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.

CALUMNY

It was dark when Edmund woke. Not just the twilight of early evening, but the full dark of night. He'd slept through supper, and no one, it seemed, had thought to send for him. After he'd bathed and dressed earlier, he had stretched out on his bed, meaning to close his eyes for just a moment. It had turned out to be a long moment.

He'd managed to sleep wrong on his bad shoulder. Now it was stiff and painful, and he groaned as he tried to sit up.

"Just a little tired, eh?"

Edmund started and then turned over to see Peter lounging in the chair next to his bed.

"Peter. How long have you been there?"

Peter squinted into the darkness outside the window. "Since about dusk, I guess. I came to get you for supper, but you looked as though you needed sleep more than food."

"You didn't have to come yourself, you know." Edmund scowled fuzzily. "You could have sent someone."

Peter smiled a little. "I know."

"And you didn't have to sit around waiting for me to wake up either."

"I know." Peter pulled him into a sitting position and then into a huge hug. "I did miss you terribly, Ed."

Edmund ducked his head against Peter's shoulder, squeezing him tight in return. This, at long last, was home.

"I'm sorry, Peter." He took two handfuls of the back of his brother's shirt, holding him even tighter. "About the soldiers I lost."

Peter shushed him. "I know you, Eddie. If anything could have been done to stop it from happening, you'd've done it."

"I just didn't want you to think–"

Peter sighed heavily. "I was wretched to you a bit ago, wasn't I?" He gave the back of Edmund's hair a playful tug. "I've been an absolute bear the last little while. Just ask the girls. Ever since I came back from Ettinsmoor. Maybe I've been hit in the head once too often."

Edmund laughed and pulled away from him. "Safest place for you to be hit, if you ask me. No chance of any real damage with anything that hard."

Peter swatted his shoulder and, caught off guard again, Edmund gasped.

"All right now, Edmund, let me see."

"It's nothing. Really."

"That's for me to decide. Come on."

With a sigh, Edmund pushed his shirt off his shoulder so Peter could examine it. It wasn't the most attractive sight, he had to admit, just a mottled collection of blue-purple and yellow-green bruises and a deep cut, more than half healed.

"Doesn't seem like anything's torn or broken or even dislocated," Peter admitted after a period of intense scrutiny.

"Don't sound so disappointed." Edmund pulled his shirt back into place. "As I told the girls, I'm a little bruised up. It's nothing. But there is something fairly serious I haven't told you about."

Peter's eyes widened, and he immediately started looking Edmund over for other injuries. "What?"

"I'm half starved."

Laughing, Peter hauled him to his feet. "Supper awaits you, My King, along with our lovely Queens."

"You all waited for me?" Edmund smiled a little, suddenly pleased out of all proportion.

"Certainly." Peter put his arm around Edmund's shoulders, propelling him into the corridor. "You know Susan wouldn't want to miss a chance to inspect every bite you eat or don't eat."

Edmund rolled his eyes. Susan had made it her special duty to monitor his meals from the time he was a scrawny little boy of ten. The fact that he had grown up and filled out since then didn't seem to make any difference. And it seemed Peter never tired of teasing him as if he were still that scrawny little boy.

"I already eat six times more than she does. I don't know what she wants from me."

"She wants you to grow up big and strong like your magnificent older brother."

Peter grinned and put on an exaggerated swagger, dodging the foot Edmund put out to trip him.

"I'll never be a great lummox like you, Peter. I'll just have to stick with brains over brawn."

"And sneakiness."

"There is that. And you'll never catch up to me there." Edmund smirked and then darted down the corridor. "Or at running."

"Ed!"

Peter sprinted after him, laughing, and Edmund was rather surprised to so easily beat him to the chamber where the Kings and Queens took their private meals. Yes, he was lighter and faster, but his long-legged brother was usually only a step or two behind him.

"Slowing down in your old age, brother mine?"

Peter grinned again, a little more winded than Edmund thought warranted. "I guess there must be– some benefit– to being as– rattleboned as you."

"I'm wiry, I tell you, not–"

"Edmund?"

Susan's only slightly reproving voice came through the open door to the dining chamber, and Peter and Edmund both smoothed their hair and their expressions before walking serenely inside.

"Sorry to be so late, Su, I–" Startled, Edmund glanced back at his brother and then at the man seated at the table next to his older sister. "Sir Gilfrey, I– I hadn't expected to see you here."

The Knight leapt to his feet and bowed deeply. "Good evening, King Edmund. I trust you rested well."

"I did, I thank you."

