I don't own Narnia!


The last time Edmund had been spanked was at the hand of Peter after having caught Edmund spitting some foul retort back at Lucy. She had asked him for help with her language and diction homework and Edmund, who had already been in a foul mood due to sleeping poorly the night before, had snapped back at her that if she didn't understand these basic concepts at this point, he could be of no help to her. She had bitten her lip for a moment and then asked whether he was calling her stupid, to which he smirked and gave a little scoff and said nothing. Lucy's face had crumpled just as Peter had turned the corner. Their oldest brother had gathered Lucy in his arms defensively, hushed her, and promised to help her with her work in just a few minutes. He had then turned to Edmund, fixing him with a steely glare. "Apologize to Lucy this instant." Edmund had stammered out some sort of halfways decent apology because Peter had said nothing more before seizing his arm and ushering him upstairs. Once they reached Edmund's bedchamber, Edmund was scolded sternly and, summarily, spanked.

But this had been months ago. Edmund had even been at the point where he thought perhaps he would never be spanked again, whether due to Susan and Peter finally coming to their senses and calling olly to the barbaric practice, or his behaviour finally reaching the desired standard consistently.

Whatever the reason for this welcome respite from a sore bum, it seemed it had all too quickly come to an end. Indeed, it just so happened that he was considering all these things while staring at the wall of Peter's bedchamber, his hands on his head. He drew in a breath grimly and wondered what his chances were of Peter simply desiring to have a conversation. He /had/ been very angry when he threatened the belt in the tent, and he certainly wasn't nearly as cross anymore. He had even smiled and joked with Edmund this morning at breakfast. The boy shifted from one foot to the other. He wasn't hopeful, nor was he optimistic, but maybe...just maybe...Peter didn't intend to spank him at all.

He jumped as he heard one of the door knobs turning and knew that he was about to find out. He straightened his back, not wanting to give Peter any more of a reason to scold him. He heard Peter settle himself on the bed and waited for him to speak, palms sweaty, heart picking up in speed.

At last, Peter broke the silence. "Okay, Ed, come here." Edmund turned to face him and instantly felt his insides grow chilly with dread. Set next to Peter on the bed was Susan's black hairbrush. And next to the hairbrush, a leather riding strap.

Edmund's breath began to quicken. He backed himself against the wall and shook his head. "No, Peter, please."

"Edmund," came his name again. It sounded very much like a warning, and he began to cry. Peter was holding out an arm for him, beckoning him near.

"Please," He gasped. Peter stood up from where he sat on the bed. "Please don't whi--hip me." He shrieked out a desperate sob, backing down the wall as Peter began to move towards him. "Please, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Peter grasped Edmund's wrists and he pulled back hard, twisting. "HEY," Peter pulled him in and shook him. "You will stop fighting me right now." Edmund stilled, now only able to squeeze his eyes shut and cry with anxiety. "Now, come over here," and he was firmly pulled over into a seated position on the bed. Once the brothers were seated side by side, Peter lifted a hand to the side of Edmund's head, which dropped down onto Peter's shoulder immediately as Edmund sobbed.

Peter rubbed Edmund's arm, saying nothing. He desperately wanted to console his little brother, yet felt equally that Edmund needed to come to terms with the consequences of his actions; too much coddling would not do much to aid him in that. "I don't want to do it, Ed," he spoke at last. Edmund began to gasp a reply but Peter hushed him, kissing the side of his head and tightening his grip on Edmund's arm slightly. "I don't want to do it," he repeated, "but you have left me with no choice."

"I wo--on't--" Edmund sobbed. Peter shook his head.

"Don't tell me you won't do it again," Peter spoke over him, his voice hardening. "You always tell me you won't and it's amusing when it's only me telling you not to pick on Lucy or not to procrastinate on preparing for training sessions. I'm not going to be satisfied with a simple, 'I won't', this time. This is serious, Edmund. You must make a conscious effort to make wiser choices."

"I'm sorryyyy," he wailed.

"I'm sure you are, love. But I want 'sorry' to last beyond this room. What you did was not only disobedient, it was dangerous, Edmund." Peter drew in a breath and sat back to look at him, thumbing away the tear tracks on his little brother's face before continuing. "I mightn't have cared all that much had you shown up with a weapon and proved to me that you have some idea how to properly defend yourself. There is no excuse for forgetting your sword, Edmund. Ever. There's a ridiculous number of dangerous folk and uncertain terrain where we were traveling." When Edmund said nothing in response, Peter went on. "But not only did you have no weapon, you then decided to go off on your own, at nightfall, with no earthly idea where you were going. No light. No supplies. No backup. No experience in the area whatsoever. Edmund..." Peter pinched the area between his eyes. "Of all the...the...stupid things you could possibly think to do...why that?" Edmund snuffled. "Answer me."

