The sound of thumping hooves and battle cries awoke Edmund from the light nap he had found himself in, curled up with little Tony in front of the fire, his injured leg splayed out behind him. Mr. Nantes gave him a look of warning even as Edmund sat up and gently pushed Tony, who still slept soundly, off of him, reaching for the dagger Mahir had forced him to take before the man died, and wondering why Mr. Nantes would look so worried. His leg ached at the motions, and he struggled not to wince from the pain of it.

Despite Mrs. Nantes' healing herbs, he was not getting better, Edmund knew. His plans of returning to Cair as soon as possible were on hold, and, last night, he had considered sending a bird to let his siblings know he was all right, as the Nantes would not have been able to do such a thing easily, being Cats, before once again falling into a troubled sleep.

Then he remembered how fragile Narnia had been after Edmund had died, and his siblings had supposedly defeated the Witch. He had never heard word to the contrary, and had only assumed after they had all returned to Cair Paravel to mourn his passing that she was dead, but now a horrible feeling swept through him at the fear in Mr. Nantes' eyes as he stepped out of the little burrow to meet the approaching army.

Mrs. Nantes sent Edmund a frightened look before going to stand guard at the little door to their home, both of them listening with bated breaths to the words spoken just out of eyesight.

"Who goes there?" Mr. Nantes' voice, though more gruff than Edmund had heard before. Wary and cool.

Edmund's hand clenched around the knife.

"The High King approaches, along with his army," a voice said, and Edmund's eyes widened as he recognized that voice, even as he breathed a long sigh of relief.

The High King. His brother.

"The Calormenes do not know him as the Magnificent King, as Narnia and other countries call the High King Peter. They know him as the Fire King, and with good reason, for the one time that he found his way into Calormen during the whole of the second year of his reign, there was indeed fire reigned down upon them, as though from Tash himself, for the kidnapping of the High King's brother, the Just King. They say in Calormen that when the Just King is harmed and the Fire King comes for him, and those who see his coming ignore it, they do so at their own peril, for fire and death follow."

Edmund could remember that story, even now. Could remember how Lucy had been on the edge of her seat throughout the tale, listening in rapt attention, as it had been her first opportunity to do so, Peter and Susan claiming that she was too young to hear of such details before then, and unable to stop her from hearing them that night.

Could certainly remember the one who had told it, seated in the middle of Cair's greatest dining hall, during a rowdy banquet with the Galmanian ambassador and his fifteen daughters, all of whom had a wish for the High King's hand, though, at the time, Peter had hardly been of any more age than they.

The story teller was a little fawn, a nervous young fellow and one of Mr. Tumnus' distant cousins, about Edmund's own age and itching to prove himself to those gathered during the banquet with an exciting tale that was sure to get him remembered. And yet, with the first of his words, he had immortalized himself in the present company, making Edmund flush with embarrassment at the still-recent memory while the Galmanians shuddered and realized exactly whom they were up against in the young High King.

Needless to say, none of the Ambassador's daughters found their way into Peter's good graces, during that visit.

Edmund suspected that most of them were simply too terrified to flirt with either the Just King or his obviously protective brother, after the whole story had been told.

After the initial embarrassment of having the tale dragged out for the present company, Edmund could remember finding the whole affair rather amusing, especially when Susan had wondered aloud why all of the young Galmanian ladies preferred to stay in their quarters or only in the Queens' company for the remainder of their stay.

It had been one of the few times when foreign ladies had not bothered Edmund or his brother about marriages, and Edmund had often since considered telling the story to any of the other ladies who came to visit for that express purpose. Indeed, he would have done so more often if Susan had not threatened to separate him from Philip's "obviously corrupting company" if he continued to do so.

He hadn't taken her threat seriously, but he had stopped, for which she had been enormously grateful from then on.

Indeed, he had hardly thought of the Fire King until now, hearing that same fawn's voice, though deepened with age, just outside the little burrow.

His breath quickened as Edmund attempted to stumble to his feet, and Mrs. Nantes rushed to his side, muttering under her breath even as she supported his weight on her shoulder.

He let out a cry at the first use of his injured leg, nearly falling onto his knees, and would have done so if Mrs. Nantes were not beside him.

His brother was just outside, with an army, and Edmund could not even stand up to go to him. A wave of frustration rushed over him, and Edmund gritted his teeth to try again.

"He will be passing over Stormness Head, and his men may require supplies from your family and any neighbors you may have," the fawn continued, voice full of self-importance.

Edmund gulped. Why wasn't Mr. Nantes saying anything? Why didn't he mention that one of the Kings of Narnia was within his home?

