Miscreants and Murderers

by King Caspian the Seafarer

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, or any of the characters, places, or anything else therein.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my younger brother, who is frighteningly like Corin, and also to everyone who wishes there were more fics out there about Edmund having a younger brother. Like Corin. ;)

Note: I'm also posting this first chapter on May 6th, which happens to be the birthday of my good friend Queen Su! Happy Birthday, Su! Sorry VDT isn't coming out on the 7th anymore! *sigh*

To everyone else, yes, this is the long awaited Miscreants and Murderers I've been working on for ages! Tis a tale of the Golden Age, mostly from King Edmund's point of view. I shall be posting new chapters every Friday and Monday (or I'm planning to, anyway). Please enjoy, and please, please review!!!

--Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening--

In the fresh, Narnian summer air, a young man reclined against an apple tree, his eyes closed in sleep. His dark hair was tangled, and a thin silver crown peeked out from behind his thick locks. A bee buzzed busily by the young man. The sleepy summer afternoon was as peaceful as any.

THUMP.

A strange noise marred the perfection of the silent afternoon. The young man shifted ever so slightly in his sleep, but otherwise ignored the interruption.

THUMP.

He groaned, and then rolled over, away from the annoying noise.

----------------------------------------------------

THUMP!

"Ouch!"

I jerked awake with a cry as a small, hard object struck the top of my head. Rubbing the aching spot sleepily, I blinked twice, and then shook my dark brown hair out of my eyes. I looked around slowly until my gaze found the object that had come into contact with my head, only one among many of other similar objects that lay on the grass around me.

"An apple?"

I picked up the brilliant red fruit with my right hand and stared at it in confusion. My thoughts were muddled, but eventually, an intelligent thought broke through the fog.

Apple. I'm under an apple tree.

I looked up. It took all of one second to see the bright red object hurtling down toward me, and to realize that it was yet another apple.

It took all of two seconds for me to realize that it was going to hit me in the face. By that time, it was too late.

"Ouch!" I yelped as the apple, rock hard, struck me just below my right eye.

My hand flew to my eye. Still there. I shook my head, and then groaned.

So much for a sleepy summer afternoon.

THUMP.

Another apple hit the ground inches away from me. Even in my sleepy state, I knew that no ordinary apple tree sheds apples at such a rate. Rolling over out from under the tree quickly, I rose to my feet and then stepped carefully back under the tree.

THUMP.

I barely managed to avoid being hit, yet again, by yet another bright red apple. This time, however, I did manage to see the part of the tree from where the apple had fallen.

"Lion's mane, what are you doing?" I shouted angrily up into the tree, whether at bird, animal, or human, I honestly didn't know.

"It's about time you noticed me," a voice said. "That's the fifteenth apple I've thrown at you. I've almost run out."

I peered up into the leafy branches, trying to catch sight of the speaker.

"Where are you? How did you get up there?" I asked, clenching my hands into fists with an effort to keep from sounding angry. "Why were you throwing apples at me?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" the voice asked teasingly. "Why are grownups always so dull? How do you think I got up here? I climbed."

So it was a child. A boy by his voice. Perhaps seven or eight years old. Cheeky little blighter. Didn't seem to have an accent like most of the peasant children did. That told me that he must not have been raised in the country. So he was raised in a castle, or large city. Perhaps he was the son of a lord, or maybe a young Faun. Fauns rarely had distinct accents. Of course, Fauns couldn't climb trees very easily. It must be a human.

So it was a seven-year-old human boy, who lived in a castle, possible nobility.

"Why were you throwing apples at me?" I asked again.

"You were snoring," the unseen boy replied. "Besides…who wants to sleep on a day like this?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

I did.

"I don't snore," I said irritably. "Come down here so I can see you."

"Why don't you come up here?" retorted the voice. "And you were snoring. I heard you. Unless that was your stomach growling. Are you hungry? Would you like another apple?"

I growled, and glared up at the branches.

"If you don't come down here in the next five seconds…"

"Are you threatening me?" asked the boy, his voice challenging and unafraid. "I don't think you're really in a position to threaten me. You're probably just afraid to climb this high."

I sighed again, shaking my head.

"I certainly am in a position to threaten you, and if you don't come down in the next few seconds than I'll—"

THUMP.

Another apple fell from the tree and hit me on the shoulder. My brown eyes narrowed, and I picked up the apple. Glancing up at the tree, I took a step back and took aim. Then, praying my judge of where the voice came from was not too far off, I threw the apple as hard as I could.

"Ouch!" the boy's voice yelped.

One of the branches shook, and I grinned in satisfaction. The leaves on the branch shook harder, and two legs appeared. Then, as I stepped out of the way, a slim figure fell from the tree and landed hard on his back on the grass.

The boy, as I had suspected, was about seven years old. His sandy blond hair hung in his eyes. The lad tossed his head back, and I couldn't help but grinning at the sight of the boy's vivid blue eyes and freckled face. He was dressed in a simple green tunic with brown trousers, both covered in mud and dirt; but with one look at the cloth, I knew that the lad's clothes were not merely cheap peasant's clothing.

"Thank you for coming down," I said, raising an eyebrow as I looked the lad over. "I appreciate your promptness."

The boy grinned up at me.

"My promptness was due to your well thrown apple. Otherwise you would have had to climb up to see me."

I grinned back. I couldn't help it; the boy's smile was infectious. Shaking himself off, the boy rose carefully to his feet. His merry blue eyes twinkled, and I immediately realized that though my prisoner was a scamp, he was a likable scamp.

