"So, Edmund," started Lucy, breaking the silence. Well, it wasn't much of a silence; the pen dragging on the paper would make a "scraaatch, skrrit" and the pages would go "flap, floop." 

The silence was between Lucy and her brother.

She liked doing that; sit somewhere and listen to the silence.
Usually, when Edmund would write in this odd-looking book.
He wrote all day, anytime he could. No snacks or bathroom breaks. He would come down eating, excuse himself and go back upstairs to write.
It was like living with a ghost or a very moody teenager.
Even when he was a King, Edmund would not be so devoted to a task.

The adolescent girl admired this commitment; she couldn't stay still for more than a minute.
That's why she was upside down, in Eustace's bedroom – he and Edmund shared one– watching him scribble in silence.

It started a few days ago, weeks after they came back from Narnia.
The magic land would be dearly missed by all of them, especially Lucy.
The thought of never seeing Aslan, Reepicheep or any of her was giving her chills and tears up her.

The ancient queen would usually push the terrible thoughts away, busy herself with whatever chore she had to do in this household.
Every so often, Eustace would help. The relationship with her cousin had considerably bloomed in Narnia. It was nice to converse with the blond about the magic land, and how it was before the Telmarins.

But what was the real world anyway? A world without talking lions, fawn, snow witches, kings, and castles? Maybe lions didn't chat(She made sure of it, addressing all the felines in the city's zoo when she was younger.), satyr were only fairy tales, but Lucy knew people could be as cold as ice.

She missed the warmth of Cair Paravel, the salty smell of shimmering sea on the Dawn Treader, the gentle wind blowing in her hair, and the tickling feelings of abundant grass on her bare feet.

She missed the softness of Aslan's golden fur, his deep voice, and sage words.

Sure, she didn't have a crown resting on her head, but the young girl felt like the weight of the world rested on her shoulder, crushing.
What's the difference between royal duties and daily responsibilities?
At least she had fun as Queen, surrounded by her family and friends.

And apparently, she wasn't alone to miss Narnia.
Lucy isn't to talk about it, but one day when she was washing the dishes, Eustace told her that Edmund was whispering about castles, a prince and adventures oversea.

The brunette certainly knew about her brother's obsession with gold, politics, and nobless. That part of Narnia was perhaps what he missed most.

In lack of an answer, she continued.

"I have meant to ask; what must you be drafting in that book for it to take so much focus and time? Is it a diary? Didn't yourself said diaries were for little girls?," she asked, straightening herself up. The young man set down his pen, sighing. He didn't loved being interrupted.

He let himself fall in his chair, being on its edge seconds ago.
For once that Eustace wasn't rumbling about bugs or complaining about something, his devoted sister had to bother him.
Gathering a deep breath, Edmund opened his mouth.

"It is a private journal. I'm documenting everything that happened. I don't think either of our dear siblings took that initiative before leaving for the Americas. Therefore, I'm doing it," he answered impatiently, eager to go back to his so-called journal. For anybody else, this ambiguous answer would've been unsatisfactory. But Lucy knew better than that.

Edmund was writing their perilous adventures in Narnia! He probably deemed necessary to do it; she guessed.
Maybe something else too? Her brother would not write anything excepts if it was necessary to remember.

"Why so? Do you intend on publishing it?" she asked anyway. That what the most words she had gotten out of Edmund for days.

The young man willfully ignored her.
She waited for a few minutes, maybe he was thinking?

Lucy took the hint; she left, gently closing the door behind her.
The young girl walked back to her room.
Her eyes came across a blue painting.
For a moment, sadness overpowered her, weakening her knees.
Maybe it was her, but the glossy paint looked wet.

Lucy wanted to rip it out of the wall and smash it under her foot, and at the same time cradle it close, token of the past.

But she stood strong, not giving in.
Swallowing back tears, she sat on her bed, pulling on the sheets.

If only she could just forget everything about Narnia. It would be easier to go about her day without thinking of how much that statue looked like Aslan". Or how that young man has the same haircut as Caspian, that lady's dress looks like Susan's and that pillar right there looks like the one from Cair Pavarel.