And then Edmund remembered that not all creatures had a suspicious reason behind their actions, but that Mr. Nantes had never met with the full force of the Narnian cavalry, or what was left of it, before, and was likely too frightened to do much speaking.

"Of course," Mr. Nantes answered speedily. "Anything His Majesty requires that we may have to give, we would gladly do so. But-"

And then Edmund couldn't stand it any more, and he was rushing past the little wild cat, ignoring the pain in his leg as he did so, shoving aside the fawn that had come to his door, to stare to the North.

Seeing his brother crest over the hill on his Horse, on Philip, followed immediately by an abundance of soldiers Edmund hadn't thought Narnia would have, after their most recent war, was the most gratifying sight Edmund had managed in a long time, and he pushed aside Mrs. Nantes' worried gaze to rush out of the burrow.

The fawn who had been demanding help from Mr. Nantes jerked abruptly at the sight of the young king, lips parting in a silent, 'O' of surprise, before he found his voice. "Ki-Ki-King Ed-Edmund," he rasped out, and then glanced back toward the army, suddenly looking afraid, though Edmund couldn't imagine why.

Nor did he have the patience to do so, at the moment.

It felt like it had been years since Edmund had seen any of his siblings, even since those fleeting moments Edmund had managed to have with Peter and Susan during the battle against the Witch. And here was Peter, riding forward in full battle uniform, and Edmund could not imagine why.

Surely the Witch had been destroyed, for some part of him did not think he would have Awoken had she not been, and the green grass that replaced fields and fields of cold snow was rather telling.

So why was Peter riding to war?

"Peter!" Edmund called out, and then lost all sense of kingly dignity as he limped forward to greet his brother.

The High King stared down at him in shock for some moments, mouth parting in much the same way that the herald's had, slack with shock, before he finally slid down from his horse and rushed to meet him.

And as Edmund felt his brother's arms surround him, just as he thought he might collapse, he felt safe.

Behind them, the army that Peter had mustered went still, all staring in surprise at the sight of the two young kings, reuniting, and Edmund bit back a laugh, closing his eyes and burying his head in Peter's shoulder.

"Edmund," Peter breathed, finally pulling away, though he kept his hand on Edmund's shoulder, as if afraid to let go of him, and his eyes shone. "Ed...I thought...We thought you were dead. We thought-"

"It's all right, Pete," Edmund whispered, forcing himself to smile, and finding suddenly that it did not seem so hard to do so, now. "I'm here. I'm all right."

Peter blinked, and yes, those were tears, as Edmund had thought. "But...how?"

Edmund shrugged. "Aslan," he whispered, as if that explained everything, and, in that moment, it did.

Peter let out a long, shaky sigh. "If He hadn't appeared to Lucy, told us to go and look for you, I don't know that we would have believed that Wolf. I don't know what we would have done, what Narnia would have done..." he trailed off again, giving Edmund a hard look as he finally assessed his brother's injuries.

"You're injured," he said finally, sounding rather angry that Edmund had not mentioned it immediately, though Edmund was not certain that this anger was entirely directed at him.

Edmund blinked, suddenly remembering his leg, and that he was mostly still leaning on Peter. "Oh," he said dumbly, and then his face flushed. "I...The Calormene warship that attacked us. I was injured."

Peter's eyes flashed again with anger, and Edmund suddenly understood. Understood who his brother was truly angry with, understood why he was leading an army across the South of Narnia.

He tensed. "Peter, no-"

"This is their fault, Ed," he muttered, eyes still glittering. "If they hadn't kidnapped you, hadn't made us think you were dead, hadn't sent another ship to kill you-"

And Edmund interrupted, before his brother's anger went too far again. "But I'm here now," he said softly. "I'm here, and I'll be fine once we get Lucy's cordial, you great goose, and so there's no reason to go to war now."

Peter turned on him incredulously. "No reason?" he echoed. "Edmund, you could have died..."

"But I didn't," Edmund reminded him. "Aslan made sure of that." He thought of saying something to lighten the mood then, something like, 'I'm not some girl for you to go off starting wars to defend me,' or something, but didn't think it would be appreciated, so he held his tongue.

In truth, Edmund was tired. He just wanted to go home, to Cair and to the rest of his siblings, where things made sense and he could eat real food and sleep for a week, if he could.

War would definite not be beneficial toward that plan of action.

"Edmund," Peter tried again, but had deflated somewhat in the wake of Edmund's words. "They kidnapped you, just like last time..."

"That was the act of one men, two, at the most," Edmund argued, "not all of Calormen. Obviously, or they wouldn't have sent a warship to make sure what happened last time Calormen kidnapped me didn't happen again."

