Hello, there. In honor of today's snow day, I spent today watching movies, one of which being Defiance, starring Daniel Craig. There was a touching moment between Daniel's character Tuvia and his younger brother Asael that is emulated in this fiction. The movie really is quite phenomenal. There are four siblings, like in Narnia, and I really adored their beautiful bond with one another. I had hoped to find a rich fan base for Defiance online, but there was not. Instead, I decided to place Peter, Edmund, and Lucy into the roles and post it under Narnia fiction. I do hope you enjoy and, seeing as I have no beta at this time, feel free to offer any critiques.

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and Defiance are both not mine. Illiam the faun is of my creation and delight, though. I'm rather proud of him, if I may add.

The troop had settled in the far north. There were many of them. They had left the comfort of the Cair in late fall to quell threats rising in the northern mountains. Rumors of fell beasts gathering to prepare for the oncoming winter had reached Cair Paravel. A plot had been hatched for the revival of the eternal winter and, as such, Peter had set out with an army. Of course, his brother was by his side and Lucy as well. Susan had remained at the Cair, as she often did in times of
battle. She would handle the diplomacies and the affairs while her siblings were away. Oreius had remained as well to guard the lone monarch and stand as her chief adviser.
The King's troop had journeyed far into the mountains, carefully scaling the cliffs and navigating the dense forests. The party was large, but capable. There were centaurs, fauns, dwarves, minotaurs, and many talking animals. High King Peter had led them deep into the wood, guided by the birds that scouted ahead. But fall quickly turned to winter.
A blizzard had struck the noble troop. The snow fell in heavy drifts, the wind tearing down the soldiers as it swept through camp. The poor fauns, with no fur on the torso, had nearly frozen alive! Traveling any further in weather such as this was foolish. Peter had called for camp to be set and the soldiers gladly obeyed. Shelters were hastily constructed and the troop had hidden from the wind in the shabby structures. Shivering and praying for the mercy of Aslan, the
troop waited many days for the snow and ice to let up. Sickness fell upon the camp before long. Food was scarce and warmth hard to keep. Lucy had done her best with healing, but her cordial did not do as much with sickness as it did with physical injuries. She nursed the ill to the best of her ability; Peter knew she was trying, but Peter also knew that if he did not get his men out of the cold soon the sickness and starvation would overcome the camp.
Lucy and the fauns had busied themselves with cooking in creative ways to conserve as much as they could. Edmund led the dwarves into the wood to gather firewood, for everyone knew that dwarves could tell the Trees from the trees better than any others.

To his great dismay, Peter felt sickness beginning to affect him. Lucy had been sent into a frenzy when his body was wreaked with deep coughs one afternoon. She sent him straight into their tent and out of the wind. Peter had gratefully obeyed his little sister.
Peter's ailment escalated to a fierce fever and he fell under the near constant supervision of his little sister. When she was busy, she left him in the careful and capable arms of a young faun medic that had accompanied them.
It was in this tent that Peter found himself with the faun. He was feeling better, his fever slowly calming its raging storm. Lucy had kissed his head and left to go help serve dinner, promising to bring him his soup when she was finished. The faun, whose name was Illiam, was solemnly humming a little melody and wringing out a small cloth in a bowl of herbal water. Peter knew Lucy was quite fond of Illiam. He was a dear cousin of Tumnus's and had quickly become a friend of the queen's as well. He had been learning of the dryad medicines with Lucy and she often shared delightful stories of her adventures with the faun. With his little blue muffler, a gift from Tumnus, the faun had taken great honor in his care of the monarchs. Peter smiled at Illiam
and began to ask him a question when suddenly shouts could be heard from outside. Peter, ignoring the pleas of the young faun to stay in bed, rose up from his pallet and donned his coat.
Venturing outside, Peter saw the commotion rising in the dinner line.
"I am a soldier!" the minotaur's gruff voice shouted angrily. "I deserve to have more food than the little cowards who do not fight! This woman-"
"That woman is your queen and my sister!" Edmund cut him off, ears
turning a bright red. "You will show her the respect she deserves! Get
back in line!"
The minotaur drew his blade in a flourish, pressing it to Edmund's chest as Edmund drew his own knife. "Who are you to command me, little man?"