Lucy flung her head on her pillow.
"Ow!" she cried when something hard made itself known under her pillow.
She reached out, sighing.

This was likely some of Eustace's books laying around. His passion for books was now extended to fairy tales and history, not only science or fun facts.
She had to admit it; the boy was smart and curious.

But that doesn't mean he can let his things lay around like that, she thought.

However, she was surprised to discover that this wasn't some of Eustace's books.
It was a worn-out book, the blue leather jacket chipped away by the years, the pages crispy, as if they were dipped in seawater frequently.

She turned the book around. It had a familiar Narnian feeling to it. It was also terribly familiar by its modest appearance.
Lucy instantly knew where it was from Narnia. Quite obvious, actually.
Somehow, this book had found itself in her world, and she was ready for some more Narnian mystery.

Reading the first used page in elegant handwriting, she started her lecture:

Journal of The Dawn Treader
By King Caspian The Tenth

"What are you doing?" the young man asked, leaning on the shoulder of the other.

Soft light peering trough the balcony was fulling the cabin with warmth and the smell of the sea. It was a wonderful morning, and Caspian knew he was wasting it by sitting at his desk and writing, but he couldn't help it.

The sea was calm, the wind was pushing them in the correct direction, only a day away from their next destination. There wasn't really anything to do.
Well, there was something quite attractive to do, but Caspian was wiser than to risk it while the crew was up.

"I am writing. About you," he simply replied, leaning back against Edmund's back when the boy's arm slithered around his neck.

It was a pleasant feeling, having the Pevensie with him.
Edmund knew how to soothe him down, to soothe him, while still making Caspian feel like he was riding a storm.

It was wonderful.
He was wonderful.
The King was a sucker for sweet kisses — stealing some for himself —, lovely arms, warm hands and deep passioned eyes.

He had never felt this way.
This aching for more than secrecy.
The feeling of jealousy when another man complimented Edmund.

Caspian wasn't jealous or a greedy man. But he couldn't stop himself from growling like a wolf when someone touched what was his.

Naturally, Edmund wasn't a possession to hide away in security or a trophy to display.

No, Edmund was like an untameable winter storm, an unstoppable force. He was fierce, always prepared to fight, but so soft, precious, and caring. Sometimes, he looked more of a mighty king than Caspian merely did.

And each time, the king of Telmar couldn't tear his eye away from the rare beauty Edmund was.
Some of the crew had noticed, and fewer commented on it.

Caspian shrugged it off as sincere admiration or brotherhood. Some of them believed others didn't.
There were whispers that Caspian was trying to break Edmund's status or throw him off the boat, eyes open for any little mistake the king of old would make.

Of course, the only thing Caspian desired to throw was Edmund over a tabl-

"You think I have lovely eyes? Isn't that cute," Edmund purred, words rolling on his tongue like honey.

"I believe all of you of is pretty," Caspian threw back, shutting up Edmund.

"I love the feel of your skin on mine, the tickling of your hair on my cheek, the way your hand fits perfectly in mine, the way your lips moves when you talk. I treasure it all, even if you don't..." Edmund's eager eyes softened in awe, a sweet smile on his delicate features.

This was a special smile, reserved for moments like that.
This smile was only for Caspian.
Edmund even didn't smile like that to his sister.

The thought of a part of Edmund belonging exclusively to Caspian sent his heart in a race.

"You have a way with words, Caspian," Edmund purred in his ear, taking a long pause to walk stealthily around the chair and straddled the Telmarin.

Oh, Caspian loved the way his name formed on Edmund's lips. In fact, he quite enjoyed the way his lover would whisper his name in the quiet of the night, yell it in the face of danger, hiss it, swear it and call him when they would meet on the bridge.

"But I'm more talented with actions than you, as we well know," he continued, his hands finding their way in Caspian's flowing hair.

The king looked up, Edmund towering him in this position. Then he closed his eyes, his arms naturally pulling Edmund's closer as their lips crashed together.

Like the first time, it felt amazing, breathtaking.
Caspian could never get tired of it.
And he knew so, for it was one of their favorite activities when they were alone.

That and, other things.

It always felt good, right, exciting, and made his heart beat faster.

