Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You're all incredible.

Chapter Eight: Faith Enough For All

As they rode back to Aslan's camp, Edmund turned to Oreius.

"How long have I been gone?" he asked.

"About six months," Oreius told him.

"Have we lost anyone?" he continued.

"Two," Philip answered, heavily. "Ceryl and Gol, about three months ago."

He didn't say any more, but he didn't have to. Edmund had known both Centaurs, personally. He'd been the one to send them on their reconnaissance missions, the ones that had apparently gotten them killed. He closed his eyes, succumbing to a moment's regret for the fallen, before putting it out of his mind.

As much as he would have wanted to give in, completely, to the grief that plagued him, he knew that doing so would hinder him, and could only get more killed. And the thought of death summoned forth the question he dreaded asking.

"My siblings," he ventured, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer, "are they all right?"

"They're safe," Oreius reassured him. "They await your arrival at the camp."

"Thank the Lion," Edmund breathed, as the anxiety that had weighed heavily on him ever since his capture eased.

"We received your messengers," Oreius continued. "They've warned us about the Witch's knowledge of the Stone Table."

"She'll likely be going there, next," Bertran spoke up, as he trotted between Oreius and Philip. "She won't dare pursue us, herself. Not with how many she's suddenly lost."

"Are you limping?" Philip asked, looking down at the Wolf, who suddenly shortened his stride to make the injury less noticeable.

"Yes, he's limping," Edmund said. "And you're going straight to Shanza when we get to camp."

"I'm fine," Bertran protested.

"You're going," Edmund repeated, his tone indicating that there would be no argument.

"Everyone who is injured will report to the Healer," he added, raising his voice, so that the entire rescue party could hear him. "No exceptions."

There was some grumbling, but Edmund had anticipated this. For some reason, the warriors in camp were less likely to seek Shanza's aid, even when they were the ones who needed it the most.

'Must be an ego thing,' Edmund mused.

"Since you said, no exceptions, does that mean you will be first in line, to set a good example?"

Oreius's sudden words startled Edmund so badly that he jerked in surprise and nearly fell off Philip's back. The stallion danced anxiously to keep him on, as Oreius grabbed the back of his shirt collar to hold him on Philip's back. They stopped, letting the rest of the party go on ahead, as Edmund regained his balance and his composure.

Philip and Oreius exchanged worried looks. Edmund had been a capable rider when he came to Narnia, and had improved greatly over the years, to the point where nothing could get him off Philip's back if he didn't want off. Philip couldn't even throw him off. This loss of balance, more than anything, was a striking indication of how badly hurt Edmund was.

"I'll be going to see Shanza," Edmund told them. "But I won't be the first. I need to speak with Aslan, first."

"Does this have anything to do with your betrayal?" Oreius asked, softly, and Edmund stared at him in shock, and growing horror.

"Beaver claimed that you sold your siblings out to the Witch," Philip told him. "The Reindeer told us you had no choice but to betray Aslan."

"I didn't," Edmund admitted. "She would have killed them, if I hadn't. But it doesn't excuse what I've done."

"I'm sure Aslan will understand," Philip began.

"I betrayed him, willingly, I lost my faith, and now I must live with the consequences," Edmund replied. "Whatever they may be."

There was nothing more to be said to that, so they simply rode up with the rest of the group. The rescue party reached the camp just as a new day was dawning over Narnia. The Dwarf on sentry duty snapped to attention when he saw them, giving a quick salute to Edmund and Oreius, who returned it with their own.

"Quiet night, Trimpkin?" Oreius asked.

"Quiet so far, sir," Trimpkin said. "Those blasted Reindeer have even been helpful."

Then, he turned to Edmund, beaming.

"It's good to have you back, Majesty," he said. "Camp's been too quiet without you."

"It's good to be back," Edmund replied. "Good watch, Trimpkin."

"What does Trimpkin have against the Reindeer?" Edmund asked, in an undertone, as they rode off.

Philip chuckled.

"The Reindeer were in a hurry to reach us," he said, "and when Trimpkin didn't get out of the way fast enough, one of them simply scooped him up with his antlers and dumped him on his back."

"Trimpkin was disconcerted by the experience, to say the least," Oreius added, and Edmund grinned at the sudden image that formed in his mind.

With that, the rescue party continued on to camp, relaxing the tight pattern they'd formed around Edmund, to protect him as they fled from the Witch. Reaching the middle of the camp, Edmund swung down off Philip's back, to find himself suddenly mobbed by what seemed to be the whole camp.

