Author's Notes

Disclaimer: C.S. Lewis owns the Chronicles of Narnia, not I.

Rated: T for references to the death of a Calormene, past encounters with a bully, angstiness and some intense emotions (the list keeps getting longer...)

Hi Everyone! So glad to be back in the land of being able to post stuff! What was that all about??? *grins* Thanks again so much for all of your reviews, especially to Sentimental Star and Lirenel for being so on top of it! Chapter 4 is almost ready to post.

For those of you who have me on alert (and believe me, I'm flattered beyond measure!), I also have the introduction of a second Narnia fic ready to post, YAY!!!

This has been my favorite chapter to write thus far... just tons of opportunity to play with the characters' emotions! Please read and review, and please offer any constructive criticism you wish!

Edmund sat staring at the pages on the desk in front of him. Behind him, Peter sprawled across one of the beds, a textbook lying open beside him on the rich blue coverlet Lucy had knitted for him last fall. The High King gazed at his younger brother.

"Did you know," Peter offered, "That when you get all intent like that, sometimes you drool?"

Edmund's hand flew to his lower lip. It was dry.

Peter whooped with laughter, then ducked as his enraged younger brother chucked a book at him. Unable to maintain his balance, Peter tumbled off the bed. The coverlet went with him.

"Hmph," Edmund muttered.

Peter gave him a cheeky grin and sat up. "Seriously, Ed," he chuckled. "You're as somber as a Centaur with a head cold. What's wrong with you tonight?"

Edmund sighed, rubbing his hands in his hair. "Nothing. I should just forget it, I suppose."

Peter frowned and stood. "Forget what?" He picked up the book that had so recently been launched at his head, and set it on the table next to Edmund. "Ed, what's up?" A dozen reasons for his little brother's apparent unhappiness popped into his head. Such as the fact that, having recently been told he would no longer be able to get back into Narnia, Edmund was now a little more sensitive to the differences between himself and his mates. Concerned, Peter gripped his shoulder. "Did someone say something about you? Have you had a run-in over something? Do you need me to-" To his surprise, Edmund began laughing.

"By Aslan," the younger king chuckled. "It fits, Pete. It's you."

Peter automatically looked down at himself, at the striped cotton pajamas he wore and the blue blanket now thrown over one shoulder. "What fits? The nightshirt?"

Still giggling, Edmund selected one of the closely written sheets on the desk and handed it to Peter. "Here, High King. Read this and you will understand."

Puzzled, Peter began reading.

It appeared to be an assignment, which began with the sentence, "My older brother's name is Peter, from the Latin word petrus for 'rock.'"

Peter felt heat creep into his cheeks as he read on down the page, as Edmund described him as "the rock my sisters and I cling to, the high ground where we know we are safe from storm, a fortress without compare." The page went on in this vein for some time, with descriptions of some of Peter's more memorable sheltering of his siblings (and some that he had forgotten entirely). Those from England were told in vivid detail, those from Narnia carefully redressed to read like incidents that could have happened in this world.

This instance of a bully threatening a much smaller, much more delicate ten-year-old Edmund for having refused to repeat some nasty language, with Peter jumping in to take over the fight... That had actually been an exchange with a Calormene soldier who demanded a duel (most dishonorably, since Ed was at that time just recovering from an illness that had nearly taken his life) over Edmund's refusal to bow to the Calormene idols when transacting negotiations. Peter had managed to persuade the scoundrel to duel him instead, and although Edmund protested to the point that Peter had to make the girls sit on him, the Calormene accepted. After all, one dead Narnian king was just as good as another. But Peter's Rhindon did not fail him. It was the Calormene who wound up dead. Peter cleaned his sword carefully, then carried a very ill and shaken Edmund back home. In the paper, Ed re-wrote this, claiming that Peter had bested the bully, then taken Edmund home and tended to the younger brother's black eye himself.

