Thank you for reading and reviewing! Here's the next chapter, obviously. Anyway, this one gave me a good bit of trouble; I knew exactly what needed to happen and maybe that's why it was nearly impossible to write. I then had a rather long argument with Edmund who was rather offended by the fact I suggested he burn down a city...yeah...I know I was arguing with a literary character.

The main courtyard was a confused mass of shouting giants, terrified livestock, and swirling smoke by the time the small group of Narnians emerged, coughing from a side door of the castle. Edmund found that, true to his prediction, everything except the stone walls was burning, and doing so beautifully. The giants were panicking as they fled their burning stronghold, and even the King looked shaken as he emerged from the main doors, coughing and covered in soot.

"Open the castle gates; take refuge in the city!" The King's shout rang out above all the clamour, and for a moment the panicked giants stilled, turning towards the source of the order. Beside him Edmund felt, rather than saw, Susan tense and slip an arrow onto the string of her bow. He put a hand on her arm quickly, silently warning her not to take rash action which would prevent the further success of their plan. He understood why she wanted to kill the King, and knew she was more than capable of fatally shooting him-even from such a distance with smoke swirling in the air-but the death of the King would give away their location.

He pulled her quickly forward, towards the cluster of giants and more importantly the gates. In the confusion the small group of Narnians, so far below the giants' field of vision, would hopefully go unnoticed. To his right, Peter opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head and closed it again. Rather annoyed by his silence, Edmund scowled and chose to ignore him.

They had nearly reached the huge gates, which were slowly creaking open, when a giant stumbled across their path. He did not seem to see them, but his footsteps were deafeningly loud as he managed to nearly trample them in his haste to reach the gates. Edmund froze, suddenly shaking, terrified as he stared after the giant.

He choked, the smoke-filled air suddenly seeing too thick to breathe, his chest constricting from the terrible weight forcing the air from his lungs-No! Not now, not here! But the sudden terror he felt was not inclined to be reasonable and did not care that its presence was unwelcome. The noise of the giants' voices and footsteps grew until they drowned out all other sound and he was trapped, crushed-

"Edmund!" Someone shook him roughly and he lashed out blindly, hearing a muffled grunt as his fist connected with something solid, before arms like iron wrapped around him, forcing him to be still. In a moment everything grew indistinct and blurred, until all he saw was darkness and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

The darkness faded to gold and then became tinged with red, as he opened his eyes upon a strange sight. He stood upon a rocky cliff, looking down over a grim land. A city lay below him, flames rising from the thatched roofs of homes and screams filling the air until the mountains themselves seemed to shake with the echoes. As he watched, the scene began to shift, the fires died down to a scattering of smoking, ashy patches, and the few people left within the blackened walls crept back into the open, raising cries of grief as they searched the ruins of their homes. Bodies lay in the streets-charred by fire or trampled by others in their haste to escape the flames-children and elders; those too young or too weak to reach safety in the chaos and panic.

Edmund shuddered at the sight of the destruction and turned away to find that Aslan stood beside him, towering over him as He too gazed down upon the city with terrible sorrow in His golden eyes. "Child, what have you done?"

"I don't understand." Edmund blinked and stared up at the Lion in confusion.

"Look again."

And when Edmund looked again, he saw with a terrible feeling of dread that the city below them was Harfang. It lay in ruins because of his actions. It had been at his orders that homes and lives had been destroyed; all had been made to suffer in retribution for the acts of a few.

"No!" He turned his back on the terrible sight and sank to his knees at the cliff's edge, burying his face in his hands. He could not bear to see the proof of what he had done, but knew with a terrible certainty that he would never be able to forget it. Aslan stepped forward and Edmund found suddenly that he was kneeling between the Lion's paws, looking up into His face. The Lion looked down at him with such sorrow in His eyes, that he would gladly have faced His wrath rather than that sadness.

"My dear son, it was not for this that you were saved, nor for this that I have called you Just. Brutish they may be, and cruel, but they are My children still, as are all creatures of this land. Why have you done this?" In His voice, as in His eyes, there was no anger and Edmund found he could not bear it. He bowed his head once more and said nothing. "Have these, whose homes you destroyed, whose lives you claim in vengeance, wronged you?"

"No, Aslan." He could not bear to look up again, to see the sorrow he had caused.

