A/N: I know, I know, I broke my pattern of an update every night. I was busy, busy, busy and on top of it, had two sick kids! But, here is an update for you! Hope you enjoy it! Lemme know if you like it, yes, I'm shamelessly asking for reviews! Thanks to Phoenixqueen, again, for staying up to 2:30 a.m. with me to get this chapter out...
Part Fifteen:
Caspian thrust his foot into Realeza's stirrup and vaulted onto the horse's back.
Urging her forward, he took off down the tunnels leading to the back passage that Lucy and Susan had taken early that morning in their quest to find Aslan. Something had been nagging at him, telling him he needed to go to their aid, and he was glad that King Peter had whole-heartedly agreed.
The surprise of seeing Peter standing was slow to wear off as Caspian set about helping the High King don his armor, his movements mechanical from years of practice putting on his own.
As he aided the young King in adjusting the chain mail into place, he couldn't help but voice the question that had been on his lips since he'd walked in to see the eldest Pevensie standing with a smile on his face.
"King Peter? How is this possible? Did your royal sister's cordial suddenly work?" Caspian said, stooping to pick up the next piece of armor. "I am still unable to believe your miraculous recovery."
Peter's smile was laced with an undertone of seriousness. "It was Aslan. He came to me, in a dream, I now see. That's why I reacted the way I did when you came in; I didn't think it was real at first. I don't really know how he did it, but I know it was he who healed me. And right now, that's enough for me. "
Nodding, but not really comprehending since he had never seen the power of Aslan in person, Caspian instead changed the subject.
"I've been worried about Queens Susan and Lucy. I wish to take a horse and ride out, in case they need help. The woods are full of Telmarine soldiers and while I know Queen Susan has impeccable skill with a bow, she would be sorely outnumbered."
Peter looked up as he grabbed his helmet from the ledge beside him. "I think that is a good idea," he said, sticking the helmet under his arm and turning to fully face Caspian. "I would welcome your help when I cannot go to their aid myself."
Caspian bowed lightly, taking in the sight of the High King of Narnia, standing erect and proud in armor emblazoned with the golden lion's effigy. He looked every inch like the legend he was in that moment.
"Good luck to you, King Peter," Caspian said. "May you fare well against my uncle."
Peter smiled and nodded his thanks before turning on his heel and all but running from the chamber to catch Edmund before he reached the field of combat.
The dark-haired prince turned deeper into the caverns and made for Realeza, since he'd sent Lucy and Susan off on Desiree. He could only pray he would not be too late if they did run into resistance, as he feared.
Galloping through the trees now, Caspian leaned forward and lightly apologized as he pushed the horse beneath him to move even faster. They were moving so quickly through the woods that the prince was hard pressed to avoid being hit by low-hanging branches and kept low to the horse's neck in hopes that she, at least, would be able to avoid doing so.
For long minutes, there was no sign of Susan and Lucy, only a trail of disturbed ground where Desiree had galloped through earlier. He was beginning to lose hope when, over the thundering of the horse's hooves, he heard the telltale sounds of fighting.
Bursting through a dense section of brush, Caspian took in the scene quickly – Susan had fallen and was being advanced upon by two Telmarine soldiers, one on horseback and another stalking toward her on the ground, both with swords drawn and ready for attack.
Without hesitation, he ripped his own blade from its sheath and intercepted the rider, one-handedly striking at the man's back before the Telmarine even realized the prince had arrived.
Turning his attention to the second soldier, he leaped from the horse's back onto the ground just as the Telmarine raised his blade up and to the left, prepared to slice Susan across the chest.
She held her bow up in front of her, and though stout, it would not hold up against a full-powered broadsword strike. Still, she was prepared to try. As the sword swung, Caspian stepped forward, front knee bent, and thrust his own sword forward, catching the Telmarine's blade atop it before it reached Susan.
The metal on metal broke the silence of the woods with a loud, bone-jarring clang.
The muscles in Caspian's arms trembled with the effort to hold his blade up and away from Susan and for a moment, he thought they would fail him, but the Telmarine, surprised by his sudden appearance, broke off the attack and regrouped.
