Thank you Queen Electrum for all your help with this story. I appreciate you putting my mind at ease with the wretched tenses that continue to plague me, even in my dreams.

I saw this disclaimer on someones story and thought it a good idea to put on my own: I've read so much that I hope I didn't steal something from someone's story. If I did please accept my apology.

Chapter Five: Duty

In the absence of the High King it is my duty to stand in my brother's place, a duty to which I am no stranger. In the past I have ruled our kingdom in his absence and kept our family safe and strong. The problem I now face is to convince the High King that he is absent without sending him further down the road of destruction.

Even though we are away from our Home, he still carries the weight of Narnia and his need to take care of us on his shoulders. So much so, I can still see his crown resting on his brow. Today is Saturday. I'll visit the girls to receive their council, and if they agree I'll face our brother alone. I will not allow them to be exposed to the hurt and betrayal his piercing eyes will express, the inevitable harsh words that will grieve our very souls ending with his tears of anguish that will leave him an emotional wreck. In private I will be able to shelter my brother, my king. To hold him, love him and support him just as he had supported me during my times of troubles.

I was walking across the school yard deep in thought concerning this matter when . . .

"Where's your baby sitter Pevensie?!" said a voice from the past.

Oh great, Mason Barlow. The last time I saw 'Mason the bully' was years ago when I accepted a dare from him to cross an old bridge. It was because of him I almost lost my life . . . well that year. I received the lecture of a lifetime from Peter followed by, what still surprises me till this day, a good sound spanking which left us both in tears.

I never saw much of Mason after the bridge incident, which I believe had a lot to do with Peter. I must admit, even after all that had happened that day, I can't help but to feel sorry for Mason. He had an abusive father who only became more abusive after the death of his eldest son, who went off to war. I know how Mason felt to see his only brother leave home for war with a confident smile of returning home on his face and praying for his safe return. I know how it feels to stand watch, praying to see his blond hair just over the hill. The only difference is his didn't and mine barely did . . . many times over. I cannot pass judgment on this tortured soul knowing the root of his pain.

"Pevensie, I'm talking to you!" he shouted, regaining my attention as he slowly advanced towards me with a sickening smile. His head was slightly bent forward as his eyes never left mine, giving me the feeling of being stalked. "I said where is your babysitter? I'm surprised you're out here alone since he hardly lets you out of his sight." How is it that everyone, but me, is aware of Peter's "watchful eye"? "I've been watching you two. Walking around here putting on airs as if you two are something special."

"Perhaps they are?" That's when I noticed he had a new set of cronies snickering behind him, encouraging his taunting.

"Hello, Mason. I wasn't aware that you attended this school."

"Well I noticed you. I figured it was time that I reintroduced myself," he said, his imposing presence towering over me. He had grown. A lot. He must have been a foot taller than Peter by now.

"How are your parents, Mason?" Judging from the look on his face I seemed to have caught him off guard. Perhaps he expected to see that humble, angelic child I use to be. He quickly recovered and I knew the inevitable bomb lurking beneath his legendary temper needed diffusing. Besides I wasn't looking for a fight.

"Mason!"

Oh no.

"Well, if it isn't Peter Pevensie." Standing straight and tall with his shoulders pulled back, Mason sneered as he turned away from me and crossed his arms in front of his massive chest.

"Didn't I warn you to never show your face around my brother again?" It was obvious that Peter never got over the bridge incident.

"What's the matter? Afraid that I'll hurt his wittle feewings? Get over it Pevensie! Little Edmund has grown up. He doesn't need you anymore. You're just in the way baby sitter."

Considering all that my brother has gone through emotionally since our return from Narnia, I wondered if these harsh words would effect him. Surely he knew it was a lie. I do need him. He's my brother, he's my father, he's my best friend. He's the keeper of my soul just as Aslan is the keeper of my spirit.

"I know another rickety old bridge nearby. Maybe this thumb sucker would like another go," he said as he shoved my shoulder. "I uhh. . . ." It didn't matter how much bigger Mason was, he still managed to pale at Peter's approach full of vicious fury. It was his eyes. Those cold, dangerous eyes reserved for particular enemies who brought harm to his family.