He tried to sound light, but somehow failed spectacularly, and Peter's face darkened.

"If we'd lost you, lost you again..."

"I was never lost," Edmund told him, though not unkindly.

And Peter deflated then, though he still looked incredulous at Edmund's words. "But why? If we don't show our strength now, Calormen will think that this is all right to do again, and they will do it again."

Edmund thought of Mahir, who had done all of this for the sole purpose of getting his sister back, no matter his faults in the past. Of Amin Tarkaan, who had only wanted his son, not Edmund, but had settled for this when he realized he could get nothing else.

For family.

"The guilty have already paid, Pete," he whispered into his brother's shoulder. "I just want to go home, please."

Peter stared at him for a moment, and finally nodded. "All right. All right, Ed, let's go home."

The girls were waiting for them when they returned to the Cair, along with several dozen Narnians there to see the return of their king, wondering why he had returned home so quickly, when they'd thought him off to war with Calormen, which would surely have been a more lengthy feat. The flags of the Four had been raised, Peter's a bit higher than the others, and the gates swung open to welcome an army home, though there seemed to be some confusion as to whether this was done in victory or defeat, or some other thing that had not yet been learned.

But then they saw their younger king, sitting astride Philip, alive and clearly not Calormen's prisoner, and this drew even more crowds, as word spread that the young Just King had been found and was finally home.

By the time they finally made it through the gates of Cair, it was difficult enough for Philip to simply maneuver through the Talking Beasts surrounding them, despite the army behind him, but they did manage their way to the palace entrance eventually, where Susan and Lucy were waiting atop a podium, along with half of the Narnian Court, all of them cheering as they saw their youngest king returned.

Edmund dismounted slowly, the wound of his leg still paining him, Peter climbing down behind him.

A wave of dizziness swept over the young king, and, as if anticipating this, Philip leaned forward, pressing his shoulder against Edmund's forehead to give him a moment's relief.

If the Horse noticed how heavily Edmund leaned into him, he did not acknowledge it beyond nudging his king's forehead, a reassurance. And somehow, it was enough.

Edmund straightened, feeling suddenly as if he could walk all the way back up to the palace on his own, but then Peter was by his side, taking his arm and practically dragging him the rest of the way.

Susan and Lucy were not able to wait that long, and, as the two kings made their slow ascent, Edmund suddenly found his arms full of two simultaneously crying and giggling girls.

And he couldn't have been happier to see them, in that moment. Thought perhaps he wanted to hear their laughter for the rest of his life.

Then Lucy let out a cry, looking down at Edmund's injured leg, and Susan began scolding him even as Lucy reached for her cordial and bade him drink it, Peter smirking behind him as the girls fussed, and Edmund thought that this was all right, too.

The celebrations lasted for hours, and, to be honest, Peter remembered very little of them other than his siblings' smile faces after his first sip of wine. Of Lucy, grinning as she tugged on Edmund's arm and pulled him into another dance, whispering into his ear words that made him chuckle, if not laugh. Of Susan, scooping larger portions of food onto Edmund's plate during the banquet, when she thought he wasn't looking, and smiling at his every word.

After weeks of seeing his sisters so burdened by everything that had happened, days of seeing their grieving, Peter had not thought he would ever see a genuine smile from them again.

And of Edmund, whole and very much alive, if a bit changed by his ordeal.

He had always been quiet; anyone who knew him knew as much, but now he was quieter still, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to say a few words during the banquet, and then during the continued celebrations which went on afterward. He would not speak of his time with the Witch at all, but recounted what happened afterwards, to the rapt attention of all gathered in Cair. Aslan had shown himself to the Just King, as well as the Valiant.

After this, it seemed, Edmund fell into a pensive silence, one that none tried to pull him from save Lucy, when she attempted to drag him out to the ball room. The others attending quickly followed, the music loud and boisterous.

And yet, Peter could not shake the feeling that there was something different about this Edmund, from the one he remembered, before all of this began. It was so striking now, in the safety of Cair, more so than it had been in a tent near Beruna.

Scars that would never fade away, no matter how hard Peter attempted to try and make them.

He found himself some wine after these thoughts, and managed to salvage his mood for the evening after a few glasses, dancing with Lucy and the dryads long after midnight. Even Susan joined in on the festivities, though several times he noticed her and Edmund standing off to the side, conversing with each other or with Narnians wishing to express to Edmund how happy they were to see him returned.

They were happy, all Four of them, and Peter even managed to take his eyes off of his returned brother for a while, to dance with the dryads and ladies of the Court without a thought, as the music trilled and swayed around them.

