Okay, cue long author's note. Sorry for not replying to reviews or posting or doing everything else I should be doing on this site. This new year has been crazy (it's only February, haha) since I am currently working four part time job and it's cutting into my free time. So. Normally I don't post stories until they're finished. However, this is a wip but I wanted to at least give you a sneak peak since it's been so long and because I promised this story to several of you.

This was actually inspired by a prompt from a guest reviewer, Just a Faun, on my other Narnia story!
And I was also heavily inspired to write it because of my amazing, incredible, wonderful reviewers over there who reviewed more than once, in lengthy and detailed glory, which totally brightened my day, giving me a smile for a week! So I'd like to shout out to them: awillimasbbc.98, ChildofGod, NarniaGirl, ChecktheGate12, ForNarnia! Thank you all so much and I hope you like this story as well :D

One more important note, this story will switch pov every chapter so please be sure to look at the top of the chapter to see which Pevensie brother is narrating.


Edmund

I sat up, choking and gasping. Sea water and saliva dribbled down my chin as my lungs rigorously performed a bit of spring cleaning. I was on a beach. The sand, painfully bright in the sunlight, spread out to touch the water line just a few yards from me and off to the left, and the right, where the smooth line of it was swallowed into a dense jungle. I stood, wincing as I did. Apparently I had acquired an extensive collection of cuts and bruises recently. The damage was superficial, although there was a knot on my head that ached worse than the other injuries. I rubbed it absently until I realized I was smearing sand into it. Quickly I pulled my hand away and wiped it on my tunic. Which was also covered in sand. And ripped in several places. And had bits of seaweed clinging to the rich fabric. Susan was going to kill me.

Brushing the grime from my clothes as best I could, I then surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't much to see. Aside from the dazzling blue water lapping playfully at the shoreline and the jungle to my right, there was only sand and large rocks scattered across the beach and the shallows. I shaded my eyes with a hand and squinted into the sky. Nothing there but a few lazy clouds. I took a few steps forward, my boots sinking into the soft sand, until I reached the water. I stood in it for a minute with my eyes closed, absorbing the warmth of the sun. The surf was a gentle song, the breeze playing the harmony through my hair. I couldn't remember ever being anywhere so quiet. It was relaxing. It was peaceful.

Something bumped into my boot and I startled, tripping over my own feet as I scrambled out of the water, picturing something horrible and hungry with thousands of teeth. With a muted thump, I landed on my rear in a very unkingly heap. The monster I was so afraid of turned out to be little more than a plank of wood. Recovering from my fright, I gained my feet and retrieved the driftwood. Curious, I inspected my find. The dark wood was smooth and light. Both ends of it were jagged and split, suggesting it had been damaged somehow, perhaps it had been dashed against the rocks near the shore. A length of rope was knotted in the center of it. Instantly I felt my heart stutter. I recognized the knot. Flinging the wood away from me as if it was a snake liable to strike, I turned on my heel and raced through the sand.

"Peter!" I called, voice oddly loud in the tranquility around me.

I skidded to a stop, the thought coming to me that I could be heading in the wrong direction.

"Peter!" I shouted again, taking the time to scan the beach in front of me for any sign.

Finding none, I spun around, searching the other side for a clue. The sand lay open before me like a polished piece of glass, sleek and undisturbed. Pulse quickening, I moved forward hesitantly. Doubt grabbed my ankles and seemingly moved my body of its own volition and I found myself going the other direction instead. But indecision halted my movement altogether. Which way? Left or right? East or west? I had no way of knowing where my brother was. Or if he was even on this island. What if he hadn't made it to land? What if he had drowned? What if he-

My throat closed over, rebelling against my panicked breathing. A coughing fit put a stop to my morbid thoughts and I had to take a moment to recover. A cloud passed over the sun as I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. In the same moment that I regained my breath, the cloud moved aside and the sun embraced me with warmth once more. Slowly, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and silently asked the Great Lion for help.

No thunderous roar echoed across the water. The beach didn't tremble beneath the weight of those velvet paws. No words whispered through the wind, nor did the sand part to point the way. But I felt His answer all the same. In the slowing of my racing heart, the calming of my panting breaths, the confidence that washed away my panic. When I opened my eyes, I stepped with new determination. The island was an isolated patch of land in the sea. If I walked long enough, I could cover the entire beach, no matter which direction I started in.

