Peter

We reached the Lantern Waste that afternoon.

I kept the Bats extremely busy dashing back and forth between Oreius and my sisters, who were almost a day behind us. No word of Peter having eaten reached my ears and so I went without. Xati didn't even try to tempt me with food. I was extremely tired - my legs ached, I was freezing cold, I had a splitting headache, and I was very hungry and thirsty. We left several Dogs behind as we pressed on relentlessly, but the remainder were so excited they made up for the loss and the noise levels were never noticeably diminished. With Peter back in Narnia I tried to persuade them they needn't follow Jett every step of the way, but they insisted they could only be released from their promise by Phillip. Xati, I think, was sorely tempted to tie them up and come back for them later (or not) and I could tell many of the royal guard had had quite enough of the canines. Unfortunately their pack leader, Yoli, was one of the ones left behind when he aggravated the old sprain in his leg, and so they became a study in anarchy.

Oreius and half a dozen Centaur soldiers met us at the edge of the wood covering the Lantern Waste and we paused for a few moments to greet them. The general was as expressive as a statue, which told me he was very, very nervous. He gave me a long, hard look as if to reassure himself that I wasn't on the verge of collapse again. I was close, but there was no way I was stopping now.

"How is Peter?" I asked wearily, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. I would have liked to dismount and stretch my legs but I doubted I'd be able to get back into the saddle again if I tried it.

"The same," Oreius replied grimly.

"Has he eaten anything?"

The Centaur shook his head. "Just water."

Without a word Xati handed me a skin of water and I took a long drink, glad for the break. Oreius clearly understood what that was about and likewise said nothing.

"How does he look?" I asked softly, almost afraid to know.

"As bad as you looked the day you sent me to the Western Marches."

Very bad, in other words. "And Phillip?"

Oreius smiled faintly. "He is resting, Sire. He fared better than the High King throughout. He was a very good choice of companion, Sir Edmund."

I smiled back, for that was a high compliment indeed from Narnia's only general and a war hero. I nodded in acknowledgment both for myself and Phillip. "Xati, I'm going on with Oreius. The rest of you can follow at your own pace."

"Of course, King Edmund," she answered, and I knew not a one of them would leave my side.

In less than an hour I caught sight of familiar territory and flashes of color through the bare trees as we came upon Aslan's encampment in the Lantern Waste. By now the Dogs had completely forgotten themselves and were barking and baying and running about madly despite all efforts to control them, causing my head to ache terribly. Who needed the Deplorable Word when there were Dogs in the world? Horns rang out announcing my arrival as we rode into the camp and a great crowd gathered. I recognized Felern, one of the army's healers, trying to shush the Dogs and in the midst of my fatigue and worry and frustration, I lost all patience.

"Will you be quiet?" I shouted in fury.

Jett paced nervously and Oreius seized her bridle. All around me the Dogs were silent, ears and tails drooping as they realized to a hound that they had broken their word from days ago and had been making an unholy din all along. A whimper or two of shame rose up, but they didn't dare make a sound because I'm certain one glance at my face would have told them I was in no mood for their shenanigans.

"Majesty," whispered Felern anxiously, "you'll waken your brother!"

I gave him my most disbelieving look and, like the dogs, he withered before it. We'd entered this camp with enough noise to be heard all the way in Tashbaan. "He's awake!" I shouted right back, not caring who felt the bite of my temper right now. I rounded on the pack of Dogs. "Not even Peter could sleep through the racket you've been making since we left Beruna and I command you stop following me every time I go for a ride!"

I made certain to grip Oreius' wrist before I tried dismounting. It was a very good thing I did so because his support was the only thing that kept me from falling into a heap the moment my boots touched the ground. The general steadied me and I took a few seconds to get my bearings and shake off the sense of dizziness.

"Ho! Felern! How fares my brother?"

Our pavilion was just a few steps away, but I very much wanted Peter to know in no uncertain terms that he was going to get better despite himself and that I hadn't gotten this saddle sore for him to sleep through my arrival.

"He...he is not doing well, King Edmund," Felern said softly, trying to get me to lower my voice. "He's taken some water and tea but he refuses to eat. He says he cannot."

Dammit, Peter! I felt a familiar, slow, angry burn spark deep inside me. How did he always manage to set me off like this? Without meaning to, even? I could understand his reluctance not to eat. I had been there myself for months, but I had always forced myself to consume something.

"What?" I demanded. "I think not!" I pointed imperiously at the Dwarf. "Fetch twice however much food you want in him right now and I will take care of it."