Leaning on Philip a few seconds longer than necessary, Edmund tried to stop the shaking in his legs that had started the instant he hit the ground. To gain some time, he looked around, his gaze landing on Bertran, who was making no move toward the Healer's tent.

"Make sure he sees Shanza, will you?" he asked Oreius, who nodded.

Without a word, the Centaur moved silently over to the unsuspecting Wolf and, without warning, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, hauled him up into the air, and started towards Shanza's tent.

"Hey!" Bertran yelped, indignantly. "Put me down, you overgrown pony! This instant!"

"I dare not disobey my King," Oreius said, and Edmund could hear the laughter trying to escape the solemn words.

"You'll pay for this, Edmund," Bertran vowed, his voice growing faint as he disappeared into Shanza's tent with Oreius.

"That was rather nasty of you," Philip commented. "And rather amusing."

Edmund smiled, turning at last to face those who'd come out to see him. For the next several minutes he greeted the overjoyed Beasts and other Creatures, reassuring them that he really was all right.

Most had something to say to him, mainly along the lines of "Thank Aslan you're alive!" Or, the ever-popular, "We told Beaver that he was wrong."

Edmund wondered what they'd think of him once the truth was known, for he had no intentions of hiding his actions.

In the midst of all this, he looked up, and found himself staring at Peter.

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A loud noise woke Peter from a sound sleep, and he jerked to attention, his hand going automatically to his sword, which he'd laid near his pillow, for easy access. Standing, he quickly buckled the scabbard around his waist and left the tent.

He looked quickly over at the girls' tent to reassure himself that the commotion wasn't to do with them, and then spotted the crowd. A large group of Creatures was gathered in a tight knot around something he couldn't quite see. Moving quickly, he went to investigate. He'd gotten only a few feet away when the crowd parted, giving him a good look at the one they were so focused on. And his heart gave a wild thump.

Edmund.

His baby brother stood there, smiling at the various Creatures surrounding him as they crowded closer, touching him, as though they needed tangible reassurance that he was all right. The kind that Peter himself needed.

The chestnut stallion that had been so angry the day before was standing the closest, his head resting on Edmund's shoulder. The stallion shifted, and Peter was amazed at the fierce protectiveness he saw in those brown eyes. Dimly, he recalled Aslan's comment about Edmund's ability to inspire loyalty.

Then Edmund looked up at him.

They locked gazes for a long second, an eternity, it seemed. Then, Edmund started walking toward him, slowly, ignoring everyone else around him. He stopped before his brother and held his arms out at his sides as though to say, 'Well?'

Peter's heart skipped another beat as he took in Edmund's appearance. Up close, Edmund looked like he'd been through one of the concentration camps everyone back home had been talking about. He was bruised and cut, his skin a sickly gray color. But it was his eyes that scared Peter the most.

No longer did they hold the promise of mischief. Instead, ghosts flitted across his face as those ancient, haunted eyes stared at him, piercing his barriers and delving deep into his soul.

'What have they done to you, Ed?' Peter thought, agonized. 'How did they steal your laughter?'

But he said none of this. Instead, he simply gazed at his baby brother for a few seconds longer.

"You're alive," he said, at last, surprised at the tears that choked his words in his throat.

"I'm alive," Edmund echoed.

The brothers stood, facing one another, neither one moving.

'Hug him, you idiot!' Peter thought at himself, angrily.

But for some reason, he couldn't make himself move. Finally, Edmund took a step toward him.

"Peter," he began, hesitantly, but his voice trailed off as he caught sight of something over his brother's shoulder.

Peter turned, following Edmund's gaze, and saw Aslan sitting on the same outcropping overlooking the sea that he'd stood on the day before. He looked down at the brothers, and there was an unmistakable summons in his eyes. Swallowing hard, Edmund nodded, surprising Peter.

"He wants to talk to me," he said.

"Ed-" Peter began, but stopped, simply shaking his head, helplessly, when Edmund looked back at him questioningly.

Thank God you're all right. How could you scare us like that? Don't ever leave…

There was so much he wanted to say to Edmund; the list went on and on. And he couldn't get a word of it past his lips. So, he just shook his head again, frustrated. And Edmund turned away, continuing his solitary trek to face Aslan.

"He will be all right," a voice said from behind Peter, and he turned to see Oreius standing behind him, staring up at Edmund and Aslan.

"He doesn't look all right," Peter said, never taking his eyes off his brother.