Caspian could hear Susan scramble to her feet behind him, and inwardly wondered where Lucy was, as he stood awaiting the soldier's attack. He couldn't tell if the man hesitated because he recognized Caspian, or if he was unsure of whether or not to run and try to bring aid.
It turned out to be the latter as the man spun around and darted for the nearby, now riderless, steed of his dead companion. Caspian made to follow, but halted when a red-fletched arrow flew just past his head – close enough to ruffle his hair, he'd later swear – and impacted solidly with the retreating soldier's back.
The arrow pierced his heart and he was dead before he hit the ground.
Turning around, Caspian smiled faintly as Susan lowered her bow with a small frown. "That was too close for comfort," she said, breathing still slightly rushed from the fight and the fading adrenaline. "I'm glad you arrived when you did. I was beginning to think this would be my end."
She hurried toward Realeza, glancing sadly into the nearby woods. "I sent Lucy on ahead and I doubt that we could find her now. We will have to have faith that she will be all right, and that she will find Aslan quickly." Twisting her head around, she eyed Caspian. "Well, aren't you coming? There is still a How to protect…"
Chuckling, Caspian hurried over and mounted Realeza before offering a hand down to Susan. "Yes, your highness, of course." As soon as she was seated behind him, Caspian nudged Realeza into a full-out gallop and they barreled back toward the How, drawing further and further from the youngest Queen with every stride the horse took.
Queen Lucy the Valiant clutched Desiree's reins with such force, her knuckles were white and her hands aching. It wasn't because she feared falling from the horse – it was the only thing keeping her from yanking back on them, turning the horse around, and returning to help Susan.
She had faith in her sister's fighting prowess, but she was mentally berating herself for not being able to help her anyway. It had long been a peeve of Lucy's that as the youngest monarch she couldn't ride to battle to protect her siblings. She understood that it was safer this way, and she truly didn't wish to kill anyone, battle or no, but she felt so helpless tucked safely away.
While far from tucked away right now, she still felt she was running away and leaving her brothers and sister to defend Narnia.
"Oh stop it, Lu," she muttered as Desiree jumped over a fallen log and she tightened her legs around the horse to stay atop. "This is important and this is defending Narnia. Just not with a sword or a bow."
Shaking her head, she allowed her thoughts to drift some, though still keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings in case of another attack.
The horse galloping beneath them and the wind whipping by made conversation difficult, but Lucy couldn't help but get a few thoughts off her mind as she and Susan raced away from the How in search of Aslan.
"Su?!" she called out, leaning as close to her sister's ear as she could. Receiving a loud, "What?" in response, she continued, "Do you think Ed had to fight? I don't know if he could win and it frightens me."
Susan didn't answer for a moment. "I don't know, Lu. I wish neither had to fight, but of the two, I hope it's Peter. I have to believe it's Peter." She paused before adding, "Aslan knows what he is doing. I have to believe that."
Even though she had said it, Lucy couldn't help but hear the doubt in her sister's voice. As if she was wavering in her faith in Aslan. Deciding to put on her "morale-boosting hat" as Edmund liked to call it, she squeezed Susan into a hug and called out, "I'm sure Aslan will have helped Peter, Su. I just know it."
There was no response from Susan and for a few minutes, they rode in silence. Then it was Susan who chimed in with a question. "Do you really think we'll find him, Lucy? The forest is so big, and he hasn't come yet. Only in your dream."
Lucy pulled herself as snug against Susan as she could and leaned toward her ear again. "We will find him, Susan. My heart tells me so. My heart never lies."
They lapsed into silence again, each lost in thoughts of their brothers. Either one could be fighting a duel to the death right this second and they wouldn't even know if he had been hurt or killed.
A battle could be raging at the How, Narnians fighting and dying by the dozen, and they wouldn't even know it. One girl's faith in Aslan was firm, and she was able to push aside her fear for her brothers. The other's was fluttering like the breeze around them and her heart ached at the thought of losing either Edmund or Peter. Or both.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Susan silently issued a prayer to Aslan, even though she wasn't so sure he was listening to her. Please protect them, Aslan. I couldn't bear to lose either of my brothers. If it is in your power, please protect them while I cannot.
