A/N So here you have, three days late, my Christmas story. But hey, at least you have it, right?

My Saviour. Thank you for coming to earth as a baby, dying for me, and rising again. I love you.

My mother. You're just Awesome.

And to King Caspian the Seafarer. Thanks for putting up with my rambling thoughts and whimsies. My gratitude will last until the Stars come home and the mountains fall into the sea.

And now, for the story. Enjoy.

The guard padded up and down, up and down the cold stone corridor on silent paws, so dark himself as to be well nigh invisible against the night.

He passed the plain wooden door that guarded blankets and towels and then passed the ornately carved wooden door that guarded Her Majesty Queen Lucy the Valiant.

As soon as the guard completed the turn and was going back the other way, the door cracked open and a silent figure slipped out. Or rather, nearly a silent figure.

The guard whirled around, fangs bared, then seeing whom it was closed his mouth hastily. "Your Majesty! What are you – I mean, oughtn't you –"?

"-be in bed?" Lucy finished for him with a smile, "Yes, I suppose I ought, but you see –" she looked around and lowered her voice, even though everyone should have been in bed save the guards and nocturne animals (most of whom – like the Panther – were nocturne animals anyway) "You see, Edmund left me a note telling me to come down to the kitchens tonight, because –"

"Because Cook is away," the Panther supplied, only just keeping from smiling. Cook's forbidding of anyone 'sneaking' into the kitchens that wasn't supposed to be there, as well as the two youngest tetrarch's forever trying to do it, was a longstanding castle joke.

"Yes, I suppose that's it," Lucy said, laughing a little. "So, will you be so kind as to not tell Peter or Susan? They – well, you know."

The Panther bowed. "Of course, My Queen."

"Thank you." Lucy flashed him a brilliant smile and ran lightly down the corridor to the backstairs, which led directly to the kitchens. Even this narrow stairway was cheerfully decorated with holly and smelt heavily of spicy pine.

As she came to the foot of the stairs she heard voices and low laughter. Peeping 'round the corner she saw Edmund and Peridan sitting with Soot and Vulcan, one of the Red Dwarfs from the smithy two days journey away and at the Cair because his daughter worked there and all the family had come for Christmas.

Peridan looked up. "Lucy! Come on – Soot got two of Cook's finest pastries from the top shelf where she cleverly hid them and there's half a one yet."

"Amazing, considering Vulcan and Peridan are here," Edmund said, dodging a blow from the Dwarf's hard fist and making room for Lucy beside him.

"What I really want to know is did Edmund leave any hot chocolate for me." Lucy said, sliding onto the bench with a smile of thanks for Soot as he pushed the pastry over to her.

"Not much, my lady, but I would be more than happy to make some more." Vulcan said, getting up and going over to the stove.

"Thank you, cousin. Now, Edmund, tell me how the council went today. Did Lord Acere try to get that awful tax passed again?"

"He did, sister." Edmund's face as he took a sip of his drink was dark.

"Lord Acere?" Vulcan looked up from the pot he was stirring. "King Edmund, did you know he beats his servants?"

"What!" Lucy put her mug down hard and Edmund said sternly, "How do you know this?"

"Othniel was over at my cousin Valcrin's smithy two days ago. Aehsa – one of those Captain Tartian rescued – took service with Acere. Calae found him on her doorstep two days ago with his back and sides a mass of bruises. Calae was boiling mad and Othniel was on his way here to tell you when he stopped at the smithy and told us where and why he was off. Since I was coming here anyway I told him I'd just do it so he needn't make the trip."

"Edmund, that is terrible! That he would dare do such a thing in Narnia!" Lucy's face was full of righteous anger. "What says the law?"

"Anyone found mistreating persons in their employ are subject to up to 5 years in prison, dispossession of land and title if holders of such and in the worst extremities exile." Edmund recited absently; his face was thoughtful and one finger was tapping the rim of his mug.

"Well, then, it should be an easy case, right?" Lucy looked puzzled on not receiving an answer. "Edmund?"

