Only a month later, the same two emissaries straggled into camp. Edmund happened to be striding hurriedly to Peter's tent to ask about sending the women home – all three were grumbling and complaining no end about the awful conditions and frankly, Edmund was sick of it – when he noticed a bright flash of the opposing colors. The place was in chaos preparing for another attack, and it appeared that no one had noticed the pair. Hand on his sword hilt, Edmund changed direction and cut them off.

Facing them, sword half out of its scabbard, Edmund cleared his throat. The pair both started and terror flickered across their faces. One thrust a bedraggled olive branch towards him. "P-please, Your Majesty," the other stammered, "we come with a treaty."

"It better be an unconditional surrender," Edmund threatened darkly. He remembered the last treaty – Sam's hand in marriage! Over my cold, dead body, he swore to himself.

"W-we don't know, Sire," the one with the olive branch stuttered. "We don't get to read the messages, just deliver them."

"It better be," Edmund repeated. He let his sword go, and it dropped back into its scabbard with a grating, harsh noise. He turned abruptly on the heel of his boot and motioned angrily at the emissaries. "Come on," he snapped. He led them through the bustling camp to the pavilion where they'd been received a month ago.

Halfway there, Edmund faintly heard one of the men mutter, "How can they live amongst these filthy animals? Why, these creatures are no better than pigs!"

With a roar of rage, Edmund swung around, sword in hand. "Pigs?!" he thundered. "You have the nerve to call these brave, dignified creatures pigs?! That may well be a compliment coming from scum like you, you filthy lowlife bas-" He was cut off by a soft hand on his elbow. He couldn't see her face, but he knew Sam's touch.

"Calm down," she murmured in his ear. "You can't kill the messengers if they come with a peace treaty."

"Sure I can," he muttered darkly, sheathing his sword. "Watch me." He heard her quiet laugh and, relaxing a fraction, jerked he hand towards the pavilion and stalked towards it, Sam in tow. Peter, Lucy, and Susan awaited them, looking a good deal more royal than the furious Edmund dragging Sam.

Peter held out his hand for the treaty scroll, wasting no time on formalities. His siblings and Sam gathered around him to read over his shoulder.

High King Peter

Queen Susan

King Edmund

Queen Lucy

Lady Samantha (Here, Edmund scowled and muttered, "Queen Samantha." Lucy groaned and remarked, "This looks too long to be an unconditional surrender)

I ask Lady Samantha's hand in marriage in exchange for my complete surrender. In addition to my total surrender I will send to you:

100 pounds of the finest grain

300 bottles of the finest wine

(And a list of his offers followed)

As Sam read over the list of items the king offered in exchange for her hand, she grew more and more worried. He offered land, gold, food – all sorts of things in great quantities. It was a good offer. The Pevensies would be fools not to take it.

Peter looked up and dismissed the emissaries to a refreshment tent. Then he turned to his siblings. "This is a good offer. In fact, it is a spectacular offer," he began, and Sam clung to Edmund. His jaw set in anger and his eyes full of rage, he wrapped strong arms around her shoulders. He opened his mouth to protest, but Peter held up a hand.

"It is a good offer," he repeated. "But we will not take it. We were preparing for an attack before this message came." He took a deep breath and said, "Let this be our most ferocious yet."

The siblings strode off in search of their armour and weapons, but Edmund and Sam remained on the pavilion. The scroll lay forgotten on a table. Edmund glanced at it and shook his head.

"Never," he muttered. "Never will I turn you over to him."

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Edmund tilted her face up to meet her eyes. "Did you honestly think I would?"

"Not you," Sam admitted, "but maybe Peter."

"I wouldn't let him," Edmund disagreed. "Sorry, love, but you're not going anywhere."

Sam grinned and shifted to her tiptoes to peck him on the lips. He caught her face and kissed her in earnest, leaving her gasping and her head spinning.

"Damn it, Edmund," she gasped out.

"What, not used to me having power over you?" he teased. Still breathless, she shook her head. He laughed. "Get used to it," he told her, kissing her again.

"Hey, you two! Get a room after the war's over!" Peter shouted. He motioned to them, and the trio joined the throng of soldiers heading to battle.

"I'm getting really annoyed with this guy," Edmund remarked to Sam halfway through the battle as they both watched the king sit high above his dying soldiers in a gilded throne. "Just watching his people die like that. But I could've really used the gold and diamonds he offered."

Sam could only wonder and hope at what he meant by that.

Peter threw open the doors to the castle and drew in a deep breath. "Home!" he called. "At last." Then he spotted Andy lurking in a corner, and both of them disappeared for a while. Susan, Lucy, Edmund and Sam came rushing through the door just in time to find him leaving, Andy in tow. Caspian was perched on the staircase and he swept Susan off her feet as soon as she entered. Lucy disappeared, muttering something about being the only one without a sweetheart, and Edmund and Sam dashed up the stairs to their rooms. They were both grimy and dusty from the long trip, but energized by the thought of being home at last.