Lucy was about to strike up another talk with Susan when her eyes drifted to their left and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a horse and rider galloping parallel to her and her sister.
"Susan! They've seen us!" she cried out, tightening her hold on Susan as more riders appeared on the other side, gaining quickly. Susan urged Desiree to move faster and the horse proved her worth as she drew away from their pursuers.
Once they had gotten far enough ahead, Susan yanked back on Desiree's reins and drew the horse to an abrupt halt, sending Lucy's slighter form smacking into her back. As soon as the younger girl was steady, Susan drew her leg over the horse and slid off.
"Susan?" Lucy questioned, instinctively slipping forward to place herself in the proper riding position. "What are you doing? We have to keep going."
Tugging the reins from where she had dropped them, Susan thrust them into her sister's hands. "I'm afraid this is my stop, Lu." she said. "You'll have to go on alone from here. I know you can do this, Lucy. Something tells me you're the only one who can."
For a moment, Susan thought Lucy would refuse to leave. But she watched as the nine-year-old's eyes seemed to age and fill with wisdom beyond her years. Queen Lucy the Valiant was shining through and Lucy straightened in the saddle.
"I don't want to leave you, Susan, but you're right. This is something I must do and I feel I must do it alone. I…I think I can be brave enough." Her hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of her small dagger. "You be careful. I can't lose you."
Susan gripped Lucy's hand and tugged it off the dagger. "You too, Lucy. I would never forgive myself if you were hurt because I let you go on alone." She hesitated a second more, the approaching horses dangerously close. "May Aslan protect you."
Lucy's eyes shifted back to her younger expression. "And you. And he will be, Su."
Susan slapped Desiree on the right flank and the horse leapt forward. Lucy clung to the reins and leaned forward as the horse ran. Atop a rise in the hill, she stopped and turned back toward Susan.
Her sister had adopted her usual practice stance and had an arrow notched on her bowstring. She glanced back and met Lucy's gaze before turning toward the approaching riders.
Lucy nudged Desiree forward and rode for all she was worth. Rode for Susan. For Edmund. For Peter. And for Narnia. She had to find Aslan. And she had to do it fast.
"You there! Stop at once!"
Lucy's head jerked up and she looked to the left. Telmarine soldiers were riding swiftly toward her, two with drawn swords, one with a cross bow. With only a small dagger, she was no match for them.
Shaking, the young Queen drew the horse to a halt. A crossbow bolt to the back would seriously hinder her chances of finding Aslan. So would being captured, but of the two, the latter was slightly more agreeable.
"Please, sir, I've only a small dagger. I can do you no harm," she said quietly, sitting motionless in the saddle. Even though her mind was older, her body was nine and she could hoped to use that to her advantage. Maybe if they thought she was a harmless child, they would leave her be.
"Get down from there, girl," a Telmarine said, dismounting and holding a crossbow aimed at Lucy.
Shifting slowly, she did as he requested and slid off Desiree's back. The man moved close and appeared to look her over before calling out to one of the two others who had intercepted her.
"She looks human. King Miraz ordered us to be on the lookout for humans, so we best bring her in," he said, turning back to Lucy. "Unless you're some other weird Narnian beast? Something that looks human but isn't? Then we can just kill you, I suppose."
Lucy glared at him. "Narnians aren't beasts, you are," she said. "I'm not the full grown man aiming an arrow at a child." Her voice was stronger now, angry that these men could think of all Narnians as beasts. Sure, they didn't much about them because the history had been suppressed, but anyone who automatically assumed that things unknown were bad was just plain naïve.
"I've heard Narnians used to come in the night and snatch kids from their beds and then feed them to their friends during big banquets in the forest," the man said, leaning close to Lucy. "That's the mark of beasts."
Lucy huffed, "Well, you've heard wrong," she said. "Narnians are nothing like that. Sure, we had grand feasts at Cair Paravel, but there was dining and dancing and we never ate children."
"Enough!" A second man called. "Let's get her to the captain. Let him figure out what to do with her."
The third man reached forward to take hold of Lucy, but before his hand connected with her arm, an arrow connected with his chest and his eyes widened in disbelief. Lucy screamed when he fell forward, taking her to the ground with him.