I stepped in front Peter before he could reach Mason, who was suddenly abandoned by his cohorts. I placed my hand gently on his arm and whispered his name. I had to call his name twice before he would tear his eyes away from poor Mason and focus on me. I moved closer to gain his complete attention. Even through this living hell he has created for himself I am still his weakness. I and I alone can effectively plunge in the intensity of his rage that would explode in the absence of control. It had been hard of late, but I am still able to calm that mighty storm, to bring it to a state of serenity.

"Pete, he is but a child. I was just as horrid as he. Worse even, remember? By Aslan's mane, please let it go," I whispered.

I looked deep into his eyes as he studied mine, his breathing seeming to decrease. Victoriously I gave him a slight smile as . . .

"No," he said as he tried to step around me, intent on carrying out his promise made to Mason from years ago. I saw Mason take a step back as I once again bravely stood in front of that apocalyptic storm.

"Peter," I said grabbing his face, forcing him to look at me and whispered, "This is beneath your dignity. Are you not my example in life?"

Got him.

"Stop it, Edmund. I mean it - stop." His fingers tightened around my arm as he led me out of Mason's hearing. "Don't look at me with those eyes like that, Edmund, it's not fair."

"What other eyes am I to use, Peter? I only have one pair," I said with barely a smirk, satisfied that I was able to reach him.

"I don't want you anywhere near him, Edmund."

I took a deep breath to calm myself. As if I couldn't take on the insufferable Mason Barlow. I softened my voice. "I promise if you will."

"Edmund, I . . ."

"I know, Peter . . ."

"It's . . . I just."

"I know, but you must try. For his sake as well as your own."

We both turned to look at Mason, but he had disappeared.

NNNN

A few hours later I began walking towards St. Finbar's to see the girls. Ahead of me I saw Peter. I didn't know he was going; he should have invited me along. Just as I was about to call out, I stopped myself. Maybe the long walk alone will do him some good, maybe he could sort some things out.

Coming up opposite of the school I looked up to see Susan walking across the school yard. It looked as if she was looking for something, and judging by the way she was looking up into the trees, I assumed it was a someone: Lucy. She was quite surprised to see Peter. Slowly with the street between them they walked parallel of each other, and it seemed Peter was himself as he teased by making eyes at her. He caused her to smile shyly and shake her head slightly. Then he really caused embarrassment as he winked and blew her a kiss. I love and admire my beautiful sister and the sight of her reaction to our older brother reminded me of old times. He knew the more she blushed, the prettier she looked, and at the Cair he winked and kissed her in passing just to see her do so.

It filled my heart to see them now.

Unfortunately a cloud floated over that one opening of sunshine of my day. One of the fellows from across the school, Hendon House, admired my sister's beauty too as he stopped alongside Peter stuffing his hands in his pocket smiling. He leaned over and whispered something to Peter while still gazing at Susan. Before I knew it, Susan and I watched the boy limping away with a swollen eye and a bloody lip, a reminder to never look or speak about at our sister again. Well I must say, if Peter had not done it, I would have. How cheeky of that idiot, boldly looking at our sister as if she were a commoner. I can't explain it, but we've never, not even in Narnia, been able to tolerate boys or men taking notice of our sister that way. When she became a woman of course we had to give in . . . a little.

Susan, used to having boys only threatened by us for just glancing her way, was completely horrified and livid by Peter's loss of control. By the time Peter wiped the blood off his hand and turned back, she was gone.

Immediately I could see that he regretted his actions, but it came too late, and the damage had been done. Evidently he forgot about our little talk earlier concerning him and Mason.

Watching me as I slowly approached him, Peter didn't say a word. As we stood looking at each other, we both knew we had to find Susan, but first there was a little queen hidden in a tree we had to face. Peter, for his actions, and me for letting it happen.

