Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Oreius also does not belong to me. I do, however, wish I could play in Narnia.

Chapter Four

The next morning dawned bright and clear, as lush and beautiful as any summer morning I had ever seen. But the Birds did not sing. The small forest creatures, the Rabbits and Squirrels and such, did not chatter and play. Even the roar and rush of the Eastern Sea seemed hushed.

Narnia was in mourning.

I had stood there all night in the chamber of the High King, watching the stars, hoping the Great Lion would speak some guidance or comfort through them. Instead, they had merely faded with the sun's rising.

The three foals lay together on the bed. How very young they were. The healers, after last night's examinations, had gently bathed both of the colts where they lay, careful not to wake them as they dressed them in clean nightshirts. I had not been surprised to see that the colts hardly stirred, exhausted as they were. Neither had I been surprised when their sister crept back into the room afterwards and nestled next to the High King.

Even in his sleep, he had drawn her to him, pulling his brother close to his other side. He held them there even now.

"Always the protector," I murmured over him, and his eyes opened.

"Oreius?" He looked dazed for a moment, confused, and then the blue eyes widened. "Where's Edmund? Ed?"

"It is well, Majesty," I soothed. "Your brother is there next to you. And your sister."

He exhaled heavily, seeing them both still asleep, and held them closer. Then, touching a kiss to his sister's forehead, he eased his arms from around them and sat up.

"Oreius, Susan . . . "

His eyes were pleading now, pleading for me to tell him that what we both had seen was no more than a hideous nightmare, but that was beyond my power. I bowed my head.

"She lies in her own chamber, Majesty. Her ladies have done all they were able to prepare her body for burial. I assume you will want that to be seen to right away."

His eyes closed and then he lowered his head, nodding. It was summer. We had found the Gentle Queen three days ago. We had no choice now but to bury her as quickly as possible.

"Today?" I pressed.

It was more a direction than a question, and again the High King nodded.

"Will you– " His face contorted with the effort to steady his voice. "Will you see everything is taken care of?"

"Certainly, My King. Do not let it trouble you. When all is ready, I will come for you."

"And me."

The younger Queen sat up next to her oldest brother, the anxiousness in her blue eyes a mirror of his.

"Of course, Lu," he said, dredging up a faint smile.

She did not smile in return. "How's Edmund?"

"Still asleep." The High King stroked one hand over his brother's black hair, protective, soothing, and then he looked at me. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

I studied the younger colt's pale face. His sleep had thus far been peaceful and dreamless. Perhaps it would be kinder to allow him to stay in that state rather than forcing him to wake and remember the horror he had been through. But before I could answer, he gave a faint gasp and his dark eyes snapped open, darting from his brother's face to his sister's and then to mine and back again, wide with sudden terror.

He sat up, scrambling away from the three of us until his back was against the head of the bed and there was nowhere else to go. Then he shrank down into himself, shielding his face and body with trembling arms as if bracing for a blow.

Peter glanced at me, bewildered, and then turned again to his brother.

"It's all right, Ed. It's all right." His voice was gentle, soothing, and he carefully laid one hand on Edmund's arm. "You're home. We're all home. It's all right."

Still moving carefully, he drew that arm down, revealing those terror-filled eyes, and then he smiled slightly, almost fearfully.

"It's me, Eddie. Peter. You're all right now. You're–"

With another gasp, Edmund lunged at him, hiding his face against the older colt's chest, clinging to him with a grip of iron, soundlessly sobbing.

Peter held him as tightly. "Shh, shh, it's all right now. It's all right."

Lucy moved over next to Edmund, huddling against him, pressing comforting little kisses to his shoulder, to the back of his hair, soothing him as the Gentle Queen had always soothed them all.

For a long while, the three of them stayed that way, huddled together, grieving together, and I wished I could somehow take at least a portion of that grief upon myself. Oh, Aslan, comfort them.

"Lu?" the High King said, when their tears were finally spent. "Do you think you could bring Edmund something to eat?"

She hugged them both closer for a moment and then, with a tender kiss to Edmund's temple, she nodded. "I'll get us all something."

Grabbing up her dressing gown, she scurried out of the room.

Peter glanced at me again, and then pulled back from Edmund, searching his face, trying once again to smile. "Are you hungry, Ed?"

Edmund swallowed hard, looking as if he might be sick, and shook his head.

"Please, Eddie, you need to–"

Again Edmund shook his head, this time more firmly, his dark eyes pleading. As always, Peter relented, taking a steadying hold of his shoulders instead. Then he glanced at me before looking into his brother's eyes, worry and dread and compassion mingled in his own.

"Ed? Do you– Do you want to tell me about it?"

The dark colt shook his head once again, this time frantically, his face turning impossibly paler than before, his breath coming again in silent gasps. His fingers were twisted into the front of his brother's nightshirt and he looked as if he desperately wanted to tell Peter something.

But when he opened his mouth to speak, there was no sound.

Author's Note: Shall I continue? Let me know what you think.