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.

PREVARICATION

"What?"

The blood beat hard in Edmund's ears and burned hot in his lungs. He couldn't. Never.

"Renounce the Lion," the Hag repeated, gimlet eyes gleaming, "and your High King lives."

"Why?" He clenched his trembling hands into fists. "Why that?"

The Hag cackled. "You said anything. Anything at all."

"Not that. I can't. Aslan–"

"You swore, Little Prince. By the Lion and on the life of the High King, you swore you'd do anything, and now I see you are a liar. A cheat, a traitor, and now a liar. It's in the blood. It's in the blood."

She squeezed the fruit she was eating, and more irreplaceable drops of juice dribbled from her scaly hand and sank into the snow. Without that juice, Peter would die.

"Why that?" Edmund's voice shook. "What good does it do you?"

"I do not seek my good but your harm. For what you did to my Queen, I seek nothing but your destruction. But I will be merciful. I will let you choose. Your brother or the Lion?"

Aslan or Peter. Peter or Aslan. An impossible choice, and she knew it. But Peter–

A terrible image flashed into his mind: Peter lying fevered and delirious, terrorized by nightmares, wasted and weak, barely clinging to life, awaiting the help Edmund would bring. Without the fruit the Hag still held, Peter had no hope. And without Peter, he was lost. The girls were lost. Narnia–

But without Aslan, everything was lost.

Edmund gritted his teeth, forbidding the hopeless tears to come up into his eyes. He could see by the way the Hag was leering at him, taunting him with that bag full of fruit, taunting him with his brother's life, that she knew there was no choice. Either way was destruction for him, for all of the Sovereigns, for Narnia.

"Come, Little Prince. What will you choose? Your brother or your Lion? You're a traitor and a liar already. Shall we add coward to the list?"

Coward. Murderer. Betrayer.

Liar. Sorcerer. Traitor.

Disowned. Outcast. Forever banished.

He closed his eyes, forcing his mind back to that night he'd spent at Anvard and to the Lion's words.

Called. Chosen. Not rejected.

Beloved.

But Peter–

"Make your choice," the Hag croaked, backing to the edge of the mountainside, holding the bag of fruit again over the empty air. "I will not wait forever."

Aslan or Peter. Peter or Aslan. An impossible choice, and she knew it. And yet Edmund knew there was no choice to be made. He was Aslan's. Ruling and exiled, sleeping and waking, living and dying, he was not his own. The Lion had bought him that night on the Stone Table, bought him with blood that was, even a single drop, worth more than all the worlds. Edmund could not trade away what did not belong to him. But Peter–

He couldn't let Peter die. Not Peter. Oh, Aslan, where are You? What am I supposed to do? But he knew already. He knew. It was just more than he could bear. After all that had happened already–

If you suffer for doing what is right, I will see. I will remember. And I will reward you.

He knew what he must do. He had to trust that those words were true. He had to trust himself to the Lion. More than that, so much more, he had to trust Peter to Him.

But Peter–

"Choose," the Hag insisted, dangling the fruit farther out over the dizzying nothingness below them. "Choose, or I choose for you."

"Give me the fruit," he said, forcing his voice not to tremble. "Let me take it down to my friends, and I will let you do whatever you like to me. You want my blood? I'll give it to you. Just let me save Peter."

The Hag only scoffed. "Do you think I cannot see, fool? If I kill you, you simply go to the Lion, and there is no more sorrow for you. It is not good enough. Live, traitor, and grieve that you have yet again failed. Your Lion or your High King, you must betray one of them. Choose."

She was standing there on the edge, nothing but emptiness behind her. It would be easy, so easy, to spring forward and shove her into that emptiness and let her be broken on the rocks below. She held out the fruit more behind her than beside her, and he knew that, if he made a sudden move, even if he pushed her into the chasm, that fruit would go first. Peter would die.

Aslan or Peter. Peter or Aslan. An impossible choice and she knew it.

"Choose!" she shrieked.

