A/N: Hello, there. I have another Narnia story. Because that wasn't completely obvious. I mean, it's not like I posted this in the Narnia category or anything. But welcome to my story! There are a few POV changes in this fic, but they're separated so avoid confusion. I hope nobody gets too confused. Also, this isn't necessarily related to Winter Blues and Downcast Summer. If you want to lump them together in the same universe, you can, but I didn't purposefully write them in the same verse. So it's up to you.

I meant to mention this in Downcast Summer, but Edmund and Peter talking about the party after their coronation and Peter dropping the girl he's dancing with came straight from the LWW blooper reel. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go look it up right now on youtube. Go! Right now! I'll wait. You won't regret it.

...

Toldja you wouldn't regret it.

Now, onward!

Disclaimer: This turkey's been in my yard since yesterday. I still have no idea where it came from. My sister says you know you live in the backwoods when a turkey just shows up in your yard out of nowhere. She's not wrong.

There was no way he could do this.

None.

He didn't have the strength.

Sure, he'd fought in countless wars and battles. Killed innumerable enemies. Written and presented peace treaties. He was king of a nation for fifteen years. A great nation, of the greatest age that nation had ever known.

But this was different.

There was just no way he could do this. Especially not by himself.

It was too daunting, too terrifying.

Too unknown.

These were the thoughts running through Edmund Pevensie's mind as he stared up at the school building before him. His older brother stood next to him, and judging by the look on Peter's face, he felt the same way.

Both boys knew that they were, for the most part, on their own here. They may have been on the same campus, but they were four years apart in age. This meant they would be in different buildings, and there would be little contact between them. Neither brother was prepared for the separation, small as it was.

But then, after everything they'd faced, it wasn't really that small at all.

Peter and Edmund Pevensie had lived every day of their lives together. Growing up in the same house as small children, then ruling Narnia together for fifteen years. They'd barely spent any time apart.

But now they had to go their separate ways, to their own age groups. With deep sighs, the brothers shared a look, then proceeded to their dorms.

The transition from king to schoolboy wasn't an easy one. And Edmund was sure it was even more difficult for Peter, as he'd been High King. Though all four siblings ruled as equals, Peter's word was the final one. One of his siblings or friends may have come up with the plans of action or solutions to a problem, but it was Peter who ordered they be put into action. The only time the decision was out of Peter's hands was when he was away, leaving the responsibility to Edmund.

So Edmund tried to find time to visit with Peter as often as he could, and Peter did the same. They always could read each other like a book. There was nothing they didn't know about each other. Both brothers found great comfort in this. It meant they could trust each other with everything, without any fear of judgment or condemnation.

Which is why they hated having to sleep in separate buildings.

As a result of leading armies into battle on so many occasions, both Peter and Edmund were plagued by nightmares. They would see the faces of the men and creatures they'd killed, the lives they'd taken right before their eyes. They both hated not having each other to turn to when the dreams got really bad, and seeing the confused and worried faces of their roommates didn't help matters either.

But they were slowly adjusting.

Over the weeks, the boys had created a routine, one that was completely separate from their school schedule.

Peter and Edmund spent lunch together everyday, talking about what was on their minds that day. Sometimes they would talk about the dreams and memories that haunted them, but mostly they talked about the good memories, the ones of their days in Narnia, ruling the land they loved almost as much as they loved each other. And every night, they would sneak out to the garden after supper for a short while, taking comfort in each other's presence before they had to go to bed.

While this time together helped the brothers, they still had their bad days. They just came to accept it as a part of their new lives. Though that didn't mean they had to like it.

Professor Robert Cunningham had seen many things in his years as a teacher. He'd seen students from all backgrounds, boys with varying learning abilities. He thought he'd seen it all. But when the Pevensie boys came, they brought Mr. Cunningham something he hadn't seen before.

