Well, here's this. I had to bring Linus back at least once more because he is just too much fun to write :-)

"King Edmund?" He had managed to convince Peter he needed to go back to the Green Lady's library, had successfully avoided Susan and Metelus, but he was less successful in dodging Linus' incessant questions. He turned to see the wolfhound loping unsteadily towards him and reluctantly paused to wait.

"Yes, Linus?"

Linus wagged his tail and hopped excitedly on three legs. "Did you hurt your paw too, King Edmund? Queen Lucy says I'm not to go running about until mine is better.

"Then perhaps, good cousin, you should be obeying your queen?" He was beginning to see what Peter meant about incorrigibly energetic creatures. However fond he was of Linus, it was rather tiring to be followed everywhere he went.

Linus sniffed, unimpressed. "I'm sure Queen Lucy will understand! I have three paws that aren't hurt-it hardly seems fair that I have to rest because of the one that is. You only have two paws; aren't you supposed to be resting as well, King Edmund?" He tilted his head to one side and watched Edmund intently.

"I'm sure Queen Lucy will understand," Edmund echoed, reluctantly giving in to amusement. He limped forward a few more steps, closely followed by Linus, before the Dog spoke again.

"Are you sad, King Edmund? Is that an impertinent question?" he added quickly, tail drooping suddenly. "Queen Susan says I mustn't ask impertinent questions."

Edmund considered the query for a moment, pausing again to look across the courtyard to where a clump of uncharacteristically quiet Dogs were huddled together. "Why do you ask Linus?"

The wolfhound followed his gaze and whined softly. "Because my pack is sad, and I thought maybe you were too." He looked up at Edmund with mournful eyes.

"I'm not sad Linus." Sad isn't quite the right word; exhausted might be more accurate. "How are they?" He abandoned all hope of actually reaching the library and sat down against the nearest wall with Linus beside him.

"They don't talk much," Linus said wistfully, staring at the distant Dogs. "They haven't forgotten how, have they King Edmund?"

"No," said Edmund slowly, wondering how to explain exactly why the Dogs barely spoke now. "They just aren't used to talking much now. They had to be very quiet for a long time."

"So the giants wouldn't eat them?" Linus whined again, the hair on his back rippling in agitation.

Do giants eat other Creatures? Edmund wondered, not for the first time, and impatiently pushed the thought away. The giants were unpleasant enough to think about without adding further savagery to their actions. "So they wouldn't be caught, yes."

"But they're safe now; why are they still frightened?"

Why indeed? It was a question he didn't have answer for-either in respect to himself or the Dogs-and he shrugged, wishing he had a better response for the faithful Creature at his side.

Linus sighed and rested his head on his paws. "Maybe it's because King Peter is gathering the giants together again today."

That was news to Edmund. He turned to Linus with a questioning look and the Dog immediately covered his nose with his uninjured paw and glanced around in horror. "Oh dear! King Peter said you weren't to know anything about it! He'll be ever so cross!" He turned pleading eyes on Edmund and wagged his tail hopefully. "Please don't let him turn me into a hat?"

Peter really needs to stop using that threat; they take him far too seriously! He remembered with amusement the rumours that had spread concerning Mr. Beaver, Peter, and whether or not Finchley was a land where kings possessed the necessary magic to turn their subjects into hats when annoyed. "If you tell me where he is I will see what I can do," Edmund promised gravely-hiding his amusement with some difficulty.

"He's in the castle courtyard with the General," Linus mumbled miserably from beneath his paw. "But he really did say you weren't to know anything about it."

"We'll see about that," Edmund muttered darkly, amusement forgotten as he limped angrily towards the remains of the castle gates. And this is precisely why talking to idiotic, protective older brothers is a last resort.

"You have no right!"

Peter winced at the volume of his younger brother's voice and looked helplessly towards Orieus for assistance, but the Centaur's expression was unreadable as usual. Let it never be said that Edmund does not have a temper to rival mine, he thought distractedly. "On the contrary; I have every right to call a meeting with the remaining giants."

"You have no right to order me not to be there or to try keeping any knowledge of the meeting from me," Edmund clarified unnecessarily, still speaking more loudly than he usually did.

Peter sighed and looked helplessly towards Orieus again. "Edmund, I think it's best for everyone if you leave this meeting to me. I will even promise not to behead anyone," he added the last words as a light attempt at humour, but Edmund seemed impressively unamused.

"Perhaps, your majesty, under the circumstances it would be wise to heed the High King's advice," Orieus interceded (before Edmund could find anything to throw at Peter's head).

Edmund turned his furious glare on the Centaur. "Under the circumstances? What circumstances would those be, General?"

Unintimidated as ever, Orieus stared down at him calmly and made no move to reply. Peter gritted his teeth and nodded to him, silently dismissing him. The Centaur bowed and withdrew to a more diplomatic distance, though Peter was quite certain he could still hear every word they said. Edmund crossed his arms, glaring more fiercely still, and Peter wondered yet again how his brother could be so cross at times and still manage to be diplomatic when dealing with troublesome Calormenes or Telmarines.

