WARNING: I would not suggest that you listen to "Evacuating London" or any other similarly sad song as you read this (even if your authoress did ::sheepish smile::), you may end up wetting your keyboard.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

Author's Note: This is it, folks. The long-awaited "Talk" between our two boys (do you know how many times I wrote and re-wrote this?). When I first started out writing this fic, I didn't ever imagine it would turn out this way. I hope it meets your expectations, and thank you for sticking with me! I promise the next chapter won't take another three and a half months to get out! (Trust me, I don't want it to, because after this, I plan to turn my attention fully to Learning to Walk Blindfolded and a few of my other longish chapter stories.)

Reviewers: All 751 of you, thank you! Please enjoy!

Rating: T (upper end of the range)

Summary: What if Lucy had decided to go across the gorge when she saw Aslan, regardless of whether her siblings came with her? At least she won't be alone…and it is not just Aslan who joins her…(AU, Book and Moviebased) (Siblingfic) (NO Slash)

"Speech"

/Personal Thoughts/

Quotes/Excerpts/Memories (Italics)

(21) Prince Caspian pg. 283 in The Complete Chronicles of Narnia (Hardcover; Illustrated).

Keeping the Faith

By Sentimental Star

Chapter Twenty-One: The Trusting of Crowns and Kingdoms (Part 1)

At one end of the glade Aslan had caused to be set up two stakes of wood, higher than a man's head and about three feet apart. A third, and lighter, piece of wood was bound across them at the top, uniting them, so that the whole thing looked like a doorway from nowhere into nowhere. In front stood Aslan himself with Peter on his right and Caspian on his left…Yet nobody's eyes were on them…the living and strokable gold of Aslan's mane outshone them all. (21)

"Ed," Peter began haltingly, raising his free hand to brush his thumb against his brother's nose, "can we…can we talk now? I mean, if you don't want to I understand. It's okay. But--"

"Pete," Edmund interrupted quickly; Peter subsided reluctantly. "I promised you," he completed softly.

Peter tightly shut his eyes. In response, Edmund did the same, struggling to wrestle down the fierce ache that tightened his chest. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. For six months he had carried around this ache as he watched Peter retreat behind a hardened, easily-provokable exterior, imprisoning himself behind walls and barriers that even his little brother could not penetrate.

But this hurt…this hurt was far, far worse, being forced to watch as his king—no longer hiding—suffered silently.

"I always keep my promises, Pete," Edmund reminded him softly as his eyes flashed open.

Peter cracked open his own, the maelstrom within them hardly calmed. "But if you don't want to, that's--"

Edmund hushed him by gently pressing the older boy's head against his shoulder. "Pete, we need to. I'm--" his breath caught slightly in his throat, "I'm not about to lose you again."

Peter, where he was pressed up against Edmund's side, felt his eyes widen and fill with tears, "Edmund--" his voice broke.

Edmund shook his head, tightening the fingers he'd tangled in his brother's hair. "We're going to talk, Pete. We're going to get out everything we can tonight. I'm not…I'm not going to let you slip through my fingers again."

Peter, quite unexpectedly, gave a wet laugh. "Only you would think something like that, Ed."

Edmund frowned in puzzlement, and would have objected had Peter not chosen that moment to kiss his shoulder and pull back. "Can we go in now, Ed?" Peter hugged himself and shivered, "I…I'd rather be in a private bedchamber for this." He glanced down at the garden below, where the party was still in full swing.

"Of course," Edmund agreed immediately, tenderly taking him by the shoulder and leading him inside.

IOIOIOIOIOI

"How do you want to do this, Peter?" Edmund asked quietly, gently pulling his brother into what he was sure would become their shared bedchamber tonight.

Peter smiled minutely, lightly brushing his fingers against the younger king's arm, before slipping away to shut the door behind them. "Go sit, Ed," he murmured.

Edmund blinked, finding himself directed towards the bed. Bewildered, he automatically sat down on the mattress, eyes on his brother. As he watched, Peter firmly closed the door and latched it behind him.

He blinked again and found his older brother kneeling in front of him, two hands clasped loosely around his. When Edmund blinked once more and stared at him, Peter smiled warmly and leaned down to kiss the younger boy's hands.

Edmund's breathing hitched. "Peter?"

The fourteen-year-old kept smiling. "Thank you for hearing me out. I don't…" Peter's strong façade crumbled, "I don't deserve even this much from you."

