"Edmund?" Lucy spoke up for the first time in what might have been an hour or so.

"Yes?" he replied, still attempting to keep the tired cob at a somewhat steady trot-like pace, though he was half-convinced the horse was sleeping and walking at the same time by this point.

"I wish he believed me-Rilian, I mean."

"This whole mess is my fault," whispered Edmund, apologetically, wondering what they could possibly do now that everything had blown up in their faces.

"It's not." Lucy insisted, yawning, sounding rather, he was pretty sure, like she was still in shock-certainly not herself yet. "We didn't..."

"No," said Edmund; "but because of me, because of my coming to you like that, they wont believe the truth. We suffer for it."

"Whatever you or I say now," faltered Lucy wearily, slowly coming to realize that it wouldn't necessarily matter what she said, or what Edmund told them, she-once their beloved little queen-very well might already be condemned in their hearts.

They rode on in silence for a while longer. There was a slight rumbling from the dark sky above them that indicated a storm, or at the very least some heavy rainfall, would be forthcoming.

What am I going to do? Edmund thought wildly; where am I going to take her?

The Lantern Waste was both too obvious and too far away, so that was ruled out. There wasn't any chance of sailing away with her. They might aim for Ettinsmoor, since she had a grandfather there who might be willing to look after her if they could keep the word 'treason' out of their explanation of why she wasn't back at Cair, but that was an even greater distance away than the Lantern Waste was. They would never make it there in one night. Especially not on a poor horse as tired as the one they had the use of at the moment was. Lucy would need a bed to sleep in. Edmund felt that, seeing as he had just more or less ruined the girl's life, he owed her a dry place with a roof at the very least. He knew she wouldn't complain, poor thing, but he simply had to do something.

There was a country manor a few yards ahead; not a terribly large one, though clearly big enough to put-up a guest or two for the night if the owners were of a generous nature.

When they reached the front of the manor, Edmund alighted from the horse's back and helped Lucy down after him. Then he knocked on the hard oak door, noticing that the golden knocker was shaped like Aslan's head. For some reason that made him feel a little more hopeful.

"Markus, you put down that crossbow at once! Do you hear?" screamed a shrill, woman's voice from behind the door.

"But, darling, what if it's a burglar?" a pitiful-sounding man's voice answered

A burglar would have the good sense not to knock on the door before he robbed you, Edmund couldn't help thinking rather grumpily.

"No, absolutely not! You know you always shoot the wrong people!"

Edmund winced; perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all.

The door opened and a little old woman with long, wispy gray hair, wearing a yellow dressing-gown stood there. "Can I help you?"

Gulping, Edmund said, in as strong a voice he could manage, "Please, your Ladyship," -he assumed she was a noblewoman- "my name is Martin, I'm the son of a Lord." He motioned over at Lucy, who looked paler than ever, goggling helplessly at his side. A person would have to possess a heart of cold, hard stone not to feel sorry for such a tragic-looking little figure in a white nightgown. "This is my sister, Rose."

The woman's face, which had been a little strained up until that point, softened considerably.

"There was an attack on our manor, several miles away from this place," Edmund felt bad about telling such a bold-faced lie, but he couldn't very well tell them the truth: that she was their queen, who he had taken away from the castle because he feared they would try her for treason; "so father sent us off on one of his shorter, swifter horses-"

"Do you need us to go over there and help?" a little half-bald man with thick-rimmed glasses, nearly a foot shorter than his wife, appeared behind the woman, holding his crossbow. Presumably this was Markus.

"What did I tell you about that blasted crossbow?" snapped the woman over her shoulder, ordering her husband to put it away again.

"No, a messenger came after us to inform us that the house was burned to the ground...we've escaped, my sister and I, but we need a place to spend the night-we will be on our way to other relatives in the morning, but their manor is too far a journey for our horse to take without stopping, and Rose is not doing so well."

"Oh, I can see that, the poor dear!" exclaimed the woman kindly, reaching out her hands to Lucy. "She's had a shock, no?"

Edmund nodded.

"How old is she?"

Knowing Lucy looked very small for her age, Edmund told another lie. "Twelve." It certainly wasn't the biggest lie he'd told that night, seeing as she'd been twelve not too long ago, however, he still felt a little rotten about it.

"Come in," said the woman finally, opening the door a little wider. "We'll see if we can't get you both something to eat. We finished supper many hours ago, and so I'm afraid you wont get anything hot as far as meat is concerned, just some cold steak and leftover vegetables. But we can fix the girl a nice cup of something warm to drink. Tea, perhaps."

"Thank you for your kindness," said Edmund as he entered, Lucy following a few steps behind.

"And for you, my good man," said Markus, "a flask of brandy? I dare say you've had a rough night yourself."

Edmund might have accepted a bit-indeed he was just about to-but quickly recalling that he had a problem with over-indulgence in drink just recently overcome, he decided against it. "No, thank you, your Lordship."