Caspian quite noted the difference between Susan's chaste kiss and Edmund's ardent kiss.

Susan was soft, loving, caring. It made him feel safe, loved. But sad, since she was leaving him. They were all leaving him. It didn't felt personal, since they were in front of a vast crowd. He did love the queen of old.
She was intelligent, clever, gorgeous, and a fighter. A precious flower floating in a sea, not bothered by the waves.
But it wasn't thrilling.
It didn't bring that spark Caspian was desperately craving for.

Edmund was... how to justly say; a different cup of tea.
He was aggressive, exciting, thrilling, hot, and kept Caspian on the edge, constantly wanting more.

The young man knew how to play with him, all the little strings he had to pull, battling fiercely for control.
The king knew Edmund liked to control things, was a bit manipulative when it was required, and had issues with power and knowing when to step down.

His graceful hands gently pulled on Caspian's hair, a small whimper in the back of his throat sending a hot feeling trough the Telmar's stomach. And that merely showed what the young man was capable to perform.

Edmund's softly bit down on Caspian's lips, tugging it, mocking him.
Such a tease, he thought fiercely.

In revenge, the man took hold of Edmund's arse with one hand and pulled him closer while his other hand was tugging on the younger man's shirt, soon finding soft skin.
He made his hand run up Edmund's back, making the king of old shiver in his arms.

It was idyllic, send shivers down his spine, warmth in his body, beating heart.
Those were the sparks Caspian wanted.

He knew from the first time Edmund's lips touched his own that he would not obtain them anywhere else.

And as much as he wanted to show it off, let the entire world know that Edmund was his, he couldn't.
For he was King of Telmar, bind by duty to provide an heir, have a queen by his side.

That's why he had fled the castle, ran from his responsibilities on a crazy sailing quest.

But how so much it was worth it, for he had found the Pevensie siblings again. Or maybe they had found him? And now he got to share his cabin with someone. He had someone to hold close at night when Eustace was asleep. Someone to steal kisses from, someone to secretly hold hand with on the bridge, when nobody was looking.

It enraged him; that nobody would know. That they had to conceal their love, like some sort of crime.
He knew there was another problem, but he had no means to bring it up. For now, Caspian would settle for quiet kisses in the privacy of a cabin, Edmund straddling him, heat raising between the two.

Interrupting his train of thoughts, Edmund pulled back to take a breath.
He stared in Caspian's eyes, a faint blush powdering his pale skin.
The king loved that look. That disheveled expression, hair all over his face, collar open, lips red, swollen by kissing, chest rising up and down rapidly, and a hungry look in those chocolate eyes.

Caspian gulped, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
This wasn't the first time he had witnessed Edmund like that. He himself must not be looking very kingly.

But every time, it made him feel reckless again, wanting more.
Caspian was about to dive in the younger boy's neck but a knock at the door halted him in his move.

Quickly, Edmund left his seat, leaned over on the table, pointing at a random map, rearranging his shirt.

Simultaneously, the door opened to Lucy. "Hi! I hope I'm not bothering; you look very focused. Regardless, I just wanted to ask if you've seen Eustace anywhere," she started, clueless of what happened moments ago.

"I don't think so. Last time I saw him, he was arguing with Reepicheep over something," replied Edmund, head down to not betray his blush.

"Try somewhere around the barrels; I found him there a few times," suggested Caspian, his breath short, his gaze not leaving the map.

"Uh, alright. You two have fun doing, whatever you're doing..."

And with that, she was off.

Caspian dearly loved Lucy, but sometimes she had terrible timing. They stared at the door for a solid minute, making sure she was gone.

Then they found each other's eyes, exchanging love words in silence. Nobody could ever hear them.
Edmund's leaning down softly kissed Caspian and walked to the door.

"Well, I better be off. She'll need some help to find Eustace..." he waved, peered through the door, and disappeared behind it.

Caspian breathed in, the smell and taste of Edmund longing on.
He could nearly feel him in his arm again.

The king scoffed.
His lover was gone for less than a minute, and he already wanted him back.

Caspian sighed for the last time and got back to writing. Well, at least he would be able to write something new...

