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.

VILLAINY

"Gilfrey."

The false Knight stood at Edmund's back, his right arm around Edmund's neck and the razor edge of his dagger resting delicately under Edmund's left ear.

"Pitiful, is it not, traitor?"

Gilfrey used the subtle pressure of the blade to make Edmund take a stumbling step backwards, forcing Edmund to clutch his arm with both hands so he wouldn't fall.

"You Pevensies, you're all so terribly predictable. I knew you would return to your brother, no matter how foolish it was to do so. I knew about the Sparrows, too, mind you, the ones Queen Lucy employed. Pity they were watching for my return and not for my Sparrowhawks."

"How many murders is that now?" Edmund asked, making his voice cool and even.

The Knight laughed softly. "Our dear High King leads me to believe there is a saying in the world you came from. Something about the making of omelets and the breaking of eggs. But not to worry. Only a few more eggs need be broken."

Still behind him, Gilfrey snaked his left arm across Edmund's chest, pulling him back another step or two and then pressing close to hiss into his ear.

"What is the part of a loyal Knight of Narnia but to defend the kingdom from rogues and villains? And, were he to see his beloved High King stabbed to death by his traitor brother as he lies helpless in his bed, who could fault such a Knight if he falls upon the most unnatural murderer and slays him in his righteous anger?"

Edmund's already-pounding heart picked up speed. His back was to the bed, but he knew Peter was lying in it, still and defenseless, fast asleep in the knowledge that his protector, his trusty younger brother, was watching over him this night. Oh, Peter, I've failed you again.

"No one will believe it."

"No, traitor? They saw you banished. Betrayals and blasphemies and murders proved, do you think they would not believe this? Your own sister, the Gentle Queen, believes."

Edmund glanced at Susan, still sleeping, drugged, in the chair near the bed. "Lucy won't believe it. Lucy will never believe it, and she'll never let you get away with it."

"But, alas, everyone knows the poor child has been addled since her near-drowning." Gilfrey drew him back again, another step closer to the bed. "The people know she has a loyal and tender heart and that she could never see wrong in one she loved. And they would doubtless understand, in her . . . delicate state of mind, how grief over the loss of her brothers and Kings might drive her to despair."

Edmund trembled at that. Not Lucy. Oh, not Lucy.

"If she were to be left alone in her chambers, quite unintentionally, of course, it would be a pity if she were to cast herself from her balcony onto the rocks below." The Snake's laugh was barely more than a breath against Edmund's ear. "Fitting, is it not, that our Valiant Queen should make her end in her very own sea."

"I won't let you," Edmund warned, the words a low growl, and this time Gilfrey laughed aloud.

"Won't let me, traitor? Which of us has a blade to his throat?"

Edmund grasped his arm more tightly as the pressure against his windpipe increased. "Aslan won't let you."

Edmund more than half expected to hear that nasty laugh again. Instead, the Snake breathed a curse into his ear, a curse on him, on his family and, most especially, on the Lion.

"Need there be any better reason I should rule and not the likes of you? I have taken Narnia in all but name. Your High King lies near death, awaiting only my pleasure as to the hour it shall come to pass. Your younger Queen feigns madness because she knows she is not strong enough to face me. The elder is in my power, the oh-so-malleable key to my legitimate reign. And you, poor fool, broken, disgraced, vilified before all the world, you yet believe the Lion will somehow save you? That He would concern Himself with such as you?"

"He will do His good pleasure," Edmund replied. "If it is His wish that I and all mine go to His country, then we shall go. If not, you have no power to harm us."

"Shall we try that, traitor?" The dagger stung Edmund's skin, and a warm trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck. "Shall we see who holds power over your life? Shall we see who is most master here, I or your pathetic Lion?"

Edmund's pulse beat faster as the blade sliced more deeply into his flesh.

"Aslan!" the Snake called. "I am about to cut the throat of your traitor here."

Edmund held his breath, but there was only silence in the night.

"Aslan?" Gilfrey called again, a sneer audible in his voice as he cut yet more deeply. "He seems to place little value on your blood, traitor."