"Have faith in Aslan," Orieus told him.

"I do," Peter said, immediately, not even having to think about his answer.

"I understand Aslan named you a knight of Narnia," Orieus said, in an attempt to take Peter's mind off Edmund.

"He named me Wolfs-bane," Peter said, finally looking over at Orieus. "And he called my sword Rhindon."

"That is a great honor," Orieus told him, "to have your sword given a name, especially by Aslan, himself."

"Why now?" Peter asked, curiously. "Father Christmas never said anything about my sword having a name."

"A sword cannot earn a name until its wielder has been proven in fair battle," Orieus said. "Your battle with Maugrim was your testing ground."

"Has Edmund ever had to take a life?" Peter asked, his heart sinking when Orieus nodded.

"Your brother is a strong, capable swordsman," Orieus said. "He has proven himself in battle against the Witch's forces often throughout the years."

"I feel like I failed him," Peter said, quietly. "I'm the oldest; I'm supposed to protect Edmund from things like this. From having to kill."

His voice cracked on the last word, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Edmund wished for many things throughout his time in Narnia," Orieus said, as Peter was quiet. "But most of all, he wanted to make you proud of him."

The Centaur nodded when Peter shot him a shocked look.

"You and your sisters have been in Edmund's thoughts ever since his first day in Narnia," Orieus told him. "You three are the source of his strength."

Peter swallowed hard, looking back up at Edmund.

"That's a lot to live up to," he said, softly.

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Edmund reached the outcropping to find the Lion sitting with his back to him.

"Aslan, I'm sorry," he ventured.

"Son of Adam," Aslan asked, "why did you betray me?"

"I-" Edmund faltered, unsure of how to answer.

"Did you do it out of anger or greed?" Aslan continued. "Was it for power or revenge?"

"No!" Edmund burst out. "No," he repeated calming. "I would never-"

"Then, why?" Aslan asked, interrupting him as he turned to face him.

"The Witch said she'd kill Peter, Susan, and Lucy if I didn't tell her where you were," Edmund said, miserably. "And I couldn't let her. I just wanted to save them."

Trailing off, he stared at the ground, unable to meet the Lion's eyes.

"Perhaps, then, it was not such a bad thing," Aslan said, after a moment.

Edmund's head flew up as he stared at Aslan in amazement.

"But-" he protested. "But I betrayed you!"

"And, by your own admission, you did it to save the lives of those you cared about," Aslan reminded him.

"It didn't work, though," Edmund told him, bitterly. "She still sent Maugrim after them. And Peter had to-"

He broke off suddenly, not wanting to think of his siblings in danger, of Peter having to kill to defend himself and the girls.

"You did not know she would lie," Aslan said.

"I should have," Edmund replied. "I've been in Narnia long enough; I ought to know by now that the Witch can't be trusted."

"Are your siblings not safe?" Aslan asked.

"Oreius says they are," Edmund began, but he was cut off by a gleeful shout from below.

Looking down, he saw his siblings gathered where he and Peter had been earlier. His heart gave a wild leap as he saw them all standing there, unharmed. Lucy made as though to run toward him, but Peter quickly held her back, shaking his head.

"Edmund!" Lucy cried, happily, undaunted.

She waved, wildly, and Edmund felt a smile tug at his lips.

"Are your siblings not safe?" Aslan repeated.

"They are," Edmund said, feeling giddy with relief.

It was one thing to have Oreius tell him that they were all right; it was quite another to see it for himself. Until that moment, Edmund hadn't known how badly he'd needed to see them, to reassure himself that they hadn't been hurt.

"Your trust in the Witch's word may have been misplaced," Aslan told him, "but your faith in me was strong."

"But, it wasn't," Edmund whispered, as his true shame came to light. "You asked me to trust you, and I couldn't. I endangered everyone by believing the White Witch."

"Did you not believe that I would protect your family?" Aslan asked him, and Edmund hung his head.

"They were in danger," he said, softly. "I couldn't think of anything but making sure they were safe."

"Edmund," Aslan said, and the boy reluctantly looked up at the Lion. "Do you remember what I told you when you first came to Narnia?"

"The kindest hearts are those who consider others before themselves," Edmund quoted the Lion's words back at him.

"You did not do this for yourself, but for your family," Aslan reminded him. "It is time for you to make peace with your actions."

Edmund looked at him in surprise, and Aslan smiled.

"Go to your family," he said.

Remembering Peter's reticence earlier, Edmund walked slowly, somewhat reluctantly, towards his family.