Lucy's mouth was gaping wide in shock.
She couldn't believe what she had just read.
Words were not enough to describe the surprise, shock, and disgust she felt.
Caspian had many qualities, but for once she despises his ability to describe everything with details and wording that made you picture exactly what he meant.

Lucy gaged in disgust, imagine her brother in such a situation. And she knew they didn't just kiss, for once again Caspian had made it perfectly clear to tell how Edmund sounded and, argh.

And it was real because this was clearly something Caspian had written.
Lucy did remember asking them for the whereabouts of Eustace. They did look out of breath and red, but she figured it was because the cabin was hot or they sparred just before.

This journal definitely wasn't hers to read. Did she think: maybe this journal was meant for Edmund?
Lucy thought of giving it to him.

But then again, Edmund did hide his relation from Lucy...
Mmh, it was only fair that she read it before giving it back, isn't it?

Seeing Caspian again made all sorts of feelings resurface in Edmund.
Having the now king's arms around his frame, only a few layers of drenched clothes separating them, letting Caspian's warmth radiating trough Edmund's cold skin.

Edmund always had an unusual interest in the prince.
Caspian was stubborn, reckless, brave like a lion, majestic like a hippogriff, full of pride and love for Narnia and Telmar.
He was also breathtakingly good-looking, but that's only a detail.

But Edmund knew he didn't stand a chance. He was then fifteen years old kid, Peter's little brother.
Edmund loved his brother, but sometimes it was hard to inevitably be the smaller deal.

But then there was Susan.
Everybody knew Caspian had eyes for Susan. And she wasn't interested.

She had refused his advances a few times, but he kept coming with more ways to help her, compliment her skills, or make puppy eyes. Edmund hated this.

Caspian could be so clingy and so... full of himself!
But still, Edmund liked him.
It was hard not to appreciate him, really.
He was humble, ready to do anything for his people, and easy to talk to.

Edmund did like talking to him. They would make fun of Peter, discuss how sweet Lucy was. Caspian was extremely interested in them, and how they were like in the past.
But the conversation would always go back to Susan one way or another.

At first, Edmund did not understand what he was feeling. Admiration? Adoration?
He wanted to prove himself.
But not only to Caspian, but everyone else.

So when that painting started to flood the room and salty water filled his mouth, he knew whatever he was feeling was back.

He was stressed, unsettle, battling against water.
But again, what was stopping him from drowning right there?
To let the water fill his lungs, the weight of his heart dragging him down.
He didn't anything to live for anymore. No kingdom, no loved one, not even family.

If he wanted to die, Narnia would be a good place to do so, he thought.

Hence, he let his head go underwater.
For a moment, it was calm and quiet.
He couldn't hear Eustace's cries anymore or Lucy's laughs.
He couldn't hear that nagging voice in his ear that was saying he wasn't enough.
That he would never be enough.

The frigid water pressed against his skin.

A voice wasn't telling him he would never be enough.

She wasn't telling him that he would never be as good as Petter, sweet as Lucy and Beautiful as Susan.
She wasn't spitting the word traitor in his head over and over.
His head was heavy, battling to go back to the surface.

She wasn't making him panic every time winter came or make him puke when he ate something too sweet for a few years. Fortunately, after a year of therapy, it wasn't a problem anymore. It made him nothing more than sick now.
He closed his eyes, softly smiling.

No, she wasn't doing all that. Not anymore.
But you know what was ordering him to fight, to breathe?
To swim back up?
Strong, warm arms around him, dragging him up, tight around his chest.
At first, he thought those were mermaids taking him down to eat, but it didn't make sense, why would they haul him up? Why's the water dragging on his skin?

Edmund opened his eyes, looking up to whoever was pulling him back to life.
He thought about fighting, getting out of that safe hold.

But if it was Aslan's will to not let him die, then he would not drown today.

"Caspian..." He whispered, empty whatever air was left in his lungs.

Now, he was awake. Was that really Caspian, pulling him back to life, getting him to the surface, putting him on a hard surface, arms still around him?

He was put on the floor and immediately felt something getting up his lungs.
The next thing happening, he was sparring out water and his lungs were once again full of air.

Edmund took a moment to breathe and looked up to see Caspian's concerned look.