Edmund closed his eyes, unable to keep from trembling, but almost wanting to laugh as well. What did this rash idiot know of the price Aslan had paid for his blood? If He required repayment now, it was no more than just.

"Do you see, traitor? He is silent and knows He can do nothing to take you from my hand." Gilfrey laughed again and lifted his face to the heavens. "Aslan, see the death of your chosen!"

At those words, there came a deafening roar. Before Gilfrey could do more than gasp, Edmund brought his booted heel down on his instep and twisted out of his grasp, flinging the Snake to the floor. The bloodied dagger in his own hand now, he glared down at the would-be king.

"Get up."

Gilfrey scrambled to his feet, cowering behind Susan's chair.

"Get away from her," Edmund ordered, gesturing with the blade.

There was a wild gleam in the false Knight's eye, and before Edmund could lunge at him, he had his hands around Susan's neck, keeping her between himself and the dagger. She never stirred.

"Not yet, traitor. You've not bested me yet."

"Have you learned nothing?" Edmund asked, wondering how the man could be such a fool. "Hasn't Aslan already–"

"Some trick of yours, no more than that, I daresay, but do not think I will be cozened by it again. Give me back the dagger."

"Get away from her."

Gilfrey leered at Susan, hands stroking her throat. "Or what, traitor? Take another step, and I break this lovely neck. It would be a pity, of course, to lose the fine sport she would have made me once she was mine, but hardly worth my life, eh? Women, even fair ones, are common goods. Kingdoms, on the other hand . . . "

He lifted one dark brow, a glittering smile on his cunning face. Edmund only stood, panting and wary. Waiting.

Again the false Knight traced his fingers over Susan's neck, eyes fixed on Edmund's, gauging his reaction. "So lovely. So fragile."

"What do you want?"

Gilfrey held out one hand. "Give me the dagger."

When Edmund drew back, the fingers at Susan's throat changed from caressing to crushing. Soon she began to squirm in his grip, still insensible, still helpless. Edmund started towards her and stopped again when Gilfrey tightened his hold yet more.

"Do not even think it, traitor. It takes but the span of a heartbeat to snap a neck." Again the Snake held out his hand. "Give me the dagger."

Edmund did as he was told.

With a glittering smile, Gilfrey released his hold on Susan and stepped from behind her.

"Now, on your knees."

He pointed the dagger at the floor, and again Edmund obeyed.

"You've been a thorn in my eye from the very beginning." Gilfrey circled around him, the gleaming blade pointed always at his heart. "Were it not for you, the High King would not have taken so long to break to my will. Even as it was, no matter how much of the potion I gave him, I could not make him sentence you to death as I had planned. That would have saved us all so much inconvenience."

He sneered at Peter as he lay oblivious and unmoving in the bed and then turned back to Edmund.

"But all that will be remedied now." The Knight seized a handful of Edmund's hair, drawing back his head to expose his throat to the blade. "Make your farewells, traitor. If it is comfort to you, know that your brother will soon join you in death."

He raised the dagger, and Edmund closed his eyes. Aslan–

Edmund heard a loud gasp, and his eyes flew open. The hand in his hair convulsed, Gilfrey's body stiffened, and he fell to his knees beside the bed, eyes and mouth open wide.

"Betrayer," Peter said, his voice low and shaky, his blue eyes all ice. "Traitor. Murderer. We shall not ourself see you again."

He ripped the sharp end of Edmund's broken sword from the Knight's back and then, suddenly unable to lift it any longer, let it clatter to the floor. Gilfrey dropped, unmoving, at Edmund's feet.

"Peter," Edmund breathed, wide eyed, and Peter collapsed back against the pillows.

Edmund was immediately beside him. "Peter. Peter, are you all right?"

Peter nodded, breathless.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I heard Aslan's roar. It was almost more than I could bear since then, lying here still until that villain was within reach. Is he dead?"

Edmund prodded the false Knight with his boot, eliciting a low groan. "He's fortunate you weren't any stronger just yet."

