Well, here I am again! Daily updates, Whoo hoo! Also, once again the longest chapter yet, and I already have the next chapter written, I just need to edit it. That being said this one has been edited only minimally, so please pardon any errors. Shout out to my readers, is anyone interested in beta reading for me? PM me if you want to, I desperately need a second pair of eyes to check my stupid!

Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, knew himself to be a traitor. He had known it for years; it was a part of his identity which could be deeply buried but never forgotten. He had sworn though, when he was crowned king by Aslan, that he would never act as a traitor again. He had broken that oath and he knew it. He betrayed all Narnia by telling the Witch where to find her shattered wand. But, he knew too that the other choice would have made him no less a traitor. If he had resisted her, refused to give her the information she desired Narnia would have lost her High King, her golden sword. With Peter free Narnia stood a chance against whatever horrors the Witch had in store.

He opened his eyes cautiously and found that he was alone in the underground prison. His head was pounding in rhythm with the pulse of blood through his veins and his vision blurred alarmingly when he tried to breathe. Belatedly he realized that the vines binding him were slowly tightening around his chest, worsening the shortness of breath his illness caused. Falling into unconsciousness from which he would not wake was inevitable at some point and it strangely did not trouble him. He had made his peace with death when his final bargain with the Witch was sealed.

Edmund did not know for how many days he dreamed and woke only to dream again. At first, waking he remembered little of his dreams but as time passed they became more vivid and seemed more real, even as his own strength waned. The two cloaked figures brought him water at infrequent intervals but the Witch did not reappear and Edmund could almost hope that he had dreamt her return. At last came a time when a terrible crashing of weapons jarred him back to wakefulness.

Swords rang against shields and the cries of the wounded and dying rose above the din and above it all came a battle cry Edmund knew all too well. Peter. And suddenly, impossibly his brother was there, his sword and armour stained with blood and a look of such fury on his face that Edmund felt sure even a Northern giant would cower before him. Then, terribly the Witch was there, her eyes murderously bright and her mended wand glowing in her hand. Edmund tried desperately to call out in warning but his voice caught in his throat and was no more than a whisper.

Peter froze, suddenly unable to move as stone slowly spread outward from where the Witch's wand struck him. His eyes focused briefly on Edmund and slowly, as if it caused him pain, he spoke the words Edmund always feared most to hear from him. "This is your fault, Edmund. This is all happening because you betrayed us." Then he was still, his stone face set in an eternal expression of hate as he stared down at his brother. The Witch laughed and Edmund woke, calling out for Peter to forgive him.

The Witch was still there but the stone statue of Peter was gone and the Witch no longer held her wand in her hands. Edmund realized gratefully that he had been dreaming again. Thank Aslan. Her eyes, however, still gleamed murderously and her voice was dangerously soft when she spoke.

"So, Edmund, it seems my wand is not where you told me it would be." She knelt and gripped his chin with one ice cold hand, forcing him to look her in the face. Her skin was so cold it seemed to burn him. "Have you lied to me, little king? You should know that if you have done so your brother's life is forfeit."

"I didn't lie." His voice rasped from disuse. "Peter must have gotten there first."

She struck him hard across the face with the back of her hand and his vision flashed red and black. "Foolish boy! No matter, you may yet be of use to me. Know this; I will reclaim my wand from your dear siblings and then I will kill them. You will watch them die for your treachery."

Edmund smiled and tasted blood as the movement pulled at his split lip. "Aslan will not allow you to kill those he has chosen, Witch. He defeated you once before."

"And where is your precious lion, hmm? Where was he when I was resurrected from the Earth? Where was he when I captured not one, but both of Narnia's kings? Where was Aslan when you betrayed all Narnia for your brother's life?"

Edmund remained silent, though the Witch's words disturbed him. She was right, Aslan was strangely absent in their time of need. Immediately he felt ashamed by his doubt, but the Witch had seen his uncertainty and she smiled in victory.

"He cannot save you this time, Edmund; no one can. Narnia will perish and Aslan will not come to her aid, or to yours. Guards!" The cloaked figures slithered slowly into view, hissing slightly from beneath their hoods. "Take our guest back to the pass. Edmund should be with his family when I kill them."

The vines holding him suddenly drew away and Edmund found himself falling forward onto the rough floor. His limbs were numb and unresponsive and he could do nothing to resist when rough, scaly hands gripped his arms and dragged him to his feet. His legs would not support his weight and the two creatures resorted to half dragging and half carrying him up a sloping passageway. A few moments later he found himself being lifted up a makeshift ladder and thrown out of the cave into the blinding sunlight and the frigid mountain pass.

He lay for several minutes, too weak to move, too weak to do much more than breathe, slowly filling his aching lungs with the cold, crisp air. He knew that if he did not move soon, to find dry shelter away from the deeply drifted snow, then he would lie there until his blood froze in his veins. Slowly and with agonizing difficulty, for his muscles were cramped and his limbs were shaking, he forced himself into a sitting position and from there he stood. His knees buckled and Edmund found himself once more nearly face down in the snow. He struggled to his knees and began to crawl.