He looked up swiftly. "Excuse my abstraction. Yes, if this is true it will be an easy case." He held up a hand as Lucy and Vulcan began protesting. "I do not doubt your word, cousin, but the law requires two witnesses."

"Othniel and Calae."

"Nay," Peridan said unexpectedly, "the law requires two witnesses from the scene of the crime." He smiled wryly. "I found that out two years ago over that fiasco with my brother -at- law."

"Well surely some of his servants could witness to it!" Lucy said, almost oversetting Peridan's mug.

"Maybe. Or-" Edmund slammed his mug down. "By Jove! I've got it!"

But though Lucy pestered him and Vulcan threatened him with cleaning out ovens 'til his fingers dropped off, Edmund preserved a mysterious silence, saying only that if all went well Lord Acere would be gone before another week was out.

"But Edmund – next week is Christmas." Lucy looked troubled. Rotten stinker as Acere might be, she didn't relish the idea of him being kicked out right at Christmas.

Edmund waved dismissively. "I'll wait until after Christmas, of course. And Lucy, what happens is in Aslan's paws."

Lord Acere's cook eyed the ragged, shivering boy on the kitchen doorstep doubtfully. She did need a scullion – the last boy had up and died, most inconsiderately, only four days before Christmas – but this one was very pasty and didn't look too strong. However, it was the day before Christmas Eve and Lord Acere was going to be very particular about dinner Christmas Eve since he was going to have a guest. Well, the boy would have to do.

Thus decided, she stood to the side and indicated with a nod of her head he could come in. Closing the door behind him against the harsh winter wind, she followed him inside. "Now you'll begin your duties right away. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, so we'll all have to look sharp."

"What am I to do?" the boy asked in a low voice, shivering and looking longingly towards the fire.

"Scrub pots, for one," the cook said, with a not unkind laugh. "Alice!" she called to a thin girl with limp hair bound in a braid, "show him where he'll be."

Silently the girl beckoned him through a low stone doorway and down a couple steps to a small room off the main kitchen where, next to a large copper tub, a pile of dishes was sitting. "There's a bowl of sand beside it and the sponge is in the water. When you need more water call Bobby and he'll get it. You heat it on that stove over there." She pointed to the compact stone stove. Then she turned to go back up.

"Thank you, Alice."

Alice halted and turned back, an odd expression on her face. "What is your name?"

He hesitated a second, then answered, "Ed."

"Ed. You are welcome, Ed."

"Did I say some thing wrong?" he looked a little worried.

"No – no. You're just the only person to tell me that for…for a while." She smiled quickly and hurried out, leaving him to the piles of dishes.

Some of them, Ed judged, had been there for a while – the food was hardened on. But he rolled back his sleeves and set to work. He called four or five times for more hot water, and each time the boy – Bobby – that fetched it would heave bigger sighs, and Ed got an odd look every time he thanked him.

So by the time he'd worked his way through two piles of pans, four stakes of wooden trenchers, two of metal plates and one gold plate; assorted utensils and various tankards and mugs he'd formed a pretty clear idea of what things were like in this castle of Lord Acere.

Edmund, even before hearing the report of Acere's cruelty, had never really liked the man (that was one of the reasons he had been reluctant to condemn him at once – prejudice often clouded right judgment). The first he had met him, Acere had come to court one day early in the month of Whiteblossom soon after the end of the Winter, petitioning for his land. His family, he said, had lived in Narnia before Jadis came, but soon after the Winter began his ancestors fled from the Witch's tyranny to Archenland, as many Narnians did before Jadis blocked the pass, and having heard of the Triumph of Aslan and the ascension of the Four to the Thrones, he had come back to claim the land and castle.

As this sort of thing happened quite often in the first few years of their reign Edmund had not thought much of it. The land had been granted and the old castle repaired. Lord Acere had come to the Cair only on feastdays and great occasions, seeming to prefer his own company to any other. And except for drying to get a new tax law passed every time the council of lords convened, Edmund did not know much about his character.

Now, it seemed, he was to know more than perhaps he'd like. He had only just finished washing the last tin spoon when Alice poked her head 'round the corner. "Cook wants you." She said, and the head disappeared; only to come back a second later as she added a bit shyly, "please."

