Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/540235.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Chronicles_of_Narnia_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Pevensie/Edmund_Pevensie, Caspian/Edmund_Pevensie
  Character:
      Edmund_Pevensie, Caspian_(Narnia)
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-06-11 Words: 1512
****** Kisses Between Kings ******
by abstractconcept
Summary
     Set in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Caspian and Ed are feeling lonely
     and comfort each other.
Peter grew up first.
It only made sense. Peter was older--several years older. But for some reason,
as a child, Edmund always thought he’d catch Peter up. It was only fair, after
all. Peter got to be the oldest for a while, and then it’d be Edmund’s turn,
right? Only it wasn’t fair. Peter always got to be first, always got to be the
oldest.
And now it was unfair in a different sort of way.
Now Edmund was in Narnia, and Peter was the one left out. Of course, it was all
Peter’s fault for growing up, but Edmund couldn’t help but miss him a little.
Ever since he could remember, Edmund had both looked up to and resented Peter.
Peter the Magnificent—yes, it wasn’t an exaggeration. But now Edmund was grown
up, too—grown up a little, anyhow—and since his simmering insecurities had died
down, Edmund was finding that he missed Peter.
A bit, at any rate.
Edmund looked up at the stars slowly wheeling overhead. Sparks from the
campfires leapt into the sky, joining the cold white pinpricks in the night.
Edmund couldn’t recognize any of the constellations anymore. There was no
Leopard, no Orion, no Faun dancing cosily overhead.
“If you squint, that one looks a bit like my Uncle Miraz,” Caspian remarked,
pointing at one tightly-clustered group of stars. “Doesn’t it? Sort of spotty
and scowling.”
Edmund laughed. “Yes, have Drinian make a note of it somewhere,” he suggested.
“The Usurper.”
He couldn’t quite make Caspian out in the firelight, but somehow he knew the
prince—no, king, was smiling. It was nice to see Caspian smile. It was nice to
see him relax, not just after the adventures they’d gone through, but after his
uncle’s betrayal.
They continued to smile at one another. Lucy was probably asleep by now, poor
kid, and Edmund could hear the sailors singing cheerful, if somewhat bawdy
songs nearby. Up on the crest of a dune, he could just make out Reepicheep and
Eustace, leaning together in the moonlight. Edmund sighed. Even Eustace had
found someone to take comfort in, here in this strange place so far from home.
“You miss your family,” Caspian guessed.
Edmund swallowed hard. Sometimes Caspian was just like Peter—-he had that
unerring instinct for social situations, that ability to read people which
Edmund envied so much.
“Sort of,” he allowed.
He didn’t miss ‘his family.’ He hadn’t missed his family since his father’d
gone off to the war. He hadn’t had a family since then—-well, he had, but it
was different. He’d grown up. He’d grown up and Peter’d grown up and they’d all
grown up together, and then they had to be kids again (what a horrible loss of
control that was! Edmund often wondered what Aslan meant by it) and then
Peter’d been banished and—-and Edmund had been allowed to return to Narnia.
But he sometimes felt as if he’d been the one left behind.
Peter didn’t need Narnia anymore. Peter grew up.
Maybe Peter didn’t need Edmund anymore—-didn’t need the responsibility, didn’t
want to have to go haring off looking out for him, didn’t want Edmund crawling
into his bed in the black of night and squirming up close—-
“Not really,” Edmund amended loudly, as though it would help.
“It must be nice, having people you can always depend on,” Caspian said
wistfully, like he wasn’t even paying attention.
“Someone to boss you around,” Edmund said, sounding like the grumpy child he’d
been so long ago. But Peter had bossed him around—-Peter had tried to be
everyone’s father—Perfect Peter with his Perfect Smile and his Perfect Hair and
his Perfect Perfection—-
“You do miss him,” Caspian laughed. “I can tell.”
“Maybe.”
“Why do you think . . . you were sent back?”
“To learn something else,” Edmund said truthfully. “Or—-to look out for Lucy.”
Caspian nodded. “You keep each other strong—you Pevensies,” he noted.
Edmund frowned up at the stars. Had they kept each other strong? But of course
they had. Through it all, however bad it got, they’d still been a family. Even
when Edmund had done the worst thing that could possibly be done, Peter had
still taken him back, still looked out for him, still loved him. That was what
brothers did. They were strong for one another.
