A/N: This is honestly not something I would write normally, and please, it's AU – I was just toying with the idea that Edmund and Peter knew they were bound to go back to Finchley someday. (: I'd like to just clarify some things – first, I know this is like a chapter chucked in from the middle of nowhere, but it's supposed to be a one-shot, and I'm sure there are enough EdxOC, PetexOC stories out there without my poking my nose into everything. ;D I'm sure it's not too ambiguous (well, I hope it's not) – Peter and Edmund basically refused to burden the two girls/ladies they loved with their troubles and possibility of going back to England. Secondly, Peter and Edmund's personalities are well, more or less sculptured by Sentimental Star's lovely stories of them! So, kudos to her! Thirdly, I *might* write a prequel to this scene (might not, too), if there ARE requests, but for now this is it. (: Thanks for reading, I love all of you! :D

Edmund's voice was no less pained than his brother's when he answered Lucy. "Believe me, Sister, when I say I never had any intention to hurt Anne's feelings."

Lucy glared heatedly at him before whirling on Peter. "And you," she said, voice shaking with anger, "had no right in the world to turn Alice down with such brusqueness. What is the problem with both of you? Can you not even be civil to our guests, if you do not return their attentions? What is the problem, really, with having to comfort Alice and Anne before you left?" Here her voice dropped dangerously. "And to think that you are both Kings of Narnia..."

Peter's head jerked up, blue eyes too bright, the feverish light in them masking the overwhelming pain. "I assure you, Madam, I had no other thoughts than Alice's wounded feelings at that moment. You have my word on it. As for my Royal Brother here, we have spoken. I can vouch for him that his sentiments were no less genuine than mine." His words were measured, but with such a strain on them that he was almost breathing hard when he finished. Dark brown eyes echoed the feelings in the blue, both with an enigmatic touch to them.

And all of a sudden, Lucy was quite convinced that her brothers were hiding something from her, something that had caused all the shouting and tears in Cair Paravel. "Then tell me, I besiege," she said, but the tone was ever so much softer and calmer, "what has caused you to act so unbecomingly for a king, and so unbefitting my ever-courteous brothers?"

At her words Peter shut his eyes so quickly, and Edmund's head turned away so sharply, that Lucy all the more held her breath and waited anxiously for an explanation. At length Edmund bowed his dark head. "Nightmares," he said hoarsely, "Battles, blood, warfare and the like." For a while Peter was only still. Then he opened his eyes, darkened with raw pain. "We may leave any day, fair Sister," he said, tones painfully low. "To burden them with such thoughts... we could never do such a thing." Lucy's aquamarine eyes widened with confusion: "But this is the Golden Age for Narnia, Peter! Surely there are not so many battles! Even in hard times, kings wedded with ease."

"The Golden Age for Narnia, dear Sister," Edmund said, voice still as hoarse. "Not us. And though we love Narnia as our own, we are not she."

Lucy's brows furrowed in deep thought, all her childlike wisdom coming to her. And it dawned on her at last. "You are not speaking the point. What is it really? There is truth in your words, but it is not all of it."

To her surprise Peter laughed. Then she realised, to her dismay, that it was a bitter laugh, humourless and hopelessly unlike the rich, warm sound of Peter's laughter. "You are wise beyond your years, Lucy," he said, and there was honest fondness in his voice. But then he continued, and it seemed to her that his voice was now distant and unapproachable. "I would not break your childlike faith by telling you the truth. But as much as you know, it will be enough to forgive us, and perhaps redeem us a little in the eyes of Alice and Anne. Know, Queen Lucy, that all we say are true. We would not presume to lie to you, Madam, as you must know. The core of it I cannot tell you, and will not. Do not ask me that. Lucy, please - I beg you, please only hold onto it that there is the fact that we may leave any day, and would never burden Alice or Anne with these."

"You - you really cannot tell me? I know that I may be loud -"

She was cut off fiercely by Edmund. "We never would presume to think that, Madam. No," he mused, "it is not as much about your loudness as it is of your quietness. If you would be so kind as to leave us, Madam..."

Lucy, staring at her brothers in terrible awe, finally found her tongue to speak. "I will leave," she said quietly. "And remember that as much as my words are rough, I do not mean them to wound and fester." Bidding the two Kings a peaceful evening, she found herself crushed in a protective embrace by Peter to his chest as he fervently kissed her cheek. Edmund did not do the same, but taking her hand in his own trembling one, he touched it to his chest above his heart before kissing it, then most uncharacteristically, he dropped it and retreated into his chambers. And despite the almost formal goodnight, Lucy knew that the fervour was no less than Peter's.

"Most certainly a wonderful way to avoid further questioning from our dear sister, Sire," Edmund said, sarcasm not to be mistaken in his voice.

Peter merely shrugged. "At once drastic and effective, Brother. Trust me, Edmund, the look on Alice's face when I only said 'no' is nothing to be trifled with. She may be gentle and sweet, but when a man is in love with her, such a look is withering." He laughed humourlessly again. "I am certain that Anne's look was no better."

Edmund smiled cynically. "Worse, mayhap." A silence fell between them. Eventually Edmund spoke again. "Peter, do you think that we really would go back? To that - other place."

"You know the name, Edmund. It's England. And to answer your question, we may, or we may not. That we may leave is not the only reason we are doing this, Edmund. The - what do you call them? - nightly ordeals, would be the rest. If Alice knew she would be woken every few nights at a precise timing when you did not want to wake, but if you did, you would not sleep again at all for the rest of the night, by my frantic thrashing and such, she would have something to think about before wanting this. We are marred, Edmund, and I do no think that anyone other than Aslan could heal the wounds. And he may not heal them, even if he can." He unbuttoned his shirt methodically. "Go to bed, Edmund."