Two more well-placed arrows flew into the remaining Telmarines as Lucy pushed the dead soldier off her legs and scrambled backwards on her hands and feet until her back slammed into two sturdy legs.
"Susan!" She cried, turning.
She froze.
It wasn't Susan.
"W…what are you…why?"
Kicking out, the werewolf knocked Lucy away from his legs and growled. "We wanted the honor of killing you ourselves, Queen Lucy," he hissed. From behind him, lowering his crossbow, Nikabrik added, "It will be such a wonderful bit of payback, don't you think? Your brother, Edmund the Just, will never forgive himself. It was his recommendation we be exiled, which is how we come to be in this Telmarine infested wood. And how we come to be here to kill you."
Nikabrik pulled the blade from his side and sidled closer. "So much more personal, a sword," he said, brandishing it in front of the frozen young girl. "Do say hello to all the Narnians who are going to die because of your brothers' foolhardy leadership."
The sword rose.
"There will only be two deaths here, and neither will be Queen Lucy's."
With an almighty roar, a golden body leapt from the nearby wood and tackled Nikabrik to the ground, large paws crushing down on the dwarf's chest. "Look away, child," the lion said quietly. "This is no sight for your eyes."
Lucy obliged and quivered when she heard the distinctive sound of Nikabrik, and immediately after, the werewolf, being ushered on to the next world.
"Dear one, you may look."
Aslan, coat glistening in the light streaming through the trees, stood before Lucy and looked at her with love and warmth.
"Oh Aslan!" She cried, lunging forward on her knees to wrap her arms around the great lion's neck. "I've missed you! We were beginning to think you wouldn't be able to help us this time when you didn't come. Peter and I argued and it was horrible and he was hurt and later, he said he believed me and I should go to find you and so here I am and I'm so glad I found you!"
There was a rumbling chuckle. "Slow down, dear one, you are making very little sense."
Lucy gulped and then chuckled through her tears of joy and relief. "I'm sorry, Aslan. I was so scared when Nikabrik and the werewolf were going to kill me, I just so glad to see you."
She paused, leaning back and looking up at him.
"You know, Aslan, you seem bigger than I remember…"
He laughed. "That is because you are older, little one."
"Not because you are?" She questioned, cocking her head to the side. "I mean, they told us it was 1,300 years since we left Narnia."
He shook his head, mane rippling. "I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger." Aslan gestured for her to stand. "It is well that you have come, dear one. For I can only give aid where aid is asked for. Your brother Peter learned that the hard way, I fear. But at least he learned it."
Lucy frowned, walking beside Aslan now. "What do you mean?"
He didn't turn toward her, but answered. "You will see when you are meant to see."
"I don't remember you being so cryptic last time, Aslan," she muttered with a small smile. "Will you help us? Against the Telmarines?"
The great lion stopped and turned his head toward the young Queen. "I will. Come, you must ride on my back. We have little time. The great duel is ended and the Narnians will need us soon." She climbed atop his back and he said in warning, "Now, we run to the aid of our Narnia."
Susan knew they were getting closer to the How because she could hear the roar of the two assembled armies as one or the other King landed a shot – or missed one landing on them. She cringed at the thought of her baby brother fighting against that man.
The horse burst through the trees about 100 feet from the stone ruins outside the entrance to the How and Susan leaned around Caspian's shoulder, anxious to see her brother and be sure for herself that he was all right.
As she was tilting sideways, a cry of pain erupted from one of the combatants – the one she sees on the ground whose arm had just been jerked roughly from the socket. The one wearing a red tunic, emblazoned with a lion.
The one with … blonde hair?
"Peter?" Susan whispered, eyes latched on her brother's pained expression as he swung a blow with Rhindon that knocked Miraz off balance, and off his shield, giving him a chance to stumble to his feet, arm dangling.
Peter. On his feet.
"Oh Aslan," she whispered, so shocked to see her brother standing that she nearly let go of Caspian to cover her gasp of surprise and had to jerk her hands back and clutch his armor before she fell.
As Caspian drew Realeza to a halt behind Edmund and Glenstorm, Susan wasted no time in sliding off the horse's back and staring wide-eyed at her brother as he held in another wince and then watched Miraz limp back to his side of the ring.