For one, those boys didn't seem like boys at all. Oh sure, they still had a very boyish humor from time to time. But they carried themselves like men. Their eyes held something... a wisdom that even some adults didn't have. As if they'd lived through things that nobody should ever have to. But they hid it well. Just glancing at them, one would see nothing more than two brothers that loved each other.

But Mr. Cunningham could see much more.

And it really concerned him at times.

These were the thoughts in his mind the day he was teaching his history class about the Crusades. Normally, it was a favorite subject with his students. What adolescent boy didn't like studying about wars?

But he got a different reaction from Edmund Pevensie.

Sitting in the middle of the room, the young boy was frozen in his seat. "Mr. Pevensie," the teacher called hesitantly. The glazed eyes and look of almost horror concerned Mr. Cunningham. "Mr. Pevensie, are you alright?"

There was no answer from the boy. Mr. Cunningham approached Edmund's desk and slowly knelt down to look him in the eye. "Mr. Pevensie," he said again, hoping to get the boy's attention.

Mr. Cunningham's concern ratcheted up to worry when Edmund began shaking and his eyes grew wide. "Mr. Porter," he addressed a nearby student, "run to the upper building and find Peter Pevensie. Quickly!"

As the boy did as told, Mr. Cunningham could only hope to reach his traumatized student before any harm could be done.

Though he had a very bored expression on his face as he sat through his literature class, Peter Pevensie was a high strung bundle of nerves. He didn't know exactly what had him so on edge, but he did know it must have something to do with his brother.

After so many years fighting side by side, Peter knew how to tell when Edmund was in danger. It was like a sixth sense he'd developed. And it was very rarely wrong.

Oh, how he hoped this would be one of the rare times it was wrong. 'Ed, please be alright,' he begged mentally as he tried to make himself pay attention to the lesson again. But his fears couldn't be laid aside.

And Peter's premonition was proved right when a boy in the lower class came banging on the classroom door. Professor Wright barely had the door open when the boy burst into the room. "Peter Pevensie?!" he demanded loudly.

Peter felt ice shoot down his back. 'Edmund,' he thought with dread.

"There's something wrong with Pevensie," the younger boy reported. "Professor Cunningham sent me to come get you right away!"

Without even responding, Peter shot out of his desk and ran to the front of the room. "Take me to him," he ordered, not even caring how it made him sound. His brother was in trouble. Nothing else mattered when Edmund needed him.

Time moved much too slowly as Peter ran to the lower building. He couldn't get to Edmund fast enough, and he could tell the kid next to him wasn't faring much better. But finally, they reached their destination, and both boys slid to a halt. Peter wasn't even winded as he weaved his way between the desks to get to his brother. "Ed?" he called softly, hoping his voice would draw the younger boy back out.

Edmund was still frozen and shaking in his desk, not hearing Peter's words. "Edmund, it's me. It's Peter. You're safe." Gentle, practiced hands reached out to take smaller shaking ones, his thumbs ghosting softly over Edmund's knuckles. "Remember, Ed? We're back at school. We're safe here. Nothing can get us." Peter turned to the professor. "What's the lesson on today?"

"The Crusades," Mr. Cunningham answered cluelessly. Peter let out a soft, mild curse, but he didn't care if the teacher or the younger boys had heard him.

"Edmund, listen to me. You're not there anymore." Peter thought that may have been the wrong thing to say, but he had to find some way to bring Edmund out of his memories. "Please, Edmund. Tell me what you're seeing."

"B-" Edmund mumbled, bringing great relief to his brother.

"Tell me, Ed. What are you seeing?"

"Beruna," the younger boy breathed, his voice so soft, Peter almost didn't hear him.

But he had heard him. And it broke his heart. "You're not there, Ed. Remember? We're in England." Peter ignored the confused looks he could feel on his back. "Beruna was years ago. How long ago was it? Do the math, Ed." Edmund didn't answer. "Sixteen. Beruna was sixteen years ago."

"But I can still feel it," Edmund whispered fearfully. "The ice wand. Th-the Witch is going to kill you, Peter. I have to break her wand."