Edmund looked appalled. "Peter--!" he burst out.

"Edmund, please! Just…" Peter's breathing caught, "just listen to me. Will you listen to me?"

Unhappily, the younger king closed his mouth and nodded.

Peter shut his eyes gratefully. "Thank you," he whispered.

It was several minutes before he opened them again. When he did, he found Edmund watching him patiently, waiting for him to speak.

Smiling wanly, Peter ducked his head, tracing his thumb along the base of Edmund's. "I should have come to you with this sooner, shouldn't I have? I see that now." He took the silence on Edmund's part for agreement and released a troubled breath. "I'm sorry."

Edmund stiffened. When Peter looked up, his brother was frowning slightly. Lacking the courage to maintain their gaze for long, Peter ducked his head and continued to trace his fingers over the bones of Edmund's palm, murmuring faintly, "Would it surprise you very much to know that I was too ashamed?"

He felt the slight jerk his little brother's body gave and took that as a 'yes.' "I guess so," he whispered. "I don't blame you. I haven't exactly been forthcoming with information lately." He felt Edmund's hand entrap his own and squeeze. "I'm sorry," he murmured again, miserably.

The younger boy stirred restlessly in place and Peter quickly glanced up, intending to apologize once again.

Edmund had worked free one of his hands and now pressed it gently against Peter's mouth, cutting off his brother before he could begin. "Stop apologizing already and just tell me what is wrong," he sighed.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "A lot of things are wrong, Ed," he whispered thickly. "S'not fair to dump it all on you."

He felt Edmund's free hand slip through his hair. "That's what I'm here for, Peter," he reminded him softly. "A brother is born for adversity, remember? Whether it comes from outside you…" Edmund's warm palm suddenly pressed against his chest and Peter snapped open his eyes, staring at his beloved younger brother as tears started streaming down his cheeks, "or within you."

Grasping that hand tightly against his chest, Peter whispered, "You always knew me best. It should have been a comfort, but in England…I hated it. The one thing I had—my supposed invulnerability and pride—and you took it from me." He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh, "You took it from me, luckily, or I would have killed someone." Another strangled, self-deprecating laugh, "Oh, God, Ed, I'm such an idiot. I cherished you above everything else and I almost hated you those few months we were in England because you were everything I should have been and wasn't. How can you even think of forgiving me for something like that?!"

That last part was almost shouted and Peter had bent double, clutching Edmund's hand to his heart.

"Because I love you," Edmund retorted thickly, smoothing his free hand over Peter's broad, shaking back, "because no matter how angry you are, or how much you hate the position you are put in, you keep on loving me!"

Peter shook his head wildly, tears coursing down his cheeks. "Why don't you doubt me?" he whispered painfully, curling in on himself. "Why do you trust me so fully, without hesitation?"

"Why should I not?" Edmund countered softly. "I trust you, Peter. You have never given me a reason not to trust you."

Peter jerked his head up, fixing his brother with a look of pure, heartbreaking disbelief. "After everything I said? After everything I did? Edmund, I as good as abandoned you!"

"Peter," Edmund's voice was quiet when he spoke, and he cradled his brother's cheek, "I won't say it doesn't matter, and I won't say it didn't hurt—because it does, and it did," the older boy winced, Edmund ignored it, "but love is unconditional, Pete. It always has been. And by that token, so is my trust in you."

Peter jerked away. "I--!"

"Peter!"

His older brother froze, looking desperately like he wanted to run and trembling like a leaf gone to storm.

Edmund simply shook his head, "Just…come here," he finally ordered, voice softening as he held out his arms.

Never in his life had Peter been able to resist that wordless plea. So he did, allowing Edmund's arms to curl around his neck.

"You sodding idiot," Edmund murmured unsteadily into his ear, "what does it take to get you to understand that I forgive you?"

Peter clenched his hands in the folds of his brother's sleeves. "Apparently a great deal more than you have patience for," he murmured into the younger boy's neck.

Edmund gave a thick snort and raised his hand to gently caress the back of Peter's head as his older brother continued to shake. "Always said you were thick-headed," he muttered.

"I don't…" Peter's breath caught in his chest, "I don't understand…"

"Then don't try to, Peter," Edmund whispered, continuing to caress the golden head against his neck. "Something like this…I'm not sure it's meant to be understood, Peter. It just is, and that's all right."