NNNN

No matter how much Peter ignored me during the day, he attended every cricket practice and game of mine. He never said anything nor offered advice afterwards. As a matter of fact, he usually left right after the game without so much as a, "Well done, Ed."

I miss that.

We use to play cricket with Dad after dinner before the war. Sometimes the girls would join us, but mostly it was, "just for us men," as dad use to say. We even commissioned a set to be made in Narnia so we could continue to enjoy the game. We didn't get to play cricket as much because either Peter and I were on campaigns or we four were just too busy running the country. But when we did, we included the girls, with Susan putting us boys to shame sometimes. She would have made the Women's Suffrage proud as she'd hit the ball far beyond our reach.

One afternoon at the beginning of practice I didn't see Peter. I was use to looking up every time to see him watching me when it was my turn to step up as batsman. I was disappointed because I knew here on the field I had his undivided attention. Needy, attached, call it what you will, I'm a sucker for my brother. Although I pretended I didn't care one way or the other. His presence reminded me of his unconditional love even in the mist of his personal turmoil.

I looked down to ready my position and stepped back to prepare to defend my wicket. I looked up and did a double take when Peter took his place in his usual spot . . . I swear I did not see that ball. I was hit, pretty hard I might add, on the nose with the offending round object that was to be the catalyst of my nightmare . . . while I was awake. I'm going to kill that bowler for throwing a beamer.

It's amazing how something that is mortifying in the process of happening seems to happen in slow motion. I couldn't believe what I saw through stinging, watery eyes as I watched in dismay. Peter, my brother, my High King, and unfortunately at the moment, my father figure, rushed the field screaming my name. How mortifying to have your big brother run across the field because you have a nose bleed. I must admit, in all fairness to Peter, there was rather a lot of blood.

Because of my shocking near death experience at Buruna and our past filled with enumerable wars and injuries, Peter's overprotective nature never ceased, even after our return from Narnia. I guess old habits die hard. Regrettably my shirt was extremely saturated by the time he reached me. I was in so much pain and seeing stars, I couldn't tell him to stop and go back. With as much force I could gather I repeatedly tried to push his hands away with one of my own as I continued my attempts to cover my nose. There was so much blood it looked like a murder scene and the massive flow continued.

Before I knew it Peter had his shirt off forcing it into my hands and then to my nose. I winced with the contact through tears the pain brought on. And no, I wasn't crying. The coach, demanding my brother to step aside, couldn't get close enough to have a look. The poor man was completely ignored and I was grateful he didn't become another victim where Peter would have to later apologize. There was a simple rule in Narnia that England wouldn't understand; never get caught between Peter Pevensie and any of his injured siblings. It just wasn't safe.

Then the most unthinkable happened.

Fearing my nose had been broken Peter picked me up, picked me up I say, and carried me off the field towards the nurse's office! By this time I could talk and I protested a great deal while my throbbing sinuses felt as if it were hit hard by a spiked mace.

"Lion's Mane, shut up, Eddy!"

Great, he used my nick name. Not only am I his little brother, but in particular his baby brother or is it just baby? He's lost it! Unfortunately when he was in that state of mind, there was no use in further arguing. How humiliating, I'll never live this down.

I guess I should be grateful for one thing; he didn't kiss me on the forehead in front of my mates. I looked up into frightened blue eyes and immediately I was washed in guilt. I no longer protested, remembering all the years of worrying and sleepless nights I put him through after a battle and the incidents before we entered Narnia. Reluctantly I gave in, like I had a choice, rested my head on his chest and let him carry me the entire way to see the school nurse. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was broken because I was in excruciating ¡wawwwwpain and the bleeding wouldn't stop. All right, all right. I admit I wouldn't have been able to walk the whole way, much less half.

NNNN

"You'll live, love. It's very swollen and bruised, and it's going to hurt like it's broken, but you'll live."

"Thank you, nurse," said Peter with a little color returning to his face as he took a deep breath. He looked at me with such relief as the nurse continued to clean me up. Of course he started rubbing my back, now out of habit I suspect. I believe he does it for his comfort as well as mine. There's no telling what injuries I suffered from in past battles are going through his mind at the moment.

