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Caspian’s coronation had been a celebration unlike any Narnia had seen in centuries. Laughter, music, and the scent of feasts filled the air, and the stars themselves seemed to shine brighter that night. The Narnians rejoiced in the return of their rightful king, and Caspian, though humble, had accepted the crown with grace.
But beneath the joy, there had been a quiet sorrow. A lingering farewell.
Because this was not their Narnia anymore.
Peter had spoken the words himself when Caspian, with all sincerity, had tried to relinquish the throne to them. But Narnia no longer belonged to the Pevensies. Their time as rulers had passed, their crowns lost to the tide of years.
And Peter… Peter had accepted it.
Or at least, he told himself he had.
That night, after the last of the celebrations had faded into the embers of dying bonfires, Edmund followed his brother through the trees. Peter walked with purpose, as if drawn forward by something unseen, something calling to him.
And when he finally stopped, Edmund understood why.
Cair Paravel.
Or what was left of it.
The ruins stood under the moonlight like the bones of a long-dead giant, weathered and broken by time. The great castle of their reign, the place they had called home, was nothing but a hollowed shell of what it had once been.
Peter stepped forward, his boots crunching against ancient stone, until he stood at the place where their four thrones had once been.
Edmund stayed back, watching.
Peter’s gaze stretched toward the horizon, his profile unreadable, his posture still and solemn. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered shut. He breathed in deep, and when he exhaled, it was with the weight of years, of memories, of a world he had loved and lost.
And Edmund knew that expression all too well.
It was the look of someone grieving for something they could never truly return to. The look of someone who had accepted their fate, yet still mourned what they had left behind.
Edmund clenched his fists.
He wanted to go to him. Wanted to kneel before him, like he once had in the golden days of their reign, and swear his loyalty once more—to the High King of Narnia, the one he had followed into battle without hesitation, the brother he had believed in more than anything.
Because the truth was… he missed it too.
He missed King Edmund The Just
"How long are you going to hide, Ed?"
Edmund startled, his breath catching.
So Peter had known he was there. Of course, he had. Peter always knew.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Edmund stepped out of the shadows, walking hesitantly toward his brother.
"My liege," he murmured, bowing his head slightly, the title slipping from his lips like a habit long buried but never forgotten.
Peter turned to him with a soft smile. Not the radiant, confident grin of a victorious king, but something gentler, something tired yet fond.
"Come here, Ed."
Edmund moved to stand at Peter’s right side—his place, where his throne had once been.
For a moment, neither spoke. They simply stood there, in the ruins of their past, letting the silence settle between them. For a moment, Edmund could see it again—Cair Paravel, grand and whole, and their people, whom they loved and who loved them, standing there with peaceful smiles.
Then Edmund speak
"Are you okay, Pete? I mean… after all this?" Edmund asked carefully, his voice quiet in the night air.
Peter let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost a sigh. "I don’t know, Ed. Maybe… maybe 'hollow' is the right word for it."
Then his eyes returned to the horizon, distant and filled with something he could not express, Edmund looked at Peter, his brother and his formidable king now looking fragile,
Edmund hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing against Peter’s hand before curling around it in a firm grip.
Peter squeezed back, that simple gesture is enough to express something that cannot be put into words.
"I feel the same," Edmund admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
And for that moment, standing together in the remnants of a kingdom they had once ruled, they were not kings, nor warriors, nor legends of a time already slipping into history.
They were just two brothers, holding onto the only thing they had left.