"It is his ever-present tenderness to us," Edmund wrote, "That makes Peter as solid and enduring as a magnificent castle by the sea."

Peter dropped down on his bed. "Oh, Ed!"

Edmund was regarding him with folded arms and a pleased smirk.

The High King's face was burning. "Edmund, really," he gasped. "It's…"

"True?" Edmund suggested. "Every word of it, and the girls would absolutely agree? Yes, I thought so too."

"Really, Ed," Peter protested weakly. "You paint me with far too lavish a hand!"

"Hmm." Edmund considered this, his dark eyes locked on Peter's blue ones. "Then maybe you'd like to tell me what you think of my assessment of the girls." And he placed two more sheets of paper in his brother's hand.

Peter read, and read. Susan's graceful presence seemed to twine about the page, Lucy's blinding devotion to The Lion shone between the lines. He took both papers and hugged them to his chest, wishing by Aslan that they could both really be in his arms right now. The school terms were far too long.

Edmund watched with a little smile, not seeming to mind that the assignment was all crumpled up over Peter's heart. "It is Susan, is it not?" he asked softly.

Peter nodded.

"And Lucy?"

The High King pressed the description of his youngest sister to his lips.

Edmund stood, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder, saying still more gently, "And you, Peter." He caught at the edges of the blanket and began arranging it on Peter's shoulders, draping the free-hanging right corner over his brother's left shoulder. Then he turned Peter to face the mirror.

The older boy gasped. High King Peter, the Magnificent, stood looking back at him, a familiar blue velvet riding cloak flung about his upper body in the old Narnian fashion. King Edmund, the Just, smiled over his shoulder, dark eyes glowing in his fair face.

"Don't try to tell me that's not you. If you don't believe me, then the girls will tell you it is." Edmund gripped his shoulders. "Since I intend to make copies of this for all three of you, of course. I will write all as it truly happened in Narnia."

Peter found he could make no protest. He flung himself at his brother in an embrace. "I never knew you were such a one for sentiment, Ed," he murmured.

Edmund laughed and tightened his grip, then released his brother with an affectionate shove. "For a Centaur with a head cold, that is."

Peter shoved back, grinning. "Whatever did I do to deserve you, Edmund?" He immediately regretted it. He half-expected Edmund to pull all the stops out and recount every instance that Peter had been nice to him from birth onward. That would have been simply too much hero-worshiping for one night.

Instead, Edmund gave him the oddest look before taking the papers away and quietly tucking them into his school bag.

It occurred to Peter that just a few minutes ago, before all this "my-big-brother-is-the-greatest" talk, Edmund had been looking pretty upset. "Ed?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Edmund said a little too quickly.

"Your 'nothing' is always something," Peter retorted, concern and suspicion growing.

"Peter," Edmund stared at him. Then he gave a smile that absolutely scared the wits out of Peter. "Big Brother. High King. Magnificent Rock."

"Don't," Peter interrupted, more frightened than ever. "Don't you try to change the subject. You got me sidetracked with that stuff about the girls and me but-" He stopped short.

He. Lucy. Susan. The three of them.

But there were four Pevensies.

"Ed," Peter said slowly. "Ed, why did you write those papers?'

Edmund turned his back on him. "For Literature class."

Peter got up, walked to Edmund's side, and made him turn around. "And you were also supposed to write one about yourself," he prodded, sure his guess was correct.

Edmund stared at him. He'd never been able to lie to his brother. Since Narnia.

"Edmund, what is it? Don't tell me you're not upset, I can see it all over you."

Ed looked away. Swallowed. Shook his head. "It didn't fit."

"What didn't?"

"Peter, never mind." Edmund tried to shove him away.

Peter refused to relax his grip. "Edmund, tell me! Really, it can't be that bad!"

Edmund finally looked him in the eye.

"You were right, Pete. You've done nothing to deserve me. You and the girls deserve far better than a brother with so little fidelity."