The man looked at least four years older than Edmund was, so maybe 22?
He grew a beard, Edmund scoffed.

The king of old smiled, it suited Caspian well. But then again, why was Caspian in the middle of the sea, saving Edmund's life?

The young man had no time to think about it, for his eyes were heavy again and black filled his vision and his mind.

"Tell me, cousin," asked Eustace, one day, reading some nerd book on his bed.

"What is it?" replied Edmund, bothered. He was in the middle of a critically meaningful part of the story.
That was one of the downsides of sharing a room with the blond boy, with many others.

"You remember this bloke, Caspian? You two seemed very close...," suggested the blond, not lifting his head out of his astrology book.

"What do you mean?"
Edmund started to fidget with his pen.
Eustace knew?
Well, he did share a room of hammocks with him and Caspian so maybe he realized but -.

"I know this is none of my business, but I think you're the one to supply me an answer," Eustace laid down his book. The writer could feel his inquiring stare in his back.

Maybe it was accepted in Narnia or mildly tolerated, but Edmund knew for a fact that his world wasn't very open to people like him.

That was one reason why he kept all of his relations with princes of neighbor kingdoms secret when he was King, and hid Caspian to Lucy and Eustace.

He was afraid of people treating him less, thinking of him less.
Maybe one day in the future, people like him would be able to be themselves out in the streets; proud and free.
Maybe one day. But not in Edmund's life, sadly.

"Remember that star lady? I've heard that Caspian wanted her to be his wife. Is it true? Because you seemed to like her a lot too," continued Eustace.

Edmund sighed in relief.
It was indeed the case. Caspian would wed her, make her his queen, provide an heir, and live happily...
His hands were shaking, rolled in a fist.

Edmund didn't care less for her. She was a pleasant lady, who assisted them in their quest, but nothing else.

However, he made himself seem interested in her. To cover up a bit.
But the painful thing was not to pretend to be attracted to her but to see Caspian really being into her. He was giving her the famous puppy eyes.
The king was in total adoration, fascinated by her.

"I... Yeah, he does desire to make her his bride. About me, I am uninterested. I have better thing to do than to... Run off with some... star woman," he scoffed. Could you imagine, Edmund, running with a woman?

Eustace stayed silent a few moments, lost in his thoughts.
Then, his face lit in realization and horror.

"But you would gladly run off with King Caspian, am I no right? You were jealous of her!," accused Eustace, then mumbled about" something making much more sense now."

Edmund turned around, his heart menacing to break out of his chest.

"What ?! Absolutely no way, Eustace! Caspian is like... like a brother to me!" he yelled back, on the edge of his seat.

"Edmund, do not take me for an idiot. I've read enough books to know you were fond of him in a way or another. It is possible you haven't known until now? Well now, you know, you are welcome," declared the blond, smiling, proud of himself.

Edmund stuttered on words, not finding anything else to say.
So he just made Eustace swear to not tell anybody, not even Lucy. He, in addition, said it was more complicated than him just being jealous of a star lady.
Eustace scoffed.

Well, at least the blond wasn't yelling names at him. Perhaps it was the cause of the boy seeing all sorts of things in Narnia...

The campfire was lighting up the area, providing a faint light to those who would stargaze.
Caspian always liked stars.
He used to study them a lot with his professor before his cousin arrived.
Now, he was too busy being King of Telmar and Narnia to even think about staying up at night.

But right now, it was soothing to feel the bolder on his back and his ankle against Edmund's shoulder, the soft breeze caressing his skin.

That's where I belong, he thought.
Caspian dearly enjoyed going on adventures.

When he was still a boy, he would picture himself chasing soulless dragons and saving princesses from towers up the sky. But he knew that some dragons had souls – well, Eustace's soul was still a thing to be proved to exist – and that the prince next of him didn't require a knight in armor.

In fact, Edmund was well capable to defend himself.
And Caspian trusted him.

"You like her a lot, don't you?" the younger started, piercing the silence.