Felern darted off. I caught the gleam in Oreius' eye and I knew the Centaur was extremely pleased even if I was being a bit childish.

"Well said, Sir Edmund How," he complimented, using the condensed version of my chivalric title. "I believe you'll find your brother awaiting you in your tent."

"I'd better," I grumbled, stalking off towards the red and gold tent. I threw back the entrance flaps.

And stopped dead in my tracks.

Peter.

My anger vanished as if it had never existed as I stood there looking at my only brother. He was awake, lying in one of the hammocks that served as our beds in the field, and he was looking at me. His face was gray and weary and somehow he looked...old. He was so terribly, terribly thin and wasted, as if all the bloom of health that had been his four months ago had been leeched out of him. His once-rounded cheeks were sunken and he was a mass of bruises, but his eyes...his eyes betrayed his relief and joy at seeing me and when he slowly smiled that sweet, loving smile, I was completely undone.

Suddenly I was there beside him, sweeping him into my arms as I held him to me as tightly as I dared. He barely had the strength to hold me back and he was hampered by his broken arm, but he leaned against me, resting his head against mine. A choking tightness gripped my throat, my chest, and I could not hold back a gasping sob as he ran a comforting hand through my hair. I could feel his ribs under my hands, feel us both trembling with emotion. He seemed so small.

"Peter," I finally managed to gasp through my tears. "Oh, Peter!"

I could say nothing more. He had almost died. He may well be dying. All for me. Oh, Aslan, how could I be worth this sacrifice?

He seemed about to speak, then just shook his head and held me tighter, his fingers still brushing through my hair, giving and taking comfort until I could master my emotions again. I knew he envied my control, but I envied his release. I don't know how much time passed, but I could have stayed in that spot holding him forever.

Felern's arrival with a tray of steaming food ended that moment and started another. Reluctantly I drew away and held Peter at arm's length to get a decent look at him. Scrawny, hollow, bruised, and oh, good lord, his hair. My brother, my grossly conservative, natty, perfect, blond brother had hair so long it was tied back.

"You need a haircut!" I howled. "Leave the long hair to Susan."

He smiled at my expression of horror and disgust. "It's the very first thing I plan on doing once we get home."

His voice was hoarse and weak and to hide how greatly the sound disturbed me I said, "Good!" before pulling a small table over towards the bed for the tray of food. "Set it here, please. Thank you," I said to the Dwarf, dismissing him. I turned to my brother. "Breakfast, Peter."

He tried to evade. "What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter," I countered. "You haven't eaten today, so it's breakfast. Are you going to eat or am I going to feed it to you?"

"I'm not hungry, Ed," he said a little sadly.

I was far from impressed. "You? Peter Michael George Pevensie, not hungry?" I demanded crossly. "I'd sooner believe you don't feel like breathing, brother. Your problem is it's been so long since you had a decent meal your body's forgotten how to ask for one. I meant what I said by courier. I haven't eaten today either and I'm hungry. I suggest you start now, because if you think I'm being a pest, wait until Susan gets here! If she ever finished packing," I muttered, much to Peter's amusement.

I won the battle, though, and he slowly ate the bowl of soup I placed in his lap. It was delicious and filling and I felt better (and less prone to snap) when we were done with the meal. I took his bowl with a smile, for he had eaten it all as well as the bread served with it. I could tell he was exhausted again.

"Do you want to sleep?" I asked softly.

He nodded and lay back into his nest of pillows, pale against the dark fabric. I propped his broken arm up on a pillow of its own and pulled the covers over him so he was warm and snug, saying, "I have to go see Aslan. I came right to you. Then I have to check on Phillip. Oreius said he was a wise choice."

"He was," Peter whispered. His words slurred slightly, he was so very tired. "Very wise. He saved my life."

And mine as well, Peter, I thought, smiling at him in quiet delight. "I'll be back later," I whispered, watching him fall asleep. I stood next to him for a while, listening to his breaths, touching his fevered cheek to assure myself this moment was real and not some waking dream Jadis had planted in my mind to torment me. She had struck me down when I had been my most content and I feared I might wake up to...

No. My brother was here. Before me. I had held him. touched him. He was mine.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, once again refusing to give her power over me. This was real. Peter was real and he was home and he had brought the apple back with him.

"Thank you, Aslan, for my brother," I whispered, reluctant to leave. "I kept my promise, Peter," I said to his sleeping form. "I'm trying to forgive myself. Aslan said you could show me how. So you have to get better for both of us...and the girls...and Narnia. I love you more than anything in the world. Please get better." I leaned over and pressed my lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss, and for the first time in a very long time, I let myself cry.