"I'm afraid," said Markus's wife, leading them into a pretty dinning-chamber with a long shinny table, "that we've only got one guest chamber to spare at the moment. Young Lord Martin, you don't mind sharing with your sister, do you?"

"He'd better not," said Markus, half joking. "He hasn't even told us the name of his father, only that's he's a lord."

"Good Lions alive, you are a beast!" laughed the woman, clicking her tongue at her husband in faux-disapproval. "Surely you see they've both been through trauma. And as neither of them have the look of a rogue or a traitor, we'll show kindness first and ask questions later."

Edmund thought it was interesting that they believed he didn't have the look of a traitor. And yet, he had fallen in love with a queen, kidnapped her, stood in the way of the law, and just given a false name and story. All that must have made him a traitor, but apparently he didn't look like one yet.

Give it time, he thought grimly in the furthest reaches of his mind, give it time, it will show on me sooner or later.

Still, he had no doubt that it was Lucy's honest face that had granted them admission into the manor, not his lack of a belated traitor's mark.

After they had been given a quick meal and the lady of the house had put Lucy in front of a fireplace to rest while she drank some green tea which Markus swore would 'set the poor child aright and steady her nerves a bit', a serving maid-who, by the way, was a faun-was rung for, and she took Edmund upstairs to the guest chamber.

It was a neat little room; a bit bare, at worst, but everything was nicely folded, and the essentials of warm blankets, well-pressed sheets, and a washbasin for cleaning faces and fingernails in the morning, were all present. The bed was large and the mattress was comfortable. If Edmund had been able to get his reeling mind to shut off, and did not have the added discomfort of knowing he was there under a fake name and on borrowed time, he might have truly gotten a good sleep. As it was, he couldn't even close his eyes until Lucy arrived, carrying an oil-lantern the maid had been kind enough to leave with her.

Because she's so young, they all thought-maid, lord, and lady alike, there's a chance the lass is still afraid of the dark.

Lucy wasn't afraid of darkness, but she was too frazzled to tell them so. Besides, she knew she would rather have a light in this strange house than not, so what was there to protest about?

"There are some very strange creatures outside," Lucy mumbled by way of greeting to Edmund as she set the lantern down on the nightstand by the washbasin. "I've caught glimpses of them from the window near the fireplace. They...they look like mushrooms."

Edmund yawned. "Dufflepuds."

"What?"

"Those mushroom thingummies are their feet-well, more like foot, actually."

"Really? I've never seen them before."

"They aren't common in Narnia anymore...nor are they very bright...only a few households still have the patience to deal with them, anyway. They're just servants, of a sort."

"How do you know all this?"

"There was a book about them in the Cair Paravel Library, I saw it once." he answered, sighing deeply.

"Edmund, where are we going? After we leave here, I mean."

He glanced up at the ceiling. "Ettinsmoor, I think."

"Not to my grandfather," said Lucy, shaking her head.

"Why? Don't you like him?" he turned to look at her again. "And it isn't as if there are a whole lot of other places I could take you."

"I barely know him, I don't know if he'll stand up for me or not, and the court knows he lives there-they'd look for me in his home."

"Then I don't know what we'll do-unless we can make him agree to keep you hidden."

Lucy caught onto something in Edmund's tone that worried her. "Why do you keep saying 'you' like that, as if you weren't going to be with me?"

"I didn't intend on it..." said Edmund, quietly, surprised by how borderline-hurt she seemed. "...on staying there with you, I mean."

"I don't want to be alone," she said shakily; "I'm really scared, Ed."

"I would never just abandon you without warning, you know that." he reassured her.

Lifting the covers up, Lucy crawled into the bed beside him. "I know."

Wordlessly, he took her hand and held it, lightly pressing his forehead against hers. "Goodnight, Lucy Pevensie."

She pulled herself as close to him as possible and took long, slow breaths, clinging to her childhood companion's hand as if it was all she had left to rely on, until sleep finally claimed her.

Later, when dawn had risen, Edmund felt something cold and hard at his neck, and slowly opened his eyes. King Caspian stood in the chamber at Edmund's side of the bed, holding a sword to his throat.

"Get up," he said angrily, glaring at his former knight.

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Edmund, letting go of Lucy's hand and pulling away from her, climbing out of the bed.

Lucy felt her hand being released and woke up, too. Gasping when she saw Caspian with the sword, she sat up straight like she was about to rush over.

"Stay where you are," Caspian ordered, giving her a brief, cutting side-glance.

"I am your man, Your Grace, and you can deliver me up to justice if you like." Edmund said, looking from the blade, to the king, to Lucy, and then back at the king again. "But king of Narnia or not, sword or no sword, I will not let you harm her. I swear on my mother's grave and on Aslan himself, if I have to kill you to protect her, I will."

"You threaten to kill me?" Caspian gritted his teeth. "I ought to kill you right now, traitor." He pressed his sword a little deeper into Edmund's neck.