“Yes, we do that,” he said in a quiet voice.
That was Peter’s job. He was the eldest. He was the one who went first. He got
the first tastes of glory, but he also faced most of the first trials. He was
never afraid, not that Edmund ever heard. He was like Father—he bravely went
off to war and did absolutely everything he could for his family—-he was better
than Father, because he never left his family behind, never made Mother cry,
always let Edmund crawl into bed, always curled his strong, protective arm
around Edmund’s body, always wiped away the hot tears spilling down Edmund’s
face, always willing to give soft words and rough kisses and—
“I envy you,” Caspian said, his voice almost a whisper.
Ed blinked the darkness away. Caspian had to do it all himself. Caspian didn’t
have Peter’s firm hand to guide him, couldn’t snuggle up to Peter in the dead
of the night, pretending to be half-asleep and unconscious of his own body,
never had Peter rest his chin against his head, never felt Peter’s warm fingers
slipping generously into his pants . . .
Edmund rolled onto his side, only a little to surprised to find Caspian right
there, his nose only inches away, his wide eyes even wider than Edmund had
imagined.
“You don’t have to be envious,” Ed told him earnestly, reaching a hand out to
touch Caspian’s face. “You’re a good king.”
Caspian blinked a little, his eyes filling. Really, Caspian was one of the most
emotional blokes Edmund had ever met, but Ed couldn’t find it in him to object.
Instead he leaned up, kissing Caspian softly, the pop and crackle of the fire
covering their soft moans. Caspian needed this. Someday he’d find a queen and a
wife, but now, Caspian was alone, with only Edmund as his true equal.
Caspian pushed Ed down with one hand, scootching up to him in the darkness so
they could get close together, warmth against warmth in the cool night air.
“Is this all right?” Caspian asked, voice full of sincere concern.
Edmund had to bite back a smile, but how could he tell Caspian that he and
Peter used to do this on an almost nightly basis back home, had found the magic
of Narnia in each other’s spit-slick hands?
“Yes,” Edmund assured him.
It had been hard, too hard, to grow down again, to be banished from liquor and
politics and all the adult concerns, to be sent to bed at dusk and patted on
the head and treated like children. The least they could do was respect each
other, the least they could do was to find that one, grown up thing that no one
could take away, not if they were careful and quiet, anyhow.
Caspian kissed him gently. “Are you sure it’s all right? It does not seem . . .
befitting a king,” he added, struggling with the ethics.
Edmund kissed him back, feeling the soft sand at his back and the fresh breeze
that poured over the island. “We are both kings,” he reminded Caspian. “What
better way . . . to be sure there is no coercion, than for kisses to be between
kings?” he added.
Caspian bit his lip for a moment, dark and brooding, before nodding in
satisfaction and leaning forward again.
They didn’t undress. They only peeled back layers of clothing, just enough. If
someone came by, one of the sailors, or Lucy, or Eustace, they could cover
themselves quickly enough.
The evening was cool, but Caspian’s breath was warm against Ed’s cheek. He felt
Caspian’s hand—his fingers long and elegant and not near so strong or sure as
Peter’s—wrapping around him, stroking him, and Edmund did his best to return
the pleasure.
Caspian was a sight; his hair was wild, his lips parted just so, his eyes
holding a spark of some long-banked desire, and Edmund kissed him hard, kissed
him hard and kept his eyes closed, smiling when Caspian gasped and Ed felt
warmth flood over his fingertips.
Caspian continued to caress him, but Ed tactfully pushed his hand away. “That’s
all right,” he murmured. “That’s enough.”
Caspian looked down at him, his face blank with surprise. “That’s enough?” he
repeated quietly.
Ed smiled up at him, reaching up to twirl a curly lock around his finger.
“That’s enough,” he assured the king with gentle fondness. It was enough.
Somehow Ed knew that after this adventure, he’d go home to Peter, and he
wouldn’t need Narnia anymore, either.
Edmund was growing up.
Perhaps part of growing up was realizing that he needed Peter’s firm hand.
And no one else’s—not even gentle, handsome Caspian’s—-would do.
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