Every foot of progress seemed long as a league and many times Edmund nearly despaired, but one thought solidified in his mind and bolstered his will to survive. Peter, Susan, Lucy; I have to get back to them. I have to protect them. At last he managed to stand with the aid of a fallen pine branch and, though his legs shook and he stumbled and fell often, his progress towards the north became more noticeable. The sun was sinking slowly in the West when at last he heard a familiar shout in the distance and raised his weary head to see Peter and a troupe of warriors galloping towards him. Edmund smiled silent thanks and fell, senseless, into the snow.


Several Days Before:

"Peter?" Susan was almost wary of her older brother now. He seemed to have aged in the short time of his disappearance and his eyes were haunted with shadows of things he would not speak of. He turned to look at her with such a blank expression that, for a moment, she scarcely recognized him. "Orieus is back with-with the Witch's wand."

He nodded shortly. "Good. Tell him to bring it to me." He turned back to the window, gazing South as he had ever since the day he awoke.

"Peter?" Susan felt it would have been inestimably better if Lucy were the one to speak to their brother, but Lucy had refused to emerge from her room after Peter told them what had befallen Edmund.

"Yes?" He did not even turn to look at her this time and his voice was a devoid of expression as his face. "What is it?"

"It isn't your fault. Edmund made his own choice."

"He told the Witch where to find her wand to save me. Then he helped me wake up so that I could save Narnia. Edmund sacrificed himself to save all of us, again." His voice was still flat but Susan though she saw a single tear slid down his face and splash unheeded across his clasped hands.

"I know Peter. He's Edmund; he will always choose others over himself."

"I haven't told you the worst of it. I spoke to him, while I was asleep, but it wasn't a dream, not exactly at least. It was real. He told me he chose to save me because he was still selfish, still a traitor. A traitor because he told the Witch where to find her wand and selfish because he could not watch me die. If we save Narnia from whatever danger awaits us it will be because of Edmund, and yet he believes himself to be a traitor." His voice broke on the last word.

Susan sat on the window seat beside him and followed his gaze to the distant mountains. "Peter, do you know what our army says about you and Edmund? They say you are Narnia's sword, striking down our enemies and fighting away the dangers that threaten us. They say Edmund is Narnia's shield. He is the quiet protector who takes the enemies' blows himself so others can drive the danger back. I believe they are mostly right, but Edmund isn't only Narnia's shield; above all he is yours. He would give his life to protect you because for Edmund you are as much Narnia as Aslan is or the land itself is."

"I know that, Susan," Peter snapped. "Is there a point to this?"

Susan sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "Yes, brother dear, there is a point, and it is this. Edmund doesn't see himself as necessary to Narnia's survival; he doesn't see himself as useful. A shield is not what strikes the killing blow upon an enemy. A shield is what allows the blow to be struck, but Edmund doesn't realize that. He sees himself as expendable, and, when he cannot protect either you or Narnia, he sees himself as a traitor for failing in his purpose."

Peter blinked slowly. "Without Edmund, we would have lost to the Witch the first time, without Edmund we would have been at war with Calormen these five years; without Edmund, we would all be lost. How can he not see what is so plain to the rest of us?"

Susan shook her head. "I do not know, but it is we who must make him see that. I believe if we ever can then Edmund will never believe himself to be traitor again."

"We have to get him back first."

"We will; that is what the Sword of Narnia is for." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I will send Orieus to you, then I must speak with Lucy. Our Valiant Queen has been plagued by guilt long enough. I do not doubt that she will insist upon accompanying you."

Peter smiled wanly. "Susan, when did you become so wise?"

The Gentle Queen laughed. "Not wise, dear brother, merely accustomed to mothering a pair of troublesome kings and a dangerously valiant queen." She departed in a swirl of skirts and was gone, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

A sword and a shield, it was a fair comparison, but Peter found it troubled him as well. 'He is the quiet protector who takes the enemies' blows himself so others can drive the danger back,' Susan had said and that was what troubled Peter most. Eventually even the strongest shield is struck so great a blow that it cannot be mended. Please Aslan, let that day not be for many years to come. The High King wiped the tears from his face and rose to greet his general. Whether Aslan had heard him or not Peter was determined that day had not yet come. Edmund would be saved, or Peter would give his own life in the attempt. Edmund would be saved, and not only from the Witch, but above all from himself.

At least Edmund is free, right? Is he? what do you think? Also, what did you all think of Peter and Susan's conversation? I must say I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but hopefully it represents the idea well enough.

Cheers,

A

P.S. I had not read the amazing Elecktrum's stories until several days after this chapter was written so any similarity between my idea of Peter and Edmund as Narnia's sword and shield is purely coincidental. Hopefully I haven't offended any one by using it here. :-)