"I've…" Peter's breathing went irregular, "I've never been very good at trusting blindly, Ed. That's…that's always been Lucy's department."

Edmund pulled back and gently grasped Peter's face between his hands, gazing squarely into his brother's dark gray eyes. "You can trust this," he stated firmly.

Peter dropped his own, ashamed.

Edmund blew out a heavy breath, letting one hand fall onto Peter's shoulder and tucking a stray, golden curl behind Peter's ear with his other. "I'm guessing this is part of the reason why you were such a…such a…"

He searched for a diplomatic way of saying an—"Arrogant, self-centered, self-righteous prick?" Peter supplied quietly, voice more or less steady. He was completely serious.

Edmund flushed and averted his eyes. "Not quite the term I was thinking of," he muttered. He tugged lightly on the older king's shoulder. "And would you get up already? You certainly don't have to kneel in front of me. You're making me nervous, sitting there like that…"

Peter's hand touched his cheek. "Hush," he murmured. "Yes, I do."

Edmund jerked his head up, glaring incredulously at his older brother.

Peter cut off his protest before it could even begin. "Edmund." Edmund shut his mouth. "Yes, I am High King, but I am also your brother. And as your brother, this is how I intend to talk to you."

Edmund bowed his head. "You shouldn't have to kneel to me, Peter," he whispered, voice nearly inaudible.

"As I said," Peter repeated patiently, "I want to."

Edmund's cheeks—already red—flushed several shades darker. "But--"

"Edmund," Peter cut him off again, "it is not a matter of my being High King, or the oldest, or somehow more important than you, or any of that rot. All that matters right now is that I am your brother, and should act as such. If I thought it would help," Peter snorted amusedly, "I'd even order you to let me do this."

Edmund's hands suddenly closed over his. "You've never been able to, Peter. Even when I knew you desperately wanted to," the younger king at last cracked a smile.

Peter's lips quirked into an odd, lopsided grin, "Would it make any difference if I said I needed you to let me do this?"

Edmund flushed again, and glanced away.

Peter's smile saddened, and he reached up to gently turn his brother's face back towards him. His voice softened as he added, "Would it make any difference if I said I needed you?"

Edmund's eyes widened and his breathing started to hitch. "Pete…Peter?"

Peter's other hand came up to join the first and they both laced themselves behind Edmund's head. He still wore that strange, sad smile. "Back there? In England? I forgot that love has always, and will always, work both ways. That's true of Aslan, and faith, and believing in things seen and unseen. I'm…" Peter swallowed and valiantly blinked back tears, "I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to England, but I think…" he swallowed again, "I think that if you promise me you'll keep on believing in me…I can promise you—and the girls and Aslan—that I'll never again be led astray." He took in a deep, shaky breath, "Will you promise me that, Edmund?"

Tears had long since begun trickling down Edmund's cheeks. Now, heedless of their wetness, Edmund bent forward to tenderly kiss Peter's forehead, murmuring, "Oh, Peter…" he took a deep breath and leaned his own against his older brother's cheek, "You already have it. I gave it to you long ago," his voice (and breathing) went uneven, "long, long ago, when I was first returned to you at Aslan's camp. You know this, Peter," he reached out and took his sobbing big brother gently into his arms, "why did you even need to ask?"

IOIOIOIOIOI

There were few things in this world (any world, really) that Peter felt worthy of, and his little brother was not among them.

So when his sobbing had run its course, and he found himself curled up tightly in said little brother's lap, it was perhaps not so unsurprising that he murmured unsteadily into the eleven-year-old's shoulder, "By the Lion, Ed...what slice of heaven did Aslan cut you from?"

Edmund was still mortified. "P-Peter!" he sputtered, turning a shade of red so vivid that his freckles disappeared altogether.

Peter lifted his head, frowning slightly. "What?"

Edmund buried his burning face in his hands. "Don't ever," he murmured shakily, "ever say that again."

Peter frowned even more. "Why?"

"Because…!" he burst out, wondering how there could possibly even be a darker shade of red.

Peter stared at him a full moment in shock, before giving in with a low, amused chuckle. "I had forgotten how easily you fluster," he muttered warmly.

"Shut up, Peter!"

Peter laughed.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Much later that night, Edmund was woken up by screaming.

Know ye not that we shall judge angels? How much more, then, the things of this life!—I Corinthians 6:3

Tbc.