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[...memories of a long winter...]
My 'chronicles of narnia' tag is bigger than my 'connor mcmanus' tag and my 'peter pevensie' tag is bigger than my 'murphy mcmanus tag'. o_O It is a new age.
This next bit owes a lot to Mirkat's "A Game of Chess", which was the first fic I read that expanded on Edmund's shadiness potential. Check out also its remix, "Legacy" by Lizzen, which is also lovely. I am jealous.
I don't know what it is about Edmund being shady that lends itself well to that whimsical storytelling tone. But it lends, so I borrow. This fic includes my two favorite Edmund lines from the Prince Caspian movie, and the smoking of shisha. And I am not done with you or your coalition, Edmund, so don't leave be leaving my backburner anytime soon.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boogalooed and girlgroovy3 for the beta. The title is from the poem 'Late August Hours Before the Year 2000' by Naomi Shihab Nye.
to move without hurry/under trees
Chronicles of Narnia. Edmund.
In following with the "if ever there were a Narnian CIA, Edmund would probably head it" trope.
In the days of the Golden Age, Edmund headed a coalition that had no name and whose members wore no distinguishing crest. Its ranks included all manners of men and beasts from all the countries and far-distant isles of the world. Without name and crest though they be, the coalition did have what could be called its own language, for secrets are very much like languages. Secrets are not so self-contained as you would think and, like languages, they grow slowly with the passage of time, its meanings and double-meanings adapting to the age.
These men and beasts brought Edmund news from all across the lands and all across the seas. But it was not the sort of news read out by town criers, unless accidentally, and not the sort of news written of in a letter to a friend, unless between the lines.
When Edmund met with the officers of this coalition, it was not in the banquet hall where Susan entertained her suitors, nor did he meet them in the meeting room where Peter and his bevy of advisors argued over bureaucratic minutiae. Never, not once, did they meet outside. Edmund would invite his officers to his private parlor for a game of cards, or to taste a particularly exquisite wine he had picked up from the Lone Islands. Sometimes Edmund would bring out his jeweled water pipe and collection of flavored tobacco – a gift from the Tarkaan to thank him for certain favors – and they would sit on cushions on his parlor’s plush carpet, sucking in the sweet smoke and exhaling smoke rings that floated to the ceiling and dissipated into the day.
There were any number of Narnians and foreigners at Cair Paravel in those days, but his siblings grew to know which dozen or so of them (they never really knew the exact number) met routinely with their brother in his parlor. When she recognized them, Susan deigned them a smile that was pleasant but distant. Lucy’s smile was cautious; she had little patience for secrets and preferred the honesty of blood spilt where she could see it. Peter would ask their opinions on certain policies of neighboring rulers, but he was always careful to take these opinions with a grain of salt and to confirm with his brother.
For the most part, the officers of the nameless, crestless coalition were left to be; they were Edmund’s business and his alone.
For, you see, Edmund is a man who loves his country (and by his country, we are speaking of course of Narnia, and not of England). He is driven by memories of a long winter and a cold hand stroking his face, by the image of fingers that conjured delights and disaster with the same magic. He remembers the hollowness he felt when Aslan approached him and looked into his soul with those terrible, knowing eyes.
The Wolves have always been a troublesome bunch, cruel and full of cunning the way their kind tends to be. But one coalition officer was a Wolf named Astrok, who was loyal to Cair Paravel, and if he did not care for Edmund, the creature at least respected him.
There had been times when the lords of the Seven Isles have misliked King Peter’s trade policy, for it would empty their treasuries and put the Seven Isles in a position of further supplication with Cair Paravel. The lords strove to do something about it, but one coalition officer was a nobleman of these islands himself, and he had a tacit agreement with the Isles’ most sought-after courtesan, due to certain debts that she owed him. Her hands were delicate, but they were also swift and accurate; her eyes were full of promises and knew as many secrets as Edmund knew, if not more.
And of course there were the Calormenes. Always the Calormenes, and their ambitions and their scheming and their designs on northern territories. The coalition had two officers from Calormen, to ensure that there was always the risk of one betraying the other and diminishing their threat. Under these two Calormene officers there were several more Calormene contacts of varying motives, but similar purpose.
Under all of Edmund’s officers there were several contacts of varying motives, but similar purpose.