'What if they hate me?' he thought. 'For what they thought I did; for what I really did do?'

But, he had no time to ponder the answers, as he reached them. They stood together, awkwardly, for a moment, and then Lucy launched herself at him, hugging him as tightly as she could. Edmund returned the embrace, burying his face in his sister's soft hair as tear of relief crept down his cheeks.

"Oh, Edmund," Lucy said, as she released him.

"We were worried," Susan finished for her, hugging him as well.

"Are you all right?" she continued, releasing him.

"I'm a little tired," Edmund fudged, unwilling to let them know just how badly off he really was.

"You should get some rest," Peter spoke up.

Edmund looked at his brother, but there was no expression on Peter's face. He may as well have been talking to a stranger, for all the concern he showed. Edmund's heart sank as he turned away, to go to the Healer's tent.

"Oh, and Edmund?" Peter called.

Edmund looked back, hopefully, and saw a glint of humor in Peter's eyes.

"Try not to wander off," he said, lightly.

Edmund smiled, hesitantly, and Peter returned the gesture. The next second, hatred and alarm flashed across his face, and he had pulled his sword out of the sheath.

'What now?' Edmund thought, panicked, his hand going to a scabbard he no longer wore. 'What could have possibly snuck past the sentries?'

But as he turned to confront this new danger, all he saw was Bertran, and for a moment, he was confused. Then, he remembered Peter's encounters with Wolves.

'Damn it,' he thought. 'I've got to defuse this situation before someone gets hurt.'

Before he could do anything, however, Bertran spoke.

"This," he growled, gesturing at the bandages that covered his chest and one leg, "is your fault."

"My fault?" Edmund asked, lightly, trying to keep between Peter and the Wolf.

"She shaved me!" Bertran yowled, indignantly.

"I'm sure Shanza was just trying to determine the extent of your injuries," Edmund said, trying to stifle a smirk.

Bertran noticed, anyway, and scowled at him.

"It'll grow back," Edmund continued, which only made it worse.

"We'll see how funny it is when it's you who's bald," Bertran muttered, darkly.

"I don't have a head injury," Edmund told him.

"That can be remedied," Bertran said, pointedly, but the toothy grin that split his face took any sting out of the words.

Edmund just shook his head in exasperation.

"I can't believe you called Oreius an overgrown pony," he said. "You know he's going to make you pay for that."

"I'm not afraid of him," Bertran replied, smugly.

"He could kick you from here to Cair Paravel," Edmund pointed out, but the Wolf seemed unimpressed.

"You should go rest," Edmund told him. "You don't want Shanza yelling at you for moving when you're still healing."

Bertran nodded. "You should get up there, soon," he said, "before she decides to send Oreius after you."

He walked past Edmund, who turned to watch him go, and stopped in front of Peter, who had a baffled expression on his face.

"You are the one who slew Maugrim?" Bertran asked.

"That's right," Peter replied, cautiously.

He'd put his sword back into the sheath, but his hand still rested on the hilt, and now his fingers curled reflexively around it as he moved between the Wolf and his sisters. Bertran acknowledged his concern by backing up a step.

"You have great courage for one so young," he said, to Peter's surprise. "My brother is-"

Bertran stopped, closing his eyes in grief as anguish played over his features.

"Was," he corrected himself, softly. "My brother was a fearsome creature."

"Bertran-" Edmund began, but the Wolf ignored him.

"You have great courage," he repeated, to Peter, before trotting off.

Edmund watched him go, worriedly. When Oreius joined them, he spoke without taking his eyes off Bertran.

"I don't want anyone talking about Maugrim," he said. "Bertran doesn't need to hear those things. Not right now."

"Of course, Majesty," Oreius said. "And, now, Shanza-"

"I'm going," Edmund muttered, irritably.

As he walked up to the Healer's tent, he heard a long, mournful wail coming from behind him. Turning, he saw Bertran standing on the outcropping, sounding out his heartbreak for all to hear.

XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX

Peter made his way up to his tent, ignoring the curious looks being shot his way. He tried telling himself that it was because he was human, but he realized that it probably had more to do with the fact that he was hobbling slowly along, grimacing with every step.

He ached everywhere; with bruises in places he didn't know he had. He felt like he'd been well and thoroughly beaten with a stick, which wasn't that far from the truth. And though he'd been assured by the Healer that his foot probably wasn't broken after being trodden on by several hundred pounds of Centaur, he was far from being convinced.

