*WARNING*- This story contains the spanking of a teenage male. Don't like, don't read. You have been warned and I will not apologize for my work or its content.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Pevensie children, Narnia, or anything else affiliated with them, just the plot!


Edmund stalked towards the horses, feeling hungrier than ever and quite sorry for himself. He was angry at Peter, as well. He could try to be a sport about it and be glad for my company, but instead, he's stuck in his head and is going to make this whole time perfectly miserable for me the whole way through, he thought bitterly. He reached the open, grassy area where the horses were grazing and found the brushes and hoof picks. Groaning, he grabbed up a brush and set to task on the nearest horse, growing more and more irritated the longer he realized this whole bloody chore was going to take him. There had to have been 4 or 5 dozen horses. Peter wouldn't make just one of his own men do this all by themselves, Edmund huffed to himself. I won't be made a fool of. If Peter doesn't want me here and is going to be a giant prick about it the entire time, then I'd rather go home and leave him to his stupid trip.

He glanced around quickly. Seeing no sign of his brother or any of the other men (they were far too deeply invested in the feast before them), Edmund began to search for a saddle. It didn't take him too long to find a large log that 3 or 4 saddles were set upon. He dashed back to the first horse he had been working on, saddled them quickly (he didn't know the name or sex of this horse, couldn't hope to for the lack of light, and really didn't care), and then led the horse quietly to the opposite edge of the clearing, through the other horses and as far away from the party as possible. He was smart this time and decided not to mount until he was at enough distance that he could barely see the lights flickering from the group of men and animals celebrating merrily. Only then did he mount, turning the horse west and back towards the direction of the Cair. He thought? He figured he knew the way well enough, after all, how big was Narnia?


After Lucy had rather nervously filled Susan in concerning Edmund's whereabouts, Susan had leaped to her feet and made back to the castle at a dead sprint, shouting for Lucy to find a scout as she went. Susan quickly penned a message to Peter:

E w you? L says he left this am. Int'd to follow you. Pl. reply w haste. -S

While Susan was scribbling frantically, Lucy was shouting for Dorr and Baed, the two scout griffins who normally delivered the royal's messages among Narnia and between Narnia and the neighboring Archenland. When she could not reach nor find them, she flew noisily into Peter's office where Susan was just rolling up the parchment. "Could I use your horn?" She burst out breathlessly.

"What for?" Susan turned to look at her sister.

"To call a griffin," Lucy panted. "I dunno where they are."

"That's not going to call a griffin, Lu; that will probably call back Peter himself from his hunt. No, let us go up to the balcony and see if they're perched up above. Hurry," and Susan took Lucy by the hand and together the girls rushed up, up, up, until they could go up no further. Here, Susan shoved open the massive wooden doors that led out to the long, winding ledge (and too-short railing that snaked along it, in Susan's opinion) that wrapped around one of the castle's 4 towers. She quickly crossed the distance between herself and a massive brass bell, reaching up and pulling it with both hands, hard. It sounded with a booming clang that ricocheted throughout the balcony and made Lucy jump and cover her ears. Susan sounded the bell again and again, until at last indeed, the two tawny, dark golden brown griffins soared in from the right and perched themselves on the railing in front of the girls.

Without offering a greeting, Susan ran to the largest griffin, Baed, fairly shoving the parchment into his open beak.

"My brother the High King is on hunt a good way east of here. Find him and his party and deliver this message to him. Quickly!"

"Certainly, your Highness," nodded Dorr, whose mouth was not occupied. The griffins ducked low in bows and then launched from the balcony, the thrust of which caused Susan and Lucy to stumble a bit. They watched as the awesome creatures soared out of sight, then Susan turned to Lucy, her mouth in a tight line.

"We need to have a bit of a conversation."


Edmund was already regretting his plan. He hadn't brought a torch and quickly found that he couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black and he kept steering the poor horse into brush and branches. He stopped the horse at last and turned around in his saddle, trying to see the way back. He tugged on the horse's reins until they were faced about, and started them forward, back towards the party, but after traveling for what must have been at least a half hour, he found it no use. He had no idea where he was. He began to breathe hard, feeling the blood drain from his face. He swore, dismounting his horse.

Beginning to panic, he ran a little ways on foot, desperately trying to get a bearing on where he was. Then, with a cry, he felt himself falling. He tumbled down, down, landing with an "OOF!" on the hard ground. He scrambled to his feet, his head whipping in every direction, but he still could not see. With a whimper, Edmund sank onto the ground. He scooted himself backwards, nearly starting out of his skin when he felt a hard wall behind him. When he found that he still couldn't see where he was, he curled up into a ball with a strained sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, miserably willing morning to come so that he could go home.