"Then why have you turned your wrath upon them?"

"We needed to reach the gates; there was no other way." Aslan growled softly and he knew that this was not the whole truth. The Lion's eyes seemed to burn into his very soul, revealing the anger and fear that had haunted him for weeks. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he realised at last the full terror of what he had done and why. "I could have made a better plan, found another way, but I was so terribly angry. They killed innocent Narnians, threatened my family, and I hated them for it. I was angry and afraid; I see now it was wrong, and I'm sorry, so terribly sorry." He stared at the grass beneath the Lion's paws. "I would do anything to take it back, to undo what I have done." The tears fell, blurring his eyesight until the world seemed to dissolve in a swirl of green and gold.

"It is well said." Then Aslan roared, loud and terrible, and Edmund found himself falling endlessly into the chasm behind him. For a long, terrifying moment he fell, expecting with every heartbeat to strike the rocks below and knowing that he deserved nothing less for the wrong that he had done. But in the end, it was not jagged rocks he felt beneath him, but soft, golden fur, as he heard Aslan's voice again. You have allowed hatred to make you bitter against those who have done you no wrong, and yet I will not let you fall into that abyss. Do not do now as you would have done; show mercy even as mercy was shown unto you. Then with a final roar, the Lion was gone.

"Come on you idiot; breathe!" Peter was leaning over him, and the clamour from the giants seemed somehow muted. He blinked, confused by the relative silence, and realised they were no longer in the courtyard but in a deserted street. Odd, I don't remember leaving the castle. "Edmund!" Peter shook his shoulder none too gently, glaring down at him but still managing to look concerned rather than angry. "Breathe. Now."

Until that moment Edmund hadn't realised he wasn't breathing, and immediately upon realising it he choked, gagging as air flooded painfully back into his lungs. Peter huffed out a relieved sigh and released his shoulder; Edmund really wished he hadn't. His head was throbbing painfully, his chest ached, and all he really wanted to do was bury his head in Peter's shoulder and cry. On second thought, it was probably better that Peter had let him go or he might have done just that.

He stumbled unsteadily to his feet, feeling rather foolish, and saw to his relief that the guards at least weren't hovering in the background. He could vaguely see a group of them in the distance, carrying torches towards the nearest building.

This isn't right. The thought surprised him. He had been so certain when he gave the order, so convinced it was the only way, but now-"It was not for this that I have called you Just."

"Stop!" He shouted the order desperately towards the guards, not caring if the giants heard him, not considering that he might be destroying their only chance of escape, instead remembering the terrible sadness in the Lion's eyes and cries of grief rising from a burned and blackened ruin. This isn't justice; not the kind of justice I wish my name to stand for. The guards stopped and looked back in confusion, clearly surprised by the sudden change in Edmund's orders, but they obediently trotted back.

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief and sagged back against the wall. "Edmund?" Peter put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Care to explain?"

"If we do this we're no better than they are." I thought I had already learned the difference between justice and revenge. "We have to find another way to open the gates."

Peter smiled, relief pushing away the shadow of guilt hiding in his eyes. "I rather hoped we might need to. Burning the castle of an attacking nation seems fair enough, but burning an entire city is rather harsh, especially for you. Still," here he paused, shrugging and scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot, "I'm more likely to trust your judgement right now than I am to trust my own."

Before Edmund could answer and tell him not to be a fool, a bellow of fury rose through the air again. "Seize them! Death to the Narnians!" The King and his courtiers, accompanied by a pair of armed guards, thundered towards them shaking the street with their footsteps.

Naturally, they did the only sensible thing one can do when faced with a party of infuriated giants. They ran.

It turned out they could not actually run very far. The city gates loomed before them, towering against the darkening sky, and were very solidly closed. Peter cursed as they were forced to stop, and suddenly remembered that he had sent Susan towards the gates. He couldn't risk calling her name and could only hope she had the good sense to stay hidden. At his side Edmund, looking terribly pale, accepted a spare sword from one of the guards in place of his broken one. There was no trace of his earlier panic in his expression now, but Peter knew him well enough to recognise that it was still there.

