Chapter Text
Edmund knew his morbid obsession with bombs and war wouldn’t do him any good. And yet he still watched.
They ascended in inky blobs of black, only seen through the beams of light that searched for them. The beams became invisible as they impacted the earth, igniting the whole sky through a flash of orange by , taking him and the ground by shock. The fragments of the bombs ricocheted off any nearby object, sending another slew of yellow firework-light streams to fly into the air. The formerly clear air of the Pevensie household was polluted with debris, a side-effect of large war-machines in the confines of your neighbourhood.
It was like a train wreck you couldn’t look away from, the blurred noises and vibrations of the chaos almost hypnotic as Edmund tried to lean closer.
His state of mind broke unsurprisingly as Mum shoved him away from the window, a hand firm on his shoulder as she shut the blinds, putting the same amount of force as she would scolding him. Even less unsurprising came the call of Peter, a habit that was slowly leeching onto her with the disappearance of their father. Peter ran with the same amount of haste, tugging in Edmund’s arm as if it were a stubborn mule. And so Edmund acted like one.
“Peter, quickly the shelter. Now!” she yelled, words drowned over the commotion that happened behind the curtains. Peter pulled against his arm.
His father’s picture.
Words in fumbled strings of sentences left his mouth as he tried to oppose the dragging of Peter, barely reaching the frame as the force of Peter swallowed the last of his energy.
“Come on, you bloke!” Edmund fended off Peter with a crash of his fists towards Peter’s forearm as the other hand tried to grab his father.
His attack was unsuccessful as Peter seized his wrist and waist, pulling his back with obnoxiously heavy steps backwards.
“What are you doing? Leave it!” Annoyance and arrogance was even heard through the bombs. With a final pull, Edmund’s patience was run out as he was out of arm's reach.
Of course Peter wasn’t thinking about Father now.
Lucy’s cries for Mum floated above the busts of gas and fire. Susan’s voice responded ack with the same firmness Mum would use when she scolded her children- a voice Susan too often tried to copy with him, Lucy, and even Peter.
They joined shortly after, Mum trailing behind with a torch and a flannel blanket, sweat drenched that was a byproduct of stress and heat. Lucy clinged to Susan’s side in their matching cotton robes, her bear in the clutch of her palm. Remnants of tears glistened on her cheeks as she flinched, another wave of shaking hitting the house.
“What are you doing, go Peter!” Susan scolded once again. Peter took it out on Ed as he ‘nudged’ him forward. One leg leaped in front of each other, keeping the same rhythm as the beats of vibration that trembled the ground.
The ground squelched with the pump of Edmund’s shoes, the grass lighting up with orange in reflection of the on-going attacks, the attacks on their house, their neighbourhood.
His father was still in there.
His steps faltered, which was too much according to Peter’s patience.
“Run,” he screamed, despite the fact that he was already far too close to his ears.
“Hurry,” Mum responded in retaliation, most likely to Lucy, whose tiny feet were struggling to keep with Peter’s long stomping strides. She cried out in a scrabble as she tried to catch up, still attached to Susan’s side.
The shelter was only an arms length away, hurrying Peter’s restlessness as he ran faster- attempting to get Edmund to match his speed.
He looked back at their house, fragments of debris knocking against the shingles. The window was safe. He tore himself away from Peter, the area where his hand was now finally cooled with wind. “Wait, dad!”
Peter was on his heels as his fingers nearly gripped the fabric of his too-hot sweater vest, but slipped with a squeak in the dampness of the grass.
“Edmund no!” Mum’s voice faded away the closer he got to the backdoor.
She turned her wrath onto Peter, still attempting to recover from his fall.
“Peter, come back,” she called out, voice cracked in a scold.
Her pleads were ignored as Peter’s footsteps grew heavier behind him. Edmund flung the door open. What a pain it would be if it hit his brother.
“Edmund, come back!” His voice came with a groan and more than a tinge of annoyance as he stalked Ed into the living room, his feet now louder than the bombs themselves.
He was still there, illuminated by the glow of the outdoors, sitting untouched by the windowsill. He touched the wood of the frame, Peter’s voice still in a yell, “Edmund get down!” He tackled him onto the floor without the chance to give Peter a reaction.
As if he couldn’t follow instructions perfectly fine by himself.
His ears popped as another crash- louder than the ones before hit the house, glass exploding in high-pitched crackles, landing around him and Peter, leaving the curtains blowing out in the open.
“Come on, you idiot!” Peter yelled, as if this were the perfect time to insult Edmund, again. He gripped the remnants of his now-shattered father, the glass cold as it cut into his palms.
“Run!” Peter screamed, his hand now attached back onto the collar of his vest as they slid around the hardwood of their floors and made their way back on the grass.
Light flashed closer now as they did in their living room. Mum shouts of encouragement travelled through the wind as she stood at the forefront of their shelter. Peter practically leaped in, Edmund’s sweater vest finally released from the mercy of Peter’s claws. He was thrown onto the bed, Mum’s hands already rushing to check him, his hand still curled around his father.
Peter loomed above them, face distorted in anger as he scolded him.
“Why can’t you think of anyone but yourself! You’re so selfish!” His voice was deepened, too similar to his Father’s deep-chested reprimands before he left.
“You could have gotten us killed!” He shouted even sharper, despite the fact they were all bound in the same small room.
“Stop it!” She finally chided back to him. He looked down in deserved shame. Lucy hugged tighter onto Susan, eyes downturned towards her brother’s tall figure, hand covering Lucy’s eyes and ears. The room was silenced by Mum’s soothing shushes, hands tracing over the span of Edmund’s face. Father landed beside him on the bed, blood rushing back into Edmund’s tensed fingers where he held him. Mum’s perfume wafted in through his nostrils as she came to embrace his neck. Peter glared at him.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Peter opened his mouth, as if he were going to scoff. “Why can’t you just do as you're told?” he said, voice still dripped with arrogance.
The shelter shook as Peter shut it.