Note: And the second chapter. Next update on Tuesday!

Chapter 18


Peter had not thought he could be colder than he had been while standing beneath the White Witch's enchantment. He was wrong. The agony in Edmund's eyes, then watching his brother leave – I won't be there – pierced him with an icy chill that Peter thought surely froze him more completely than ever could the wand that rested at his feet. He shuddered, face white, at the sight of that wand, remembering with clear starkness what he had almost done:

Her voice was beguiling: "Come, just one drop," smooth and resonating. Not a minute before he had been determined to run her through, destroy her once more. But then her words, and her eyes so clear and bright…He struggled to break free from the strange lethargy he felt, the feeling that he was stuck in molasses.

Until she spoke again: "You know you can't do this alone."

Guilt, grief, anger, hurt, every emotion he had felt since leaving Narnia flooded Peter's senses, yet exponentially shadowed by his broken sense of failure. The witch smiled, coldly and gently, and Peter felt his arm drop as the images of her promise flashed across his vision. He saw Narnia, as if standing on one of the great Western Mountains and able to overlook the entire country. The feeling of power pulsed with every heartbeat as he saw his country, freed by his own hand. No Telmarines polluted her pristine beauty; no dark, bloody castles dotted the hills, but his own white Cair rebuilt, sun glistening off its marble. He had freed Narnia.

Then he heard a terrific groan, and a piercing voice screamed in his thoughts: "No! It's mine, he's mine! No!" Images shattered along with the witch and Peter shielded his face - but not before seeing the end of his vision: For as he stood proudly over his Narnia, his eyes drifted to the hands that had freed his land. In those hands, his hands, he held a weapon that had starred in the worst of his nightmares. He held the witch's wand, glimmering with power and stained with blood. And he looked at Narnia and realized, with a shock that ripped through his body, that his land was not bright with freedom. The sun only glinted off a land of stone and ice, the white brightness of the Cair only a reflection of the snow that covered it.

This was his glory.

Peter was pulled out of his reverie when his eye caught Caspian turning to face behind them. Turning as well, Peter's heart sunk further as he saw Susan glaring at them. Obviously, she had seen everything and was none too pleased by the actions of the two older kings. Though Peter had thought her disappointed frowns could no longer affect him – he had been their recipient more times than he could count the past year – this time was different. This time he knew he deserved it, could not deny or defend himself. Peter had denied his wrongs, forgot what it meant to be king. He had denied the one who had made him king in the first place, and in doing so he had…

Desperately Peter tried to shove away the recognition of his failures. Pushing back his emotions, he started moving, almost frantic to get away from this place, from the wand at his feet which mocked him further. Only his plan was foiled when Lucy stood firmly in his way. "No, Peter. No running away."

"Lucy…"

The young queen frowned at him. "Edmund is not the only one tired of dealing with you and Caspian. So neither of you are leaving this room until you stop acting like children and begin acting like kings."

Peter knew there was little chance of escaping her, not when she had that look on her face. Her quick glance at Caspian had the prince gulping and wordlessly acquiescing. There would be no help from Susan, who coldly announced that she would be informing the Narnians that the threat was gone. Trumpkin remained their last hope, but that was quickly dashed. "I should be the one who tells about Nikabrik." The Red Dwarf gave them a quick, cheeky grin that had Peter glaring. "Good luck, you two."

Then Peter and Caspian were left alone with the youngest queen, now standing in front of the Stone Table. They shifted under her glare. "Talk," she insisted, her voice near to a growl.

Caspian fell first. "Nikabrik…he said he could help. I did not know…"

Peter's guilt took this prime opportunity to lash out into anger and blame. "You didn't know? You didn't think that maybe conspiring with a hag and a werewolf would be a bad thing? Did you think at all?"

Caspian glared, his own guilt turning to anger. "I thought that there might be a different way to defeat the Telmarines, since the attack on the Beaversdam castle was a complete disaster: badly planned and more terribly executed."

The insult was too much. "Perhaps you should get your head examined, then! Did you think this was the first time we had attacked a castle? Did you think this was the first time we fought Telmarines? Did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason that Edmund was able to infiltrate a Telmarine fortress so easily? We fought them! We fought the Telmarines for two long, bloody years! And now, we come back to find some bratty Telmarine princeling saying that Aslan wants him to rule our kingdom!"

As could be expected, Caspian did not react well to being called a bratty Telmarine princeling. "At least I have tried to fight for the Narnians and not solely for myself!" He ignored Peter's incredulous snort to continue. "And I actually accepted and wanted Edmund's help, instead of ignoring the wisdom and skill of my family."