Pushing the tent-flap aside, he saw, to his surprise, another cot against the far wall. Edmund was curled up on it, fast asleep. Moving quietly so as not to wake him, Peter eased himself onto his own cot and started to pull his boots off. Apparently that was a bad idea.

His gasp of pain sounded impossibly loud in the confines of the small tent, and it had Edmund rocketing out of a sound sleep and leaping up to confront whatever danger was upon them. Seeing only Peter, he relaxed, marginally, as he made his way across the tent.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Peter apologized.

"That's all right," Edmund replied, looking at Peter's foot.

Crouching, he grabbed Peter's ankle and, before Peter knew what was going on, had eased the boot off his injured foot. Peter went white with shock at the sudden blast of pain.

"By the Lion!" Edmund gasped, seeing the mottled purple bruises running from ankle to toes. "What did you do to yourself?"

"All I did was get stepped on," Peter replied, finding it necessary to defend himself.

"By what?" Edmund demanded. "A Giant?"

"A Centaur," Peter corrected, while he marveled at the idea of Giants in Narnia. "Oreius was teaching me sword fighting techniques."

"Oh," Edmund said, sitting down beside Peter on his cot. "Well, it can't be broken, or you'd never have been allowed to leave Shanza's tent on your own."

"She said it was just bruised," Peter said.

"Down to the bone, I'll bet," Edmund retorted. "Well, you've done better than I did my first time out."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"The first time I trained with Oreius," Edmund said, with a fond, wistful smile, "I managed to break my nose when my face collided with Philip's neck."

"Ouch," Peter said, sympathetically.

"I learned very quickly after that how to anticipate Philip's moves," Edmund said.

Peter smiled slightly in reply as he turned and really looked at Edmund. The bruises and whatnot from the morning were still there, although faded slightly. And the lost, haunted look in his eyes had faded as well, probably as a result of his talk with Aslan. Right now, he seemed more like his old self than he ever had.

But, he still wasn't the brother Peter knew. The Edmund he knew would have been frightened after so long a time with the Witch. He'd have been uncertain, unsure of his place among Aslan's followers, and he would have looked to his siblings--Peter, especially--for guidance.

The Edmund that sat beside him was none of those things. He moved with confidence and grace through the camp, at home in a place where his siblings were the outsiders. He had the respect and loyalty of everyone in the camp, even after they'd heard that he'd betrayed them.

'Betrayed them to save our lives,' Peter thought, reminded of what first the Reindeer, and then Oreius, had told them.

But that was still a major change from the brother Peter had known.

For all intents and purposes, Edmund was a stranger.

Peter admitted to himself that wasn't the whole story. The truth of it was, Edmund had grown and matured so much during his first stay in Narnia, and Peter was afraid that Edmund didn't need him anymore. And that hurt far more than he cared to admit.

He'd told Susan and Lucy what Aslan had told him about Edmund, and they were as equally baffled as he was about how to approach their brother. They had no idea what he was like after five years in Narnia.

'If he hadn't left Narnia,' Peter realized, suddenly, 'he'd be two years older than me!'

"Penny for your thoughts," Edmund said suddenly, drawing him out of his melancholy state.

"Oh," Peter muttered. "I was, um, thinking about that Wolf," he stammered, seizing on the first thing that leapt to mind.

"Bertran," Edmund said, with understanding. "Peter, he's completely loyal to me, to Aslan. He doesn't serve the Witch, if that's what you're worried about."

"But apparently his brother did," Peter reminded him.

"Maugrim was only giving his loyalty to the only person who cared enough to save his life," Edmund told him.

At Peter's puzzled look, he elaborated.

"Bertran and Maugrim were born to a wild pack of Wolves, in a time when most had gone over in service to the Witch. Unfortunately, some thought that meant that all Wolves served Her, and that the only way to deal with it was to eradicate the packs. Bertran's was one of the last they slaughtered."

Peter gasped, involuntarily, and Edmund nodded, sadly.

"Maugrim was barely a year old at the time," he continued, "but he had enough presence of mind to grab Bertran, who was only a few months younger, and flee for their lives. They hid for several days, with Maugrim able to catch only enough to feed Bertran. They both would have slowly starved to death, if the Witch hadn't found them."

"That doesn't explain why he'd join Her," Peter insisted.

"He'd just witnessed the genocide of his family by a troop of Centaurs, who claimed their deeds in Aslan's name," Edmund told him. "And then the Witch came along, as Aslan's sworn enemy, and rescued him and his brother. According to Bertran, there was nothing he wouldn't have done for her, after that."

