A/N: Welcome to All The Loose Threads, my first attempt at a prompt fic. I was bored this afternoon, and I didn't feel like doing anything very long, so I decided to give this a go. I used a random word generator and just went with it!
This is my first attempt at anything like this, so I'd love to know what you think. If it's well received, I'll probably do some more.
There are days when Edmund almost believes that Lucy could live on nothing but fresh air and starlight.
The setting sun glints off the walls and floors of the bare white marble corridors, dazzling Susan and forcing her to throw up an arm to shade her eyes. It is then that she realises with gleeful anticipation that she has an entire castle's worth of empty corridors to deck out in tapestries and rugs of her choosing.
The first one took Peter completely by surprise. He was woken by his own hoarse scream, shaking and sweating. His siblings came rushing in and Susan and Lucy showered him with kisses and murmured comfort, but it was Edmund's firm hand on his arm and sorrowful understanding look that soothed his pounding heart.
"How about blue?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Edmund. Are you colour blind? We can't possibly make the drapes in here blue."
"Calm down, Su, it was only a suggestion."
By the end of the fifth year of their reign, Lucy has forgotten that she was anyone's daughter except Aslan's.
The morning after the coronation ball, the Pevensies are taken aside and informed quietly that after a hundred years of famine and lack of trade, Narnia is completely bankrupt.
Peter darted forward to catch Edmund as he staggered and collapsed heavily into his brother's arms, clothes singed and skin blistered and burnt horribly. Peter surveyed the damage in dismay.
The priests of Tash's temple want to paint their altar with his blood, and the Tisroc wants his head on a golden platter. None of this particularly frightens him, but when he finally stops to rest in the endless rolling desert into which he has fled, throat parched, gasping for breath, he is utterly terrified to find that his water-skin has leaked.
Peter, as the High King, serves his people with his blood, sweat and tears. Edmund, as his brother, serves the High King with his.
The countries which have just one reigning monarch, as is the custom, mutter about and ridicule the idea of one country being run by four sovereigns. But when they meet them in the flesh, even the most devoted believers in autocracy must admit how brilliantly they complete each other.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please, please review, I'd love to know what you thought :)