[ONGOING]
[THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA:
PRINCE CASPIAN ➵ THE LAST BATTLE]
[EDMUND PEVENSIE × FEM!OC]
[HIGHEST RANKINGS:
#548 IN 'FANFICTION' OUT OF 116K STORIES
#164 IN 'FANTASY' OUT OF 22.4K STORIES]
･°*✧•.
𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧
- 𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦
Begi...
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40 | DEATH FROM BLOOD LOSS
"King Edmund? Edmund, are you all right?"
He wakes to an incessant shaking and concerned eyes, blurred against the glow of the late afternoon sun.
"Your Majesties! I've found him!" shouts the individual, and following this comes an anticipated cry of worry from the High King.
"Edmund Pevensie!" he exclaims in both a relived and chiding tone, brushing the hair that covers Edmund's forehead to the side in an inspection for any form of injury.
Next to rush over to the king's side is the Gentle, and she praises Caspian for his good work-
"What happened? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"
As expected, a ceaseless firing of questions ensues. Peter asks away, but doesn't quite give Edmund sufficient buffer between his words for a chance to answer to any of his concerns.
"Where's Elliott?" questions the Just. Holding his heavy head in his hands, he sits up amongst the dense undergrowth and scans the scene, not once establishing visual contact with the individuals that surround him. The tingle in his fingertips from shaking still lingers on; The memory haunts his senses.
Abruptly, a short burst of vertigo washes through him yet again. Overwhelmed by an unbalanced, whirling reality, it is just like how it felt seconds fore he passed out.
Debilitated. That's how his body feels now.
Worn out.
Frazzled.
Edmund's mind has let his body pay for its earlier loss of control, and he presses his palms against his weary eyes in an attempt to sedate his spinning head.
"Well- we were hoping that finding one of you will lead us to the other-" explains Caspian, unsure of how he should continue, "We- we wouldn't know any better than you, your Majesty."
A silence fills the air, and Edmund's memories reel to recollect the events prior to when darkness was thrust upon him.
"T-Telmarines," he finally says.
"What?" the High King furrows his brows at his brother's quiet remark.
"Telmarines. They- They attacked."
"And you're suggesting that the soldiers managed to knock you out?" probes Susan, her eyes flooded with a wave of distrust.
"Y-Yes. I suppose so-"
Lies.
"Elliott must have been taken then," says Peter, dread finding its way onto his features, "Oh Aslan, on the night of the raid, Miraz- he so wanted her for what she was capable of. But-"