That same afternoon, back at the castle, Susan had led Lucy back down the winding steps that went up to balcony and into her (Lucy's) bedchamber. She had sat down on the bed, pulling Lucy to sit down next to her. Lucy was quite nervous; she was only too aware that this could very possibly be the precursor to an exceptionally unpleasant few minutes.

"What were you thinking, not telling me that Edmund left the castle this morning?" Susan was regarding Lucy sternly. Lucy swallowed hard.

"I—I just—Edmund said you would be more angry at me than at him."

"For what, for eating a biscuit over sneaking out at the crack of dawn?! Lucy, you know better!"

"But—but, he—I—Peter said not to tattle!" Susan shook her head.

"You know the difference between tattling to get someone in trouble and relaying information for the good of someone's safety. You realize that if Edmund is not with Peter, that makes all 3 of us who have absolutely no idea where he is? Peter didn't go to the beach, Lucy; he's hours away. And Edmund could be, too. Not to mention any number of wolves and Aslan knows what else that would be all too happy to get hold of him and hold him for ransom. And that's all, if he's lucky. I...Lucy…" Susan hissed her sister's name, squeezing her temple with one hand and feeling her temper rise exponentially, trying to keep it under control. "We can't afford to be keeping secrets from each other, not this kind. Not here. If someone ever asks you not to tell Peter or I something or threatens you if you tell, you tell us. Right away. Do you understand?" Lucy's lips and throat were working furiously in an attempt to hold back tears. "Do you understand?!" Susan repeated, a bit more forcefully, grasping her sister's shoulder.

"Yes," Lucy whispered, tears spilling over. She sobbed silently as Susan continued,

"This is serious, Lucy! He doesn't have your cordial or a whiff of protection with him. Do you know he didn't even bring his sword with him? I checked his chamber straight away as soon as I got inside. You should have come up and woken one of us up as soon as he told you. We've lost hours! I could have gone after him!"

"It's not my fault," Lucy sobbed.

"What's not your fault?"

"That Edmund left!" Lucy gasped. "It's not my fa-fault that he decided to le-heeeave. That's his own cho-choice." Susan sighed, reaching for her sister's hand.

"No, it's not your fault that Edmund left," she said firmly, "I'm not saying that at all. But it is your fault that it's this late in the day and I'm just now hearing about it. It is your fault that he got that far without me knowing. That is completely your responsibility, and it is inexcusable, Lucy. You always tell us if it's a dangerous situation or if someone asks you to keep a secret from us, even Edmund. Always. Understood?" Lucy nodded, swiping at her eyes as tears fell fast.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be sorry," Susan spoke bitterly.

"I didn't want to get in trouble," she whimpered.

"Well, you wouldn't have been in trouble had you not chosen to trade your brother's safety for biscuits!" Susan burst out, then froze when she saw Lucy's eyes widen in terror. "Oh..oh, darling. I'm sorry. That…that wasn't fair." Lucy burst into hard and heavy sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Susan wrapped her arms around her baby sister, pulling her in tight to her chest. They sat there together for some time, Susan murmuring comfort and offering apology after apology, Lucy shaking in her sister's arms. Both the girls finally quieted. Susan stroked her sister's hair as Lucy sank her head heavily into Susan's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Lu," Susan whispered one more time. "That was so unfair of me. I spoke out of anger. I didn't mean that at all. I beg your forgiveness."

"It's alright," Lucy mumbled, but she didn't move an inch from where she was.

"I'm…I've decided not to punish you, Lu. I was going to, and for good reason, too, but I think that you understand, yeah?" At that, Lucy sat up. She blinked and wiped her eyes before smiling the tiniest bit, nodding, and offering Susan a watery,

"I understand."

"Good girl." Susan hugged Lucy close. "You forgive me? I spoke entirely out of turn; I was—"

"Of course I forgive you, Susan." Lucy's sweet little voice tickled Susan's ear before she planted a kiss on her big sister's cheek. "And…and I do ever so hope that Edmund is alright."

"Me too, Lu." The girls sat in silence together for another long while.


To be continued!

A/N: I was getting kind of sick of Susan responding to situations with the same perfect and even and kept together reactions all the time. I kind of put myself in her shoes and tried to think how I would respond to my little siblings if something like this were to happen, and this was the (messy!) result.