Chapter Text
Night had always been a time of quiet rituals for Peter and Edmund, a moment of grounding after the chaos of war. In the dark, Peter would press his ear to Edmund’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat like a lifeline. It was the only thing that could soothe his restless mind and silence the fears that whispered in the quiet.
Edmund, ever patient, would stroke Peter’s hair gently, a calming gesture that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
“I’m here,” he’d murmur softly.
“I’m alive. I’m fine.” And Peter would cling to him tighter, murmuring something unintelligible into his chest, his grip firm as if to anchor himself to the present.
Even now, years later, the habit remained. Though Edmund was twenty and Peter older, neither seemed to care about how childish it might appear to anyone else. It was their unspoken bond, a tradition born from shared trauma and an unshakable love.
But on nights when Edmund was the one injured—his body too weak to hold Peter’s weight—he would simply take Peter’s hand, press it to his chest, and smile faintly.
“It’s still beating my Liege,” he’d say, reassuring his brother in the simplest way possible.
And when the roles were reversed, when Peter was the one wounded and struggling, it was Edmund who would anxiously wait by his side, his gaze never straying until Peter opened his eyes again.
Those moments of vulnerability were theirs alone, untouched by the world. Even as they returned to England and left Narnia behind, the habit lingered like a piece of their shared story, woven into the fabric of their lives.
Which was why, when Edmund fainted one day after being accidentally struck by a stray baseball on the school field, Peter had reacted as if they were still in the middle of a battlefield.
Edmund had only been crossing the field on his way to another class when the ball collided with his temple, sending him crumpling to the ground.
The moment Peter heard the commotion and saw his brother lying there, everything else faded.
Now, in the school’s small infirmary, Peter was pressed tightly against Edmund on the narrow bed, his arms wrapped around him like a lifeline. His ear rested against Edmund’s chest, listening intently to the heartbeat beneath. The steady rhythm brought a fragile sense of relief, though his body refused to let go of the tension entirely.
“Peter,” Edmund said, his voice laced with amusement, though his tone was soft.
“This is embarrassing..” Edmund whisper with blushing on his cheeks
“Don’t care,” Peter muttered into his chest, holding on even tighter, His fingers curled slightly in Edmund’s shirt, holding onto him like he might vanish at any moment. “Just let me stay like this for a little while longer.”
Edmund chuckled, the sound low and fond.
“It was just a baseball, not an arrow, or sword Pete, I’ll live.”
Peter didn’t respond. His grip remained firm, his face buried against Edmund’s shirt. The nurse standing nearby raised an eyebrow at the sight but ultimately said nothing, merely shaking her head in disbelief.
Edmund sighed, his hand coming up to ruffle Peter’s hair affectionately. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”
Peter finally mumbled something into his chest, the words muffled but unmistakably stubborn.
“Don’t scare me like that again.”
A soft smile spread across Edmund’s face as he rested his chin on Peter’s head, letting the moment linger. Embarrassing or not, this was Peter, and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.
"Not promise..". Edmund could hear Peter groaning in his chest as he said that. Then, Edmund glanced down at Peter with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I hope you didn’t cry when I fainted earlier.”
Peter stiffened slightly, then lifted his head just enough to glare half-heartedly at him.
“Of course not,” he said, though the redness around his eyes betrayed him.
Edmund smirked. “Sure you didn’t.”
Peter huffed, resting his head back down with a muttered,
“Shut up.”
Edmund just chuckled, his hand resuming its soothing strokes through Peter’s hair. No matter how much time passed, some things never changed.