Night had fallen hours ago and a ghastly wind howled outside, signaling the early stages of a thunderstorm. Branches rattled relentlessly against Cair Paravel's stain-glass windows. Everyone inside the castle was lost in their fanciful dreams. Well, everyone except for Edmund.

He positioned his hands under his right cheek, both his eyes and his mind wide awake. Though it was a quarter past midnight, he wasn't feeling the least bit tired like he should've been. Perhaps it was the hurricane-like wind? No, storms back home in England never bothered him. In fact, they used to lull him to sleep.

For what seemed like hours, Edmund stared blankly in front of him, until he realized that he simply would not be able to fall asleep.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. Sometime in England, he remembered a man on a radio station saying that if you drink a warm glass of milk before bedtime, it would help you fall asleep. But Edmund wasn't very thirsty and didn't feel like getting up to go all the way downstairs, just to have it not work.

So rather than risking the trip, he stayed in bed and thought. He thought about all the wonderful and exciting adventures he had experienced since arriving in Narnia. Like their coronation, and planting the apple orchard with Lilygloves. He thought about his siblings, the Professor, and home.

Home.

For the first time since arriving in Narnia, something awful churned in his stomach. It was like he was longing - yearning - to go somewhere. To go home. And there seemed to be no cure.

Edmund shifted in his bed. No matter how he tried, he simply couldn't forget his mother's gentle voice whispering goodnight, the warmth of her kiss upon his forehead before leaving the room, or the way she would often sing him to sleep. These were things that simply couldn't be substituted.

It was then that he wanted nothing else but to be back in his own warm bed, with his mother sitting on the edge, watching over him. Back where nothing in his home seemed wrong, and nothing outside seemed right.

A sudden question came to Edmund. Was he homesick? Was it even possible to be homesick in a place like Narnia?

In England there was a horrific war, but here in Narnia everything was orderly and peaceful. England had bullies, whereas the people of Narnia were all too eager to lend a helping hand. But England had his mother… What could even compare to a mother?

An unexpected voice pulled Edmund back to reality before he could think any more on the subject.

"Ed? Are you awake?" The voice belonged to his brother Peter - who was across the room in his own bed.

"Now I am," Edmund replied, attempting to sound like he'd just woken up.

"I know you've been awake. You don't sound anything like what when you've just woken up," Peter chuckled, his voice now louder than before. "Why are you up so late?"

"I can't sleep," confessed Edmund, propping himself up against his large, feather pillows.

"Bad dreams?"

"No."

"Is there a pea under your mattress?"

Peter was trying to be funny, but Edmund didn't think so.

"No."

"Then why can't you sleep?" Peter insisted.

"You're up too." Edmund shifted again in his bed,

"I suppose a lot has been on my mind lately."

"About home?"

"Do you...miss it? Home, I mean," asked Peter quietly. He knew Edmund didn't particularly like discussing feelings - his especially. At least he didn't back home; back when he was...different.

Edmund hesitated. He didn't want Peter to think that he was pathetic or dumb. Yet, if he asked about home, did this mean Peter felt the same way? Was Peter homesick, too?

"A bit, I suppose," Edmund said, emitting a light sigh. His gaze fell to the window and what lied beyond it. It was dark, and all he could see was the beautiful blue moon. The moons were different in Narnia than they were in England.

At that moment, Edmund recalled a memory of his younger self seated on the window seat in his England bedroom, gazing longingly up at the moon, and wishing for his father to return from the war.

"Me too," Peter admitted, much to Edmund's surprise.

"Peter," Edmund started, "what if we can't go home?"

"What do you mean, Ed?" his brother chuckled in disbelief. "Of course, we'll go back home!"

"But how? I've heard, unintentionally, from some people, in and out of Cair Paravel, that Aslan is the only one that can send people back into different worlds. And no one has seen Aslan for quite some time, you know."

"Don't talk like that, Ed. I don't think Aslan would intend on having us stay in Narnia forever. I mean, we have lives of our own back in England, after all."

"But we don't know for sure…" Edmund paused for quite some time. "What if we never see Mother and Father again? It's been years since we last saw them. Before we entered into Narnia, I was such a…a—terrible, spiteful little tick! What if I never see them again, and that's how I treated them last?"

"It'll all work out, Ed. I promise."

"You can't make a promise you mightn't be able to keep!" snapped Edmund. But no sooner had he said this, he realized that Peter was only attempting to comfort him. "I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"It's all right. I know that this is hard for you. It's hard for all of us, I'm sure," Peter said reassuringly. "But I don't think Aslan would keep us from Mother and Father forever. And besides, Narnia is so wonderful, I don't think we'll even think about them again until we go back home! And when we do, maybe the war will be over, and Father will be back, home from the war, waiting for us."

"I do hope you're right," said Edmund, now feeling a little better.

"You now I am, Ed - I always am." Guessing by his tone, Edmund guessed there was a ridiculous smirk plastered across Peter's face.

"Now try and get some sleep. Perhaps we can all go riding or hunting tomorrow. I've heard strange talk of a White Stag looming around the forest by Lantern Waste."

"I will," Edmund said. "That sounds like a jolly fun time. Goodnight, Peter...and thanks."

"'Night, Ed. And you're welcome. Oh!-and, Ed, anytime you need to talk-"

"Peter, I'm trying to sleep!" And with that, Edmund let out a laugh followed by Peter's.

As Edmund adjusted into a comfortable position, an uncontrollable smile crept across his lips.

Listening to the lulling rhythm of branches tapping against his window, Edmund soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

Enormous thanks to Ceara Einin who BetaRead this for me! :)