“Yes, well, we could also wish that you weren’t so foolish as to need this,” Susan said.

Peter pushed a breath out of his nose. “Su, can you go be right somewhere else?”

Susan’s lips curled in the corners as she clasped her hands together. The foot of the bed shifted beneath her weight and her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder as she sighed. “I’m glad you’re okay, Peter. Of course. When Lu and I couldn’t get a straight answer when they told us to stay put...” Her lower lip trembled for a moment, bouncing her shaky breath until she stilled herself with a blink of her eyes. “I didn’t know what to think. But I did know that, no matter the circumstance, no matter what happened, you would do anything for Narnia. And that gave me hope. In the end, you protected us all and staved an attack. The country is indebted to you.”

Peter grunted, his nose wrinkling. That isn’t what he wanted. That’s not what happened. Susan could look at it as Peter protective Narnia but...he was wrong. So wrong. He knew that now. Every hitch to his breath as pain exploded in his side was a reminder of that.

“I put them at risk, Su,” Peter said.

“Of course you didn’t. You did what you thought was best.”

“Yeah. What I thought was best. I was so sure...” He licked his dry lips, shaking his head. “I’ve done this before. Lead Narnia. All those years ago.” Susan’s head lowered in the silence that followed his statement. The growing pains of leaving Narnia once before was a trying time for them both. “It meant something. Or, at least I thought it did.”

“It does.”

Peter shook his head, a sad smile appearing on his face. “Not now. Not when everything’s changed.”

Susan’s eyebrows furrowed but before she could press a knock on the door had her head whipping around. The sight of Edmund’s battle-worn frame leaning in the doorway made Peter’s breath stop. They eyed one another as Susan stood and said something about giving them space. Peter caught the sound of the skirts of her dress grazing the stone floor over the sound of the silence between the brothers.

He swallowed. The healing wound in his side burned, almost fresh as the day he received it. He didn’t remember much about the attack, only waking up in the castle surrounded by the tear-streaked faces of Lucy and Susan. And before.

He definitely remembered before.

Shame tightened around him. Pressing his weight against his bed, he grunted as he shifted to sit up against the pillows.

“Do you need—”

“I can handle—”

The brothers spoke in unison and cut their words off in unison. Peter froze half in his motion, surprise seeping into his eyes at Edmund rushing forward to help. He’d halted himself by the side of the bed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“Right.” Edmund nodded and took a step back. “You have it sorted, then?”

Peter’s brain lapsed, or so that was the explanation he came up with for a scoff flying out of his mouth quickly followed by, “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

It was daft, really. He could claim he wasn’t thinking straight, that the hit to his head was harder than he thought. But the look on Edmund’s face told him no explanation would be of satisfaction.

Edmund’s jaw had set, a muscle twitching by his neck as his eyes hardened. The silence pulsed between them, waiting for a spark to ignite a fire. To blow up around them. And so Peter waited, internally wincing, for whatever Edmund was to say next was going to be important. His words were seldom spoken without some gravity.

“I don’t sit around waiting to pick apart your choices,” he finally said.

“Yeah? You sure about that?”

“Yes, in fact.” Edmund’s biting words sunk into Peter’s skin, burning and clawing. “I am not your enemy, Peter. I am not your sidekick and I am not taking notes if something goes wrong! I am your brother and I just want you to be a little bit smarter about things sometimes.”

“We didn’t have much time! I had to make a choice!”

“You’re not the only monarch, Peter!”

“No, but I am your brother!” Peter pressed his lips together and pushed a breath out of his nose. “I’m supposed to protect you. The lot of you. That’s my job, whether we’re in Narnia or not. I’m not...” He licked his lower lip, easing a breath through the pain throbbing in his side. “I’m not...going to let anything happen to you if I can help it.”

“And how do you propose you’ll do that if you end up dead?”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe I deserve it.”

Edmund let out a loud sigh and approached the bed, choosing to sit in the chair nearby rather than on the edge like Susan. He laced his fingers together and rested them on his knees, leaning forward. “I was scared, okay? When Caspian came back with the news that you were hurt. I was worried that something...worse had happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned backwards, crossing his arms. “I’m not only thinking of the Narnians when I try to find alternate ways to protect them, you know. Just because you’re the oldest, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t want you to be safe either.”

“I’m supposed to protect you.”

“We’re supposed to protect each other! We wouldn’t have lasted this long if we did this on our own and you know that. The rogues caught us both off guard; it’s not your responsibility to shoulder alone.”

Was it not? Peter was the oldest male figure in their home after their father went off to war. He was to watch over them and protect them when they were sent away for their safety. He was to ensure they were happy and healthy. It was his job. Without it...what was he to do? Who was he to be?

“How’s your leg?” Peter asked after clearing his throat.

Edmund looked down, as if forgetting that he was injured himself. Peter suspected he had. “They say it isn’t broken, surprisingly, but it’s been roughed up pretty good.” He shrugged. “I’ll heal.” His eyes roamed from Peter’s face and down to his bandaged side. “And yourself?”

“I’ll heal,” Peter echoed. Then, “I’m sorry.”

He was to be a brother.

Edmund’s eyebrow lifted as he pressed his lips together. The two words hung in the air between them, waiting, stuck whether to move forward and backward. Peter sat still beneath Edmund’s gaze, allowing him to search his face for...whatever it was that Edmund looked for when he stared someone down. Then, his lips parted, and he said, “I’m sorry too” and the vice around Peter’s chest eased.

Knuckles rapped against the wooden door and the two looked over to see Caspian, his face a mix of relief and guilt.

“Cas—” Peter said.

“I’m glad to know you’re healing,” he said as he approached, speaking over Peter. “I can only apologize for not getting to you sooner, Peter.”

“Caspian, no. Don’t put this on yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He took in a deep breath, wincing slightly at the burning pain in his side, and eased it back out. “I should be the one apologizing."

“I should have followed you.”

“I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

“I should—”

“Okay.” Edmund held up his hands, cutting off their words. His rolling eyes let them in on his disdain. “Stop this. You two could try to out guilt each other all day.”

Peter chuckled, holding his side. As his the edges of him smile faded away he said, “Seriously, though, Caspian I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing,” Caspian insisted. “You are my friend, Peter. And like a brother to me.” He placed his hand to his chest as he spoke. “I care about you. About you all, and I will always come to your aid.”

Peter flashed a smile at Caspian, at his his two brothers. Maybe Edmund was right, maybe he could relinquish control and his need to face threats alone. Because he truly wasn’t alone, not when he had his family by his side.

Another knock on the door put a rare but bright smile on Edmun’s face. “Speaking of aid...” He motioned a man in the doorway inside; he shuffled forward as his hands clasped a tray piled high with food that smelled so savory Peter’s stomach growl was so audible he, for a moment, wondered if a dog had wandered into the room. “I saw what Susan had brought up. I figured you could use something that was actually edible.” Taking a canister of sweets from the man, Edmund popped one into his mouth before adding, “Just...don’t tell her.”

Peter shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t. It was their little secret.

It was then that Peter looked at him. Really looked at him. At the tall, filled-out man standing in his little brother’s place. At the man who shed the scrawny, quiet, brooding boy from long ago and grew into a diplomatic, just, and fair reigning monarch.