Narnia Edmund fic WIP
Jan. 27th, 2025 09:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
last_haven“He really is a funny man! Oh, Edmund, you’ll like him.”
Edmund blinked, looking up from the letter he’d been writing to Lady Nephele, one of his best intelligence gatherers, and said “what’s that?”
Lucy laughed at him while Susan rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’re willing to give us a moment of your precious time, you’d have heard us talking about the new painter.”
“Oh,” he muttered with every iota of disregard he could muster into it, already turning back to his letter. When his sisters had barged into his study with a tray of tea and snacks for themselves and bowl of hearty stew for him, he’d hoped they’d just come to mother him a bit. He should have known that they’d had an ulterior motive outside of simple familial concern for his wellbeing. At least they’d only let Luna, one of Susan’s guards, in with them—the massive wolf was quiet as a tomb and not inclined to cluck after him. “That’s that boy from the Lone Islands. Coriander or something, right?”
Now it was Lucy’s turn to scoff. “Kadir! And he’s not a boy. He’s just about your age now.”
“Mm, well, nice to know you don’t think of me as a boy any longer.” He paused to glance up at his sisters. “You can bet I’ll remind you that you admitted that when next you try to say otherwise.”
Lucy groaned and Susan sighed. “Sometimes, Edmund, you really are such a child.”
“Literally not what you said not even a minute ago.”
“Oh, Su, he’s just trying to get us off topic!” Lucy huffed and Edmund had to bite his lip from smiling at being called out. “But, Ed, you might as well listen to us because Peter’s already agreed that Kadir’s going to do our portraits and that includes you.”
That made Edmund’s head shoot up, something cracking in his neck from the swiftness of the gesture. “What?! And when was this decided?”
“This afternoon,” Susan answered primly. “During the tea you decided to skip,” she added, her voice turning crisp.
Ah. She was still harping on him overworking himself; he should have known. “Well, forgive me, but when I get asked to weigh in on a court case like this business with the centaurs and the raiders in the north, I take it seriously.”
“So serious that you missed tea, breakfast, and last night’s supper.”
He wished he was younger and callous enough to call her out for smothering him, but he mostly didn’t want to be called childish for it. Also, she was entirely correct. “I’ve eaten,” he insisted instead, gesturing vaguely towards a now empty spot where there had been dishes before, but it appeared some helpful servant had made off with his evidence. He frowned and avoided their disbelieving faces; he was half tempted to ask Luna to smell the air because her perceptive nose probably would have been able to pick what he’d eaten last week, let alone this morning, but then she would probably refuse if only to back Susan up. “I had fruit and some meat, so I’m perfectly sated, thank you.”
“Oh? Fruit and some meat? What a whole apple and cut of sausage?” Lucy drawled. She did have him dead to rights—actually, he’d only eaten most of the apple before he sat it aside to write a few more letters and then when he’d turned back to eat more, his food had vanished. “When you collapse again, I’m telling Mister Tumnus not to let you have a single pen or sheaf of paper until we have you so fat you’ll have to be rolled everywhere. See if you starve yourself then!”
He rolled his eyes. “With the bad wheat harvest last autumn, we don’t have money to afford a whole new wardrobe for me, thanks.” He paused, pen hovering over the paper as the word wardrobe caught and needled his mind, like realizing he had a bit of meat stuck between his teeth; try as he might, he couldn’t think of why it begged him to remember something. If it was truly significant though, his sisters’ words brushed it away before he could give it much mind.
“Last year’s wheat might have been poorly, but other crops have done well. The vineyards especially so. We have so many orders for more wine sales that we will do just fine,” Susan interrupted before sitting her cup down. “And once again, we’ve gone off topic.”
Damn. They were on point today. “Fine, let’s talk about these portraits. I certainly didn’t consent to this. Why wasn’t I asked before Peter went and just decided it?”
