Wow! Got some scolding from that last chapter. I hope you'll hang with me, though. If any of you are still a little sceptical, yes, Edmund is really dead. Sorry.

Wasn't that heartbreaking, though? I almost cried over my own writing. It was so hard to write. How did I do?

Peter wept. He cried untill his voice was course and his eyes could no longer soak his face with tears. He supposed he should be strong; be strong for his people. But Peter couldn't bring himself to rise from the ground. He held Edmund's body close to heart, pulling away only once to close the empty brown eyes that had once held so much life in them; the life of his brother.

"Oh, Ed." Peter sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry."

His throat hurt from crying so hard, but he couldn't stop. No tears fell anymore - he'd run out by now - but that didn't stop the sobs that tore from his throat.

"I love you too, Ed."

Peter could hear heavy hoof-beats approaching from behind. The next moment a hand was rested lightly on his shoulder.

"Your Majesty." Came the strong voice of Oreius. He held no emotion in his words and Peter knew that - should he look up - the general's face would likely match his tone.

Oreius couldn't be blamed; to anybody else, Peter knew he must look silly. He was crying his lungs out over one who looked, to everybody else, to be a slave. But Peter knew that if they could see Edmund's face, they too would join him in mourning.

"Your Majesty." Oreius said, once more.

"Please, Oreius, I just... need to be alone." Peter never rose his head to look at the Centaur.

"Perhaps it would be better for you if you moved to your private tent." Oreius suggested.

Peter had to admit that it would be better for everybody if he moved. The battlefield was no place to mourn in peace. Susan and Lucy would have to be told; it would be better for them in private.

"Thank you, Oreius. I would like that." Peter nodded.

"Shall I help you carry hi-"

"No!" Peter cut him off a little too quickly, and rudely, he realized. "I mean, no, thank you. I want to carry him."

Peter knew he was weak, but he couldn't bear having Edmund taken from him again; not until he was ready to give him up. Will I ever be ready to give him up? Peter didn't think so, but he would have to cross that bridge later.

The High King rose unsteadily to his feet, pulling his brother's body up with him. Edmund's head fell limply against Peter's shoulder, breaking his heart a little more - if that was even possible.

"I hope you may excuse my asking, but what is so special about a slave?" Oreius questioned, still standing behind him.

Peter sighed a shaky sigh, still trying to compose his figure. "Every slave is important to somebody... loved by somebody."

"Sire?"

Peter turned slowly and faced Oreius. When the great Centaur's eyes fell upon Edmund's still and bloodied form his stoic expression faded, revealing the first bit of emotion Peter had ever seen from his general. Oreius's eyes met Peter's once more and held a mixture of grief, sympathy and confusion. The look was so painful that Peter couldn't bear to see it any longer, so he cast his eyes down.

"Thank you for your help today, Oreius." Peter thanked, but his voice sounded broken and he never met the general's gaze. "You fought like a real warrior, as always."

Oreius ignored the compliment. "Shall I fetch the queens?"

Peter shook his head. "Not yet. They need to hear it from me. He asked me to tell them."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Above all else, Peter admired Oreius's ability to receive orders without question. The questions running through the Centaur's head must be surpassing, yet he knew when to refrain from asking further.

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Peter didn't recall much of anything about the trek to his tent. He barely came across any Narnians, and when he did, they never looked closely enough to see what - or more so who - he carried.

He didn't know how long it took to get to his private tent, but he couldn't care less. Oreius had taken to standing guard outside -under order of the High King- making sure no one entered, even the queens.

Susan and Lucy would be told - they had to be - but not until Peter could stand steadily on his feet.

As soon as he was inside, Peter layed Edmund on the bed roll and looked into his pale face.

"Eddy." Peter said, once again opening the floodgates and allowing new tears to steam down; tears unaccompanied by sobs, but broken words instead. "Oh, Eddy. Why? Why did you have to leave me? Couldn't it have been me, Aslan?"

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Lucy was just leaving the healing tent, finished with her duties, when she came face to face with her sister.

"Susan!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her arms around the other girl's neck. "You're alright!"

Susan chuckled lightly and and pulled Lucy off of her. "And I see you managed to stay here the entire time."