"I wanted to go home," Edmund mumbled.

"And you couldn't wait til you were returned in the morning?" Edmund stared at the bedspread. "Hm?"

"'M sorry," he whispered. Again, Peter shook his head.

"That you put yourself in harm's way with absolutely no thought to your safety and no plan in place whatsoever is unacceptable, Edmund." Peter's voice hardened as he shook Edmund a bit to make his point. "You must learn to stop and think. And when I tell you 'no,' you must do as I say. Period. It doesn't matter if you think you know better. I don't tell you 'no' or disallow you to join me in things because I think it's fun to be cruel. There are things I know how to do that you don't. Situations that I know how to manage that you don't. If you ever don't agree or don't understand, then I am open to civil and respectful discussion if circumstances allow, but I am in command. I am the one you answer to. I know the danger that you haven't stopped to think about, Ed. I've already considered and calculated it, so when I say 'no', you can trust that I do so with the purest intent." He paused for a moment, then sat up and stated, "I need you to look at me."

Peter grasped Edmund's forearms, bringing him to a standing position directly in front of him. "We were in a group, Edmund," Peter continued, his voice quiet and low, firm and dangerous, "yet you showed little to no regard for the wellbeing of the group as a whole. You set off all by yourself to have your own private adventure, and what came of it? I had to leave the entire party I was supposed to be overseeing to rescue my little brother. You. Could. Have. DIED, Edmund!" He raised his voice, shaking Edmund again, and his younger brother jumped in response. "You could have died," he repeated, "and I would have found you like that, instead of how I found you, which wasn't much better, by the way." Edmund blinked rapidly, tears of shame, guilt, fear, and embarrassment pooling afresh in his eyes. "You're better than that, Ed," Peter spoke despairingly. "You can do better. I know you can do better. And you must. For Susan and Lucy's sake, for the sake of our people, our kingdom, your kingdom," Peter shook him one more time before finishing, "and for me. Careless endangerment of yourself and others will always get you punished, no matter what. And if you want me to trust you enough and have enough faith in you and your abilities to allow you along on trips of higher risk such as that one, being sneaky and disobedient and deceitful and making brash and childish decisions is certainly not the way to achieve that."

"Now." Peter smacked his hands down on his lap and regarded Edmund pointedly. "I'll guess I don't have to tell you how extremely disappointed in your behaviour I am," he remarked. "I probably also don't have to tell you how much trouble you're in, but for clarity's sake, I shall do so anyway." Edmund swallowed hard, cheeks burning with chagrin as he waited for his brother's judgement.


In the mean time, Susan and Lucy were having a much more delightful time in town. They had dressed in street clothes and tied their hair in common plaits, so as not to be recognized quite as easily. The townsfolk were generous and would often insist the siblings accept loads of food and goods completely free; the royals much preferred to pay the same amount for cloth and tools as everyone else. No reason, Susan had said of the matter, for their hard work to feed their families and make a living to go straight into the mouths of those with plenty, especially for nothing in return. It would feel like stealing.

The girls traveled on foot, winding their way down grass and cobblestone paths until they reached the road. Lucy's hand slipped into Susan's instinctively, causing her older sister to smile. Big girl as she was, she needn't have held anyone's hand in the street at all. However, ever since Lucy had been very small, it had always been Susan's hand she preferred to Mummy's (a habit Helen Pevensie had tried time and again to break her of, with no success), whether crossing the road or walking through the store or up the steps to Mass.

Once they reached the bustling town, the girls immediately turned into the baker's square, munching on honey cake as they continued down the alley. "Stay close, Lu," Susan cautioned as they were jostled this way and that by busy passerbys. Of course, no one would have dared touch either of them had the fullness of their identity been known, but that was, of course, the point. It was nice to be ordinary sometimes.

