Trigger warning: Mentions/depictions of anxiety/panic attack. Mention of suicide attempt.

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensie siblings, just the plot!

Song lyrics are from Anchor by Skillet: /watch?v=GuuPDHRNf70

Peter: 18

Susan: 16

Edmund: 13

Lucy: 11 (just recently)

"Drifting beneath the horizon

Body is weak, but I'm trying to make it to shore

But I'm falling short; I need you more..."

"In which order are the following Narnian tenses classified?"

Lucy's heart pounded as she stared at her paper. She sat in the castle's schoolroom, writing a language test. Her tutor repeated the question. Her quill was poised over her paper, but she could not convince her hand to write the answer.

What is wrong with me? she wondered. I feel as though I may be sick. Her tutor moved onto the next question, causing Lucy to snap her head up in alarm.

"E-excuse me." The tutor looked at her. "I'm sorry...I'ven't finished the last question...or the one before that." Madam Leonor noticed the young queen's trembling hands and pale face.

"Queen Lucy, permission to speak freely?"

"Of c-course." She clamped her jaw to keep her teeth from rattling as her heart pounded in her chest, her throat, her ears.

"Milady, am I correct in my assertation that you were far from ill-prepared for this test? We've been over this unit thoroughly."

"Ye-yes, ma'am. I-I dunno what's wrong with me, I-" she tried and failed to keep the tears of panic from rising from her throat. "I daresay I can hardly breathe. I beg your pardon." She gasped for breath in spite of herself. Her tutor smiled sympathetically at the girl and reached down, removing the quill and paper from her hands. "Oh, no, no, please-"

"Hush, your Highness, hush." The Madam placed a steadying hand on Lucy's shoulder. "I would not dream of insisting you complete an examination right now as you are bothered so. I am confident that you know the material. You shall make it up tomorrow, or a different day. I shall discuss it with a member of the Council for Royal Education and we shall get you all squared away."

"Thank you-" Lucy's breath caught in her throat as tears spilled over.

"Your Majesty, I suggest some sort of calming activity. Perhaps something non-education related, strange as that sounds coming from me. Take a little time. Your examination can and will wait for you. "

"Thank you, ma'am." Lucy managed a curtsy, gripping her desk to steady herself, before exiting the schoolroom and fleeing-straight into Susan.

"Lu? What are you doing out of class?" Her sister looked up at her, eyes wide and wild. Susan took one look at her tear-streaked face and pulled her in tight to her chest. "You're trembling. Lucy, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Lucy gasped wildly for air, her mind clouding and becoming foggy as she fought for oxygen. "Lucy. What's going on?" Lucy tried and failed to speak, tears cascading down her face. Susan led her over to a sofa seated against the stone wall that supported the staircase. "Lu...Lucy..." Susan took her baby sister's face in her hands. "It's alright..."

Lucy sat up suddenly, almost knocking Susan in the jaw, and doubled over, beginning to gasp for breath more urgently. Susan's eyes widened in alarm. "Someone find my brothers!" She ordered the servants who had gathered near in concern. At her order, they all gave quick nods and hurried away. "Lu, are you ill? Where does it hurt? You've got to calm down, darling, and talk to me." Lucy could only shake her head. Susan looked up to see Peter and Edmund sprinting across the hall and into the corridor. Upon reaching their sisters, Peter bent down in front of Lucy and grasped both her hands, and Edmund dropped down at Lucy's other side, throwing an arm around her protectively.

"Lucy, what is it?" Peter searched her face imploringly. "What's happened?" He looked up at Susan, demanding an explanation, but she shook her head.

"I've no idea what's wrong. She burst out of the schoolroom and ran straight into me."

"Go and speak with her tutor. Now. I want answers," Peter commanded Susan, voice full of authority. She almost jumped up in her haste, hurrying across the hallway and disappearing into the schoolroom.

"I can't breathe," came the stifled gasp. Peter remained in front of her and placed a hand on her arm, unsure of what to do. He hated the feeling.

"Lean back." Peter's eyes snapped up to meet Edmund's, surprised.

"What?"

"Lean back. She needs pressure on her legs and I can't do that if you're hovering over her." Peter blinked, not quite understanding him.

"Lean back!" Edmund reached forward and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders, forcing him backward before throwing his leg over Lucy's smaller, shaking ones.

"Edmund, what-"

"She's having an anxiety attack," he turned to look at Lucy, "aren't you? Came out of nowhere, can't breathe, feel like you're going crazy and about to die?"

"You are my anchor

You're keeping my feet on the ground…"

Lucy nodded urgently. She met Edmund's eyes briefly, and wordlessly begged for help.

"What do we do?" Peter asked softly, realizing it felt odd taking direction from his little brother but choosing not to care; Lucy was more important.

"Pete, you're not going to like this, but stay out of the way. Don't even touch her."

"Why not?!"

"It's not personal. I'll explain everything later. I know what I'm doing, just give me a minute. Don't touch her." He spoke quickly, turning his attention back to Lucy. Peter furrowed his eyebrows, aghast. He couldn't remember a time he hadn't been allowed to pull Lucy as close as he could and comfort her in her distress.

"Breathe with me, Lu. In," he sucked in his breath slowly, exaggerated, so she could hear him over her gasping and the blood he knew was roaring in her ears, "out," and he blew it out in the same exaggerated manner. "Do it with me, Lu." She tried in vain to breathe steadily, but her breath continued to hitch so much that she could not draw a full one without much struggle. "It's alright. You're alright. You'll steady out. Keep breathing with me."