A very unkingly snort was the response Peter got. "Like hell I would," he muttered vehemently.

Peter lifted a brow. "Watch your language, Brother. As fair as your words may be in front of ambassadors, you have never gotten over the milder swearing in front of me." He smiled indulgently. The smile was a little - off. "I may be your brother, but I am also your king. Go to sleep." Edmund did not move an inch. Exasperated, Peter gave him a gentle shove. "Go on." Edmund did not budge. Rolling his eyes upwards, Peter sighed. "Come then. Make yourself comfortable." Removing his shirt he folded it with such mechanical actions Edmund seized his wrist, dark eyes boring into blue ones. At length Peter turned away from the intense gaze, tugging his hand from Edmund's strong grip.

"Peter, you are not well."

Smiling, Peter fondly mussed Edmund's hair. "As well as you are," he answered. He would have turned away, but a hand on his cheek forced him to look back at Edmund.

"Look at me, Peter. I may be hurt, pained... but not to the extent you are. Stop acting the High King in front of me, Peter. You can forget that duty for a moment, and remember your other duty as my brother."

In a flash Peter grasped Edmund's chin gently, forcing the younger king to look at him. "Have I missed something?" He asked, sounding much younger suddenly.

Edmund sighed. "This is not about me, elder brother. This is about you. If you were as frustrated as I am, you would not have unbuttoned your bloody shirt but pulled it off, and all but thrown it somewhere." Anger shone in his face when Peter made no response. "Bloody hell, Peter, what is happening?"

Peter released his brother swiftly. "I have not heard that much of such colourful language in eight years, Edmund. Stop swearing, or I shall order you out of the room." It would probably have worked well for Lucy or Susan as a bait and distraction, but Edmund was too perceptive to take it.

He did, however, oblige Peter in releasing him from his gaze. Turning around, he removed his shirt and walked towards the bed, taking on the job of boring holes into his elder brother's face. "It doesn't work, Pete." Peter's eyes snapped up to his at the shortened form of his name. "Stop acting the High King in front of me, and tell me what the hell is -" Peter's eyes flashed. "-happening!"

When Peter spoke, his voice was low. "King Edmund, I charge you as High King of Narnia to stop uttering such expletives!"

Edmund inclined his head in acknowledgement, then tilted his head nonchalantly. "And as your brother I charge you to tell me what is happening. Do you not trust me?"

After a brief silence, Peter shrugged. "You know the answer to that. As for what is happening, mayhap you have heard of something called depression? Bouts of them hit me in the night, especially when you are not there. Today's events are too traumatising for my weak brain, Brother, but the depression will pass soon. Sleep, Ed, and stop worrying about me. I will soon be all right."

Edmund's breath hissed in. "I swear, Peter, you are -"

He was interrupted briefly, impatiently off by Peter's raised hand. "Edmund, I said that there was to be no swearing tonight at least." The voice was stern, an underlying trembling scarcely audible. "And I said, the depression will pass. And you are relieved of your duties for the rest of the week - this is too much for you yet." Withdrawing under the covers, he promptly turned, his back towards Edmund, and began snoring at a ridiculously loud volume away.

A hard rap on his shoulder drew him from his 'sleep'. "And what about you? I am quite convinced that you are worse off than I am, and that you will take up my duties if I do not." Edmund's voice dropped below a whisper. "You still do not trust me, Brother, even after eight years."

This, if not all the other concerned words Edmund had said, had Peter bolting upright on the bed, the crackling fire splaying eerie shadows on his haunted, handsome face. His toned, bare chest was lit by a strange orange glow, and blue eyes were burning fiercely. "Why -" He cleared his throat, but the voice still came out as hoarse. "Why should you doubt my trust, Edmund?"

Edmund sighed, then drew his brother closer. "I did not have reason to until today," he answered, "and yet you give me every reason tonight to doubt it. If we are brothers, by blood, nature and soul alike, why are you refusing my help?"

Peter shut his eyes, sighing in turn. "It is only Alice, Edmund. What good would it do, other than render you worried half to death, to tell you? You know that by heritage we Pevensies are prone to bouts of depression sometimes. Why would I be any different? Besides which, you are suffering as much as I am, and if you do not voice it, who am I to?"

Edmund's eyes darkened. "Always ridiculously noble," he murmured, lifting his hand to once more place it gently on Peter's cheek. "As I have always said, you don't have to act the High King in front of me. It is all well and good to see my brother strong and infallible in front of other people, but - we are all vulnerable, Peter. As Aslan has always said, we all are weak, and to trust in Him only can we gain courage. You trust us with your life, Peter, but not with your vulnerablities. As for Alice, I know she is much more deeply enthralled with you than Anne is with me. I may have hurt Anne, but hopefully she will turn to someone else in love. But Alice... you know very well that if we leave and go back to - that other place in less than ten years you will not forget Alice and neither will she forget you. Anne is young, and she is only more interested in the mystery in me. I will not love again, in Narnia, or in the - the other place, but at least she will recover. You however have no such hope. All I want to say, Peter, is to trust in Aslan and let Him lead the way, and yet too trust in me."

A slightly watery smile was his response, and it was enough for Edmund. "By the way, Edmund," Peter said softly, "you know what it's called. It's England."

Do review, please! I'm not happy with it, really, but I hope you'll give me a chance to edit what I can! (: Thanks! Again, this is slightly AU, so I am not actually seeking for evidence in C.S. Lewis' lovely books that Peter and Edmund knew they would return to England.

R.B.