"What is your name?" I asked.

The boy fidgeted, as if he was thinking about telling a lie, but then shrugged.

"Corin. What's yours?"

Corin. An odd name. Archenlandish by the sound of it. But what was an Archenlandish boy doing in one of the innermost courtyards of Cair Paravel?

"Edmund," I said, sticking my hand out.

Corin took my hand and shook it, nodding his head politely.

"Nice to meet you. Sorry about the apples."

I gave him a sly look, and then shook my head.

"No you're not."

Corin's eyes widened, and then he grinned and laughed.

"No, not really, but it's still polite to apologize."

"It's all right," I found myself saying. "I used to throw apples at my brother, and I never was the least bit sorry."

"You have a brother?" the boy asked, glancing up at me jealously, the smile almost vanishing. "You're lucky."

"Why?"

"I don't have one," Corin said forlornly, looking away. But then his face brightened as he looked me over again. "Maybe you could be my brother!"

I let out a laugh and shook my head.

"I don't think so. I have enough trouble with a younger sister."

I sat down on the grass, grabbing one of the apples from the ground. Corin did the same.

"What are you doing here?" I asked indifferently, taking a sweet, juicy bite of my red cheeked apple.

"Well, I got tired of waiting for Father. He's busy inside the castle, you know. And one of the ladies said I could look for the orchard, because I said I was hungry, and then I saw you sleeping under the tree. You were snoring."

"I don't snore," I said, repeating my earlier statement.

The boy shrugged, grinning again.

"Well then it must have been the mouse in your pocket."

I stared at him.

"I don't have a mouse in my pocket," I replied in bewilderment.

Corin stared at me. His smile faded, but the twinkle in his eyes did not.

"I was making a joke," he said slowly, as if speaking to a young child. "You know…something one laughs at?"

I raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"First joke I've heard in a while."

"Really? That's terrible," Corin remarked, shaking his head sadly. "Maybe you could come and stay with Father and me at Anvard. Then you'd hear plenty of jokes."

"Maybe I will," I murmured absently as I processed this new information.

So he was from Archenland. The castle Anvard, even. He said his father had business inside the Cair. Who was his father? And what treaty or assembly was going on today that involved an Archenlander?

I felt like the answer was right before me, but I couldn't grasp it. I closed my eyes in frustration and tried to remember.

Suddenly, an apple hit me on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" I shouted, my eyes popping open again and my right hand flying to my stinging arm.

Corin, mischievous grin dancing across his face, had two apples in his hands, and fired another at me. I ducked and grabbed an apple from the ground, thrusting it Corin's way.

"Hey!" Corin laughed as the apple whizzed past him, barely missing his left leg. "Can't you aim better than that?"

I growled playfully and fired another apple at the boy, throwing it rather harder and higher than I meant to. It caught Corin directly in the mouth. He cried out and stumbled backward, putting his hand to his lips. I frowned and stepped carefully over to him. When his fingers came away, they were covered in blood. He was holding something in his hand, and he stared at it, first in horror, and then in delight.

"Corin? Are you all right?"

As he looked up, his eyes were sparkling. He smiled, and suddenly I understood.

One of his front teeth was missing.

Su's going to have my head.

Even though he was bleeding profusely, I had to admit that he looked fascinatingly—I shudder to say it—cute. He reminded me of Lucy. She had lost both of her front teeth within several days of each other, and had gone around for weeks smiling with a horribly adorable hole in her line of perfect white teeth. His golden hair, his cerulean eyes…it was like seeing my sister at seven all over again—or what she would have been had she been born a boy.

Corin smiled as he stared down at the tiny white tooth in his palm.

"It's been loose for months," he said, his words a bit slurred together, as his tongue was busy exploring the new hole in his line of smooth teeth. "I was hoping it would come out soon. I've been wiggling it—and the one next to it."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion and gave him a look.

"You mean…you wanted it to fall out?"

Corin stared at me like I was insane.

"Of course! In fact, I guess I sort of owe you a favor now."

After a moment, Corin grinned at me—revealing again that horrible, wonderful gap—and reached into his tunic.

"Do you want a sweet cake?" he asked, holding out a small brown object that resembled a cookie, though it was rather crumbly.

"Rather," I replied, taking the cake and grinning at him. "All this apple throwing can make one awfully hungry."

I tasted it.

That's funny. It tastes like the sweet cakes that Cook makes. But that's impossible. They're her special recipe. She guards her sweet cakes like they're treasure…

…which isn't far from the truth.

"Where did you get this?" I asked Corin.

The boy fidgeted, glancing down at the apple in his hands.

"The kitchen."

"The kitchen?"

"Yes…good, isn't it?"

I watched the lad suspiciously.

"Very. In fact, it's almost too good to be true."

"A man gave some to me," Corin remarked, taking a big, juicy bite out of the apple, wincing because it was hard to take a bite of an apple with only one front tooth, and then giving me a curious look. "He seemed very nervous. Almost like he wanted me to go away. Then he said he heard the cook coming and that I had better run."

My brow furrowed in thought as I processed this new information.

"HELP! HELP, MURDER!" came a shriek from inside the castle.

Both Corin and I turned toward the archway that led inside. A plump, red-faced woman wearing a brown tunic and white apron rushed into the courtyard.

"King Edmund!" she screamed upon spotting me, her brown eyes wild and filled with fear and horror. "My assistant has been murdered!"

To be continued...