up with. "All right," Edmund says. "Make sure he's fighting sixth."
"What are you planning to do?" Terblanche asks.
"Not get killed by my brother," Edmund says. "And give Narnia her High King back."
Susan wraps her legs around his waist, letting Peter hold her up as she kisses him. "Su," he breathes, with that faint edge of mingled surprise and desire she's heard from him before.
He walks her backward into his bedroom, pushing the door open behind him, and turns around so that he can sit her down on his bed, standing between her legs and kissing her slowly and sweetly. He's so careful, like he thinks she's going to break, and Susan makes an indeterminate sound in the back of her throat and grabs the front of his shirt in both hands, dragging him closer, knocking him off-balance. She slides backwards and pulls Peter down on top of her.
He shifts automatically so that none of his weight is on her and cups her face in his hands. They're shaking.
"It's all right," she says. "Peter, it's all right." She kisses the corner of his mouth and starts flicking open the buttons on his tunic one by one.
He says, "Susan. Susan," and smears his fingers down her sides and lets them linger on her hips.
Susan's breath catches in her throat. She gets her hands beneath his shirt and slides them up his back, palming the broad mess of scars there. Peter shudders, and when Susan looks up, it's to find his eyes screwed tightly closed.
"Peter," she begs, and he opens his eyes. He kisses her softly.
Susan shifts her weight and rolls them over, straddling Peter and letting her skirts pool around her thighs. She reaches back to get the buttons of her dress and then pulls it off over her head.
Peter's hands brush lightly over her bare skin, then a little more firmly, familiar on her hips. She leans down and kisses him open-mouthed.
Susan settles lightly on his thighs, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she bends her head to kiss him. Peter's hands come up to twine tightly in her hair.
Eustace's jaw drops.
Peter tilts his head to get a deeper angle, and Edmund says something that makes them both laugh and pull away. In the flickering firelight, Susan's face is bright and animated and Peter's amused, honest and open for the first time since they were children. He pulls Susan back down for another kiss, and then Edmund gets up and walks over. For one wild moment Eustace thinks he's going to put an end to this, whatever in blazes this is, and then he tangles one hand in Peter's hair and one hand in Susan's and turns their heads so that he can kiss them, one after the other.
"In the name of God," Jill says softly from behind him. "In the name of God." Her voice is tight and breathless, a little strained, and when Eustace turns his head to look at her he sees that her cheeks are flushed scarlet. She twists the fabric of her shirt between her fingers and doesn't look away. "But they're -- they're siblings, how can they --"
Eustace glances back and then away as quickly as he can. Edmund is pressing kisses into the side of Peter's neck, one hand splayed across Susan's back as she kisses Peter open-mouthed, curling her fingers into Edmund's sword-belt, just brushing Peter's. They're not doing this for the first time or even the second, and it makes Eustace flush, looking at them. How could they, indeed.
He looks across the fire at Luccy and sees her watching with a sharp frown on her face. Eustace is relieved that she makes no move to join her brothers and sister. He doesn't think he could stand anymore of this, whatever this is.
Susan laughs, low and amused in the back of her throat, and Peter turns his head up to grin at her. He looks happy. Susan slides off his lap and catches his hands, pulling him upright. Peter kisses her, then turns his head to kiss Edmund. And then all three of them vanish into the trees.
Eustace doesn't want to think about where they're going. Or what they're going to do when they get there.
Abruptly, Lucy stands up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder with a shake of her head. "I'm going to bed," she declares. "Would you like to join me, Tirian?"
Eustace knows Tirian well enough to tell suprrise -- and a little dismay -- when he sees it, but his face is calm and polite when he says, "It would not be proper, your highness."
"To hell with proper," but Tirian just smiles and shakes his head.
Frustration flares in Lucy's eyes as she looks around, scanning the circle for -- Eustace doesn't know what she's looking for, and tries not to blanch when her gaze falls on him and Jill. Then she looks at Vespasian, sitting beside Tirian with most of his attention on the lump of limewood and the carving knife in his hands.
"Vespasian," she singsongs.
He glances up, attention distracted as he gives her an edge of a smile. "Queen Lucy?"
"My brother's obviously occupied tonight," she says, smirking at him. It's an expression full of promise and Eustace finds himself in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than he'd been a minute ago, at least, after the older three Pevensies left and before Lucy got up.
"So he is," Vespasian notes, the dismissal clear. He turns his head back down to his whittling.
Lucy looks briefly shaken, then the now-familiar Pevensie mask slides into place. "Good night, then," she says, and leaves the circle from the opposite direction her siblings went. She's heading towards the Red Company camp, Eustace realizes, and he tries not to think about that too closely. There are a lot of things he doesn't want to think about tonight.
Tirian and Vespasian exchange a long look, but neither one says anything. In the shadows and shifting firelight, they suddenly look very alike. Eustace blinks a little in surprise; he's never seen the resemblance before, just the differences.
"We should probably go to bed too," Eustace decides suddenly. "Or at least, I am. It's pretty late."
Jill scrambles up too. "Me too," she says. "I mean, we don't know tomorrow will bring. It could be anything."