"I'm not entirely useless," Edmund said, lowering his voice significantly and throwing a dark look after Orieus.

"I never said you were," Peter responded quietly, clenching his fists and silently begging Aslan for patience. But really, isn't patience supposed to be Edmund's domain and not mine? Temper is mine, not that he doesn't have one, but this is a damnably inconvenient time for our roles to reverse!

"Stop it!" Edmund said crossly, interrupting Peter's frustrated musings. He had crossed his arms and somehow managed to look even more petulant than he had previously; if Peter hadn't been so entirely frustrated by the whole situation he might have been genuinely amused. "I'm entitled to lose my temper when you are being idiotically over protective!" As usual he had correctly guessed what his older brother was thinking and, as usual, Peter found it rather infuriating.

"Ed, be reasonable. You can't get within ten feet of a giant without panicking and I'm fairly certain our position is precarious enough without them discovering one of us is absolutely terrified of them!" He regretted the necessity of stating the truth quite so plainly, but if Edmund insisted on being stubborn there was nothing else for it.

The fierce glare on his brother's face faded somewhat and was replaced by a somehow empty look that Peter liked even less. "If I'm so incapable of being within ten feet of a giant then tell me, dear brother, how I managed to fight at your side so effectively until the army came. Or, for that matter how we managed to rescue Lucy. You may recall that it requires a certain degree of nearness to stab a giant in the foot repeatedly." His voice was dangerously low in contrast to his earlier shouting and Peter winced, almost wishing that the shouting had continued. His brother's temper he could deal with effectively, but he had yet to meet anyone who could outwit Edmund when he became as dangerously calm and cold as he was now.

"Ed-" But Edmund held up a hand, effectively stopping whatever half formed protest Peter found himself about to make.

"It is my duty as king to assist you in presiding over meetings such as these, and you have no right to tell me otherwise, High King or no."

He's right and he knows it, Peter thought heavily. Being a High King, it turned out, had very little to do with Peter getting his own way and altogether more to do with reluctantly agreeing to compromise with the other three crowned monarchs, and (on occasion when he was very cross) Orieus. Being High King meant in no way that Peter could overrule his siblings entirely, or even enough to keep them from fulfilling their own duties and he knew it. That was the very reason he had tried to keep the meeting from Edmund in the first place. And if I'm not very much mistaken, I have that fool Linus to thank for this fine mess.

"Alright," Peter conceded with a sigh. "You've made your point, but if I have any reason to fear for your safety or to believe your continued presence will endanger Narnia, I will happily order Orieus to escort you back to your tent. Is that clear?" Regrettably, being High King also involves a frustrating amount of admitting defeat while still trying to appear like I'm actually in charge.

Edmund grinned, all traces both of temper and the dangerously cold something that wasn't quite temper fading from his face as if they had never been there. "Clear as mud," Edmund said far more cheerfully than he had any right to.

"You seem to be feeling better," Peter observed, risking an attempt at making peace.

"I am," Edmund agreed helpfully, still grinning in victory. "Not quite like myself," he added more soberly after a moment. "But less likely to shatter into a million pieces. So, where are we supposed to be meeting these giants?"

"Here, and apparently now." Peter scowled across the courtyard to where a few towering figures were beginning to detach themselves from the darker shapes of the buildings. "Orieus?" The Centaur was back at his side in an instant, looking vaguely amused by the conversation he had obviously overheard. "See that the guards are close by, will you? I hope these giants have the good sense to know when they are beaten, but I think we have taken quite enough chances already."

Orieus bowed slightly and withdrew, calling to a nearby cluster of Satyrs and Leopards as he did so; a moment later a contingent of dwarven archers jogged into view as well and took up their positions in a loose ring around the perimeter of the courtyard. Satisfied that if the giants attempted anything even remotely treacherous they would immediately be dealt with, Peter turned back towards his brother hoping he wouldn't find him pale and shaking.

For the most part he did not; true, Edmund's face had gone a shade whiter and his left hand was clenched around the hilt of his sword with enough force to turn his knuckles white, but he wasn't shaking and would have appeared perfectly calm to anyone who did not know him.

Peter felt his own hands clench into fists as he watched the Creatures who shuffled towards them in a disorderly line. These were the brutes who had attacked his family, threatened his kingdom, conspired with a witch, and nearly taken everything from him. Unconsciously he lowered his own hand to Rhindon's hilt as he felt his jaw clench in a snarl. He had expected to be angry when facing the brutes who had lured them into a deadly trap with promises of friendship; what he hadn't expected was the wave of pure, unbridled hate that swept through him blurring his vision and setting his blood on fire.

"Uh, Peter? You did promise not to behead anyone, right?" Derisive and slightly desperate, the low query cut through his quickly rising rage and Peter blinked, looking over in surprise. Edmund was smiling, quietly reassuring despite his pallor and the haunted expression lurking in his eyes, and Peter relaxed slightly, unclenching his jaw and letting his hand drop from Rhindon's hilt.

"No," he said quietly, trying to match his brother's smile. "I don't think I did." But before Edmund could respond, the giants had reached them and a different sort of battle was joined.