Caspian bit down on his cheek. Was Edmund talking about Susan?
The king knew Edmund had the bad habit of comparing himself to his siblings.
He would often express his love to Lucy on the bridge, but in the privacy of Caspian's cabin, Edmund would let his worries slit.
He often said: I will never be as good as Lucy, or brave as Peter.
And Caspian would often tell him it wasn't true.
That Edmund was good in his own way, that the was the line between brave and reckless is thin.
But they never talked about Susan.

The King of Telmar realized it was a taboo. For both siblings, actually.

When Lucy asked him if he had found a queen, Caspian didn't know how to answer.

"Ah, no. I can never find anyone as amazing as Susan. She was the love of my life; I miss her so dearly."
Was that what he was supposed to say?
It was a lie, and Caspian didn't like lies a lot.
So he just shrugged, trying to ignore Edmund's fist, crushing the table.

Every time he would bring Susan up to one of them; they would shrug, tell him she's off in "the Americas" doing Susan's stuff.
He also noticed Lucy's insecurities.

She would be concerned by her look, by what she was wearing, and how people treated her. Caspian had seen this attitude in a few young maids. They doubted themselves, desiring to distinguish themselves from the others.

But he was surprised to find it in the old queen. She couldn't doubt herself, she was beautiful in her very own way, sweet, smart, and oh so very kind and passionate.

Caspian tried to tell her when he noticed.
She smiled and went on her way.
He never brought it up again.

For Edmund, it was harder to see. The young man would hide behind a mask.
The boy didn't hold any emotions. He would often make a joke, say something sarcastic of snarl a dry comment.
And at the same time, not letting himself be sad, worried, preoccupied, and angry.

Caspian only saw those emotions a few times.

He once heard soft cries and whimpers coming from a storage closet.
It was quiet, and Caspian would not have heard it if he didn't instantly recognize the voice.

Another time would be finding Eustace's clothes. In a few seconds, Edmund went to determinate, to a nose dive into self-loathing and grief.
And Caspian wouldn't talk about that happened in that cave.
They both lost control of themselves.

The things Caspian thought about were... scary, horrible.
He thought of all the things he could make Edmund do with his sword.

Put in under his chin, scar that beautiful pale skin, poke all the freckles one by one until the king of old would beg for death.

It horrified Caspian when he came back to himself, thanks to Lucy.

Without her, he didn't know what would've happened.

Those were the only times he saw Edmund's emotions take control.

It took Caspian a month to totally break down his walls.
It took three words, and Edmund was his.
And as always, Caspian was talking, Edmund; doing.

Three little words whispered in the younger's ear to make his defenses crumble, to open himself completely.

Caspian wouldn't want it any other way...

They were in his cabin once again, just coming back from Ramandu's Island.

The king of old was laying down on the couch, his head resting on Caspian's legs.
He was mindlessly playing with Edmund's soft raven hair.
Caspian didn't notice he was gazing off in the distance until Edmund's hand shifted to his cheek.

"Caspian, I asked you something," he repeated.

"Sorry, I didn't catch it. What was it, Edmund?," he asked, his gaze falling to his partner's soft features.

"I said: you like her a lot, don't you?," after a moment of Caspian's questioning, Edmund sighed."Ramandu's daughter. You seemed so fascinated by her, caught in her starlight web..."

The king's hand went to cup Edmund's face.

ALL U WANNA DO BABEH IS TOUCH ME, LOVE ME' CANT GET ENOUGHSIES

"I do regard her; she held a mighty buffet for the crew and generously helped us with the quest. She's kind and compassionate... but I know what you mean..." he took a moment, trying to puzzle out how to say it without it coming out wrong.

The siblings didn't need heirs or spouse, since they had each other when they ruled.
It wasn't the case for Caspian.

"You know, I am a king. A king must find a queen, provide an heir. I believe she would make a suitable wife. An alliance between the skies and Narnia. Once we get back, I would ask her to be my queen and take her back to Telmar..."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, nodding to himself. He was mumbling, brows frowned, "of course. I was a fool. This makes sense; you need a queen..."

"Edmund... I... I have duties. And as much as I love you, I cannot escape the dreadful day you'll be pulled from my arms. Aslan will take you like he did, four years ago..."

The younger left Caspian's hold, sitting up on the couch, head down, still nodding.