He used the sturdy curtain ties to bind the Snake's wrists and ankles and then dragged him over to the far corner of the room. That done, he hurried back to his brother. Peter's hand was smeared with blood, his own and not Gilfrey's, but he reached it up to the wound on Edmund's neck and then to his face.

"All right?"

"I'm fine." Edmund took that hand and cradled it in his own, examining the deep cuts his broken blade had left across the palm and fingers. "We'll get Lucy's cordial–"

"No." Peter pulled his hand away, curling it defensively against his chest, letting the blood redden the white of his nightshirt. "No. The healers can tend to it. It'll be fine."

"It'll scar. Let me–"

"No." Peter's eyes flashed, and then he squeezed them shut and turned his face away. "I want– I want those scars."

A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and Edmund knelt beside him, drawing his head to his shoulder. "Peter–"

Again Peter reached up his bloodied fingers, touching them to Edmund's cheek. "I never want to forget how badly I hurt my own right hand."

Careful of those wounds, Edmund covered that hand, holding it there against his face, swallowing down the sudden tightness in his throat. "It was never your fault."

"Everything I put you through–"

"Everything he put us through."

Peter pressed closer to him, body trembling. "I'll never forgive myself."

Laughing faintly, Edmund brushed his lips against the golden hair, tears finally spilling over. "And I, brother mine, will never forgive you if you don't."

Hearing a moan from the far side of the room, Edmund looked up. Gilfrey was struggling against his bonds, muttering and cursing.

Edmund frowned. "I suppose I should have him looked after before he bleeds out."

Peter's eyes narrowed, cold and hard. "Get him out of my sight."

Edmund dragged the helpless Gilfrey to the door and flung it open. The twin Tigers of Peter's guard bristled at the sight of the banished King, growling and baring their teeth until Peter called them off and told them to make sure the deceitful Knight was properly seen to. It seemed only a moment after they were gone that the room was flooded with lights and voices and Lucy was at Peter's bedside.

"Peter." She noticed his injured hand at once, and pressed her lips to the back of it. "I'll get my cordial."

Before Peter could refuse for himself, Edmund shook his head at her. She gave him only a slightly puzzled glance, but said nothing more about it. He was glad she was perceptive enough to know when to leave well alone. Instead, once she had Susan taken to her own bed to recover from her drugged sleep, Lucy contented herself with crawling into bed at Peter's side and holding his good hand while the healers stitched him up. As they did, Peter, with an occasional hiss of pain, told his loyal attendants in brief what had happened. And, seeing the High King and the Valiant Queen both in full possession of their senses and both obviously taking great pleasure in the return of the Just King, they began to smile again. It seemed that their sovereigns had returned and the dark, uncertain times under Sir Gilfrey Becke had at last come to an end.

OOOOO

"She won't come."

Edmund looked up from the bountiful breakfast his younger sister had arranged to be served at the bedside of the High King. He and Lucy and Peter had all slept in the wide bed, nestled together like kittens in a basket. This morning, all he wanted was for Susan to join them.

"She won't," Lucy continued. "I tried."

Edmund put down his half-eaten toast, reading the sorrow in her eyes. "She still thinks I'm a traitor."

"No." Lucy seized his hand. "She doesn't. Truly. She just– She just can't bear to face you now. She's so ashamed that she didn't believe you all along."

Peter looked at him. "Shall I send for her?"

"No." Edmund wiped his mouth and stood up. "I'll go talk to her."

Lucy shook her head. "She won't–"

"I'll talk to her."

In another moment, he was at Susan's door, but he realized he was afraid to knock. What if she did still believe him guilty? What if she hated him still?

He lifted his hand. At least he'd know.

Author's Note: OldFashionedGirl95 and Laura Andrews have again been wondrously helpful in getting this chapter out in record time. They are THE best.

If you want to know what Peter and Edmund talked about after Gilfrey Becke was taken into custody (and before the rest of the events of this story take place), you can find out in my companion piece "Amity."

–WD