"Thank Aslan. That stupid king. Finally surrendered," Edmund panted when he reached the doorway. He grinned and added, "Now you're all mind."

Sam laughed and kissed his softly, quickly. "Of course I am, love." Then she dashed towards the bathroom, leaving faint brown footprints behind her, and shouted over her shoulder, "I call the first bath."

Edmund slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. "All mine," he moaned. "Is it too late to return you?"

Later that evening, both of them lay on Edmund's bed, Edmund's hair tousled and still wet. Sam was wearing the nightgown, and though she wasn't too happy about it, Edmund was ecstatic.

"After all," he said, "it's me or that horrid king. I think even I win that comparison."

"True," Sam agreed. Then she sighed and shook her head in mock remorse. "Such slim pickings."

Edmund smacked her playfully on the arm. "That wasn't very nice."

She shrugged. "You were just the lesser of two evils," she teased. "Don't get cocky about it."

"Any way you put it, I'm better than that idiot king. As if I'd let you marry him…"

"What are you, my mother? I could have married him if I felt like it."

Edmund's mouth fell open. "S-Sam," he stammered. "I-I mean…Of course you could have…but I thought you'd rather…" he trailed off, flushing.

Sam winced and shook her head. "No, no, Edmund, that's not what I…Oh, I was joking! I don't want to marry him, I want to…Well, I don't want to marry him." She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her elbows on Edmund's chest. "Don't look so sad. I promise I was only joking!" She leaned forward and kissed him softly. He reached up and pushed his fingers through her hair, hanging down and tousled instead of pulled back like usual.

When Sam pulled back, she let out a contented sigh. She herself barely heard it, but Edmund's ears practically pricked up like a dog's. "What's that? Is our Queen happy with 'the lesser of two evils?'"

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," she told him. Then she thought back to his earlier words. "What did you mean earlier, when you said you thought I'd rather? I'd rather what?"

Edmund flushed again. "I-…Well, I didn't really mean anything, I just…" Then he remembered, "Hey, you said it too! You said, 'I don't want to marry him, I want to…" and then you just stopped."

It was Sam's turn to blush. "Well, what I meant was…I…" She ducked her head and buried it in Edmund's shirt. He tangled his fingers in her hair again and propped his head on his other elbow. It feels so…right, he thought, her in my arms…

"Sam?" he asked after a moment's thought. "Were you going to say you want to marry me?"

He barely heard it, but he definitely heard it: a tiny whisper, quiet like cat's feet, "Yes."

"Sam?" he asked again.

"Hm?"

"Will you marry me?"

Sam jerked her head up, eyes wide with shock, but even as she searched his face for some sort of explanation she was grinning.

"Really?" she asked, again, not above a whisper.

"Really," he whispered back, moving his hand from her hair to her cheek. He stroked her cheekbone, let his fingertips touch lightly to her lips, and trailed his hand down her neck to trace the contours of her collarbone.

"Edmund?" she whispered. "It makes it really hard to think when you do that."

He smirking and pushed lightly on the strap of her nightgown. Without much resistance, it slid down her shoulder. "Then just say yes, silly girl, and let me help you stop thinking." He was enjoying this new, submissive Sam.

"Ok," she said.

"Ok, what?" he asked, removing his hand. She frowned in distaste.

"Ok, I'll marry you," she sighed. "Really. I'm thinking a bit more clearly now, and it seems like a good idea."

"Seems?" he teased.

"Of course, you never can know, what with the lesser of two evils. Perhaps I would've been better off with that king." For a brief moment, she turned serious, and murmured, "I love you, Edmund."

"I love you, too," he answered, his voice thick. Then he swiftly flipped them over, so she was pinned beneath him. "Now, about marrying that king," he continued. "I'm not too keen on that, so I think I'll have to convince you I'm worth your while and claim you for mine. I don't have a ring – yet – but I'll get one. In the meantime, I have other ways."

"Other ways?" Sam asked, her voice full of mock doubt. Edmund kissed her roughly and smirked a bit to himself as she gasped into his mouth and locked her fingers in his hair. Already she was melting.

He pulled away briefly and answered her. "Of course. And if they don't work, I just remembered something." Without getting off her, he reached into a drawer by his bed and produced a ring. "It seems I might've sent Lucy and Susan off to get this before the war. Just in case."

"Edmund," Sam gasped. "It's beautiful."

"I would get down on bent knee and all that, but as long as you're sure, I don't think I'll bother with that. I'm busy at the moment."

"I'm sure," she promised, and pulled his lips to hers again.

The End