Peter, unsheathing his own sword, rushed forward. "Soldier, stay your blade! I am the High King, crowned by Aslan himself. You will respect my authority or so you shall face the wrath of Aslan himself."
Edmund glowered at the minotaur, the blade remaining at his chest. "Peter, this soldier has offended the honor of-"
"The honor of what, Ed? We cannot afford hostilities among ourselves. We must not let violence overtake us from within. You shall both face consequences. Half rations for you both for the next week. All others, take this as a warning. Do not challenge my authority and do not quarrel amongst yourselves. Save it for the enemy." Peter gave a meaningful look to his younger brother, who lowered his knife and cast his own gaze to the ground.
The minotaur was not so quick to respond, but did return his blade to its sheath. Peter recollected himself and turned to head back to the tent, satisfied as the minotaur stepped back in line.
Lucy frowned at Peter as he left, but gave her attention back to feeding the starving soldiers. Edmund patted his little sister on the back reassuringly and followed after Peter.
Stepping into the tent, Edmund sat himself opposite the faun and addressed his brother. "Peter, why am I to be punished? Had you heard the way he has been addressing Lucy you would be livid as well."
Peter sighed, pulling his covers up further to trap in what warmth he could. "I can't show favoritism, Ed. You're my brother and I can't let the Just king escape just punishment. Your punishment is for the trouble and violence the both of you stirred up. We can't have that within the camp, especially not in conditions like this."
Edmund looked at his brother, astounded. "Just punishment? This is hardly what I would call justice." Then he paused, noticing Peter trembling and his face growing paler. "Get some rest. I'll send Lucy to see about that fever."
The faun Illiam gave Edmund a hesitant smile and laid the cloth he had prepared earlier on Peter's forehead. Edmund nodded to him and departed quietly.
After dinner had been served and cleaned up, Lucy came into the tent with a small bowl of soup. Peter's condition, which had improved so much before the dinner line incident, had been damaged by his exposure, however brief, to the cold. She helped her brother lean up and handed him his supper. Peter took it eagerly. "It smells wonderful, Lu."
Lucy smiled gently and squeezed her brother's hand. She hated to bring this up, but she felt that she must. "Peter, do you remember our first winter in Narnia?"
"Of course, Lu," Peter said through a mouthful of soup. "We had the most massive snowball fight at the Cair and that spectacular Christmas feast!"
"Well, yes," Lucy replied fondly. "But I mean our very first winter."
Peter looked taken aback. "What are you getting at, Lu?"
"I'm worried about Edmund. He hasn't been handling the cold well at all. I know you've been sick, so you wouldn't know this, but he hasn't been sleeping at night. He says it's the nightmares again. Peter, I think the cold is getting to him. I think you should talk to him, especially after today." Lucy looked at her brother pleadingly.
"Today I did what needed to be done. Edmund will respect my decision, as will you. I don't feel good about punishing my brother, but I need you to trust me on this. I will talk to Edmund the next chance I get about...well, about the cold."
Lucy nodded and took her brother's empty soup bowl. He lay back down and sleep was quick to claim him. She was concerned for Peter and Edmund. In his sickness, Peter was not of the right mind and both he and Edmund were suffering for it. Lucy knew that Peter had not meant to hurt his brother. He had thought himself doing the best for the troop. Edmund was not faring well, thoughts of his earlier sins haunting his mind, the cold mocking his resolve, and his brother
unknowingly stepping on his pride. Lucy gave Illiam a warm smile, trusting the faun to watch over her brother while she slept, and settled in next to Peter for the night.
Their problems could wait until morning. She cast a silent prayer to
Aslan for Edmund's safety and Peter's health and the wellbeing of the
troop before drifting off to sleep.
Peter was bed ridden with the same nasty fever for another day or two, rolling around in his blankets and groaning with his aches and pains.
Outside the tent, the hostilities he had sought to cease had escalated. Lucy stepped out from the counter with a heaping bowl of soup, quietly bringing it over to the minotaur and his comrades. They jeered at her shamelessly, but she simply handed it to the minotaur and quickly
left. She headed directly for Peter's tent.
Peter was sitting up, his body shaking with the force of his coughing. Lucy slipped inside, smiling faintly at the sleeping faun. She grabbed Peter's arm and ushered him out of bed. "Peter, come on. You need to help Edmund."