Not Peter. Please, not Peter. Aslan, please–

He couldn't let Peter die. If it cost his pride, his life or his soul, he couldn't let Peter die.

Edmund steeled himself, and then he dropped to his knees.

"What–" The wind was cold against his suddenly wet face, and he ducked his head against it. "What do you want me to say?"

She laughed, a more grating sound than her shriek had been. "Just a few words, Little Prince. 'I renounce the great Lion Aslan. I curse His name, His works and His person and count myself none of His, neither His nor His Father's, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea, for now and for all eternity.' Speak those words or your precious High King dies."

No, he couldn't say those words. He couldn't. Aslan loved him. Aslan died for him.

But Peter–

"Say it!"

"I–"

Edmund's head sank lower, and he had to brace his trembling hands on his thighs. Oh, Aslan. Aslan. Forgive me. Please, it's Peter. It's Peter! His shoulders drooped.

"I–"

"Eh?" The hag swung the bag over the chasm, the rags of her sleeve fluttering against her bony arm. "What's that, traitor?"

"I–" He lifted his head, drawing a shuddering breath as he looked into her leering, evil face, trembling with grief at what his words would mean. "I belong to Aslan. I cannot deny Him."

"So be it then," she crowed, eyes alight. "So be it."

And she opened her hand and let the bag fall.

Edmund dove forward, ploughing through the snow, scraping chest and belly against the graveled ground beneath, but his desperate hands caught only empty air.

The fruit was gone.

No. No. No. Aslan, no.

"You made your choice, traitor," the Hag crowed. "And by it the High King is condemned."

Edmund could only lay there panting. Numb. Peter–

With a screeching cry, an Eagle broke through the clouds, the string bag in its claws still laden with fruit, and Edmund heard the whisper of a familiar golden voice.

"Courage, Beloved."

"You!" the Hag howled, batting frantically at the Bird.

It dove at her, still screeching, batting its wings around her until, lunging at it, she toppled over the side and fell shrieking into the chasm.

The Eagle swooped over Edmund's head, dropped the bag of fruit into the snow at his side and, with another cry, shot into the sun and disappeared.

Edmund turned onto his back, panting, waiting for his breathing to slow.

I will see. I will remember. And I will reward you.

He pushed himself to his knees and took the bag into his arms, cradling it against his stinging chest.

"Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you. Thank you."

Finally he struggled to his feet, still clutching the fruit, carrying it to where he had dropped the pouches he had brought with him. He opened the empty one, meaning to put the fruit inside, but then he thought better of it. Instead, he opened the full pouch, removed half of the flowers it held and put them into the empty pouch. Using the flowers for padding, he carefully packed the fruit and slung the pouches over his shoulder. Then he tossed the filthy string bag over the side of the mountain. For a moment, he stared down into the fathomless emptiness of the chasm, looking for the Hag, not finding her. Then he glanced up at the sun, squinting towards where he had last seen the Eagle, and with fervent thanks, he started the climb down.

He found Phillip and Stormseer waiting still where the trail ended.

"Hail, King," said the Centaur with his usual solemnity.

"Hail, good Stormseer." Edmund bowed and then turned smiling to his Horse. "Phillip, I–"

Phillip backed away a step or two, making a nervous, snuffling sound.

Edmund also drew back. "What's wrong?"

The Horse shook his head and then stretched his neck cautiously forward. "I can see you, My King, but I cannot smell you."

"You can't?"

Edmund glanced at the Centaur whose expression was gravely pleased.

"Come, Sire. Let us return to my pavilion. There is more you must know."

As they made their way back, Edmund told them what had happened atop the mountain with the Hag and the Eagle and the Canicule Tree.

The Centaur only nodded wisely. "The Lion does not forget His own."

He said little more until they were again inside his pavilion. It was only then that Edmund realized how very tired he was.

"My servants will tend to that for you, Lord King," the Centaur said, observing the torn and bloodied places on his shirt.

"No, it is nothing. Please, what am I to do now?"

Phillip made a displeased snuffling sound, but was silent as Stormseer directed Edmund to a seat at his table. Again his Faun attendants brought food and drink, but Edmund paid them no heed.