"You're welcome, Mr. Pevensie. Now Edmund, to keep the swelling down, you must keep this bag of ice on your nose."

"Yes, Milady. I mean, yes ma'am." I would have found the slip funny if my nose wasn't throbbing. Peter's hand paused at the mistake and a quick glance at him told me he was too worried himself to find it amusing.

He brushed my hair out of my eyes-I really needed a hair cut-and said, "Don't move, Ed. I'll go and get us some fresh shirts."

I rolled my eyes of course and sighed.

"I mean it, Edmund!" he threatened, raising both eyebrows before leaving the room.

"I say, he's a bit overprotective," she said, looking thoughtfully after him.

I gave her a playful, evil grin. "You should see him when I'm really hurt."

"I have a feeling that's a sight I'd rather not see so try to be careful. Well, I'll have to inform your mother of the accident," she said, smiling with rosy cheeks. For some reason she reminded me of Mrs. Beaver as she moved about talking to herself.

"She'll only tell you to inform Peter. Overprotective big brothers come in handy for parents," I said, sounding as if I had a stuffy nose.

Peter walked in five minutes later with a crisp clean shirt on and tried to help me into mine. I snatched it away from him, which was hard to do while holding a bag of ice to my nose. With a dirty look I assured him I could dress myself. It had no effect on him as he is now immune to my threats, so of course the look was ignored.

He quirked a brow at me, and then addressed the nurse again. "Is there anything else besides the ice that needs to be done concerning his injury?"

"No, I just gave him two aspirins to swallow. Edmund, be sure to take two more right before you go to bed. It will help you through the night."

"I'll make sure that he does," said Peter as he helped me off the medical bed and began to guide me towards the door. He must have felt me tense up because he looked at me searchingly. Actually, I was afraid he would try to carry me through the halls as he was still overly concerned. Peter smirked as he realized what I was thinking. I guess after years of parenting he had that advantage.

"Come on, Ed, no more practicing for you today," he said, smiling as I walked on my own two feet.

"Yes, he should lie down for an hour at least. Come by tomorrow before your first class to receive more aspirin, dear. It's really going to hurt come morning," she smiled apologetically.

Great. Judging from Peter's worried expression, I now had a personal bodyguard for at least a week.

NNNN

As I sat on my bed, I watched the top of Peter's golden head as he kneeled before me to unlace my shoes. His actions were slow and he glanced up at me before returning to my shoes. He sighed, not for the first time since we arrived in my empty room.

Charles wasn't there and I hoped he wouldn't come back for awhile. I wasn't in the mood to merely satisfy his curiosity about the big purple lump in the middle of my face.

I was in so much agony Peter didn't have to coerce me to lie down. Knowing him it was inevitable anyway, whether I wanted to or not.

"I'm sorry, Ed," he said as he lay next to me, propped up on his elbow. Taking the ice from my hand, he held it gently against my nose. "Sorry I carried you across the field in front of your mates. I just loose my sanity when you or the girls are hurt, I can't control myself."

"I know, Peter, you don't have to say anything. I'm use to it you know," I said, still disappointed that it happened.

Peter pulled the ice away and just looked at me for what seemed like several minutes. His eyes held a deep mixture of love, sorrow and pain. He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the nose.

"I'm sorry I've been an imbecile too lately. It isn't fair to you or the girls," he whispered in continued sorrow.

"We're going Home, Peter. We just have to wait on Aslan."

"I know," he sighed. "But everyday I wake up with no sense of purpose, and it pains me to no end that I can't see the girls everyday. I love them so much. 'A king without a kingdom.' What an appropriate title."

"Are the girls and I not Narnians too, Pete? You have a taste of Home right here in your arms."

I saw unshed tears in his eyes when he leaned over to kissed my forehead and whispered, "My greatest treasures no matter where I am."

NNNN

"Peter, Peter wake up, somethings wrong with Edmund!" shouted Charles.