Hearing Caspian use Edmund as a pawn in his argument both enraged and frightened Peter, and so he lashed out again. "You don't have any family that isn't trying to kill you at the moment, so forgive me if I think I know better how to deal with my brother than you do." Unwelcome images bombarded his mind, memories of Caspian and Edmund laughing together, of Edmund defending the Telmarine against Peter, of Edmund's cold, accusing eyes not moments before. Edmund had always understood his older brother, always picked him up after he fell. Peter had thought it would always be so; but maybe he was wrong. Had he crossed the line, gone too far, pushed too hard?

Peter, though, had unfortunately crossed a different line when he had attacked Caspian's family, or glaring lack thereof. Coming so soon after he found out that his uncle had murdered his father, Caspian snapped. "So, dealing with a brother involves not caring about the danger he's been in, embroiling him in an ill-led battle, and ignoring him to the point where he completely gives up on you?" If he saw the blood slowly drain from Peter's face, it did not stop him from dealing the final blow: "It is no wonder that Edmund said he wanted me to be his brother!"

During the argument, Lucy had remained silent, letting the boys vent their anger. At this last barb, though, she could not hold back a shocked gasp. "Caspian! You can't say it like that!" Unfortunately, her reprimand only gave more credence to Caspian's taunt; by acknowledging his words, Lucy inadvertently made them truer in Peter's mind.

If Caspian had not noticed Peter's reaction before, he could not miss it now. With a startling quickness, the High King's knees buckled and he slid to the ground, as if all life and energy were draining from him. And so it felt to Peter, who dazedly wondered what weapon Caspian had pierced him with that burned into the deep hollows of his chest. But no, there was no steel slicing into his heart, only the words he had not let himself fear for this very reason: because if he thought being replaced as king hurt, knowing that Edmund had given up on him, had replaced him, ached a thousand times more fiercely.

Peter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and moaned. It was too much. He had tried to hold on to one thing, hold on to being the High King and, in doing so, had lost everything: his kingdom, his home, his people, his honor, his damnable pride. Now, in this final, crushing blow, he had lost his brother, his brother. Just as Lucy had warned him, he had pushed Edmund away and had lost him, perhaps forever.

He vaguely thought he heard his sister, her frantic voice a distant echo. "Peter, Peter stop, it's not like that. Peter, please!"

Peter rocked forward as comforting arms tried to snake around his neck, chest aching as his breathing grew too fast for his lungs. He was close to hyperventilation, caused by shock coupled with exhaustion and, above all, by the condemnation running through his mind. I lost him. It's my fault, my fault. Oh Aslan, I lost him! His heart-rending confession slipped from his soul to his lips, but he didn't care because he had lost his brother and nothing else mattered.

Then Peter heard Caspian speak his name again and went utterly still. His breathing went from frighteningly fast to almost nothing as he waited. He waited for the next wound, knew he deserved every acid-laced word of blame that would spill from the Telmarine's mouth. What he got instead, strangely, was a plea: "Please, stop, Peter. You have not lost him." Peter drew in a ragged breath and brought his head up to look at his fellow king. Caspian's normally tan face was drawn and pale, and he almost wavered on his feet.

Caspian looked at Peter and quickly glanced away, eyes filled with guilt and understanding and even despair. He tried to explain, words tripping. "You have not lost him," he repeated. "You haven't…I didn't mean…He didn't…He didn't say it in such a way." Caspian sucked in a breath to try and steady his voice. "He did not replace you; he was just trying to include me into your family. I just…I do not have a family and I wanted…I wanted to replace you, prove I was better: as a king, as a brother. I was jealous…I'm sorry…" Caspian's voice faltered as he glimpsed Peter's tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry," he choked out before turning and dashing from the room.

Peter finally let Lucy hold him in a comforting embrace as he tried to process this information. The young queen reiterated in a clearer manner what Caspian had said: "Edmund didn't replace you with Caspian, Peter. No one did. No one could. But Caspian…he wants a family, wants to be a brother, he just doesn't know how." Lucy stroked his hair like a mother with her child. "Peter, Edmund would never replace you. You are his king. And, more importantly, you're his brother. He will never forget that."

His breathing now settled and steady, Peter just stared at the ground. He knew Lucy was telling the truth; she had been right in everything else so far, he did not dare doubt her word anymore. He also knew that Caspian had not lied, his face had been too haunted and guilt-ridden. So Peter had to believe, had to be reassured that Edmund had not replaced him, that his stupid pride had not yet pushed him away.

Somehow, though, the thought did not fully comfort Peter. He had made so many mistakes; did he even deserve to be forgiven? Glancing over at the carving of Aslan, Peter was sure that he did not.