The Centaur made a slight bow. "Very well, Lord King. First you must remove the juice from the fruit."

"Shouldn't I just take the fruit back home?" Edmund asked as he unpacked the pouches.

"That will do neither you nor the High King good, Sire," Stormseer said. "This fruit does not last long after it is picked. It would rot before you could return to Cair Paravel, but the juice will keep in your flask. And once you have removed the juice, you must eat what is left of the fruit. There is healing in it, and it will strengthen you for what is to come."

Edmund nodded. "All right, if I can't take it back to Peter. And the flowers?"

"They are called velius. Take them, petals, leaves and stems, and grind them up fine. When you return to Narnia, put a little of the powder on you, especially boots and hands and around your mouth and nose. Every day you have need of it, you must replenish it, so use it wisely."

Edmund knit his brow. "But I don't understand. What does it– Oh. Of course." He smiled suddenly. "Of course."

He began grinding the small yellow flowers with the brass pestle King Lune had sent along with him, sending silent thanks to Aslan as he did. The Lion had provided all he would need. He was ready to go home.

OOOOO

Susan's smile was faint and weary as she watched her sister sleep. Since her return, Lucy had scarcely left Peter's side. Even when she was awake, she stayed next to him, prattling blithely about her precious lost ship and what they would do when Edmund came home. Peter never responded of course, but Lucy didn't seem to mind.

Susan had tried to reason with her, had tried to tell her she'd be more comfortable in her own quarters and that Peter needed to rest undisturbed. Susan tried to tell her the ship was gone, that Peter couldn't hear her and that Edmund was never coming home, but Lucy invariably gave her that untroubled little smile and carried on with what she had been doing.

Now she slept, and Susan could only stand at the bedside watching her, watching Peter beside her and the remains of Edmund's sword on the other side of him. Her eyes filled with tears. Lucy, Peter and Edmund, all of them–

She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but then she smiled and swiftly wiped her eyes.

"Gil."

"How are you, Lady?"

She smiled tightly. "I am strong, Gil. I will do what needs to be done."

"You are a Queen, Lady. Of course you are strong." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Strong enough to do what is best for your kingdom, especially since it rests fully upon you now."

"I need your help, Gil." She squeezed his hand and then released it. "Peter trusted you, and so do I."

Oreius had full charge of the army now. All of the other Lords and counselors had their own areas of responsibility. Susan needed someone she could lean on herself, and there was only Gil. She didn't tell him she had nowhere else to turn. No man wanted to hear he was a woman's last resort.

"Lady." He took both of her hands this time. "Do you mean to say–"

"I will marry you, Gil." She held her head high, and her eyes were dry. "Narnia is all I have left now, and I need your help to keep her safe."

"Dear Lady."

He leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her face to one side and his lips landed firmly on her cheek.

"You understand," she said, her expression somber, and he smiled, delicately kissing her hand again.

"Of course, My Queen. You make me the happiest of men. I ask only to serve you and beloved Narnia."

"Susan?"

Susan turned to see her sister sitting up in bed, her blue eyes wide and wondering.

"Lucy. Gil and I–"

"You're getting married?"

Susan braced herself, trying to gauge her reaction. Lucy would never–

"That's nice." Lucy stretched and picked up Peter's limp hand, weaving her fingers into his. "I can't wait to see your dress." She smoothed their brother's sweat-damp hair, smiling sweetly at him. "And you'll look marvelous escorting her down the aisle, Peter. Oh, and I know! Edmund can perform the ceremony. He's gotten very good at that since we've been here. He says the nicest things. Remember when he married those Badgers last year?"

Susan clutched Gil's hand again and kept the slight smile frozen on her face as she listened to Lucy's chatter. Yes, she was strong. She was a Queen.

OOOOO

It was Corin who spotted them first and ran to meet them before they reached the castle gates. Anvard stood open and welcoming, and Edmund was glad to see it. It marked the last stop before he could head home. Before he could take the life-giving juice of the Canicule back to Cair Paravel and to Peter. Before he could cut down the deadly Yew.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!"