It was bliss, after everything. There had been no celebrations after the defeat of the Witch, and so this one felt like a celebration twice over; for the return of the Just King, alive, and the defeat of the White Witch and her army.

Nothing could have made it better, save for Aslan's presence, but Lucy was convinced that he would return, when the time was right.

Peter did not know what time it was when he finally looked around and found that the guest of honor had left the celebrations, nowhere to be seen.

His heart clenched fearfully at the realization that his brother had managed to slip away, again, without his noticing. Hadn't that been, in part, what started this whole mess? What took Edmund away from them for so long?

He immediately sought out Susan, surprised to find her with a drink of her own in her hands, sipping at it daintily while talking with Mr. Tumnus, who looked altogether embarrassed, if his flushed cheeks were anything to go by.

"Peter," Susan greeted as he neared, voice higher than usual, and he glanced at her in concern before shaking his head and giving Mr. Tumnus a rueful smile. "You simply must try some of this, dear brother. It's positively..." she trailed off, brows furrowing as she searched for the right word, reminding Peter of his purpose in seeking her out.

"Where's Edmund?" he demanded, hoping that the desperation in his voice went unnoticed.

Susan blinked at him. "Edmund? Oh, he was exhausted, poor dear, so I told him to turn in early. Pity I can't turn in early these days..." she drifted off again, though this time, Peter was not so sure he liked the expression on her face as she took another sip of the wine.

Peter glanced at Mr. Tumnus, silently communicating his plea for the fawn to watch after his sister, even as he always watched after Lucy, before rushing off to Edmund's rooms. He told himself, as he nearly ran past the guards at each corner, that he was only being practical, after everything that had happened, to check on his brother before he himself turned in.

He didn't really want to admit the truth, that he was worried. That he would never stop worrying, not after this, about his younger brother.

That worry grew when he opened the doors to Edmund's chambers, peeking in to make certain that he was all right and finding nothing but a made bed, the room as untouched as it had been since Edmund's disappearance.

The worry in the pit of his stomach grew to something else then, and Peter, had anyone made comment on it, would have most certainly denied that his hands were shaking toward Rhindon.

He was gone. Edmund was gone. Again. She- Somehow, she had managed to see fit that Edmund would never return to them...

Peter spun toward the guard he'd had posted outside of Edmund's room, a spotted leopard.

"Where is he?" he demanded, trusting that he did not need to explain who 'he' was. Edmund's guard detail was on much higher alert now than they had ever been.

The leopard - Peter had yet to learn his name - eyed him. "The Just King passed by here some time ago, Your Majesty, but did not go in. I believe he was headed in the direction of Your Majesty's chambers."

Peter swallowed. "Oh. My thanks, Noble Leopard."

The creature flicked his tail, almost bashfully. "Of course, Your Majesty."

And then Peter was finding it very hard not to sprint to his own chambers, for Edmund hardly made a practice of going to them to sleep. Unless, awoken from another nightmare, he truly needed the safety of Peter's room.

In the beginning, after Jadis had been defeated for the first time, Edmund had spent almost every night in Peter's chambers, so much so that the older brother had had Edmund's bed moved in. The nightmares had faded, with time, and the Just King had managed to sleep in his own chambers from then on, only coming to Peter when he truly needed it, per Peter's insistence, though the High King always had a terrible suspicion that Edmund did not always come when he needed to.

He should have known that Edmund would go directly there when he retired for bed, after She had been defeated a second time. Of course he would.

And so it was with some surprise that Peter did not find Edmund in his chambers, when he finally made his way to them. He glanced around, fear knotting in his stomach at the sight of the empty, untouched rooms, and reached for Rhindon, hanging on the wall, before nearly sprinting back out into the hallway to find his brother.

This was just like last time, and Peter could no longer quell the terror within him.

Edmund was gone, Edmund was...

"Your Majesty!" a loud voice called, snapping him out of his troubled thoughts, and sounding for all the world as someone who had been trying to get Peter's attention for some time.

He spun around, and was met with Eslania, giving him a patient, and yet, at the same time, somewhat exasperated smile. "King Edmund sent me to find you, if you grew worried."

Peter gave her a thin smile. "Where is he?"

"He...he said he wished to be alone for a while, Your Majesty," she said, rather carefully omitting the answer.

"Please," and he did not care that his sword hand shook, nor that his eyes had misted over a little. "Please, I just need to see that he's all right."

Eslania hesitated a moment longer, before finally, looking regretful, she answered, "He went down to the tombs, to see the Archenlander...the one who was buried in his stead."

