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.

BETRAYAL

Edmund waited in the shadows behind the heavy curtains in the chamber of the High King, one hand clutching his dagger, the other clenched so tightly his nails cut into his palm. He watched Gilfrey, the deadly Yew, the Snake, turn Susan's head to one side so he could brush his foul lips over her lidded eyes and whisper his vile intentions into her insensible ears. Edmund burned to leap from his hiding place and tear the knave apart with his bare hands, but he knew this would doom everything, for both his family and his kingdom. He had to have proof against the villain, incontrovertible proof, or in the eyes of his subjects, he would himself be forever counted among the traitors.

Still Gilfrey's practiced fingers played over Susan's creamy skin, edging her gown further off her shoulder. For his sister's honor, Edmund knew he couldn't stand idle much longer.

"But no, Fair Queen," the Snake whispered, moving his hand again to her throat, squeezing until she struggled faintly in her sleep, "not yet. Not until you are mine and can appreciate full well any attentions I deign to pay you." His eyes narrowed, glittering with greed. "Not yet, but soon."

With a furtive glance at the door that led to the corridor, Gilfrey snatched up the goblet he had brought with him and disappeared into the secret passage. Edmund's fingers twitched on the hilt of his blade, but he did not move until he was sure the false Knight was gone.

"Yes, soon, Snake," he spat, glaring towards the now-invisible opening to the passage. "For all you've done to my family and to our people, soon."

He went to his sister, examining her slender throat for bruising, but she only seemed peacefully asleep and unharmed. He brushed his lips consolingly against her forehead and then went to his brother.

Peter grimaced and tossed in his sleep, again fighting who knew what horrors. That swine Gilfrey had undone any good the juice of the Canicule had brought him.

"Shh," Edmund murmured.

He put a calming hand on his brother's forehead and then swiftly drew it back. Peter was burning up. Perhaps Gilfrey didn't mean to kill him quite yet, but he was doing it all the same. Edmund reached for the silver flask he carried and then hesitated, remembering again how Stormseer had warned him to be cautious with the juice. It had the power to heal, but it was potent and unrelenting, and Peter was so terribly weak.

But his fever was climbing by the second, and even his delirious struggles were growing fainter. There was nothing to do but give him more of the juice. He wouldn't last much longer as he was.

Edmund uncorked the silver flask once more and poured a few drops from it into his brother's mouth. For a moment, Peter did not move, his ragged breathing the only break in the night's stillness. Then, with a gasp, he arched his back, his body convulsing, his hands tearing at the neck of his nightshirt as if the loose garment was choking him.

"Peter. Peter."

Edmund grabbed his brother's arms, wrapping them and his own around Peter's writhing body, desperate to hold on as life and death warred inside him. Peter's gasps grew louder, more frantic as his fever spiked higher, as he thrashed and fought for air.

"Breathe, Peter. Breathe," Edmund begged, holding tighter. "Aslan, please."

Without warning, the convulsions stopped. Peter was still.

Too still.

"Peter?"

His eyes brimming with tears, Edmund pulled back, searching his death-pale face.

"Peter."

Edmund clutched him close, again holding his head against his shoulder, straining to hear the slightest flutter of breath.

There was nothing.

"Oh, Aslan, what have I done?"

Edmund held him even tighter, grief and fury raging inside him.

"Don't, Peter," he sobbed. "Don't you dare."

He sat Peter back, shaking him, still holding him by the arms as his head fell limply backwards.

"Don't you dare die, Peter Pevensie. Do you hear me?"

Again, Edmund shook him and then froze. Was that a breath? Oh, Aslan–

"Peter?"

Edmund shook him once more and then gave his cheek a smart slap.

"Peter!"

Sucking in breath, Peter sank against Edmund's shoulder again, and Edmund held him there, soaking his hair, his neck, his nightshirt with tears, drenched himself with Peter's sudden sweat, murmuring thanks and thanks and yet more thanks to the great Lion who had heard his desperate pleas.

Peter's breath still came in harsh gasps, but he was breathing, bless Aslan, and those gasps were swiftly calming. Edmund stroked the damp hair from his temple, pressing his lips there.

"Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe."

Whether he spoke to his brother or to himself, he wasn't entirely sure. It didn't matter. He merely crushed Peter closer, still shaking, holding on until their breathing quieted into the same even rhythm. Finally, he laid Peter back against the pillows, blotting his face with a cloth from the table near the bed, smiling slightly to find his temperature had cooled a little.

