"King Edmund," a low murmur met his ear with caution as he was roused to consciousness. He remembered tumbling quietly out of Peter's bed and with light steps made his way down to the library. And fallen asleep once more in the throes of History of the Judicial…and whatever drivel made up the rest of the title. As much as he had tried to waste himself away in the maneuvers and loopholes of the law, he would always be brought back to reality, and this was his wake up call. This evening, the case would be presented in front of the court, and the pews would no doubt be full as the trial was no longer a dwarven land dispute but a cold-blooded murder case.

He wished dearly that he could keep the witnesses to a minimum, as no doubt emotions would run high in the court chambers, but he supposed it was the Narnians' prerogative to see to it that justice would be carried out. It was with a lack of passion and heavy limbs that he pried himself from the soft chair that seemed to swallow him whole whenever he sat himself in it. He nodded in appreciation, a tad abashedly, to the satyr who had prodded him from his nap and made his way to the stables.

"King Edmund!" A small dog yipped at his feet excitedly as he entered stable that was alive with chatter, unusual so early in the morning.

"Well, hullo, Calliope. What's got your tail so perked up this morning?"

"King Edmund, are you going to judge today?" The young puppy asked him as he craned his head, careful to not tread on the overbearing pup, in search of Philip who, for all he knew about the horse's tacit love life, could have spent the night with Alia. He hoped that wasn't the case, as it would be quite awkward if he chanced upon the couple.

"Why, yes, I am. Where's your mother, Calliope?"

"She's on an errand with Merrin," Calliope answered, giggling at her own rhyme. "Is that guy gonna die at the Stone Table?" Edmund temporarily froze up at the reference before remembering just who he was talking to.

"Um, are you sure you're mother is out, Calliope?"

"Yes," she answered exasperatedly. "All of my brothers are telling me that wolf guy is gonna die for what he did to Aoife. Are you going to kill him, too, King Edmund? Well, are you?"

"Brothers are often very mistaken," he smiled fondly at the young dog. "Now, do you think I would do a thing like that?"

"No. But you kill people in battle. Don't you?"

"Trust your instincts, Calliope." He took her small body into his hands and brought her back to her brothers who were wrestling in a corner of the barn. They stilled when they caught sight of him.

"Goodbye, little Calliope. Remember what I said," he smiled and she barked with happiness that she was able to hold a secret over her brothers. They stared at her in awe and fraternal envy. His eyebrows narrowed in concern that Calliope had said such things, especially at her age. Is that what people were expecting of him? Avenging a murder with murder? He quickly shook the train of thought; it was merely the talk of babes. Although Edmund was shaken over his conversation with the pup, he continued on in pursuit of Philip, trying not to notice the silence that seemed to arise in the groups of prattling animals as he passed. He had a duty to perform. And a horse to express his gratitude towards.

Once he had left Philip and his blushing girlfriend (if horses could blush, that was exactly what Alia was doing) to their, erm, thoughts, he made his way to his and Peter's bedchambers to change into more courtly clothing, as well as clothing that held significantly less barn stench. Much to his surprise, Lucy was lurking behind the door. He yelped in surprise, another tick on his 'unkingly' tally he had been racking up as of late.

"By Aslan, Lucy, the fact that I don't have gray hairs by now is nothing short of miracle. What's up?" She smiled in mischievous embarrassment, an expression not foreign to her face.

"Sorry, Ed. I only wanted to give you something before the trial." She held up a necklace with a shining red and gold pendant of the Great Lion attached. "Mr. Tumnus gave it to me at our coronation. I thought you might like it. Not that you need luck or anything," she gave a small giggle and Edmund couldn't help but smile and join in the levity Lucy was encouraging.

"Well, thanks a lot, Lu. But I don't think I want to appear in front of the entire Narnia court with a girl's necklace. They might think it a bit…undignified," he said in a sardonic whisper, and Lucy pursed her lips teasingly.

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I'll just have to give it to Peter before your next battle. Or Susan on her birthday. Or even to Oreius, I'm sure he'd accept a simple…"

"Alright, alright, Lu, I accept!" he laughed and bowed his head so she would be able to put it on his neck.

"Thank you, m'lady," he bowed mockingly as the Aslan pendant swung from his neck.

"Why, you're ever so welcome!" she laughed and latched her hands around the back of his neck and folded him in a small embrace.

"Be brave, Ed," she pursed her lips with wide eyes as she stood back from him.

"Thanks, Lu." And with that, she left.

Edmund sat on the corner of his neatly made bed with a black and silver tunic hanging loosely from his body. He somehow had never felt uncomfortable in his Narnian clothes. Well, they were the finest woven threads in the nation, but he had never felt ridiculous in leggings and colorful tunics, unless those colors had been chosen by Susan, he thought wryly. He remembered his clothes from Spare Oom vaguely. Ill-fitting knickers, he believed they called him, and itchy collared shirts he had never quite gotten used to. But Narnia fit him perfectly, as if he had always belonged there and always would. As if they had been born for this land.

"Edmund?" A soft baritone came into the room. He knew Peter's voice anywhere, it was one of the most familiar things in the world to him, a sign of home.

"Here," he called, although he knew full well that his brother could see him from the doorway. His bright blond locks were combed neatly into place; clearly his faun valet, Cillan, had gotten a hold of him.

"Is that Lucy's necklace?" he asked suspiciously, and Edmund rolled his eyes.

"She gave it to me as a gift. A good luck charm. I suppose she thought I'd need it," he smirked faintly.

"Listen, Edmund, if you want to talk about anything, about that night…I've never really outright said it but…"

"Oh shut up, you sod," Edmund stopped him. "Sit down, Pete. As a matter of fact, I have been seeking my confidant," he said truthfully. "And since you look an awful lot like him…"

"Oh, shut up. I was going to say that I've never outright said that you're a real git, but now that you've interrupted me…" he paused. "Go on, Ed, what's eating you?"

"You're making me feel like a git now, but all right. Pete, d'you remember that dream I had last night?" His brother nodded.

"It was about Luce. The wolf," he hesitated, not sure how to go on. "It was…strange. I—Aslan was there and he told me to trust myself, or something like that. And then…" Inexplicable tears filled his eyes and he stopped once more. "Listen, Pete, it's getting close to the trial, and I just can't talk about it right now. I'll just…go down to the court chambers, then," he finished dejectedly.

"Ed, come on, you know you can tell me anything. Sit back down."

"Later, Pete," he said dolefully. "I can't have anything distracting me right now. It's too important." For Cryptos. For Narnia. His dream had been a fluke, surely. He wasn't going to let a simple nightmare stop him from performing his kingly duties.