"In angry oceans, you've never broken, through every wave of the storm

You are my anchor, so steady me, steady me now…"

He led her in the same exercise again and again, never moving his arms from where he had them, never raising his voice. Peter watched him in awe. Edmund rarely used this tone of voice; Peter could think of a very specific three times that he had. Once when he had calmed a family of hysterical subjects in court when matters got messy and emotional and out of hand; once when he talked down one of his soldiers, poised high on the other side of the balcony, ready to take his own life (Edmund had succeeded, Aslan be praised), and once, Peter had heard him use it to calm Lucy down after a horrific nightmare. Now, he was using it to steady and calm his little sister, whose breathing had slowed significantly under Edmund's quiet insistence that she keep her eyes on him, keep doing it with him.

Susan returned, moving to sit back down next to Lucy, but Edmund shook his head. She looked back at Peter, indignant, but he reached out a hand to pull her down next to him on the floor where he sat, cross-legged. He put his arm around her and leaned in, speaking to her in a low voice. Susan then sat back in silent acceptance, fixing her gaze on her two younger siblings.

Lucy was breathing much easier, except for the occasional hitch, but she was extremely lightheaded, Edmund knew, from how her eyes were wandering and occasionally rolling. She was also trembling fiercely, her arms and legs, teeth even, seeming to have minds of their own.

"Luce," he said evenly, "what color is my shirt?"

"G-r-een," she mustered.

"Good. And Peter's shirt, what color is Peter's shirt?"

"B-blue."

"Yes. And Susan's skirt?"

"B-b-rown."

"Yes." He paused. Good, she was able to focus on one thing at a time and could get enough air to speak. He continued.

"3 words to describe me. Take as long as you need. Just 3 words. Any 3."

"Kind," came the first word. Edmund's lips turned up into a small smile. He waited for her to continue. Her trembling slowed just a bit as she focused her attention on what he had asked. "Brave." She gasped, coughed, and he ever so slightly tightened his hold on her shoulders.

"Don't let go

I know that I'll drown on my own…"

"Take your time. We'll all stay here all you like. No need to rush." She leaned over to put her head on his shoulder but he gently sat her up. "No, keep straight. If you lean it'll make it harder for you to breathe." She nodded and obeyed. "Alright, so you've got 'kind' and 'brave'. One more? Doesn't have to be as pleasant as those first two." They all smirked. She sat for a bit, her eyes growing heavy and shutting before snapping open, almost as if she were falling asleep.

"Here," she said finally.

"Sorry?"

"Here," she reached up and put her hand over the top of his. "You're here. That's nu-mber 3." Edmund kissed her cheek.

"Yes, I am." She was breathing almost normally now, steadying out just as Edmund had promised her that she would. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Could I ha-have water?" Peter jumped to his feet instantly, jogging off to the kitchen to fetch it for her. She looked up at him. "Thank you, Edmund," she whispered. He kissed her forehead. They sat there together, quietly, for a few minutes.

"You alright?" Edmund asked finally. She nodded."I think I'm basically fi-fine. I just feel tired."

"We'll get you some rest in a minute," he promised, reaching for the cup when Peter returned with it. He handed it to Lucy, but it trembled in her hand, splashing a bit on her dress. "Here, let me," he placed a hand over hers, steadying it so she was able to lift it to her lips and drink. She began to gulp. "Slowly, Lu, slowly. Don't choke."

How and where and when in the world had Edmund learned to do this? Peter shook his head, astonished. On any other given day, Edmund practically ignored his little sister, except to occasionally pull the binding off her braid as she passed, or poke her in the side, or grab her 'round the waist and carry her all the way to the opposite end of wherever she was going before scurrying away, evading her attempts to smack him. Here, Peter saw Edmund fully attuned to her every breath, moving with her when she moved, remaining increasingly calm in response to her panic. He hadn't even known that Edmund was capable of such behavior if he was honest, but he didn't think he should be surprised. Edmund was full of wondrous skill, but unlike Peter, he was not often quick or eager to show it off, unsheathing the weapons of his knowledge and talent only when necessary. This, Peter, supposed, had certainly been necessary.

Lucy finished her drink and leaned heavily back onto Edmund's shoulder. Satisfied with her current state, he let her.

"Lucy," Susan spoke finally, "would...would you like to have a nap?" Edmund looked at her but decided to let her intervene, as Lucy was doing a bit better now. He felt Lucy nod next to him.

"Could I, um," Peter cleared his throat, "could I escort you upstairs, darling?" She nodded again.

"If you need anything, Lucy, anything, you ring your bell and have one of the servants find me, alright? I'll not leave the grounds today." Edmund pulled his sister just a little closer before Peter reached for her. Peter and Susan both reeled a bit at Edmund's request of, "have one of the servants find me," as opposed to "find us". Still, they supposed, Edmund had gotten her this far all on his own. It was probably only natural for him to be focusing solely on what he could do for her; they hadn't helped much.

"Thanks, Ed," she reached up to brush her fingers across his cheek. "I will."

"Good girl." Then, and only then, did Edmund relinquish his hold on her, allowing Peter to help her up ("Slowly! Don't pull on her so, Pete!" He had insisted), gather her into his arms, and carry her upstairs.

"In angry oceans, you've never broken through every wave of the storm

You are my anchor, so steady me, steady me now…"

To be continued.