Again Edmund looked at Peter. It had long ago been agreed between the four Pevensies that private meals were to be strictly that. Private. As Narnia's Kings and Queens, the long-awaited fulfilment of prophecy, they had precious little time when they were not on public display. This was their sanctuary, their haven, a place where they were merely brothers and sisters, family and not royalty.

"Gil's been eating with us since we got back, Ed." Peter looked at him, blue eyes hopeful. "I thought the favor little enough in view of what happened in Ettinsmoor."

Susan gave the Knight a gracious smile. "We've enjoyed the company, Edmund."

"I'm certain you have."

Edmund gave Lucy a questioning look, but she only responded with a subtle shrug.

"I– uh– " A trifle flustered, Sir Gilfrey bowed again, this time to Peter. "If you will pardon me, My King, there are matters I am meant to attend to."

"Nonsense, Gil. Stay to supper."

"You are too kind, Sire." The Knight glanced at Edmund. "But perhaps I shouldn't."

Seeing Peter and Susan were looking expectantly at him, Edmund mustered up as much of a smile as he was able. "Of course you should, Sir Gilfrey. Of course you should."

Peter swatted him on the shoulder, careful this time that it was the unbruised one, and the brothers sat down with Lucy between them. Sir Gilfrey sat between Peter and Susan and took up the tale of a Gryphon and a pair of Woodchucks who joined in partnership selling ladies' finery in Galma. Before long, Peter and the girls were laughing hard enough to bring tears. Again, Edmund mustered up as much of a smile as he was able.

After a few more stories, during which the convivial Knight was especially attentive to keeping Peter and Susan's plates and cups amply supplied, he excused himself from the table.

"No need to hurry off, Gil," Peter said. "You should tell the one about the Water Rats."

"Oh, yes, do," Susan said, her eyes sparkling and a pretty color in her cheeks. "Edmund would love that one."

Seeing everyone was suddenly looking his way, Edmund managed another polite smile. "I'm certain it is a tale well worth the hearing, if the noble Knight has not already told himself out."

The Knight smiled a little uncertainly in return.

"Perhaps another time." Sir Gilfrey bowed to Edmund and then turned to Peter. "After all, My King, the most welcome guest is one who best knows when to make his adieux."

Peter took another sip of wine, shooting Edmund a black glance. "As you please, Gil, if you feel you must. Goodnight."

"And to you, My Lord High King. Shall I read over those trade matters for you before the council meets tomorrow?"

Peter nodded. "It would be good of you. I can't seem to keep my mind on anything I read these days."

"It will be my pleasure, My King. Your High Majesty ought not trouble himself with such trifles as it is." The Knight turned and bowed to Lucy. "Goodnight, noble lady, and happiest of dreams."

Lucy nodded. "Goodnight."

"And to you, My Queen." He brought Susan's hand to his handsome lips. "I could wish nothing better for you than that your rest may be as deep and sweet as your beauty."

Susan gave him her prettiest smile, which was quite lovely indeed, and with a final goodnight, Sir Gilfrey left the room.

"Well done, Ed," Peter growled. "Happy now?"

"What did I do?"

Susan pursed her lips. "You might have been a little nicer, Edmund. You're supposed to be our diplomat, and you hardly spoke to him all evening."

"I might have if he'd ever stopped to take a breath. Besides, what did you want me to say? 'Oh, prithee, Sir Gilfrey, we've had but eighty-seven of your tales this night. Can you not make it an even hundred before you leave us?'"

Lucy giggled and then was abruptly silent under Peter's glare.

Edmund looked at him warily. Peter was always tender with the girls, especially his baby sister. This now was entirely unlike him.

Peter seemed puzzled for a second, and then he gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Lu. Guess I'm a little tired tonight."

She squeezed his hand. "Headaches bothering you again?"

He shrugged and drained his cup. "Maybe I ought to try to sleep it off."

"You know, I can look at those trade agreements for you," Edmund offered.

"That's all right, Ed. Gil will see to them."

Peter stood up, but Edmund grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Sure." Peter's smile was gentle if a little vague. "Glad you're back. See you in the morning."

He gave Edmund a one-armed hug and then kissed each of the girls on the forehead.

"Goodnight."

Once he was gone, Edmund looked from Susan to Lucy and then back to Susan. "Is he all right?"

"He's been working too hard as usual," Susan said. "Sir Gilfrey has been trying to take over some of his duties, just to give him a little rest."

"Really?" Edmund looked at Lucy. "Like what?"