“That’s why you should have come to tea!” Lucy snapped, nearly spilling the plate of biscuits she thrust at him. “Here, have one. Missus Beaver sent them and you might as well take a break and eat some as we talk.”
Edmund glared with all the irritation he could fake; he pointedly swept some crumbs off his papers, but did grab the largest biscuit. How Mrs. Beaver got her biscuits to stay so soft and fresh when she sent them all the way to their castle from her dam was beyond him, but even if he had lost his sweet tooth, he couldn’t resist her biscuits. But then, perhaps he was going to have to learn how to do that as he choked back a curse when some raspberry jam spilled out of the biscuit and nearly onto his papers. Now, his irritation was real as he found something to wipe the mess up from his desk.
“The tea was to meet with Kadir so we could decide about whether to do portraits or not,” Susan went on, carefully nibbling on her own biscuit.
“Since you weren’t around to vote against it, we out voted Peter,” Lucy added, grinning mischievously as she offered a slice of salami to Luna, who gingerly accepted the cut with her teeth. “So, it’s your own fault.”
Edmund scoffed. “Girls and your frivolities.” He quickly had to dodge a crumpled up ball of parchment that had been one of his earlier drafts as Lucy lobbed it at him. He hid a smile as she quickly started to fire another volley of paper balls as Susan helpfully handed her more—even Luna silently nudged a few closer to Susan with a large paw. Traitors, all of them.
When Susan cleared her throat, they both stopped. “There was nothing frivolous about this. Since we have had to push our next Progress back-” Edmund had been there for that talk—while they’d like to take their royal tour about the country every four years, the bad harvest and strained relations with Calormen after the almost war had left Narnia with far too much excitement and too little money to justify the Progress. “-we decided that we shall send our portraits on tour instead, along with some nobles who will collect taxes and hear any complaints or messages. We’ll even send some surveyors along to know what bit of infrastructure needs repairs the most. When it’s all done, we’ll sell the portraits and use the proceeds to help fix the roads and buildings.”
“We thought you might approve of the fact it’ll be cheaper,” Lucy added.
“Well, it would be,” he admitted reluctantly before sighing. “I hope you’re not going to try and talk me into getting more new clothes for these portraits. I’ve already got a new suit on order and you’ll never convince Peter to sit still unless you tell him it’ll be for a new set of armor.”
“Oh! We should remember that one,” Lucy cooed before grabbing a pen and scrap of paper to, indeed, write it down.
“And no, your new suit will be fine.” Susan turned to the wolf by her side. “We saw the tailor working on it just this afternoon, right, Luna?”
“I’m no judge of clothes,” the wolf finally spoke, “but it seemed a fine enough suit. The sleeves will be perfect for secreting a blade or two up your cuff, your majesty.”
Edmund and Lucy laughed while Susan groaned at her guard; the big wolf merely sat serenely, perfectly at ease with teasing her queen. “Well,” he finally sighed, “seeing as I’ve been out-maneuvered, I don’t get to have a say in this. At least tell me that I’m not going to have to be the one to sit for this Fakir fellow-”
“Ka-Dir!” Lucy insisted.
“-first, am I?”
His elder sister rolled her eyes at both of them. “No. Peter will.”
Edmund’s jaw fell open. “Have you gone mental?”
“Ed!” Susan scolded, while Lucy quickly spoke up in her defense.
“He volunteered,” Lucy explained, lobbing another balled up sheet of paper at his head, scoring a direct shot on his temple.
“Ah,” Edmund nodded, sagely. “So, he’s the one who’s gone mental. Thanks for clearing that up.”
That earned him a fresh barrage of paper balls; he had to hide behind his hands as the girls pummeled him with his rejected parchment papers. It was only once he held up his hands in surrender that Lucy finally continued her explanation. “Peter said that he wanted to get his done and over with, so better for him to go first.”