The urgency in her voice frightened Peter and he hastened with getting his coat on. Lucy grabbed Illiam's scarf, which had been removed in favor of a blanket, and tucked it around Peter's neck. Leading the way, Lucy stepped outside with Peter in tow. They could hear the minotaur and his followers laughing as their feet crunched the snow underfoot.
"The foolish boy!" the voice called. "What right does a traitor have to command us?" Their laughter bellowed out as one stepped forward and shoved Edmund into the ground. Edmund had been seated at the minotaur's feet with his arms and legs bound to one another, but now
lay face first in the snow.
Peter was outraged, his anger growing with every step he took forward.
"What is going on here?" he shouted.
"New rules, Peter," the minotaur replied, challenging Peter by addressing him without a title as he rose from his seat on the bench and set his soup down. "Those who fight fiercest get food first. The others shall eat what is left."
"No! I am the authority here! Everyone gets the same share."
"Ha!" the minotaur laughed. "Some authority you are. You're not much better than your brother here." The minotaur boldly put his foot on Edmund's fallen form. Edmund squirmed, but to no avail.

Peter's nostrils flared and he whipped his sword out from his side. Rhidon glinted with the light from the sun, glimmering like the snow.
"Get away from my brother. He is your king as I am your king. This sort of conduct shall not be tolerated while I am in charge."
"While you are in charge? I don't believe that you understand. You are not in charge anymore."
Peter raged and advanced, leaving no time for the minotaur to draw his weapon. Within moments, the sword was pulled across the neck of the creature and its head severed. It rolled to the ground and the body fell with a thud. Blood poured out and the snow was stained red. The fellow minotaurs that had been feasting only moments ago dropped their bowls onto the table and retreated to the back of the food line.
Lucy dashed forward without hesitation. She knelt by Edmund and cut the rope that bound his feet to one another. Sitting him up slowly, she slid her dagger to slice the bonds on his wrists and then embraced him desperately. "Oh, Edmund!" she cried.
He hugged her back tightly with a sad smile on his face. "Thanks, Lucy."
Peter's fury had faded into concern and he followed Lucy's lead, enveloping his younger brother and squeezing him close. His illness and the crowd forgotten, he released his brother and checked him over for injury.
A glorious bruise was blossoming under Edmund's left eye, and a cut bled freely across his cheek. "What happened, Edmund?"
"They had a different idea of how to serve up our dinner and I wouldn't let them. He already wasn't following your half-ration order. He disrespected Lucy again, treating her like a servant and himself as a king!" Edmund tried to explain. "I thought I could handle it." Then he thought for a moment, examining Peter. "Peter, you're sick! You need to get inside."
Edmund began to rise up, but Peter pressed him down again. "I think I've spent enough time resting, Ed. Look what happened while I was resting!"
Lucy chimed in then. "Edmund, perhaps it is you who needs the rest."
Edmund began to protest, but allowed himself to be taken to the tent that Peter had spent so much time in. Lucy tucked him in and then, with an order to get some sleep, left him in the care of Illiam as she had her other brother.
Peter stood at the top of the hill, looking over the dinner line as it silently moved along. The soldiers dare not speak with the haunting form of the dead minotaur in the middle of camp.
Lucy approached Peter, his back rigid and face set with solemnity. "Peter, perhaps you should withdraw your half-ration order. Edmund took it rather seriously and I fear that he will need the extra nourishment after these last few days."
Peter agreed silently, upset with himself for having punished his brother in the first place. "Lucy, what happened exactly? I know what Edmund told me, but I want to hear it from you."
"Well, the minotaur you have slain has been...creating quite the unrest. At first he was simply demanding his full serving rather than the half-ration you ordered. Then they, that is he and his followers, began to harass Edmund.
"They pushed him around a bit, but Edmund handled himself well. I tried to help when they took his food, but Edmund said that he would not let it happen again and to make sure that you got enough to eat. He argued that there was not enough food for him to have a second helping, even when he hadn't even eaten his first. Edmund was worried about you Peter."
Peter felt himself smile faintly at that thought. "How did that escalate into such violence?"