"Oh, little things mostly, I suppose." Lucy shrugged. "Like reading over matters Peter has to consider. Those trade agreements, for example. Sometimes settling a dispute. Little things."

Susan smiled. "He's really been very helpful."

"Peter seems to think so." Edmund knit his brow. "What happened in Ettinsmoor, Su?"

His sisters looked at each other, and he could see the memory was painful for them both.

"He was almost dead when they brought him home." Susan's lips trembled. "He was so . . . broken. I don't know how he managed to survive until he got back here."

"What did they do to him?" Edmund had to force his voice to stay steady at the look on his sister's face. "Su?"

Lucy put her hand over Susan's. "Sir Gilfrey said one of the giants had Peter by the ankles and was slinging him against a tree trunk. Over and over again." Her eyes filled with tears. "Poor Peter, I couldn't even recognize him when I first saw him, he was so battered. I'm glad he doesn't remember any of it."

Susan eyes were also wet, but she smiled, too. "But Sir Gilfrey got him here alive, and the cordial healed him. So you can understand how grateful we are."

Edmund nodded. "Peter knighted him, didn't he?"

"Yes," Lucy said. "The minute he could stand again. Sir Gilfrey was the one who charged that giant and cut his legs out from under him. And Sir Gilfrey was the one to bring Peter home. He rigged a sling so relays of Gryphons could fly him here as quickly as possible. Most likely, Peter wouldn't have survived another moment if he hadn't."

Edmund gave his sisters a reluctant smile. "I can see how that might make Peter rather appreciate the fellow."

Lucy grinned.

"It's hard to even consider denying him much of anything after that," Susan said

Edmund was silent for a long moment.

"I'll have to thank him properly tomorrow," he said finally. "And try not to be such a boor next time he comes to dine."

Lucy reached over to caress his cheek. "You weren't, Ed. Peter's just . . . I don't know, sometimes a little snappish since he's got back."

"You don't think the cordial could have missed something, do you?" Edmund asked. "He's been having headaches?"

"Some." Susan sighed. "You know Peter. He never says a word about feeling ill until he can't stand straight anymore."

Lucy frowned. "I've never known the cordial to miss anything before. I have been wondering though. The healers can't find anything the least bit wrong with him."

Susan's smile was tinged with worry. "They say he needs to relax more, and I agree. Now that you're back, Edmund, maybe you can see to some things for him, give him a little more free time."

Edmund made a sour face. "I thought his new Knight was taking care of everything for him."

Susan put one hand on her hip. "Now, Edmund, be nice. What did you say just two minutes ago?"

"All right. All right. I am tame." He leaned over to kiss the blooming curve of her cheek. "I am also tired, so if you will both excuse me, My Queens . . . "

He kissed Lucy's nose and was at once enveloped her warm embrace.

It was good to be home.

He gave a nod and a goodnight to Leander, the Cheetah on night duty in the corridor, and considered checking on Peter. Then he decided he had better not. If Peter was sleeping well, being awakened to be asked if he was sleeping well was probably the last thing he needed. Still, Edmund couldn't help pausing as he passed his brother's door.

"No."

That was Peter's voice, low and hoarse, and Edmund stood listening for a moment.

"No. No."

Without knocking, Edmund slipped into the room. There was an arc of moonlight across the bed, and he could see Peter's face twisted into a grimace. His body twitched as he struggled against his nightmare.

"No. Don't."

At least this one seemed mild.

"It's just a dream, Peter." His voice soft and soothing, Edmund jostled Peter's shoulder. "You're all right."

Peter jerked and was abruptly still. Then he exhaled heavily. His face relaxed, and his breathing slowed.

"Glajurhomgined," he mumbled, and he gave the hand on his shoulder a couple of clumsy pats. Then he turned over and sprawled out on his stomach, dead to the world.

Edmund chuckled softly as he pulled the blankets over him.

Yes, it was good to be home.

OOOOO

Peter sighed and tried to rub away the ache in his left temple as he looked from the scowling Black Dwarf to the bewildered Black Bear. Couldn't anyone just get along? Ever?

"Sorry. Peter," Edmund smoothed his dark hair, settled his silver crown on his head and hurried to seat himself on his throne. "Overslept."

"These Western matters are your responsibility," Peter reminded him, keeping his voice low. "Really, Ed. I shouldn't have to keep stepping in like this."

"I didn't mean to. Seems like it's just one thing after another lately."

Peter frowned. "It's getting to be a habit."

"I didn't plan to be late you know. It was . . . rather a rough night."