“Lucy will go after him while I’m in Anvard for the autumnal wheat harvest festival,” Susan added. “I’ll sit for him after that. You’ll be last at about Christmas time.”
“We figured you’d be less likely to want to run around doing stuff at that time of year, anyway.”
Ouch; they had him there. He detested being out in the cold and, heaven forbid, the snow. Too many bad memories. “Touché,” he muttered, stuffing the rest of his biscuit into his mouth to avoid having to say more.
“So, we’re all in agreement,” Susan said with the finality of a closing remark to a treaty signing. “We’ll all get our portraits done before next spring.”
“Yes,” he finally sighed. “I’ll sit for the damn picture.”
Lucy cheered while Susan smiled. “Oh, good, and here I thought we’d have to twist your arm about it!” she laughed; Edmund had half a mind to tease her, but she must have noticed and quickly spoke up again. “And Ed, really, you’ll like Kadir! I guarantee, you won’t mind sitting for him at all.”
“I’m sure you’ll get on fine with him,” Susan added as she stood. “Now then, as you have actually managed to eat your meal, I believe Lucy and I shall leave you to finish your work if you promise to actually try to get a decent amount of sleep tonight.”
Edmund almost stuck his tongue out at her, but he did stare pointedly at her as he took a large bite of a new biscuit. “Well, I’ll have a better chance of getting finished if I’m not being interrupted by people…”
Lucy just shook her head and jumped to her feet before tugging Susan out of the room. “Come on, Su. We can tell when we’re not wanted. But, really, Ed, trust me—you’ll like Kadir!”
Susan waved at him as Luna slipped out the door behind them, the three of them vanishing as the door shut.
Edmund looked at the door a long moment, shaking his head in genuine amusement before his smile faded. He sat aside his papers to go picking through another stack of sheets. More reports and notes from his spies; he searched through them until he pulled out a short debriefing. On the paper, his spy had carefully summed up what they knew about his and his sibling’s new court painter: Kadir Abbasi, the younger son of a pair of immigrants to the Lone Islands who then himself made his way to Narnia.
According to his records, Kadir was highly recommended with legitimate warmth from his instructors who praised his surprisingly lifelike portraits; his background claimed he was nearly squeaky clean aside from a single note of having been scolded for some vandalism when he was a young man when he painted a colorful, but politically condemning mural against the Tisroc. Hardly anything to ruffle feathers here in Narnia. There were other notes—his parents and siblings were similarly well regarded, although there seemed to be at least one relative who had run up gambling debts, but didn’t seem to be particularly close to Kadir or his parents—but the worst note against him was that his family was originally from Calormen, although he’d been very small when his family left. Apparently, something to do with religion; the paternal grandfather claimed to get a vision that led the family to pull up stakes and search out Narnian territories, but that was hardly unique—lots of so called soothsayers dreamed of Aslan’s return when they’d beaten the Witch, making them travel to Narnia in hope of meeting a true holy figure.
Looking it over, there really didn’t seem to be a reason to reject the idea of getting his portrait done by the man. And he really did seem to have his siblings’ vote of confidence. There was nothing for it; he’d be getting his portrait done. Oh well, he’d just grin and bear it. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with that for awhile—and in the meantime, he still had plenty of work to do.
Setting his notes about the painter aside, he reached for Nephele’s report again. Looking it over, he grimly noted that he really did have bigger fish to fry than a portrait. Her report was mostly just confirming the status quo of the south, but she did mention that there were stirrings of people causing trouble politically. Hardly a shock, but this seemed to be some foreign power looking to cause mischief and that he couldn’t stand. Unfortunately, she had nothing concrete outside than rumors and suspicions. Still, he trusted her gut, which meant one more thing that he’d have to look out for.
Yes, he’d add it to his list of duties and gladly—he owed so much to his adopted nation, to her forgiving people, and so dearly to Aslan. He’d do anything to protect their kingdom—what was this in comparison to all the other risks and duties he’d take up in her name.
