Summary: Edmund tends to Peter after the duel with Miraz. Genres: hurt / comfort, brotherly love, angst. Short one-shot: COMPLETE

Author's Note: While watching the "Prince Caspian" movie, it seemed to me that Peter recovered from his battle with King Miraz far too quickly. He was about to fall over during that respite! In order to explain his sudden recovery, my mind came up with this scene.

The Fire-Flower Choice

PenPatronus

"What's the matter, boy? Too cowardly to take a life?"

"It's not mine to take."

Edmund had been holding a breath so deep he was surprised when it didn't mow down all of Narnia, or at least Peter when he released it. And Peter certainly did look like an exhale would do him in. Edmund kept anxious eyes on his brother as Peter's place and pose was replaced by Prince Caspian. His concern was a well spent, because Peter only made it a half-dozen steps before he began to stagger.

Edmund sprinted forward. "Pete-"

"I know, Ed," Peter mumbled as he stumbled. "Keep smiling..."

Edmund snorted. "Do you think you can keep standing?" He didn't wait for an answer. Edmund pivoted around Peter and pulled his brother's arm across both of his shoulders. "Here...just lean." Ed slowly guided Peter to the side of the arena.

Peter didn't put up a fight. He leaned half of his weight against a ruined column, and left the other half on Ed. His head hung limply and he blinked down at the dirt. "Can't believe...survived that...I thought..."

"Me neither," Edmund murmured. "Thought you were a goner, I really did. Geeze, Pete...geeze. Did he get you bad? Are you all right?"

Peter forced a smile just for his brother, but he didn't raise his eyes from the ground. Instead, he closed them, angled his head into a shadowed corner of the column and allowed a wince to cross his face. The sides of his cheeks appeared to be inflating and deflating as he clenched his jaw against the pain. Gently, Edmund took Peter's sword out of his grasp and leaned it against the column. And then, while Peter wrestled with the bumps and bruises from the battle, Edmund withdrew a tiny vial from the inside of his armor.

"Here, Pete, drink." Ed removed the wax seal and held the vial to Peter's lips. Trusting, Peter didn't open his eyes before he sipped.

Half a moment later, his eyes burst open and he looked, stunned, back and forth between Edmund and the crimsom liquid in the vial. "Why didn't you give me this during the respite?" Peter demanded. "My bloody shoulder was dislocated!"

The corner of Edmund's lips slid crookedly upwards. "Would you have drank it?"

Peter blinked back at him, and then unleashed the widest of grins. "No...You're right. I wouldn't have." He took a deep breath, relishing in the feel of the medicine bounding along every nerve of his body and healing each cell as it went. Within moments, Edmund felt Peter's weight shift. Before long he was standing straight: upright, poised, and strong.

"Good thing you beat him. I don't think I would've ever forgiven myself if you...if you..." Ed felt Peter's eyes on him as warm as direct sunlight. "Guess I would've forced this down your throat...Probably should've during the respite..."

"I'm glad you didn't...I'm not...not sure why, but I'm glad you didn't, Edmund the Just." Peter cocked an eyebrow. "When did Lucy let you borrow some cordial?"

The sheepish shrug from Edmund was his answer.