"My love, you are the one I adore. All the stars in the sky couldn't make you less beautiful in my eye," he took one of his lover's hand, kissing it softly.

"In fact, if I could wed you and proclaim you my king, I would. Without a doubt..." Edmund softly smiled. His eyes found their way to Caspian's, sparkling.

"I love you too Caspian, more than words can say," he whispered, before hugging him tightly.

Caspian found himself surprised by desiring Edmund more than he had for Susan.
He loved her, sure; she was amazing.
But make her his queen?
"Susan the beautiful, Queen of Narnia, wife of Caspian the tenth"
Mhm, that sounded wrong.
"Susan the gentle, Queen of Narnia"
Better.
"Edmund the fair, King of Narnia, sharing the throne with Caspian the tenth"
Fantastic.

Caspian felt the heat rise in his chest at the thought. If only it could happen, he would be the happiest king of all...

"Ed! Edmund!," Lucy yelled, bolting in the room.

Took by surprise, the young man dropped his pen to the floor.

"What?" he yelled back, disturbing Eustace in his sleep.
It was early in the morning, the sun providing soft and weak light.

"Susan is at the train station! I just got her letter, and she's arriving soon. You better go to get her," informed Lucy, handing a sheet of paper.

Edmund quickly rose to his feet, grabbed his coat for it was late winter, and ran down the stair.
Lucy heard him passing the news to their uncle and the front door closing.

"Susan? Queen Susan?," asked the younger boy, still sleepy.

"She's also our sister, but yes; Queen Susan. She said she was missing us and will stay here for a few months," claimed the brunette, excited to see her sister again.

My friends invited me to watch a movie but those fuckers forgot to tell me when and now I'm 2 HOURS LATE

Lucy couldn't wait to tell Susan about their latest adventure. She did mention it in one of her letters, but the young woman wanted to hear it in person.

Lucy eyed the journal, abandoned by Edmund on the desk, an oil lamp by its side.

"Exactly what I was looking for..." she whispered, grabbing it.

The cover a leathered blue, clean, with initials carved on the back.
"E.P"
Edmund Pevensie.

"What's this? He never told me, and he keeps it on his person at all times. Is it a diary?," asked Eustace again, upon his feet, yawning.

Lucy took another journal out of her back pocket.
They were strangely small, fitting in two hands.
They also matched, she noted.

"This, my dear Eustace, is the proof of Caspian being alive right now, and so much more" she smiled, branding the two books next to each other.

Intrigued, the blond took the old one, turning it over.
"C.X? Who's that? Why do they match? What is it exactly?," he inquired, inspecting the other one.

"Caspian wrote one detailing what happened on the Dawn Treader, but in its own way. I suggest you don't read it, it's pretty disturbing.," she explained once again, chills coming up her spine rethinking about all that she read before.

Eustace opened the first page, read a couple of lines and gaged comically, disgust in his face:
"This is severely worse than I imagined. But at the same time, no wonder why Caspian is describing Edmund that way. Those two had something on that ship, I'm telling you."

"You knew? How?," it was Lucy's time to ask questions.

"I shared a cabin with them for three months. Also, Edmund talks in his sleep. Nasty habits, he has pretty disturbing and scary dreams. And I'm talking nightmares about a snow lady, that sea monster we fought. But mainly the snow lady. You told me he had a pretty bad experience with her, right? In my opinion, he's not over it," added the blond, sitting back on his bed, Caspian's journal in his hand.

Eustace was right. Edmund still felt bad in winter, more than other people and she remembered the years of him vomiting out sweets.
Once he ate a Turkish Delight on accident, and he was sick for days.

Lucy had no idea if he was just triggered by it or if Jadis still had power over him, with some sort of curse.
But whatever it was, she wanted to help him through it, stay at his side.

Lucy somehow knew giving the journal to Edmund would either help him or make him worse. Once she was finished with it, she would hand it over, cross her heart.

But right now, she was into it, wanting to know how Caspian felt about the goodbyes. Taking back the journals, she closed the door behind her and got in her room.

She threw herself on her bed and opened Edmund's journal. Her brother was gone for at least two hours, so she had time to read a good part of his version...