Lucy let out a cry. "No, Caspian, don't! Don't hurt him! You don't understand!"

"Rilian told me you went with him somewhere the night before last, and that you showed him the wardrobe-tunnel." The king turned to his wife now, tears glistening in his eyes, still holding the blade upright so that Edmund couldn't move. "What did I ever do to you so that you had to find comfort in another man? Was being married to me so awful that you couldn't endure staying loyal? Why did you do this?"

"She's done nothing!" said Edmund.

"You be quiet or I swear I will take off your hand as revenge for what you have done to my son's wrist." snapped Caspian, pushing the blade even further in now.

"I believe, Your Majesty, that you would have to lower the blade from my neck in order to do that." he mumbled cheekily.

He pushed inwards with the sword until a teeny drop of blood showed up on Edmund's neck. "I said, be quiet."

"I'm sorry," wept Lucy, wanting to run to Edmund and pull him away from her husband's sword, but too afraid that Caspian would do real damage to him if she tried to get over to the other side of the bed. "...but you have to believe me, we didn't betray you, not...not really..."

"Then why did you run away with him? Why did you come to this house, so that I had to hunt the both of you down? What was he doing in your chambers last night?"

"Please, it wasn't what you think." Lucy's voice wavered. "He was coming to say goodbye to me."

"How long has he known how to get into your chambers?" demanded Caspian.

"Lucy, don't answer that." Edmund warned her, knowing, in spite of the fact that she was innocent, the whole issue with the tunnel could-and would-be used against her.

Caspian pushed in with his sword again and another bead-sized drop of blood rolled down into Edmund's collar.

"Stop it!" screamed Lucy, never having seen her kind, caring husband like this before.

"Lucy, for once I want the truth," ordered the king; "how long has he known?"

"After I saved him with the cordial, we met up in the apple orchard," she sobbed, "and I...I showed him the tunnel..."

"Do you love him?" growled Caspian, his expression tight with restrained emotion.

"I-" she began.

"She doesn't love me," Edmund blurted out before she could say another word. "We're not lovers. The queen is innocent."

Another light push; another drop of blood. A faint groan of pain escaped from Edmund.

"No, stop!" bawled Lucy, her shoulders shaking violently by this point.

"You did not answer my question,"

"I don't want to," whispered the little queen, for even she could see where this was heading. If she said no, they might not believe her, still claiming she had betrayed the king. If she said yes, then her fate would be sealed altogether.

"You are both under arrest," said Caspian at last, slowly lowering his sword.

"Not Lucy," said Edmund, edging towards the side of the bed, slipping his hand behind the headboard for some reason. "Bring your guards in for me and I'll go with them now. Let them touch one hair on her head, and I put up a fight."

"You are both accused, I cannot play favourites." Caspian told them, looking at Lucy as if really seeing her for the first time. "Besides, even the one closest to me may abuse my trust."

From behind the headboard, Edmund pulled out his sword. "Your Majesty, I don't want to do this."

The chamber door swung open and the king's knights and guards burst in. "We don't want you to either!"

"You brought all your knights with you?" asked Edmund, clearly a little surprised. "The whole army was outside waiting for us...waiting for Lucy to confess to something she didn't do?"

"All except Sir Peter, I did not want him to see his sister taken into custody."

"He wouldn't have, so you needn't have bothered." said Edmund, coldly, as Lucy slowly crept over the bed and stood behind him. "All there is going to be to see is my sword flashing and you on the ground."

"You still mean to fight me?"

"To the death if I have to."

"So it has come to this, has it, Sir Edmund?" Caspian practically spat the word 'sir'.

"So it has."

"I'm not going to fight a traitorous boy younger than my own son."

"Fine, then avoid all this and let her go free. If I'm the threat to you and your kingdom-your country-then arrest me with your word that Queen Lucy is shielded."

"Don't talk as if I am afraid of you," said Caspian, bitterly.

"Well, you are bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age, aren't you?"

"Edmund!" Lucy put in angrily.

"I do not want to kill you without a fair trial."

"Why not?" he taunted callously. "That sure seems to be your way."

"Why you dirty, stinking son of a-" Caspian meant only to reach out and slap the former knight, who had so clearly over-stepped and forgotten himself, with the flat of the blade, but Edmund blocked the previously harmless blow, and a real sword fight was almost started.

It was only when Lucy shouted, "Oh, stop it, both of you. That's the worst of boys and men! You're all a bunch of swaggering, bullying idiots!" that they stopped and Caspian ordered his guards to apprehend them.

Edmund tried, at first, to give a quick, stunning blow to anyone who came near himself or Lucy, but Caspian gave him a sharp kick to the shins so that he winced and dropped his sword by mistake, instantly disarmed.

Another knight swiftly took the mislaid sword away.

As they were dragged off, Lucy gave her husband, King Caspian, who she had liked so well before this unfortunate incident, one last look. "You said you loved me."

Caspian turned his back on her. "You never said you loved me."

AN: Please review.