"You have no idea how hard it was to keep inside when you and Peter were out there, risking your lives. I was scared to death that the next stretcher would be carrying one of you two."

Susan's expression turned to a questioning one. "Where is Peter, anyways?"

Lucy gathered her thoughts. She hadn't seen Peter since he bade her goodbye before the battle. He seemed distant, then; he wasn't himself. Lucy couldn't imagine anybody being themselves when rushing off into a bloody fight that they could very well not come back from, but before, Peter had always been able to brush it off and behave like himself. Of course, when had Peter last been himself?

Since they lost Edmund, nobody had been themselves. They had only just recently begun to recover from that devastating wound, but right when things started seeming more normal, Peter's behavior changed. There wasn't much explaining it. When Judas was there, he seemed stressed, but not quite as sad and grievous; when Judas left, he seemed agitated and distant; lost, almost. But still, it was nothing like Peter's previous grieving over the months after learning of Edmund's loss.

Before the battle, Peter didn't seem to have been in grief at all. He was stoic and looked to be on a mission. Lucy supposed that he was on a mission; Peter was leading his troops, and he couldn't be seen as weak and in mourning. The High King had to be strong this day. His life and the lives of his troops depended on it.

But none of this answered the question playing on both sister's minds.

"Lu?"

Lucy pulled out of her thoughts and looked back into Susan's blue eyes. "I... I don't know. He always come to see us after the battles; he and Edmund always would."

A short moment of silence passed between them at the mention of their lost brother before Susan pulled Lucy by the arm into a walk.

"We'll check his tent. If he's anywhere in the camp, he'll be there."

Lucy nodded at her sister's words, hoping desperately that her Susan was right. If Peter had been lost they would have been told, wouldn't they?

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Susan pulled Lucy along, maneuvering around the various tents and camp fires that had been set up the night before. It took not five minutes to reach their destination only to find Oreius posted outside the grandly decorated tent.

"Good day, Oreius." Susan greeted. Glad you see you survived, again. She added silently.

The great general bowed as well as a Centaur could bow. "I wish I could say the same, My Queen. But I can hardly count so much bloodshed good."

Susan supposed he was right, but she didn't come here to talk about if the day was good or not. "Well, if you don't mind, my sister and I will just be going inside."

The two queens took a couple steps forward, but Oreius stepped to block their way.

"Oreius!" Lucy exclaimed from beside Susan.

"Apologies, My Queens, but I am permitted to let no one enter."

Susan immediately entered her defensive mode. "We are your Queens! You must let us through!"

Oreius remained standing in his place. Susan couldn't help but notice that something seemed off about him; something about his eyes looked different; they looked sad, almost. But Susan was too caught up in her frustration to think anything more of it.

"Oreius, I command you to grant us entrance." Susan said, trying to contain her voice and resisting an outburst.

The Centaur made no move to obey her orders, but simply said, "The High King wants no disturbances."

"We're his sisters." Lucy said. "Can't we go in?"

The general shook his head. "His Majesty has ordered that no one enters, not even the queens."

No words could escape Susan's throat; she wouldn't let them. If she spoke it would only be in anger, and she knew Oreius didn't deserve her wrath.

In he moments that nothing was said, muffled sounds came from inside the tent. The words could not be distinguished, but Peter's voice held a weight. It was clear that he had been crying.

Lucy sprang forward, held back only by Oreius's strong arms hands on her arms, keeping her from entering. She thrashed harshly against his hold.

"Let me in! He needs me!" Lucy cried.

When Lucy finally stopped struggling the Centaur released her and straightened himself into a guarding stance.

"Is he injured?" Lucy inquired, as Susan pulled her back into a gentle hug.

"I can assure you that His Majesty is by no means, seriously injured. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing more." The Centaur assured.

"Then why can't we see him?" Susan asked, the anger leaving her voice as well as her body.

"It is not my place to say. The High King, alone, has that duty. All I can do is promise to find you when he decides he is ready."

Susan nodded. No matter how much she wished she could rush in and wipe away Peter's tears, she knew it would do no good. Her brother would not accept a comforting presence until he knew he was ready for it.

All she could do was wait.