Peter bit his lip, all the blood washing from his face. "Why?" was the only word that would come out, once he finally found the strength to speak. Why in Aslan's name would Edmund want to go down there, to see the body which had caused his siblings such pain? Which had caused him such trouble, if only it had never been there so that his siblings had looked for him earlier.

"I did not ask, Your Majesty," Eslania said, looking almost affronted at the thought of her doing so. "I only did as he bid me, after guarding him on his way there."

"Is anyone with him now?" And there was the fear again, returned, strong as ever.

She pecked at her wings. "Of course, Your Majesty. I left one of the badgers who guard the tombs outside the door, so that he might have some privacy. He looked as though he...needed it."

And despite Eslania's warning words, despite Edmund's request that he be alone, Peter found himself descending the steps to the tombs where the Archenlander boy had been buried, feeling only the smallest amount of guilt as he passed the hall leading down to the dungeons on his way.

He was right to feel this nervousness, Peter told himself. After all, those dungeons, only a level of flooring away from the tombs, was where all of this had started, had it not? They were where Edmund had first vanished.

And he found himself rushing forward, practically running the last few steps to the room of tombs, only to find that, as Eslania had said, Edmund was fine.

Well, perhaps fine was not the right word, but he was there. Safe. Alive.

Edmund stood in front of the tomb where the monarchs had placed the young Archenlander whom they had mistaken for Edmund, staring down at it with such intensity that he did not even seem to notice Peter's entrance. His eyes were glazed over, hands reaching out as if he wished to move aside the glass encasing that separated him from the body, but was too afraid to do so.

His shoulders slumped in that moment, and Edmund closed his eyes, leaning against the glass with a tiredness that Peter didn't think anyone Edmund's age should have been capable of feeling.

But Peter couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him at the sight of his safe brother, tired or not, and Edmund turned around at the sound of it.

He said nothing, though, only stared at Peter for a few moments before turning back to the body of the boy. And Peter found himself trudging forward on feet that must have been made of stone themselves, to stand beside his brother.

They stood in silence for a while, too long, Peter thought, but he didn't know what to say in that moment, didn't know if it was comfort Edmund sought or an explanation, and so he did not speak.

Edmund seemed quite content to let the silence hang in the air, tangible as it was, and keep staring at this Archenlander's body as if it held all the secret answers of the world.

"Lucy told me about him," Edmund said eventually, though Peter hadn't thought to ask that particular question.

"Oh," and Peter flushed when he realized how foolish this sounded. He was just about to say something else, though his mind had not truly formed the words, when Edmund surprised him by speaking again.

"What are we going to do with the body now?" Edmund asked, voice soft and vulnerable. "Lucy said that it was buried in my stead."

Peter shrugged.

He hadn't really thought of it, though, now that he did, he thought he remembered Susan and Lucy discussing it, the night before he had left to find Edmund. "Susan thinks we should let the body lay there, in a place of honor, because the boy must have died quite a gruesome death, and did not deserve to suffer in such a way. And besides, it would be cruel to take up his body out of such a tomb, when it has already been placed there, just because it does not belong to whom we thought it did. Dishonorable."

Edmund flinched. "Don't...don't leave it here. Send it back to his family in Archenland. They deserve to at least know what became of their child, and he deserves to be laid to rest in his homeland."

And Peter wondered, in that moment, if Edmund was thinking of his own predicament, what would have happened to his own body had he truly been lost at sea, never to be found by his own family.

He nodded. "I'll see to it." And then, because he couldn't hold back his curiosity a moment longer, "What are you doing down here, Ed?"

Edmund didn't answer for a while, and Peter found himself growing a bit worried again, before his little brother finally did speak, eyes haunted, chased by ghosts that were no doubt the reason he was not sleeping now.

"I went to your chambers, to try and sleep," he said, and it was only then that Peter saw the black rings underneath his eyes, the way his hands shook as they did whenever he was going on as little sleep as possible without collapsing.

The telltale signs of nightmares.

"Oh Edmund," Peter whispered hoarsely, and reached out to brush the hair from Edmund's eyes.

"Will it...will they never end?" Edmund asked hopelessly, and something in his tone made Peter want to wrap his arms around his brother tighter, never let him go. Afraid that if he did, Edmund would fade away once more. "She's dead, and yet still she haunts me."

"I don't know," Peter answered honestly, voice hoarse, and Edmund slumped in his arms once more, body radiating defeat. "I don't know, but I will be by your side through every one of them, Ed. I promise you that."

"I know," Edmund whispered, and thought that perhaps he could sleep that night without a single nightmare. Hoped so, at the very least.

He was wrong, but it was all right, because his big brother was there, and he was safe.