Much to Lucy's delight, Susan allowed her to choose cloth for new dresses from an array of dozens of fabrics in every color of the rainbow. Usually, all Lucy had to do was request, "light purple," or "dark blue," and one of the servants would fetch the fabric themselves, but often it was not quite the shade Lucy had been imagining. She never complained, of course, but this, seeing it right in front of one's own eyes, bright and shining in the sunlight, was much better. Lucy chose robin's egg blue, a light posy pink, a beautiful earthy red-brown that would go wonderfully with a pair of brown leather boots that Tumnus had gifted her a couple months back, a light cream with dark blue accents ("I'll ask Ellis to sow accents on your collar, as well, Lu," Susan had commented), and finally, her favorite color, light lavender purple, with flecks of white and darker purple scattered about. Lucy was thrilled and chattered to Susan all about when and where she would wear what color dress as the girls continued down the lane.

Upon almost stumbling over a young girl with elfin features and pointed little ears selling daisies in a little white basket, Susan immediately dropped to her knees in front of her, blindly shoving the contents of her own sachet into Lucy's arms. "Hello," she crooned. "My, don't you have the most beautiful red hair I have ever seen. My name's Susan. What's yours?"

"Amyla," the girl replied shyly, backing away from Susan slightly and drawing a strand of copper hair into her mouth.

"That's a beautiful name for a very beautiful girl," Susan spoke gently. "What have you got in your basket?"

"Flowerth," she lisped, "three for a shilling." Susan gave a little gasp.

"Is that so? That's a very fair price for such lovely flowers."

"My name is Lucy," Lucy spoke up, dropping down next to Susan and gently tucking the strand of wet hair behind the little girl's ear and out of her mouth, "and I do believe my sister and I would very much like to buy your flowers. But first, would you like to play a game with me?" The child eyed Lucy curiously for a moment before nodding, stepping back toward them. "Right," Lucy rummaged in the little sack at her waist, coins clinking. She quickly tucked her hands behind her, eyes shining. "In one of my hands, I have four shillings. In the other hand, I have two. If you can guess which hand has four shillings, I'll give them all to you! What do you think? Would you like to play?" The child nodded again, beginning to smile a bit, missing teeth showing through the gap in her lips.

"What do you think, then?" Susan moved to her side and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Which hand is it? You have any idea? Whisper it here," she tapped her ear

"I think maybe left," Amyla breathed in Susan's ear. Susan's eyes widened, animated.

"Oooh, I think you might be right. Let's have a go, then," she whispered back. "You want to tell her, or shall I?" The girl shrugged, still a bit shy, so Susan said, "okay, I'll ask her. Is that what you've decided, then? Left?" The child nodded. "Alright, Lucy," Susan straightened. "We've chosen the left hand."

"Ooohh, you've found me out!" Lucy exclaimed, her hand shooting out from behind her back. In her enthusiasm, the coins flew out of her hand, scattering out in front of Susan and Amyla.

"What do we have, darling?! Shall we count them? Let's look," and Susan led the girl in counting out not four, but six shillings.

"Those are all yours!" Lucy offered Amyla emphatically, handing her the coins, "You've won the game, you see!"

"Thank you vewy much, ma'am," the girl spoke quietly, clutching the money in her little fist.

"Do you think I could take a couple of those flowers from you?" Susan asked. "They would look so lovely on my dining table." And the child thrust the basket out at Susan, who tenderly retrieved four daisies from the basket, thanking Amyla warmly.

"I think you need one more," the little girl spoke up, holding a flower out to Susan.

"Oh, thank you ever so much. You're exactly right, and now I have a full bouquet!"

"Thank you for playing with us!" Lucy bent down and kissed the child's face warmly. "I had so much fun with you."

"As did I," said Susan, copying Lucy. "We'd better--"

"Amyla!" came a call from down the alley. A very pregnant woman was hurrying toward the girls in bare feet, carrying a small child on her hip. As she neared, she put a protective arm around the girl's shoulders and said to her, rather out of breath, "I told you quick business, my child. No bothering busy folk. Come," and she began to lead her away.

"Oh, she wasn't a bother at all," Lucy piped up. "She's beautiful. We've so enjoyed talking with her and she sold us the most beautiful flowers!"

"That's very kind of you," the woman gave the girls a quick smile before beginning to turn away again.

"Look, Mummy," the child spoke. "They gave me these."

"Who did?"

"Susan and Lucy."

"Who?!" But she was too late, for as she turned, all she saw was Susan's skirt disappearing into the crowd as she hurried Lucy along in front of her.


Susan tucked a daisy behind Lucy's ear and kissed her forehead before taking her hand and leading her down the street and out of the busy alley. That had been a very successful shopping trip.


To be continued!