"Edmund told you that they were unkind to me. I did as they asked out of concern for the others. The minotaurs were getting increasingly violent and you were delirious with fever. I didn't know what else to do until you awoke. Today, they bullied their way to the front of the line and declared their ridiculous new law. Edmund, of course, moved to intervene. They outnumbered him and he was knocked around and to the ground. They...they held him down and put a knife to his throat when others attempted to help him. Peter, I did as they told me to because I was terrified for Edmund! That knife was held to his neck for what seemed like an eternity. They bound his arms and legs and...and knocked him around a bit more while I prepared their
dinners. He couldn't do much to defend himself, bound as he was. That awful lot! As soon as I gave them their food to distract them I came to get you. I'm sorry, Peter! I didn't know what else to do!"
"Shh, Lucy," Peter whispered as he wrapped his distraught little
sister in a hug. "You did your best. I thank Aslan that you weren't
hurt."
"Edmund must feel awful. They kept calling him a traitor king; unfit to command them. After all the progress he has made toward forgiving himself as Aslan and we have done, to have these monsters blow it all to pieces! Peter, please, go talk to him." Lucy gave him a reassuring pat on the back and then departed to clean up the dishes.
Peter entered the tent that he had grown to know so well with a bowl of soup in hand. Edmund was sitting up with his shirt off. Illiam was wrapping his torso with bandages, having already bandaged his head. Peter noted the bruising around Edmund's ribs and cringed. Edmund grinned up at Peter, brilliantly masking his own unnerve. "Quite the mess I got myself in, wouldn't you say, dear brother?"
Peter couldn't help but smile at his brother's playfulness. Illiam spoke up, "King Edmund, if you would please stop moving, I could get this done much more quickly." Peter and Illiam chuckled as Edmund was chastised. Peter suddenly remembered the scarf around his neck and unwound it gingerly. He presented it to the healer with a warm smile.
"Sorry to borrow this without asking, my friend, but I will say that its warmth was greatly appreciated."
"Oh, it is my pleasure, sire! You have naught to be sorry for. Now, King Edmund, I do advise that you be careful. Your ribs are bruised and that cut below your eye could easily be infected. I will redress them tomorrow, my liege. If you'll both excuse me, I would like to go fetch some of Queen Lucy's delectable soup." Illiam rose and wrapped his scarf around his neck before leaving the two brothers with one another.
"Thank you, Illiam," Edmund called.
Peter sat himself down beside Edmund and handed him his soup as Lucy had done for him. Edmund smiled gratefully, but then stopped. "What about the half-ration order, Peter? It's only been a few days."
Peter looked at his brother sadly. "I do believe that you have earned your full ration these past few days. Forget the half-ration order, Ed. Eat up."
Edmund dug into the soup eagerly. In truth, he hadn't eaten yet today or part of yesterday. Before that, the half rations hadn't been substantial enough for him, but he had dealt.
"Edmund, I'm sorry," Peter said suddenly, his voice thick.
"You git, you have nothing to be sorry for."
"Of course I do! If I had put that minotaur in his place the first time around, you and Lucy wouldn't have had any problems. Then I was too delirious to notice."
"You were sick, and still are for that matter! No one blames you for that."
"Edmund, if I had had these soldiers under control like I should have, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."
Edmund began to argue once more, but Peter put his hand up and stopped him. He gazed sorrowfully at Edmund's bandaged wounds and then met his brother's eyes. "I need you to know that you have every right to be a king in this land. You have repented enough and the cold will not prevail against you. I won't let it. Aslan will not allow it. You are stronger than the memories and have learned well of justice and mercy. You of all people, the epitome of justice under Aslan himself, should understand that second chances are well deserved. Ed, you are my little brother. I will protect you. I apologize for the punishment earlier. I realize now that it was uncalled for. Please accept my apology, brother."
Edmund's smile grew and he responded, "Of course I forgive you, Peter. I did long before the events earlier. Thank you for helping me...I've never been very good with bullies, have I?"
Peter laughed a little and ruffled his brother's hair. "That's what I'm here for." Peter stood and echoed his brother's earlier instructions "Get some rest now."
Edmund laid back and Peter hoped that he could finally rest without the threat of nightmares. Once outside, Peter felt a drop of water fall on his nose and looked around. The snow was melting and the storm had passed. Peter felt Aslan's warmth radiate through him as the snow
slowly began to melt and all was well again.

Sorry for the mushy end. I'm not very good with fluff. I also apologize for an "out of character"-ness that may come into play here. Please drop a line and let me know what you think.