Peter's face was tight as Edmund met him and guided him back to the side, lightly helping the elder Pevensie relieve the weight on his injured shoulder. She schooled her features quickly, not wanting to show any sign of anything amiss, and when Peter asked about Lucy, she quickly related what happened.
Inside, her stomach was still recovering from the jolt of seeing Peter in the ring and she wanted nothing more than to jump and shout for joy at his miraculous recovery; to bombard him with questions about when and how it had happened.
Instead, she nodded when he told her she ought to join the archers, and had to content herself with a short, light hug that still drew a pained grunt from her brother. "Sorry, Peter," she said, trying to load an apology for the pain she'd caused, and an apology that he was once again forced to fight, all into that one, short phrase.
He might have understood the deeper meaning, he might not have, but she didn't have a chance to think on it as she turned and ran toward the How to position herself on the ledge above the entrance, beside Trumpkin.
"Gee, I can see loads from up here," she grumbled, gripping her bow in one hand as she stood at the edge of the ledge and gazed toward the decidedly too small figure of her brother reentering the ring.
Trumpkin raised an eyebrow and looked up at her. "Maybe you should be thankful for that, Queen Susan. Duels and battles are ugly affairs."
He was stumped when Susan suddenly laughed.
"What did I say?" Trumpkin muttered with a frown.
The Gentle Queen looked at him and smiled. "Just something I heard many years ago from someone else. He didn't direct it to me; instead, he gave me these." She gestured to her bow and arrows.
Her attention was diverted abruptly when an angry chorus went up from the Narnians assembled around her and Trumpkin. Gazing back at the field, she could make out Peter on the ground and wondered how he had gotten there.
Cursing herself for not paying attention, she saw him attempt to rise and collapse back down. Was it his shoulder? Had he been hurt again? What was going on? "What happened?" she addressed the Faun next to her.
He turned toward her, frowning. "It looks like someone outside the ring attacked King Peter. He fell without being touched by the Telmarine King, your highness."
Susan gasped and spun back to the field of combat to see Peter standing and facing a Telmarine with a crossbow aimed directly at his chest. Her brother was hunched and favoring his left shoulder again. She couldn't tell where he had been hurt, but it looked like he had been.
The Telmarine's intentions were clear and Susan, incensed by their audacity, notched an arrow to her bowstring and let it loose in one swift, graceful movement. The red-fletched arrow arced across the wide span and struck true, killing the man who would dare attack her brother.
Without another word, she tore off into the How, out the front entrance and across the field until she reached the stone ruins and was restrained by Glenstorm. Before she could stop herself, she scathingly rebuked the Telmarines for their treachery.
She saw Peter grin slightly at her words and then realized it wasn't proper form for a Queen and she slipped a firm, but decidedly neutral expression onto her face, keeping a hand on her bow and an arrow close at hand, just in case they tried it again.
A small bit of pride jolted through her when Peter warned the men that she would be watching his back, but it was quickly replaced with a surge of concern and fear when she realized Peter intended to go on with the duel in his condition.
Edmund voiced her fears for her when he questioned their brother, but like Edmund, she knew Peter's answer before he gave it. More than ever, she wanted to whisk him away from here – even if she had to whisk him all the way back to England .
She held her breath while Peter asked for a respite to deal with what she now saw was an arrow protruding from his previously dislocated shoulder. When it was granted, she watched him approach the sidelines, but stayed back as Edmund immediately set upon their older brother like a mother-hen.
Susan wanted to go over and hug Peter and drag him away, so she stood her ground. If she moved to him, she wouldn't be able to contain her emotions and she had to, for Narnia and for Peter. It wouldn't do for her to get hysterical and distract him from what he had to do.
When Edmund forced the arrow through the back of Peter's shoulder, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and barely managed to hold in her gasp at the sudden flare of pain and taste of blood.
She heard Edmund tell Peter they'd think no less of him if he bowed out and in her head was chanting for him to just do it. Bow out. Avoid more pain. More fighting. More chances to die.
Of course she would never voice it, and he would never do it.