"You did, Ed. You broke her wand and saved me. You saved so many others. Her wand was her greatest weapon, and you destroyed it." Edmund still wasn't really hearing his brother. Peter let go of his brother's hands and moved them up to gently cup his face. "Come back, Edmund. Come back to me, my King."

This seemed to do the trick, as Edmund's tremors slowly began to decrease. "That's it, Ed. Remember? You're the Just King. My most trusted companion. Come back to your High King."

Tears filled the younger boy's eyes as they finally began to focus. "P-peter?" he asked softly.

One of Peter's hands dropped to grasp Edmund's hand. "I'm here, Ed." He felt Edmund grip his hand and press it to his side. "Is your scar hurting?"

Edmund shook his head jerkily. "It doesn't hurt."

"Do you just want me to rub your scar?" Peter offered. At Edmund's nod, Peter extracted his hand and massaged the scarred skin soothingly. He'd discovered not long after Beruna that rubbing Edmund's stab wound had a calming effect on his brother.

His other hand threaded through his brother's dark hair. "Have you been having nightmares?" Edmund nodded again. "What are they about?"

"S-sometimes, I see th-the Witch. Sometimes it's other wars, other battles we've fought. But most of the time, I dream that I'll never get to go back. That we'll never go back to Narnia, and we'll be stuck here in England forever."

"I'm sure that's not going to happen." At least, Peter hoped that would never happen. His greatest wish was to return to Narnia, his kingdom and his home. "We're the kings, remember? We have to at least visit and make sure our country is being governed the right way."

"We don't want Telmar to take over," Edmund quipped. It was the sweetest thing Peter could possibly hear at that moment.

"I'd prefer Telmar over Calormen. Could you imagine Narnia with temples of Tash all over the place?"

"The great Tisroc, may he live forever," Edmund mocked. It made both of them chuckle softly. "That was the stupidest religion I'd ever encountered. And we've encountered a lot of stupid things, haven't we?"

"Just one of the hazards of being king of the greatest land in the world." Silence settled over the brothers for a moment. It was a much calmer silence, a comfortable one. "How are you feeling now, Ed?"

"I feel like I miss our kingdom," Edmund mumbled sadly.

"I miss her, too," Peter whispered. He leaned his brother down and touched his forehead to his own. "But I'm sure Aslan has a plan. We have to trust in him to watch over us and Narnia. Besides, he wouldn't keep us away from our true home, would he?" Edmund shook his head, and Peter could feel him finally calming down. "Let's go get some fresh air," Peter proposed, rising to his feet and pulling Edmund up with him. "The garden will raise our spirits."

"It does look a bit like the gardens at Cair Paravel," Edmund agreed. The two walked out without even a glance at Mr. Cunningham or the other boys. They both needed the break, the time with each other away from everyone else around them. And as they settled under one of the trees in the courtyard, the brothers let go of the schoolboy personas and embraced their inner Narnian King.

At the end of class, Mr. Cunningham looked out the window to the courtyard garden. More specifically, to the two boys sitting together under one of the trees. Never had he seen the Pevensie boys more relaxed than they were at this very moment. And after the scare earlier, he was grateful for this.

Mr. Cunningham shook his head in amusement. Those brothers were something else, that was for sure. He couldn't quite put his finger on why they were so different, though Peter saying something about kings seemed to fit.

Whatever it was, he was just glad Edmund had been able to come back from whatever horrible memories he'd been seeing. From the expression on his face and the fear in his eyes, the memories must have been terrifying. Mr. Cunningham could only hope his student never had to face such horrors again.

Though, if the way Peter took care of his brother was any indication, Edmund didn't have anything to worry about. They would be just fine, as long as they had each other.

A/N: I write these boys angsty, don't I? But I can't help it! I love the bro-angst and the bro-snuggles! You can't hold that against me. It's too cute and precious. Please review! I love hearing your thoughts about my stuff. Thanks!