"Alright, Ed?" It was a pathetically insufficient question, but there was no time. The giants shouted as they ran, weapons and armour clashing in rhythm with their deafening footfalls. In a moment more, they would round the corner and Peter could not doubt what the outcome would be. A score of Narnians, lightly armoured for stealth rather than mortal combat, could not long hope to stand against the King's guards and the others who would doubtless join them.

Edmund scowled, not looking away from the dimly lit street the giants would come down, and nodded.

"I'm sorry." Peter knew those words too were far from sufficient to express the depth of his remorse. The burning castle in the background, the lives of the Narnians at his side, and his brother, determined to the last; all this is lost for my foolishness.

"Save the apologies for later, Pete."

"I don't think there is going to be a 'later' this time." He wasn't expecting Edmund to laugh and elbow him in the ribs, but it was such an ordinary response from his brother that Peter nearly laughed himself.

"There might be if you stop moping." And in an instant Peter knew he was forgiven, whether he deserved to be or not, and smiled.

He drew his sword and squared his shoulders, reminding himself silently that Edmund was right. He was a king first, and there was no place for guilt in the heart of a king leading his soldiers in a last, desperate battle. "Are you with me?"

He didn't need to look over to know Edmund had nodded. "By your side, my brother, until the end." There was really nothing else to be said as the guards closed ranks behind them, lifting shields and drawing weapons. The next moment the giants were upon them.

It is never pleasant to find yourself outnumbered by an enemy at least four times your height, and it is less pleasant still if there is an army only a few yards away which is completely incapable of helping. The minutes that followed the giants' furious charge could scarcely even be termed a battle. The Narnians found themselves becoming more outnumbered every moment, as more soldiers rallied to the giant King's side until the courtyard before the gates was so crowded that the giants themselves could barely move to attack. The Narnians were forced to retreat until their backs were against the wall, and the giants formed a barrier before them that was nearly as impenetrable as the stones behind them.

Peter ducked under the swing of a giant's club, and slashed somewhat ineffectively at his leather armoured legs, before he had to dodge to the side as another giant tried to crush him beneath its enormous foot. There was no order in the terrible, deadly press of bodies around him, and he found his feet knocked out from under him as a terrified faun broke from the ranks and tried to run, only to stumble and be thrown through the air by the swing of a giant's club.

Staggering to his feet, he realised in horror that somewhere in the shifting mass of frightened guards and stomping giants, he had lost sight of Edmund. The momentary distraction the realisation caused him nearly cost Peter his life, as a huge hand closed suddenly around his chest and lifted him effortlessly into the air. He struggled, kicking and trying to slash at the hand with his sword, but lost his hold on the weapon as the giant tightened his grip. Rhindon clattered to the paving stones below as Peter found himself staring into the furious, soot stained face of the giant King.

"You! Curse the day you came to my halls!" Had the giant not effectively forced the air from his lungs, Peter would have been inclined to respond that he quite agreed with him. As it was, he could do little save glare up at the enraged King and hope that the giant would have the courtesy to kill him quickly.

"You will die," said the King, tightening his grip enough to make Peter grit his teeth in pain. "Everyone you love will die, and Narnia will still be mine, as was promised long ago." He couldn't breathe and the giant's leering began to fade as darkness threatened to obscure his vision.

I'm sorry Ed, I did try. But he knew he'd made an utter mess of everything from beginning to end. Aslan protect them even though I have failed.

A Lion's roar, deafening and terrible, rose suddenly above the noise of the battle and everyone paused where they were, staring-the giants in horror and the Narnians in sudden hope-as the city gates and the towering walls trembled for a moment and then crumbled to dust. For a heartbeat there was silence, then the giants' King bellowed his rage to the sky before a red feathered arrow struck him in the left eye and he fell. Peter found himself tumbling through the air and realised vaguely that he was about to find out firsthand how inadvisable it was to be tossed about by a giant. Just before he struck the unforgiving stones of the courtyard, he heard the clear sound of a horn cut across the chaotic shouting as Orieus and the army charged forward to join the fray.

Forgive me. Then thought and awareness faded as he slammed against the ground and lay still, surrounded by the chaos of battle but utterly unaware of it.

Sheesh! That was stressful; poor Peter! And Edmund. And...everyone.

Many thanks to PaintingMusic14 for being an awesome beta reader and convincing me that this chapter really didn't need a sixth revision :-)

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Cheers,

A