She actually took a minute step forward as Ed handed Peter his shield and her older brother strangled off a cry as he dropped it to the stones with a loud clatter. As he shook his head and said he couldn't hold it, her heart sped up. Without a shield, he would have to be twice as fast – and with his shoulder wound, he'd be lucky if he could be as fast as normal, let alone faster.
Releasing a long, steadying breath, she watched Peter salute the Telmarine King, and then fairly growled when the man launched an attack before Peter had completed the act of honor.
She'd actually taken a step forward and only a glare from Edmund stopped her from taking yet another in her anger at the man.
When Peter was forced to jump away from a swipe to his legs, and landed on his wounded shoulder, Susan cringed along with him and swallowed the large lump forming in her throat. He stomach was flipping as he rolled away, each roll undoubtedly causing more pain.
Please end soon, please end soon. I don't know how much more he can take, she thought to herself as Peter managed to roll and knock Miraz to the ground. She watched with growing unease as the fight continued until suddenly, somehow, neither King held a weapon and faced each other, panting and in pain, with nothing more than bare hands.
Her mind screamed in relief when Peter, with a well-placed kick, knocked his opponent to his knees and the man did not rise. Her brother reclaimed his sword and held his foe at bay and Susan let herself close her eyes in brief thanks.
When she opened them, Peter was looking to Caspian, holding his sword out.
She frowned at that, uncertain what he was hoping to do here, but when Caspian stepped forward and was able to grasp the sword, her eyes widened. She remembered the prophecy then. "When He can wield the blade, He shall bring balance to all."
When had they given Caspian his gifts, she wondered to herself. She surely would have remembered giving him something – unless it was something immaterial, something learned, not physically given.
There would be time to think on it later.
The duel undoubtedly finished, Susan slung her bow across her back and watched Peter lean heavily on Edmund as Caspian spared his uncle's life. She grinned lightly to Glenstorm, happy that Peter had triumphed, but still somewhat wary that the Telmarines would not be true to their word.
She turned away from the Centaur when there were gasps from Peter, Edmund and Caspian. Following their gaze, she looked to find Miraz, an arrow – one of her arrows – in his back.
Peter met her shocked eyes and as things suddenly erupted into chaos and the Telmarine lord who had accompanied Miraz ran off shouting treachery, she glanced around hoping to see Lucy and Aslan come to save the day.
When Peter mouthed "Lucy" to her, she could only shake her head. There was no sign of their baby sister.
Pulling her bow off her back, watching as Edmund made short work of an advancing Telmarine, she squared her shoulders and stood beside her brothers as they faced the vast Telmarine army.
Battles most definitely were ugly affairs – and it was about to get very ugly here.
Edmund quieted spoke. "For Narnia?"
Susan felt a pang of regret at her wavering faith as Peter firmed added, "And for Aslan."
Oh, Aslan! Peter…get up, get up!
Edmund clenched his fists tightly at his sides and locked out his knees to keep from stepping toward the ring at Peter's pained cry. There was little doubt in his mind that the High King's shoulder was dislocated as his brother rolled in on it with a wince.
It was with a small sigh of relief that he later guided Peter to the sidelines and stood by while he spoke with Susan. Glancing out at the assembled Narnians, he frowned at their worried gazes and whispers, watching some of them gesturing to their shoulders as they talked amongst themselves.
"Pete? Keep smiling. The Narnians are looking a bit worried," he said, blaming it on the shield stomp that he was still seething about as he watched Peter wince and raise Rhindon to rally the troops.
As soon as Caspian got Peter into a seat, he approached his brother and set about tending him. All the while, he was berating himself – not that he'd admit it to anyone. Ever.
Why couldn't I be bigger? Older? Why couldn't I fight in your stead, Peter? You've already suffered so much. First Germany. Then the night raid. The Witch, stabbing you. Now this? How much before you fall? Edmund told Peter he'd be counting to three before popping his arm back in. Of course, he knew he wouldn't make it to three.
His heart felt like it would break when his sharp tug on the High King's arm drew a screech of pain from Peter's lips. And his heart jumped into his throat and nearly out of it, when Peter said the "d" word.