"Good night," Tirian says, his voice dry, and Jill slips her hands into Eustace's as they head off towards their shared homewood tree.
Eustace doesn't particularly like the homewood trees -- they're primitive, crudely made, and a little too muchh like hiding in a hole for his taste. He's had more than enough of that after Underworld. Edmund says that most Narnians lived in homewood trees during the Golden Age, which seems like pure madness. Why anyone would willingly submit themselves to this claustrophobia-inducing hellhole --
They duck inside, both of them wincing in unison -- it's too close inside, too dark, too small, and it's nearly warm enough that they could sleep outside, which Eustace would inifinitely prefer. Even one of the treehouses would be preferable.
Still, it's warmer inside than outside -- the homewood trees hold heat -- and Eustace takes his jacket off, then unbuckles his sword-belt and hangs it up.
"They're crazy," Jill declares, taking her hair out of its tight braid. "Did they know -- I mean, do you think they -- back in England --"
That's high up on the list of things Eustace never wants to think about, ever, and he says as much. Of course, it also means that the next thing he thinks about is Edmund leaning low over Peter to take his glass of whiskey off the table beside him, Peter smiling up at him with the expression sweet and open. It had seemed perfectly ordinary at the time, but when Eustace looks back there are a thousand tiny moments between the Pevensies that are just as uncomfortably intimate, just as -- wanting. There's no other word for it.
"They scare me," Jill admits abruptly.
They scare Eustace too, but he's not about to say that out loud. "So don't think about them," he says, holding out his arms for her.
She puts her arms around his neck and stands up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. They've only slept together a couple of times, but they share a bed most nights; they're all each other has left of England. Narnia's -- well, Narnia is Narnia, and many things, but one of those things isn't home and never will be. Right now, Narnia is a warzone, and an ugly one. There's nothing beautiful or friendly about it.
"Happily," Jill says firmly. She kisses the corner of his mouth. "I missed you."
"So did I," Eustace says. "I wish you'd been there."
"I wish you'd been here," Jill says and kisses him on the mouth.
Eustace wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her back. Jill's whipcord and muscle; they all are. But that's familiar; they've been here for a while. This is Narnia; it strips them down to bare bones every time they're here. Eustace isn't sure whether he appreciates it or not. At least they're here together.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 11:16 pm (UTC)2. i think the reason for my yay should be obvious here.
3. OH LUCY YOU SLUTMUFFIN. ...you must get it from your siblings. (oh tee threeeeeeee)
sup with your ego? WHERE IS YOUR HOLIDAY CHEER?? 'cos did you get thrown in the snow three times today? i didn't think so. GUESS WHO WAS. D-:
<33
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 11:47 pm (UTC)1. this analogy probably helps if one eats sandwiches. (i myself do not. i am strange like that. i have, however, been known to eat PO'BOYS. on occasion. undressed, of course. OH NEW ORLEANS NEVER CHANGE.)
2. YAY.
3. because everyone should have happy fun times! except tirian, apparently.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 01:16 am (UTC)ya, poor tirian, he's so saintly and dorky, i just want all the pevensies to debauch him twice over, NSFW-style.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 01:20 am (UTC)*giggles* well, that ain't happening in my dust, that's for sure, but if someone else feels inclined to write those missing scenes...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:42 am (UTC)although. i'm not sure that last part is a good thing or not. *bats eyelashes*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 01:37 am (UTC)Also, you know. hot.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 04:09 am (UTC)I like how Breakneck is looking for a connection, that he gets that hunger when Edmund mentions a missing brother. Because Peter will always be looking for something to fill the place that is Narnia in his heart.
More than that, I like how for Eustace and Jill Narnia isn't home. It is their task, and their responsibility, and their test, but it is not their home. Pevensie/second generation(because even though they aren't, they kind of are) major difference #1
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 06:41 am (UTC)Hell, Breakneck has no memory. He'll snatch at anything -- and Edmund clearly recognizes him, even if Breakneck has no idea who he is.
I think one of the most important things that differentiates Jill and Eustacce from the Pevensies is that they don't have that fifteen year period of happiness (or, you know, not, but -- Golden Age, anyway). Narnia for them has always been hard work, and, well, it's kind of sucked. First there was the cruise, which was probably not all that great of a time for Eustace -- to an extent, yeah, but it's certainly no Golden Age -- then there was the trek up through the cold freezing north with the people-eating giants and Underworld and the Lady of the Green Kirtle, then there's this five year span where Narnia becomes an occupied nation and they're wanted refugees living on the far edges of civilization. Not a good time. There's no connection, not the way there was with the Pevensies.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 02:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-24 02:36 am (UTC)WAAAAAAAH, I NEED TO SEE. SERIOUSLY. SOUNDS LIKE SERIOUSLY SCARY BUT ALSO SERIOUSLY EPIC.
And LOL at Jill & Eustace's reactions in the missing scene(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-24 03:12 am (UTC)Eustace and Jill: SO CONFUSED BY EVERYTHING THE PEVENSIES DO EVER.