A/N: This one is Peter and Edmund stuck in a dungeon. Which isn't actually something that happens all the time (them being imprisoned together), but I was feeling Merlin-ish and Arthur and Merlin remind me of Peter and Edmund (ish...Peter isn't a prat), and this resulted. :) Kind of an irony fic. Anyhow. Enjoy.

YoungDreamer: It's not exactly like the other Edmund and Peter chapter, but I gave it a stab. :)

Bastables, Aravis and Cor, and more to come!

-A good friend will come bail you out of jail, but a best friend will be sitting next to you saying, "We sure messed up, but boy was that fun."-

8.

"Peter?"

"Mm?" Peter craned his neck to get a look at Edmund.

"How is it that we always seem to end up in situations like this? I mean, logistically, it should be impossible."

"How's that?" He didn't feel much like talking. His lip hurt. Lion's mane, all of him hurt.

"Think about it. The number of…erm, eligible females who end up at Cair Paravel or in the middle of our exploits indicate that there are more than thirty unique countries with large bodies of nobility surrounding Narnia. The percentage of aforementioned eligible females who end up betraying us to the enemy or who are plotting our demise for some reason or other should reveal a startling amount of people who are trying to see to our downfall."

Peter snorted—and then winced. It isn't wise to make that sort of noise when you have a broken nose. "What, Ed? Still sore about Lady Belinda?"

The chilly silence following his remark was only broken by his muffled laughter, as he realized he'd hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"Oh," the younger king began again, sounding a little flustered and annoyed, "Right. Because you've never fallen for a beautiful young damsel who's led us into a trap or gotten us into trouble without meaning to." He made a sound that might've been a cough but which sounded a lot like "Fair Gwendolyn". Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and winced at the loud sound the chains made when they clanked against each other.

"Without even taking into account the dragons, sea monsters, evil regents, Calormenes, and Remnant Followers of the Witch," Edmund's voice continued, growing dryer with each thing he added to the list, "the odds of our having survived up to this point are microscopically small."

"Odds do not win a battle," Peter said. Which made Edmund laugh. And then start coughing at the end of the laugh which made Peter strain even harder to see him, because he was pretty sure his brother had taken a stab to the lungs. Eventually the coughing faded and the stillness settled on them again, broken only by the sound of the guards pacing past their cell every sixty-seven seconds.

"So," continued the High King, rubbing at his wrists. "Have you figured the odds of escaping yet?"

"About a hundred to one," his brother replied, trying to sound amused, although Peter could hear a trace of worry in his voice. "Unless Lucy's coming with the Cavalry…well, let's just hope King Yvres has forgotten about his son dying in that tournament at the Cair."

"He'll probably want to torture us," Peter mused, leaning back against the wall. "They always want to torture us."

There was a spot of silence before Edmund replied, "I see. You do have more experience with being captured than I do, so if you'll forgive me for thinking that torture is a bad thing that I'm not really looking forward to."

Peter laughed again, banishing his anxieties because he knew his little brother needed him to be brave. He really hoped the sword had missed Edmund's lung. Really hoped. He gave one final twist to the key in his hands and let out the breath he'd been holding as the manacle on his hand swung open.

"Don't worry, little brother. They can only torture us if we're still here when they come."

He turned around and finally set eyes on his brother. The blasted king had chained them facing opposite ways, but now Peter felt the knot of worry ease in his stomach, even though Edmund was looking rather worse for the wear, with a yellowish line of bruises all along the right side of his face. His eyes were closed as he shot back, irritably, "Oh, I see. You're going to spirit us out of here just in the nick—because heavens knows it wouldn't have done to get us out before they roughed us up asking all those questions."

In reply, Peter held back a smile as he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him upright. Edmund's eyes opened like a shot, just in time to see the bands fall of his own wrists. Peter really did laugh when he saw the look of utter bewilderment in the other boy's face.

"Ah. But I didn't have the key, before."