Die? Peter. Don't even say that, please, he thought to himself. There was defeat in Peter's eyes and he knew he was the only one who could force Peter into keeping his resolve firm. And there was one way to do it. Don't let him make peace. Don't let him ties up loose ends. Make him hold in what he wants to say.
"Save it for later, Peter."
He added in a little jest for good measure and watched Peter enter the ring to fight once more. Every sword blow and shield strike had him inwardly cringing, though he kept any reactions off his face.
When he saw the exchange amongst the Telmarines, and when Caspian spoke of them "planning something" Edmund's nausea grew and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Peter, expecting Miraz to cheat somehow.
He was completely surprised when Peter suddenly fell backwards as if punched and he cried out in disbelief when he perceived the arrow that was lodged in his brother's shoulder.
Those vile, loathsome, evil, dishonorable, vile…
Drop that crossbow and fight like a man, you treacherous, you lousy excuse for… by the lion! Susan! Oh thank you for that, Su. I'm glad I didn't have to throw my sword at him or something…
He was distracted by Susan arriving and taunting the Telmarines, her anger getting the better of her as he had desperately wanted to do, but had held back for fear it would have reared an uglier head than his Gentle sister.
But when Peter spoke next, he couldn't hold his tongue.
"Peter! What are you doing? You can barely stand!"
You git. You insufferable git. You are going to be the death of me Peter. You are going to scare me into an early grave! You can barely stand up, you have an arrow in your shoulder, and yet, oh mighty High King Peter wants to keep fighting? Please pinch me, because I really want to wake up from this nightmare.
Peter's response was, of course, expected and Edmund held in his protest to tend his brother's wound, fingering the arrow shaft and frowning at its depth. He'd have to push it through. He'd have to hurt Peter more.
I'd rather feel the bite of a hundred arrows than do this to you, Peter. Every time you get hurt, I wish nothing more than to take away your pain. Once, I liked to cause you pain. No, not physical pain. Never that. But once I enjoyed causing you mental pain. Throwing it in your face that you weren't dad when you tried too hard to do what had to be done. I've come a long way, haven't I?
As he pushed the arrow through his brother's shoulder, Edmund winced at the cry and had to blink rapidly to keep the tears forming in his eyes at bay. It wouldn't do to cry. Not for a King of Narnia. Not right now. He'd cry later.
He tried one last time to tell Peter not to fight. It was the child in him, perhaps, that wanted to believe Peter had that choice. The King in him knew it didn't exist, Peter had to finish this.
When Peter couldn't even hold his shield, Edmund bit his lip against another plea not to fight.
Don't get killed, don't get killed. Peter, if you get killed, I'll revive you and kill you again. I really will. I swear it. Don't get hurt again, no more blood, no more, Peter. My heart can't take anymore.
They clashed again and Edmund could feel each blow in his own body, a sympathetic reaction, maybe, he didn't know. All he did know was relief when Peter finally had Miraz on his knees and the duel, for all he could tell, was over.
Having Peter leaning on him as Caspian decided his uncle's future eased the clenching in his chest some, though it wouldn't fully go away until Peter was safely away from anything even remotely dangerous.
He watched with pride as Caspian spared his uncle's life, content in the knowledge that he had played a part – albeit a small one – in helping the young prince understand the futility of revenge.
Edmund's relief and light-heartedness was short-lived, however, when Miraz was murdered and the Telmarines began to arm themselves for battle.
It was all for nothing, he despaired, realizing that Lucy and Aslan were no where in sight and a battle was about to happen despite it all. Peter fought and nearly died, and still, we have to battle against overwhelming odds. Why, Aslan, why? Where are you?
Placing himself beside Peter as they faced the advancing troops, Edmund glanced worriedly at his High King. "Will you be all right?"
Peter of course said he would be, and even managed to make light of the situation by reminding Edmund of the need for a conversation later. Edmund plastered a small smile on his face and said quietly, "For Narnia?"
The High King added. "And for Aslan."
Aslan. Hear him, Aslan. Your High King fights for you. Your Just King fights for you. Your Gentle Queen fights for you. Your Valiant Queen seeks you out. Now, we need you to help us or it won't be enough to save Narnia.
A/N: Battle coming. Going to be fun to write that!