The first giant, who seemed to be the self-appointed leader of the group bowed deeply, though in doing so he still managed to tower above Peter and Edmund, and dropped to one knee before them.

"Good kings," he said, keeping his head inclined respectfully but not quite managing to hide the venom in his tone. "We have come as you requested and wish to make our own requests of you if we do not inconvenience you too much in doing so."

Peter bit back an angry retort with difficulty. Put aside Peter Pevensie; become the High King, he reminded himself sternly. "We thank you for attending us so promptly. We shall attempt to make this meeting brief enough that it will not become burdensome." He paused and looked expectantly at the giant.

The giant appeared rather flustered and glanced quickly between the two kings, obviously uncertain if the "we" Peter used was being employed in its royal sense or was simply referring to both kings. Peter couldn't quite suppress a self-satisfied smile at the giant's discomfort, though he didn't need to see Edmund's expression to know his brother was silently scolding him for allowing his personal feelings to cloud his manners.

"Your majesty," said the giant at last-obviously deciding that Peter had meant the troublesome pronoun in its royal sense and proceeding to ignore Edmund entirely. "We, that is to say my fellows and I, are grateful for the chance to address you freely and discuss the terms of our surrender."

Peter drew himself up to his full height-still feeling rather dwarfed by the giants before him-and allowed himself a moment to gather his courage before speaking. "There will be no terms," he said clearly, letting the words ring out in the otherwise silent courtyard. "We are prepared to accept nothing save your absolute and unconditional surrender. Should you refuse you will find it well within both our rights and power to remain encamped in this city until such time as you accept the hopeless nature of your position."

There was stunned silence for a moment-even Edmund seemed shocked-before the giant laughed nervously and twisted his hands together. "Surely your majesty cannot be serious! You are in our country, surrounded by our people-"

"And you were in your own city, surrounded by your impenetrable gates and walls and protected by your King and his Witch," said Edmund quietly, stepping forward to Peter's side without a hint of the panic Peter had feared would grip him in the presence of the giants. "Tell me, good sir, what has become of your walls, your gates, your fortress, your King and your Witch? Your walls and gates could not stand before the Lion's roar, nor could your King, your Witch and your guards stand before His wrath and ours."

The giant wrung his hands and twisted his face into a grimace of displeasure, but there was no arguing the truth of Edmund's words. He bowed his head in defeat though his words still dripped with ill-concealed hatred when he made his response. "Very well, your majesties. But hear now our request of you; leave this city by nightfall and do not dare set foot here again. You may have bested us through trickery and the aid of your accursed Lion, but if you remain here one day longer it will mean your deaths. We surrender to you now, but if ever we meet your kind again we shall deal harshly with them from the first, in recompense for what you have taken from us."

Peter briefly remembered that he had not, in fact promised not to behead anyone and was sorely tempted to draw his sword and hack off the head of the giant then and there. But, after all, it wouldn't be particularly sportsmanlike or kingly to behead a foe who had just surrendered-even if the surrender was followed by dire threats and outrageous promises of revenge.

"We will withdraw from this city with a good will." He surprised himself by speaking with at least a shred of civility. "We have no desire to tarry longer than is necessary within these-" For a moment Peter found himself at rather a loss for words. I can't exactly say walls, now can I? He felt an absurd desire to laugh and bit his tongue sharply to stifle the impulse. "Within the confines of a city that has been so blatantly treacherous towards us from the first. I can assure you that we, and our armies, will be gone by nightfall. I bid you a good day."

The giant stood stiffly and, beckoning to his companions, stalked away through the houses. Peter felt a smile spread across his face; he had expected the encounter to be a far more unpleasant and lengthy ordeal.

"Well," he said cheerfully, turning to Edmund. "That went rather well."

Edmund seemed to disagree as his knees suddenly buckled and he dropped down onto the paving stones, his face a rather alarming shade of green. Peter dropped to his knees beside him, cursing silently and put an arm around his shoulders. "Ed, it's alright; they're gone." And you're a bloody fool! He added silently and fiercely. "We're going home; it's over."

Edmund surprised him by laughing shakily and burying his face against his shoulder. "Good," he said, voice slightly muffled. "Because I never want to speak to another giant again."

"And you wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't insisted on being stubborn!" Peter couldn't quite resist scolding him, even if he was secretly proud of how Edmund had handled the entire situation. The giants would never know how frightened he had been, and Peter certainly wasn't going to tell them. He pulled Edmund to his feet and was relieved when Edmund managed a shaky smile. "Alright, brother?" he asked lightly, fully expecting the answer to be a dishonest proclamation of well-being.

Once again Edmund surprised him by grinning and shaking his head. "No," he admitted quietly. "But I think I will be, someday."

Hopefully you all enjoyed that chapter despite its lack of action; I always find chapters like this rather annoying to write but they are unfortunately necessary. Please do let me know what you thought and also what you still feel needs to be resolved. I have part of the next chapter written but it is rather short and quite probably the last one, so if you have anything you feel should be included do feel free to tell me :-)

Thank you for reading and reviewing and as always I would like to especially thank my wonderful beta reader PaintingMusic14!

Cheers,

A