As stealthily as he was able, he cracked open a window and scooped some clean snow from the ledge into an empty cup. Then he set it by the fire. When the snow melted, he managed to get a little of the pure water down Peter's throat. He used the rest to cool his still-feverish face and neck. Then he wiped the sweat from his forehead and from his hair. Peter didn't wake, but he sighed deeply, and his pained expression smoothed into peace.

Edmund glanced out of the windows. The night was already graying into dawn. He hated to leave them unprotected, Peter and Susan both, but it would do them no good if he were to be caught now. He pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead and then to Susan's, breathing a prayer for the Lion's protection over them both. Then he disappeared into the secret passage.

He crept back into Lucy's room, stealing over to conceal himself behind her open door. She was standing in the doorway prattling on to the She-Wolf on guard, cooing over the Beast's tales of her daughter's new Cubs.

Edmund tugged furtively on the hem of her nightgown, and with a sudden yawn, she remarked on the lateness of the hour and excused herself. Once she had shut and bolted the door, she fell into his arms.

"I thought you'd never come back."

He kissed the top of her head. "You're a brick, Lu. Have you been out there nattering away all this time?"

"Told you I would." Her grin faded at the look on his face. "How's Peter?"

"Oh, Lu." He hugged her more tightly. "I almost lost him. I almost–"

"What?" She pulled him over to the bed and made him sit down beside her. "What happened?"

He shook his head, suddenly almost unbearably weary. "Aslan sent me out west to get the antidote to the poison Peter's been given. I brought it back with me."

Lucy nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"Peter– Peter was in a bad way when I first got in there. I thought I was too late already. But I gave him some of the juice and he seemed a little better. He even spoke to me a bit."

Her eyes lit. "He did?"

"I got him to go back to sleep and was about to come back here, but I had to hide when that pig Gilfrey came through the passage and into the room. He gave Peter more of the poison he's been using on him, and then he–" No, he wouldn't tell Lucy about the Snake's brazenness with Susan. Not now. Maybe not ever. "Anyway, he disappeared again. All the good of the antidote was spoilt, and Peter was worse than ever."

She squeezed his arm. "What happened?"

He dropped his head into his hands. "He was so weak, Lu. I was afraid he wouldn't make it without more of the juice, but when I gave it to him, it almost tore him to pieces, the cure and the poison and the cure again so close together."

"Oh, Edmund."

She put her arms around him, and he rested his cheek on top of her head.

"He's all right now. When I left him, his fever was going down and he looked much better. We have to do something soon, Lu. Gilfrey is killing him."

"I know. I know. He tried to get rid of me, too."

"Lu!" Edmund pulled back from her. "What happened?" Abruptly he clasped her close again. "I'll kill the pig. I swear I'll kill him with my own hands."

She nestled close to him. "On top of everything else, I don't know if I can ever forgive him for what he did to The Morning Dove."

"The Dove? What about her?"

"I was supposed to go see to some disputes in the islands. I'm sure, once I get a chance to look into it, I'll find those disputes were made up of whole cloth. Gilfrey said afterwards that he had gotten word from the Lone Islands that the matters were settled and there was no need for Cair Paravel to send anyone."

"That was convenient," Edmund muttered darkly.

"But anyway, when I was on my way there in the first place, the crew, his crew, locked me in my cabin and scuttled the ship."

"Oh, Lu."

She pressed closer. "I won't say I wasn't scared, but Aslan looked after me the whole time. I was rescued, and He told me to come back here and look after Peter, that he was being poisoned. The only thing I could think to do was pretend I wasn't right in the head anymore. That way I could stay close to Peter and Gilfrey would think I wasn't a threat. But he figured out what I was doing and made Susan send me back in here at night."

"You didn't tell her what happened?"

"No." Lucy looked at him helplessly. "I don't know how he managed it exactly, but somehow Gilfrey got Peter to sign a paper letting him do anything he wants in the name of the High King. Susan says she asked Peter about it herself, and he said that was what he wanted, so she wouldn't have to do everything herself while he was ill. Edmund, that Snake has Peter's seal, too. How could Peter ever let him have that?"

"You have to understand, Lu. The potion Gilfrey has been giving him all this time makes him suggestible and easily led. He doesn't really know what he's doing." Edmund's blood burned again at the thought of what Peter had been put through. "Gilfrey's wormed his way in until he's virtually king of Narnia. If Susan marries him, he will be King in actuality, and I guarantee you Peter won't live long afterwards. And neither will either of us."