"Corin!" Grinning, Edmund grabbed the boy by the upper arm and swung him up behind him on Phillip's back. "Good to see you. What from Narnia? Any word of Peter?"

"No, Sir, but plenty of news from the border."

"Oh, yes?"

The blond head bobbed. "They've closed the pass into Narnia. There's a whole troop there inspecting anyone who comes through. By order of Sir Gilfrey Becke in the name of the High King."

Edmund clenched his jaw and remembered the last words his Centaur guard had spoken when he was banished. Death will be waiting to greet you the moment you are bold enough to again set foot across our border. This by order of Peter, High King of Narnia. By order of Peter, courtesy of Gilfrey's poison, of course.

Even now this cursed Knight was well prepared and well organized. He was determined to keep Edmund out of Narnia. Determined to keep him from saving his brother. There was no doubt he would see that death sentence immediately carried out if he was given the opportunity.

Edmund had known he would have to use stealth to get into the castle, to get to Peter, but now he could not even get through the pass. He was too well known to try to slip by unnoticed or in disguise, not with a troop of soldiers under specific orders to watch for him. And getting into Narnia by going back west and then north would be far more dangerous than going through the pass as well as costing him precious time. Time Peter did not have.

Edmund's grip on the reins tightened. No. No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have risked everything to bring back Peter's cure and then be kept from giving it to him. Oh, Aslan–

"Father says you're to come inside and have some supper," Corin said, subdued for once. "And he wants to talk to you."

Edmund nodded mutely, and Phillip, dropping his head, carried them into the castle courtyard.

OOOOO

"Lucy." Susan stood with her hands on her hips. "What happened now?"

"No, I'm certain it was my fault, My Queen." Gil knelt and picked up the flask of wine and the goblet that had rolled under Peter's bed. "I must have put it too near the edge of the table."

Susan softened her expression and cupped her sister's cheek in her hand. "I think Lucy's been a little bit unsteady since she came back. It seems to be getting a bit worse. Do you feel all right, Lucy dear?"

"I feel fine," Lucy said with her usual vague smile, and then she giggled. "I do seem to be a bit clumsy sometimes."

Susan sighed, lips pressed tightly together. She had thought it was best to let Lucy stay with Peter for the time being. It seemed harmless enough, and it evidently kept both of them content. But this wasn't the first time Lucy had spilled something, her own hot chocolate or Peter's water or the white willow bark tea that was meant to ease his fever. And usually it ended up in the bed. Gil was right. Peter would do better without Lucy constantly disturbing him.

"You'd better sleep in your room tonight, Lu."

"No." Lucy's mouth turned down in a childish pout. "I'll be more careful. I will."

"You've said that before," Susan said. "You need your rest and so does Peter."

"But Peter–"

"I'll look after him. Now come on."

She took Lucy's right arm, and Gil took her left.

"May I escort you, Queen Lucy?" he offered, his expression firm.

There was a flash of something in Lucy's eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by her usual placid look. "But I want to–"

"I'll look after Peter and get someone to stay with you," Susan assured her, hustling her out of the bed and onto her feet. "You won't be by yourself."

"But–"

"Come on now. I have to clean up here and change out the bed. It'll be all right. You'll see. You can come back in the morning after we've all had a good night's sleep."

Between the two of them, Susan and Gil got Lucy into her room. Susan got Lucy's Naiad lady-in-waiting to sit with her and then posted a Leopard outside the door, giving him strict orders to make sure Queen Lucy did not leave her room till morning.

OOOOO

Barefoot and wearing just her nightgown, Lucy paced across the thick rug laid beside her bed. For the second night in a row now, she couldn't leave her room, but she had managed to persuade her lady-in-waiting to go to bed. At least tonight she would be alone, but she needed to be with Peter. She needed to be watching over him as she had been told to do. Sir Gilfrey, the Snake, was onto her now. She knew he was. He dared not say anything in front of Susan. He wasn't strong enough on his own, not quite yet, not until his marriage to the Gentle Queen gave him official standing in Narnia, but he was aware now that Lucy wasn't as simpleminded as she had been letting everyone believe.

