Dedication: To Kat, better known as Manwa or Sweetpea.

Enjoy this chapter guys, I know that I love it.

Chapter 7: Security Blanket

"He WHAT? STILL? Why didn't you hit him over the head with your morningstar? Oh, bosh, his skull is solid bone, he wouldn't have felt it!"

Peter winced as his brother's fury and frustration carried from the corridor outside, into his chambers. He had really made his brother angry this time. He hadn't exactly promised not to leave his rooms tonight, but he might as well have. By the time he had convinced Susan, Lucy, and Edmund to get some sleep themselves -seeing as they had been watching over him for at least six days now- it was just past ten-thirty. He had only convinced his brother to leave by giving the impression that he would not go anywhere that night. So much for that.

He had tried to sleep, honestly he had. It was obvious that he needed to if his siblings had taken to drugging him, but once he had fallen into a restless slumber he had found no rest. Instead, a ghostly image of Edmund lying pale and lifeless on a green battlefield had sent him scurrying from his bed and in to the dark Cair. He had not meant to run into one of the guards (literally) during his midnight wanderings, but thoughts of events passed and future duties had blinded him to the outside world.

The guard had been so kind as to escort him back to his rooms, and had taken it upon himself to send for King Edmund. Peter idly wondered if the guard regretted his second action as his brother released some of his pent-up anger by yelling.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I will be handling the situation personally now. See to it that General Oreius and the queens are informed that Peter and I might be missing our lessons tomorrow. A good eve to you, sir."

A shudder ran down Peter's spine as his brother dismissed the guard; now he had done it. The door opened just enough to allow the small, dark figure to slip in before it shut once more. Peter gulped.

"Well? Pray explain why you were in the corridors tonight instead of sleeping as any normal human being would be. You promised me, Peter."

"Technically, Ed, I didn't promise, I just gave the impression that I would . . ."

"You as good as promised!"

Peter held back a moan. It was dangerous to deal with his little brother when Edmund hadn't had enough sleep; indeed it was perilous to wake Edmund at any point whether it be morning or night. The only difference was waking him at night meant a greater loss of sleep. Hence the greater danger.

"I suppose I did," he conceded. "But Edmund, I never meant to break that promise. I simply could not stay here. I won't tell you anymore than that." Peter shook his head sadly.

Edmund rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Why?" he demanded, and Peter wasn't sure as to what he was referring.

"Um, why what, Ed?"

"Why can't you tell me? Or better yet, why won't you tell me?"

Peter sucked in a breath, twisting his head a bit to catch his brother's eyes. He had been sure. For the brief second their eyes had met that he had seen an underlying hurt in their depths. He racked his brains, but could find no reason for his brother to be in pain.

"Ed, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

Peter rose from his seat, taking an uncertain step towards the younger king. Nothing roused his protective instincts more than his siblings being in some sort of pain. Edmund raised his head, a gleam in his eyes that was not painful but determined. He smirked, and Peter took a step back. It never boded well when Edmund smirked like that, with mischief dancing across his face. Before Peter could take another step away from his brother, though, Edmund launched himself at the elder boy, bringing both of them crashing down onto the bed. Quills rattled on the desk, and a book or two fell from one of the shelves. Peter moaned in pain.

"Edmund, what are you doing?"

"Saving you from yourself," was the only reply he received before Edmund motioned to Silvo, who had slipped into the rooms at the sound of books falling to the floor, clapping a hand over Peter's mouth in the process.

"Take his boots off, please."

The valet hesitated for a second before complying. He slid Peter's boots off, refusing to look at his charge, for fear of being met by fury, before depositing them in the closet. Peter glared at his brother, his dread replaced by annoyance.

"That will be all, Silvo, thank you." Edmund nodded, dismissing the faun. The valet nodded in return and bowed to both of the kings before stepping outside. Edmund grabbed the quilt, discarded at the end of the bed an hour or so before, and proceeded to wrestle Peter into submission, tucking the blankets around him. Peter wished he could spit fire, as his brother made himself comfortable by sitting right atop him.

"Edmund, get off of me!" Peter growled the moment his brother removed his hand. Edmund shook his head, grinning all the while.

"Nope."

"Fine," Peter spat, attempting to throw his brother off him. Edmund did not move an inch much to his chagrin. To his younger brother's continued amusement, Peter proceeded to pout in a huffy silence for several minutes. More time passed, with Peter spasmodically trying to push Edmund off his chest, much to his brother's pleasure. Finally Peter gave up and sighed in preparation. He really did not want to do this.

"Edmund?"

"Yes, O High King over all kings of Narnia except the one currently sitting upon your royal person?"

"I invite you to remove your person from mine."

"But my person is comfortable." Edmund complained, unable to hide his bright grin.

"Mine is not," Peter growled in response, his patience wearing extremely thin. The little sod was enjoying this!

"I'll move once you tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong is my little brother is using me as a chair!"

"Hassock, Peter. You look nothing like a chair."

"Meaning I look like a cushion?"

Edmund poked at Peter's ribs, feeling for bone and muscle. Peter twitched, trying to get away from the ticklish sensation.

"Ah! Stop it, Edmund!" The younger king ignored him, answering his previous question.