There was never any excess of blood or commotion, unless they meant for there to be.
Edmund knew better than anyone that the love of one’s ruler is best tempered with a certain degree of fear and that, when it comes to strength, one also has to know how to play the part.
This is why, at Aslan’s How, as Miraz sputters and screams at his generals, as Peter stumbles dazed by pain and adrenalin, it is Edmund who commands him, “Keep smiling.”
And Peter does. The High King looses a manic grin and pumps his sword into the air, and the Narnians cheer themselves into a frenzy.
It is Edmund who feels his anger claim him when he sees his brother step away from a Miraz already on his knees. He loves Peter, loves him dearly, but sometimes there is no sense in that head – only honor, and sometimes glory when Peter confuses the two. Edmund wants to shake his brother and hit his face, snap him out of it. None of these actions are viable options, so he cries, “This is no time for chivalry, Peter!”
Peter doesn’t listen.
Edmund is a just king, and he has always been. Aslan knew full well the implications of Edmund’s title when it was bestowed upon him, for he knows that, out of these Sons of Adams and Daughters of Eve, it is Edmund who understands best that justice isn’t always fair.
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This next bit owes a lot to Mirkat's "A Game of Chess", which was the first fic I read that expanded on Edmund's shadiness potential. Check out also its remix, "Legacy" by Lizzen, which is also lovely. I am jealous.
I don't know what it is about Edmund being shady that lends itself well to that whimsical storytelling tone. But it lends, so I borrow. This fic includes my two favorite Edmund lines from the Prince Caspian movie, and the smoking of shisha. And I am not done with you or your coalition, Edmund, so don't leave be leaving my backburner anytime soon.
Thanks to
boogalooed and girlgroovy3 for the beta. The title is from the poem 'Late August Hours Before the Year 2000' by Naomi Shihab Nye.to move without hurry/under trees
Chronicles of Narnia. Edmund.
In following with the "if ever there were a Narnian CIA, Edmund would probably head it" trope.
In the days of the Golden Age, Edmund headed a coalition that had no name and whose members wore no distinguishing crest. Its ranks included all manners of men and beasts from all the countries and far-distant isles of the world. Without name and crest though they be, the coalition did have what could be called its own language, for secrets are very much like languages. Secrets are not so self-contained as you would think and, like languages, they grow slowly with the passage of time, its meanings and double-meanings adapting to the age.
These men and beasts brought Edmund news from all across the lands and all across the seas. But it was not the sort of news read out by town criers, unless accidentally, and not the sort of news written of in a letter to a friend, unless between the lines.
When Edmund met with the officers of this coalition, it was not in the banquet hall where Susan entertained her suitors, nor did he meet them in the meeting room where Peter and his bevy of advisors argued over bureaucratic minutiae. Never, not once, did they meet outside. Edmund would invite his officers to his private parlor for a game of cards, or to taste a particularly exquisite wine he had picked up from the Lone Islands. Sometimes Edmund would bring out his jeweled water pipe and collection of flavored tobacco – a gift from the Tarkaan to thank him for certain favors – and they would sit on cushions on his parlor’s plush carpet, sucking in the sweet smoke and exhaling smoke rings that floated to the ceiling and dissipated into the day.
There were any number of Narnians and foreigners at Cair Paravel in those days, but his siblings grew to know which dozen or so of them (they never really knew the exact number) met routinely with their brother in his parlor. When she recognized them, Susan deigned them a smile that was pleasant but distant. Lucy’s smile was cautious; she had little patience for secrets and preferred the honesty of blood spilt where she could see it. Peter would ask their opinions on certain policies of neighboring rulers, but he was always careful to take these opinions with a grain of salt and to confirm with his brother.
For the most part, the officers of the nameless, crestless coalition were left to be; they were Edmund’s business and his alone.
For, you see, Edmund is a man who loves his country (and by his country, we are speaking of course of Narnia, and not of England). He is driven by memories of a long winter and a cold hand stroking his face, by the image of fingers that conjured delights and disaster with the same magic. He remembers the hollowness he felt when Aslan approached him and looked into his soul with those terrible, knowing eyes.