The sand shifted mischievously beneath my boots but I plodded on the best I could, given the circumstances. While keeping alert for any hint as to Peter's whereabouts, I noticed how this beach was different from Cair Paravel's. The water here was a deeper blue, the sand whiter. And it was so quiet. There were no mermaids laughing as they splashed through the surf. I had yet to see a single bird, whereas the gulls that frequented the Cair's cliffside were bordering on being a nuisance. I couldn't find any other creatures either. Despite how I looked for turtles and crabs along the shore, stared into the water for fish, or looked to the sky for fowl, it appeared I was alone. Disheartened by that discovery, I allowed myself to become distracted by more gloomy thoughts. Such as how thirsty I was. As I walked, I occasionally felt the crunch of sand grains between my molars and I wondered when it was that I had sampled the beach. Whenever it was, it was involuntary as I detest sand for being invasive and clingy. Between the sand that had somehow wound up in my mouth, and my struggle through it under the shining sun, my tongue was getting terribly dry. I'm pretty sure the water was mocking me too. Stupid sea could keep its salt water to itself for all I cared. As was my habit whenever I was feeling particularly glum, I started counting my aches and scrapes. As preoccupied as I was, it's no wonder that I nearly walked right into the beached corpse of a small sailing boat. The sight of it instantly banished all lesser thoughts from my mind and I clambered onto the wreckage.

"Peter! Pete!"

There wasn't much to search. The boat was of simple design, crafted for a swift and pleasurable ride through calm waters. It didn't surprise me to find it was little more than a pile of matchsticks now. Using a length of rope dangling from the severed mast, I climbed aboard, still calling for my brother. I received no answer. But from my vantage point, I was able to spy a boot sticking out from behind a large rock near the waterline. Without hesitation, I leaped off the boat and went to investigate.

Splashing through the shallows, I quickly found the boot and its owner. Relief swept through me as I took in the sight of my brother. His upper half was slumped uncomfortably across another rock, while his legs floated limply in the water. Not caring that I was soaking my clothes, I knelt next to him, gently shaking his shoulder and saying his name. After a nearly inaudible groan, he roused gradually, eyes blinking sluggishly beneath the tangled strands of his damp hair.

"Thank Aslan," I breathed. "Hello, Peter." I grinned.

His gaze took a minute to focus on me but when it did, his eyes widened comically and he yelped, jerking away from me so abruptly that he fell into the water.

"Watch it! You almost brained yourself on that rock," I warned, pointing behind him to the offending rock that had been a near miss.

With his mouth opening and closing as if on hinges, his eyes alternating between squinting and staring, and his hair a waterlogged mess, he didn't look kingly or magnificient. But he still looked like Peter which, after knowing him before he was High King, meant I was allowed to enthusiastically laugh at his completely ridiculous expression. And I probably would have kept right on laughing had he not reached out to touch me, revealing his bound hands. The chuckles turned sour on my tongue and I grabbed his wrists, surveying the crude rope and the hastily tied knot that secured it.

"Lion's mane, Peter. What happened to you?" I muttered, setting to work on undoing the knot.

"Edmund?" he gasped, the single word starved of volume by his tone of disbelief.

"Yes?" I grunted, focused on my task.

"You're..." The sentence was never completed.

Instead, his hands moved toward me again and I impatiently yanked them back into place. "Hold still. I've almost got it."

For as much as he complains about me never doing as I'm told, Peter could hardly be described as obedient himself. No sooner had I put his hands where I wanted them, Peter tried tugging out of my grip again.

"Stop it," I growled, fingers fighting against the wet fibers of the rope.

The moment I loosened the knot enough to pull it apart, Peter ripped the cord himself when he tried to fling his arms around me. I had just enough warning to employ an effective countermeasure. I sidestepped his intended hug and brought my arm up across his chest to reach his shoulder. Using that point of contact as an anchor, I managed to push him down into a sitting position on the closest rock. Taken off guard, he was easily maneuvered. He stared up at me with a look of astonishment so intense, I began squirming self-consciously.

"What?" I finally demanded.

"I can't believe you're here," Peter said.

"Where did you think I was?" I asked.

"At the bottom of the ocean," was Peter's candid reply.

I blinked, nonplussed. "Oh." I quickly shook off the thought. "You know, maybe you should have been named King Peter the Blunt," I quipped.

"It's true, Ed," Peter insisted. "When I saw that wave-and then you were just...gone."

I shuddered, for the memory was not a pleasant one. "Well, I'm here now."

Peter gave me a small, relieved smile. I returned it, knowing how close we had come to losing one another.