"So how did Bertran end up serving Aslan?" Peter asked, suspiciously.

"That's actually kind of ironic," Edmund said. "I found him freezing to death in the snow and brought him back to camp. He gave me his loyalty in return for saving his life."

"He's grieving," he continued, quietly. "He's just lost the sole remaining member of his family, and it's killing him."

'Like we would be with you,' Peter wanted to say, but he still couldn't get the words out.

"I'm tired," Edmund said, a moment later. "Good night, Peter."

"Night," Peter murmured, watching him climb into bed.

Then, he blew out the candle and lay down, but couldn't sleep for the thoughts racing through his mind.

XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX

He was running through the woods, his pursuer getting closer with each step.

Auric's body lay at his feet, sunlight rippling across the stone in a mocking imitation of life.

Philip raced along the riverbank, Wolves in pursuit, as he clung desperately to the Horse's back.

He was in the Witch's dungeon, shivering miserably; in her sledge, staring at Tumnus's stone form.

Ginarrbrik's whip cut into his back, and he cried out in pain. The Witch slapped him, hard, and the blow drew blood.

Then, he found himself standing in a field of snow, surrounded by death. As he walked, he came upon more and more. Philip, his throat torn out, his blood staining the snow. Oreius, his face contorted in pain and defiance, forever stone. Bertran, his teeth bared in rage, the Witch's staff through his heart.

And finally, Peter, Susan, and Lucy.

His siblings lay in a tangled heap, their faces frozen in terror. He fell to his knees, helplessly, and touched Peter's hand.

His brother was cold, so cold, and he wept, soundlessly, bitterly. He pressed a kiss to Susan's icy forehead, and looked at Lucy. His little sister's eyes stared at him, sightlessly, accusing him.

All around him, bodiless voices were growing in intensity.

"All your fault," they mocked him. "Look what you've done."

"No!" he cried. "I didn't mean it; I'm sorry."

But the voices paid him no heed; they went on and on, until he could hear nothing else. Then, everything stopped. He looked up, hopefully, to see Lucy stand up and walk toward him. She smiled, and held her arms out so that he could see her broken body.

"All your fault," she whispered. "Look what you've done."

"NO!" he screamed.

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Peter jerked awake, as a terrified scream filled the air. Lunging across the tent, he threw his arms around Edmund as his baby brother continued to scream, struggling wildly in his grip. Edmund's eyes were open wide with terror, blind to everything but his nightmares.

"Eddy, Eddy, shh, I'm here," Peter crooned, as he tried to calm Edmund.

"No," Edmund moaned, the sound breaking Peter's heart. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not here, you're safe," Peter continued, praying that he would be able to break through Edmund's intense fear. "You're safe, I promise. Shh, Eddy, I'm here."

Edmund took a deep breath, suddenly, and let it out in a shuddering sob as he slumped, weakly, in Peter's arms. He started crying, tears streaking down his cheeks as he shook with silent sobs. Peter drew him in closer, holding him tightly and rocking him, like Dad had done for both of them when they were younger. Finally, his tears dried up and the shuddering stopped.

"I'm sorry," Edmund whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Peter assured him, stroking his hair.

Instead of protesting the comforting measure like he usually would have done, Edmund leaned into the embrace. Peter simply tightened his grip, and then looked up in surprise as the tent flaps parted.

Susan and Lucy entered quietly, with Lucy crawling onto the cot with her brothers as Susan dragged Peter's cot over and pushed it up against Edmund's. Without words, the siblings sprawled themselves over the cots, making sure they had Edmund safely in the middle of their huddle.

"I'm sorry," Edmund repeated.

"Stop that," Susan said, crossly. "You're our brother, and we love you."

"Su's right," Lucy piped up, sleepily. "You're being silly if you don't know that."

"We love you," Peter repeated, before Edmund could say anything.

Edmund was silent for a long minute.

"I know," he said, softly. "I love you, too."

"So, go to sleep," Susan ordered. "We've probably got a long day ahead of us, tomorrow."

A light snore from Edmund was the only answer. His sisters followed him, but Peter resisted the urge and, long after they had fallen asleep, lay awake watching over his family.

A/N2: Be nice to Edmund? But torturing him is so much fun.

So, there wasn't much action, there, but I felt it was time for some sappy stuff. Lots and lots of sap, apparently.

As always, leave reviews. Reviews motivate me to write faster.