"What are we going to do?" Lucy's blue eyes were wide. "As long as he has that paper and Peter's seal and Susan believes him–"

"We have to get some evidence of what he's been up to." Edmund stood up and paced over to the hearth. "He's covered his tracks till now, but there has to be something somewhere. Some little slip he's made. Someone who'll testify."

Lucy sighed and propped her chin on her hand. For several minutes, Edmund merely stood staring into the fire, not moving until he heard Lucy's soft gasp.

Edmund turned. "Cerise."

"King Edmund!" The Cherry Dryad gaped at him. "You mustn't! You mustn't be here! Sir Gilfrey–" Abruptly, she fell to her knees before Lucy, clutching her skirt with lithe hands. "Forgive me, My Queen, Your Majesties both. I did not know what I was doing. Not truly."

Edmund went to them. "How did you get in here?"

Cerise nodded towards the curtain over Lucy's windows. "Evidently just as you did, Lord King."

Lucy glanced at Edmund and then again at the Dryad healer. "What are you talking about, Cerise? Forgive you for what?"

"I meant only to help, My Queen. I am loyal to you. To Narnia." There was a sudden heightened color in her face. "To our High King."

"What have you done?" Edmund demanded.

Her lashes fell to her pink-tinted cheeks. "Forgive me, Lord King, but I was the one who gave Queen Lucy the potion that brought on her freezing sickness."

Lucy gasped. "You? But why? I thought you were my friend. You just said–"

"I am, Lady!" Tears filled the Dryad's eyes, and she glanced furtively at Edmund before she dropped her head, her leafy locks concealing her face from his view. "Lord King, I must especially ask your pardon. I– I was told you were a danger to the kingdom. So many things were said of you. Forgive me, I believed them. And I myself knew the High King would never send Your Majesty away except on very strong proof of a grievous wrong." She looked pleadingly at Lucy. "I swear it, My Queen, I would never have done anything to truly harm you. I made sure you only slept. Then I found that the Knight, Sir Gilfrey, was giving some potion to the High King. He swore it was only to make him pliable, to get him to send you away, Lord King, to protect him and all of Narnia from you, but I soon found the Knight was lying. That the whole thing had been a lie."

She turned pleading eyes up to Edmund again, but he only stood there, lips pressed into a hard line, waiting for her to go on. Cerise breathed a soft, rustling sigh.

"I told the Knight that he must stop, that the High King was in danger, but he said only that, if I spoke what I knew, he would see me condemned for the part I played in Queen Lucy's illness. I crept into the High King's chamber on another night when Gilfrey was away and tried to tell His Majesty what I'd done, to warn him, but I cannot say if he heard me or understood at all. Just now, I tried once more to tell the Knight he must stop, but he only laughed at me and said we were both in too deep for turning back. He told me he'd see me paid out if I ever spoke of what I know. Please, My Queen, you and King Edmund are my last hope." Her slender fingers caught Lucy's sleeve. "You mustn't–" She looked frantically at Edmund and then buried her face in Lucy's lap. "You mustn't let him die. You mustn't let the High King die because of me. I could never bear it. I could never–"

The Dryad's words were choked with sobs, and Lucy glanced up at Edmund. Somehow there was pity in her eyes, but Edmund didn't have time for pity.

"You have to tell this to Susan." He took the Dryad's arm and pulled her to her feet. "I swear we will pardon you your part in the plot, but you must speak of what you know. First to Queen Susan and then before the court and all the kingdom. It is the only way we can bring down this false Knight and save Peter's life."

"Yes, yes, anything, Lord King. Just, please, hurry. You must save King Peter. You can't let him– Aaaaaah!"

Eyes wide, Cerise clutched Edmund's arm and then his shoulder, shuddering again and again as if she were being struck, and then falling against him. He tried to support her, but she was suddenly heavy and stiff, and he could only ease her to the floor. He and Lucy stared at her lying there, her lovely face a mask of pain and regret, and then, a moment later, she disappeared.

Her Cherry Tree had been felled, and she would never be able to tell Susan or Narnia what she knew.

Author's Note: OldFashionedGirl95 and Laura Andrews have been so gracious and patient and helpful with critiquing and proofing. If you like this story, you should drop them a thank you.

–WD