"Almost. You're finally eating enough."

Peter rolled his eyes, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or glare at his brother. Both were tempting.

"But Eddy, you're heavy!" He grinned. His brother hated when people called him Eddy. It had been a childhood nickname, but when his brother had reached the 'grown up' age of nine he had completely and utterly despised the nickname, and it was banned from the household and the school yard. Peter, however, had no such qualms about using it if his brother would get off of him.

Edmund glowered, thoroughly put out, but did not back down. If Peter wanted a war of words he was setting himself up against the wrong opponent. "But surely you can bear my slight weight, Peter."

"Slight?" Peter squeaked. "Might I remind you that you've grown five inches this past year?"

"You might, but I wouldn't see your point."

"The point is, you're heavy, Edmund!"

"Not really. I think it's a case of you not sleeping has made you lose weight so I just feel heavier."

"No, I'm certain that's not the case a'tall!" Peter protested as his brother shifted his weight.

"Well, tell me what's made you stay awake to the wee hours and I'll get up," Edmund wheedled.

"Get up and I'll tell you," Peter hedged.

"Nothing doing, brother dear."

"Are you saying I wouldn't keep my word?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. The fact that you haven't been able to throw me off speaks volumes, doesn't it?"

"Oof! Not to me!"

"Then to Oreius, perhaps?" Edmund threatened, a dangerous look entering his eyes briefly. Peter shook his head quick enough to give someone whiplash, terrified of the very idea.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?"

Peter grasped for something to hurl back at Edmund. "Oreius doesn't like people who tell tales!"

"Oreius knows something is wrong, Peter. Right now I'm Oreius' favorite for carrying tales. Not you."

"Are not!" Peter was horrified that he seemed to have lost the general's protection.

"Are too!"

"Shut up, Pevensie."

Edmund and Peter glared at one another, each trying to gain the upper hand in the silent battle. Peter's glower darkened, and it seemed as though the battle of wills would soon come to a close. Then with a weary sigh, Peter let his head drop back to the pillow, admitting defeat.

"Peter? Perhaps you should talk to someone about why you're not sleeping," Edmund whispered, and he was suddenly very interested in playing with the bedspread.

Peter refrained from pushing his brother for answers. Why was it every time the issue of Edmund's self worth and importance was brought into a conversation that the younger king would back down completely? It was a worrisome problem, one that Peter planned on addressing, as soon as said brother got off of him.

"Please, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. "It's nothing, Ed. Honestly."

Edmund glared at Peter once more before dropping his head to look back down at the quilt. Peter was surprised, and more than a bit worried to see that his brother's eyes were suspiciously bright. With some small amount of difficulty he wrestled one arm free of the blankets and grabbed his brother into a hug. Edmund crashed on top of his brother with a muffled squeak.

Peter smiled, extracting the other arm with difficulty to ruffle his brother's hair. With a bit of trouble, he scooted over on the bed. With a surprised grunt, Edmund shifted until his head lay on his brother's shoulder. Peter hid a grin of triumph.

"So how long did it take you to wake up when the guard sent for you?" Peter asked casually. Edmund chuckled.

"A while. Actually," Edmund yawned, "I don't think I ever fully woke up." He curled closer to Peter.

Peter smiled tenderly and brushed Edmund's bangs away from his eyes.

"Don't do that," Edmund mumbled.

Peter shook with silent laughter. He hadn't felt this light in some time. It was nice to be able to watch his younger brother fall asleep. He hadn't done something like this in years, since before Edmund had gone away to boarding school. It had been even longer since Edmund had fallen asleep in his arms. . . since he had trusted him enough to do so.

Peter wrapped his arms around his younger brother, nestling both of them under the quilt. He tucked the comforter around both of them, pulling Edmund closer still. In the silence, he fancied he could hear Edmund's beating heart.

"Not fair," Edmund grumbled, his voice already smothered by sleep and perhaps Peter's shoulder as well.

"What isn't fair, Eddy?" Peter asked, doing a poor job of keeping the laughter from his voice.

"You completely avoided talking about not slee-" here, Edmund yawned again. "Sleeping, Peter."

Peter couldn't hold back his chuckle this time. "I suppose I did, Ed."

The High King watched as his younger brother's eyes closed slowly and his breathing evened out. Edmund had been truly tried it seemed. Peter bit his lip, playing with a strand of Edmund's hair. His nightmares were becoming worse as time went on. Would speaking to Edmund help? There was no one else to whom he would rather talk, seeing as his brother had the most experience amongst the four of them when dealing with nightmares. But more importantly, Edmund was his brother, and he had offered to listen as Peter spoke.

Perhaps. . . but perhaps would have to wait until morning. Even now, Edmund's breathing was lulling him to sleep, when minutes before he had been wide awake, terrified, in fact, of falling back asleep. He had held both of his sisters as they had fallen asleep many times before. Why was it that Edmund had such an effect on him? He felt completely safe with his brother near him. Edmund was his security, and his comfort.

Peter sighed, knowing the answers to his questions would not be found tonight. He closed his eyes, letting Edmund's breathing carry him off to sleep once more. Having his brother in his arms, making sure that Jadis had not stolen one of his greatest treasures, was all he needed.