Peter gave him an apologetic, half-abashed smile. He hadn't felt quite right since he'd returned from Ettinsmoor three months ago. Since Edmund had come back from Lantern Waste a short while after that, it seemed to Peter that there was one problem after another: a rebellious subject to be dealt with, some minor misunderstanding between him and his brother, some new rumor which had to be quelled. Nothing major. Nothing too difficult to resolve. Just a constant wearing stream of little annoyances.

Now autumn was fast turning into winter, and things were not improving. Though he refused to admit it to anyone, he seemed to always be tired, not sick but indefinably achy, and his sleep was broken with nightmares. They had been infrequent at first and most often not too intense, but now he had them more and more, and he was less and less able to shake them off. He couldn't exactly remember what terrible visions had plagued him this last time. He couldn't really remember much of last night at all, but whatever his nightmares had been, his reaction had been violent enough to wake his brother. Edmund had hurried from his own room to bring Peter back to himself and then spent half the night watching over him and coaxing him once more to sleep. Little wonder Edmund had overslept himself.

"I guess it was a bit rough, wasn't it, Ed? My fault. Sorry."

The Dwarf cleared his throat. "I see His Majesty is behind his time this morning. But perhaps he'll be able to settle this matter for us now he's come. There is no surer judge in all the kingdom than the Just King."

Edmund raised his dark brows and looked at his brother.

"Evidently there's a cave not far from Caldron Pool that both of our subjects here lay claim to," Peter explained. "The Dwarfs want to mine it. The Bears just want to live in it."

"As I explained to His High Majesty earlier, Just King, the cave should by all rights be ours." The Dwarf looked at Edmund as if there were something more to what he said than just the words. "Surely you can see it is of much more value to us and to Narnia than to this pudding-headed dolt and his like."

The Bear glanced at Peter, looking as if he might burst into tears.

Peter sighed. "But you admit, good Dwarf, that the Bear and his ancestors have made a home of that cave since before the Long Winter came to Narnia. How can you claim right to it now?"

"There's a good vein of ore in that mine, and we're the ones who can best make use of it." The Dwarf waved his stubby arms. "Faugh, the Bears will just let it sit idle. If we have no iron, how will we make steel? If we have no steel, how will we forge swords for your soldiers, Sire? Heh? Answer me that?"

"But, King Peter," the Bear said, his voice slow and thick as if his mouth were still sticky from his morning honey, "I was born in that cave. So were my brothers and sisters. It's . . . it's our cave."

Peter had to keep his expression neutral, for he was High King after all, but he wanted nothing more than to go pet the poor old Bruin on the nose and assure him he needn't worry.

"One cave's as good as another for sleeping," the Dwarf scoffed, lifting his bushy black brows. "Would you not agree, King Edmund?"

Again he gave Edmund a significant glance, as if there were some understanding between them, but Edmund only frowned.

"I am sorry, friend, but I fear I cannot. As the good Bear says, it's their cave. Seems it has been, time out of mind. If they do not wish to have it mined, then I cannot see any reason to compel them."

"Then we are agreed, brother," Peter said. "The good Bear shall keep his cave. And you, good Dwarf, must find some other supply of ore. If you like, we shall provide you with aid and equipment to seek out different–"

"No!" The Dwarf's face went all purply red, and he glared at Edmund. "This cannot be your decision. It cannot!"

Edmund smiled slightly, looking at the little man as if he were out of his mind. "I fear it is, good Dwarf. It is the only just decision. The High King and I are agreed. I realize you do not–"

"No! We were promised! We were promised a decision in favor of the Dwarfs! We need that ore! You cannot deny us now! We've already paid the money!"

Edmund's dark brows came together. "What?"

"Paid?" Peter demanded over the murmuring that filled the throne room. "What money?"

The Dwarf sneered. "Good money, King Peter, and aplenty! We've been gulled, I say, and I'll tell the world about it. Just, indeed. What is just about taking payment and giving no value in return? It's a scandal it is, and I'll not keep quiet about it. I say the High King and all Narnia shall know what's afoot and then we shall have a payment of our own."

The murmuring grew louder. With a glance at his brother, Peter held up one hand for silence.

"I will ask you once, Dwarf, and see you speak plain and true. Who has taken payment from you to bend Narnian justice?"

The Dwarf snorted. "Who else but he who is best able to bend it, Sire? The Just King himself. King Edmund."

And Edmund's face was pale as ashes.

Author's Note: Thanks again to OldFashionedGirl95 and to Laura Andrews for reading and suggesting and saving me from endless writerly embarrassments. I greatly appreciate you both.

–WD