That pretense, she was certain, had saved Peter's life. It had at least saved him from more of whatever poison Gil had been feeding him all this while. But the Snake was onto her now.

She almost laughed aloud to remember the astonished look on his face when he had first found her there next to Peter. How he had gotten into the room in the middle of the night without alerting the Tigers on guard, she didn't know. He had merely appeared there beside the bed, eyes narrowed, holding a goblet of something that looked like water.

"Oh, hello," she had said, her voice soft so as not to wake Susan as she slept in a nearby chair, but still bright and innocent and unwary. "Did you bring my brother a drink?"

He had considered for a moment and then smiled gently. "Yes, dear lady. I thought a taste of something cool might ease His Majesty's fever."

"That's a good idea." She had reached her hands eagerly towards the goblet. "I want to give it to him. I want to help."

Something almost imperceptibly smug had come into the Snake's eyes just then, and he handed her the drink. "Of course, my dear. Who better to tend to our High King than his own beloved sister?"

She had wanted to fly at him then, to scratch out his evil eyes and drown him in his own poison. Instead she had slipped one hand under Peter's head and tilted it up a little. Then, with a vacant smile, she had put the goblet to his lips and poured the water down the side of his face.

Peter hadn't stirred, but like the Snake he was, Gilfrey had hissed and snatched the empty goblet away from her.

"I'm sorry," she had told him with a pout. "Now Peter won't have his drink. Shall we wake Susan and tell her it was spilt?"

He had collected himself then, and gave her a slight bow. "No, Your Majesty, no need to disturb your gentle sister. It is of no consequence. Perhaps you ought to go back to sleep as well."

"All right. Goodnight."

She had curled up next to her brother and closed her eyes. When she had peeked out through her lashes a moment later, the Snake was gone. Lucy had lain there the rest of the night, holding Peter close as he lay helpless and unaware of the machinations of his dear friend and trusted Knight. That was only the first time she had kept the Knight from giving her or Peter something detrimental. And she couldn't help wondering, too, why Susan had become such a heavy sleeper these past few weeks.

What a swine this Sir Gilfrey Becke was.

Lucy had no doubt he had arranged her "accident" at sea. He would find some other way to dispose of her now, she was sure, and then Peter would be at his mercy. Once Susan married the Snake, he would have no need to keep the High King alive.

And if Lucy told Susan any of what she now knew, Susan would ask for concrete proof. Barring that proof, proof Lucy did not yet have, Susan would tell her not to be silly, that Gil was their friend and helper, that he wanted only what was best for Narnia and for the Sovereigns. Worst of all, she would show Lucy that horrible paper the Snake had made their brother sign and tell her that Peter trusted him to take care of them all.

Gil had convinced her that Peter's illness was due to overwork and exposure to the cold and even the injuries he had sustained in Ettinsmoor. He had convinced Susan that she could do nothing without his cloying support, subtly playing on her fears until she was helpless and weak.

"Susan," Lucy muttered between clenched teeth. "Why would you turn to him and not Aslan? Can you be so blind?"

She looked up at the stars through the glass of her windows. She couldn't protect Peter anymore. Even in her own bedchamber, she couldn't protect herself. Aslan was all they had left.

She closed her eyes. "Dear Aslan, please watch over Peter. Please look after all of us. And please, please, send Edmund home soon. Please send him ho–"

A heavy hand cut off her words and her breath.

Author's Note: OldFashionedGirl95 and Laura Andrews have once again proved they are worth their weight in bite-sized Milky Way Dark (the most precious commodity in the world) for all their help. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude.

–WD

P.S. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and alerted this story. I greatly appreciate every reader, and I answer all the reviews that allow responses. Since I can't PM them, I'd like to add my special thanks to foundandfreed and foreverchanged for their kind and extremely detailed comments.