The Wolves have always been a troublesome bunch, cruel and full of cunning the way their kind tends to be. But one coalition officer was a Wolf named Astrok, who was loyal to Cair Paravel, and if he did not care for Edmund, the creature at least respected him.
There had been times when the lords of the Seven Isles have misliked King Peter’s trade policy, for it would empty their treasuries and put the Seven Isles in a position of further supplication with Cair Paravel. The lords strove to do something about it, but one coalition officer was a nobleman of these islands himself, and he had a tacit agreement with the Isles’ most sought-after courtesan, due to certain debts that she owed him. Her hands were delicate, but they were also swift and accurate; her eyes were full of promises and knew as many secrets as Edmund knew, if not more.
And of course there were the Calormenes. Always the Calormenes, and their ambitions and their scheming and their designs on northern territories. The coalition had two officers from Calormen, to ensure that there was always the risk of one betraying the other and diminishing their threat. Under these two Calormene officers there were several more Calormene contacts of varying motives, but similar purpose.
Under all of Edmund’s officers there were several contacts of varying motives, but similar purpose.
There was never any excess of blood or commotion, unless they meant for there to be.
Edmund knew better than anyone that the love of one’s ruler is best tempered with a certain degree of fear and that, when it comes to strength, one also has to know how to play the part.
This is why, at Aslan’s How, as Miraz sputters and screams at his generals, as Peter stumbles dazed by pain and adrenalin, it is Edmund who commands him, “Keep smiling.”
And Peter does. The High King looses a manic grin and pumps his sword into the air, and the Narnians cheer themselves into a frenzy.
It is Edmund who feels his anger claim him when he sees his brother step away from a Miraz already on his knees. He loves Peter, loves him dearly, but sometimes there is no sense in that head – only honor, and sometimes glory when Peter confuses the two. Edmund wants to shake his brother and hit his face, snap him out of it. None of these actions are viable options, so he cries, “This is no time for chivalry, Peter!”
Peter doesn’t listen.
Edmund is a just king, and he has always been. Aslan knew full well the implications of Edmund’s title when it was bestowed upon him, for he knows that, out of these Sons of Adams and Daughters of Eve, it is Edmund who understands best that justice isn’t always fair.
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And: And of course there were the Calormenes. Always the Calormenes made me squee like nothing else.
Also: it is Edmund who understands best that justice isn’t always fair. EEEEEEEEEE.
Loved it!!
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There should ABSOLUTELY be more fic of NarniaCIA!Edmund! WHY IS THERE NOT. Replete with post-coital murder and blood on your hands and "Blast! This is not supposed to happen!" and knowing glances that are all like "You know what to do" and Peter being all blithe like "So what've you got for me, then?" and Susan feeling like she's the younger one when she looks at Ed these days and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.
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<3333333333333333
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OMG
*GRABBY HANDS*
TELL ME IF YOU DON'T WANT THIS IDEA BECAUSE I WANTSSSS IT.
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omg it'd be like remix and Yuletide all at once but with significantly less hassle!
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I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE, and I will totes beta yours but first I have to finish what I've started, aka pagan
orgyrevelry after Prince Caspian.no subject
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Lucy’s smile was cautious; she had little patience for secrets and preferred the honesty of blood spilt where she could see it. Yes. Queen Lucy the Valiant to a T.
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it is easy to be AWESOME when you're EDMUND
AWESOME EDMUND TO THE RESCUE
I hear he also donates to charity!
thanks for reading! :D
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He is so subtle and clever and he does his duty and he knows what is fair and I love that Aslan knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly what it meant.
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*hugs you to life*
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YES
THIS IS MY FAVORITE.
Edmund with a Narnian CIA omg and the last line (fabulous!)
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Well, I love Edmund in general.
Thanks very much :DD
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I originally read the books as a kid when I had a much more "innocent" view of Narnia (and life), but in watching the films as an adult and thinking about the story I enjoy a more "realistic" view and this story definitely has that element of realism without losing the fantastical elements of Narnia.
Plus I love the "keep smiling" scene.
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Thank you, I'm glad you like the fic! One of my joys after the Narnia movies came out is finding all these fics that add darker tones and would maybe make Lewis goggle and go, "Uh, NO." Lewis leaves a lot of holes to be filled though.
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Well said! This is one of the many, many things I adore about Edmund.
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