"Caspian," saluted the boy, joining the king on the bridge.

Caspian was leaning on the rail, eyes lost on the gigantic blue cover that was the sea.
The Drawn Treader was sailing smoothly since the month Edmund was on it at least.

In this entire month, he got closer to Caspian. Very close.
Too close.

They sparred a bit, talked a lot, and nearly spend the entire day by each other's side.
For someone else, all of his would simply be companionship.

But for Edmund, it meant a new feeling.
Something foreign, yet it felt familiar and warm.

Every time his eyes fell on Caspian's shape, his heart would beat a bit faster.
Every time their hands would touch, or simple when his skin grazed Caspian's, Edmund would flush, stutter and get a bit away from Caspian.

And Edmund knew Caspian was well aware of it.
He didn't think that boat needed two people to stir.
He didn't think Caspian needed to be so close for reading a map over Edmund's shoulder.
He didn't believe that Caspian "just wanted to help tie that rope", take his hands, guide them, lean forward, his chest against Edmund's back, and then leave with a big, moronic and stupid smile like if nothing ever happened.

He loved the way Caspian's lips would curl up in a smile and his eyes sparkles when he would see Edmund.

And the king of old certainly didn't think those long looks on the bridge or the cabin were totally innocents.
He knew what those meant, for a couple of servants and even princes had given him that look before. Himself did it a few times, but only a few times.

No, he knew what those king's puppy eyes looked like.
Except Caspian's eyes were not the one of a whimpering pup in adoration, but the one of a predator hunting his prey.

Filled with desire, passion, and a craving for more.
He would always give those when they couldn't touch, a few feet away or on the other side of the ship.

And that is why he decided to confront Caspian about it. This game couldn't go on anymore, Edmund wasn't able to control himself anymore.

He could not continue to ignore those eyes, those warm hands around his arms, those red lips forming mindless words. He couldn't keep controlling his hammering heart.

He couldn't resist the urge to bury his hand in dark brown locks and erase that mocking smirk out of his lips.
Edmund just wanted to-

"Caspian, can we talk for a minute. In private. Your cabin would be best," Edmund started, his hand around the king's arm.

Caspian looked concerned, intrigued.
He put a hand on his chin, caressing his beard, thinking.

Then, he nodded and took Edmund down in his cabin.
Caspian leaned his back on the table, arm crossed on his chest with a grin.

"Is there something wrong?," he asked after a few moments of just staring at each other.

Edmund shocked his head, hyping himself up.
He took a deep breath.

"This needs to stop," Caspian raised an eyebrow, "I see what you are doing, and I want it to stop..." Edmund explained, something stuck in his throat.

Caspian shifted, his feature hardening like stone.
"What are you talking about? I'm not trying to do anything, Edmund," he replied, his eyes piercing through the king of old's skin.

Edmund felt bare, weak, exposed. He really didn't want it to stop, but he couldn't continue.
He and Caspian could never happen. They had to focus on the quest, and Edmund would go after that, wasn't he?

Caspian took a step towards Edmund, his arms falling on his side.
He was close.
Too close.

Edmund tried to push him away, his hands on the king's chest, but Caspian merely shifted.
The young man could feel his heart going crazy.

Caspian secured the younger's hand, taking them in his.
He pulled Edmund closer, his hot breath hitting on his skin.

The king of old wanted to free himself, run up to the bridge to calm himself, and get some fresh air.

The feel of Caspian so close was intoxicating, but he wanted more.
They were merely inches apart.

"Why are you doing this..?," Edmund whispered, not able to look elsewhere than Caspian.

"Isn't it obvious?," Caspian whispered back, so close Edmund could hear both hearts fluttering.

The young man waited for an answer. It came quickly:

"I love you..."

Something clicked in Edmund.
Something told him that's what he wanted to hear for so long.
He ignored that voice telling him "you look like Susan, that's why".

It just felt right when his lips were on Caspian's, when the king's arms surrounded his side, holding him close.

It felt good to have Caspian against him, being able to tell him how he felt, to fall asleep on him, to sit next to him, holding hands under the table.

And for once in his life, Edmund felt loved, desired, held high in someone's eye...