"Coming," he answered, and followed her up the two shallow steps into the main area.

"Are you finished yet?" Cook asked briskly, as she stirred something delicious smelling in a big bowl. "Nancy! Mind you don't scorch the breadsauce!" (This last was to an ample young lady putting a large log on the fire underneath a skillet.)

"Yes, cook." Ed answered.

"'E ought to be – used enough water." Bobby grumbled, and Alice fetched him a whack upside the head. "You stow it! Just 'cause you got to actually do your work for once! He did twice the job poor Ned ever did."

"Alice, if Bobby needs correcting I'll be the one to do it, thank you very much." Thus fixed with Cook's gimlet eye Alice subsided, and Cook resumed. "If you're finished with the dishes, boy, you can make yourself useful somewhere else. Peeling potatoes somewhere else. Here, use this knife. Alice, go help Nancy with the pudding. Bobby! Don't you dare pinch her!" Emma, go see if Mrs. Timmons needs you to help lay the table."

Ed, feeling a little apprehensive, sat down on a wobbly three-legged stew and began peeling potatoes. He vaguely remembered watching someone else do this – many years ago – but doing something as delicate as peeling potatoes only from a distant memory of someone else doing it is not a very good foundation for a good job of it, and it wasn't long before Cook looked over at him and let out a shriek. "Lion have mercy if the boy hasn't peeled away the whole potato!"

Ed jumped, as much as from hearing Aslan invoked as from the unexpected noise. He looked ruefully at the tiny bit of potato still in his hand. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

"I should say not! Haven't you ever peeled a potato before?"

He shook his head silently and Cook clucked. "Well, let Alice do that and you empty the slop bucket. Or have you ever done that before?"

Ed laughed in a way that insinuated the suggestion was absurd without him having to actually say that he hadn't ever, in fact, emptied a slop bucket. "Where do they go?"

"To the pigs of course. Out the scullion door and follow the path to the left. It'll take you right to the pigs. Come straight back." Cook answered, not looking up from her pastries.

That night as Edmund fell into his bed – a thin straw mattress covered with a blanket and another one to huddle under – tired to death, his only thought before falling into a sound sleep was "and I thought working under Orieus was hard!"

Next morning he was rudely awakened by a dig in the ribs. That is to say, Bobby tried to wake him with a dig in the ribs and instead found his legs kicked out from underneath him and a half asleep and very grumpy scullion boy on top of him.

"Hey!" Bobby gasped, "Gerroff!"

"Oh, sorry," Ed said, looking a little more awake and fractionally less grumpy, "thought you were someone else."

"This somebody else your mortal enemy?" Bobby demanded, feeling himself all over to make sure he was all still together.

"My brother." Was the brief (and muffled) reply; Ed was pulling his over tunic on.

"Oh." Bobby nodded in sympathetic understanding and clapped Ed on the back in a much more friendly way than he had shown before. "Cook wants you. Said something about you helping serve breakfast since old Aehsa's gone off someplace – to lick his wounds, most likely. Poor old fellow got it pretty bad."

Well, Edmund reflected as he hurriedly splashed cold water on his face and dried his hands on his breeches (Susan would've been horrified) there was conformation of that at least. Aehsa has been beaten.

"There you are, boy," Cook barked as soon as his head came into view, "hurry up and take this in. His lordship's waiting, and if his breakfast takes much longer getting' to his stomach Aslan only knows what'll become of us. Well, go on, boy. Mrs. Timmons'll do most of the serving. She knows his ways best of any of us."

Carefully holding the tray Cook handed him, Ed looked 'round the room once. Nancy was biting her hair, Alice was wringing her hands and Cook was scowling kindly. And just before he went into the grand dining room Bobby winked and whispered, "duck if you can."

Not exactly the most encouraging thing to hear.

Just outside the door a thing, spare woman whisked the tray from his hands. Hissing, "come on!" she led the way down the hall to where, at the extreme end of the hall, a table was set up and a man was sitting at the head of it.

"Keep your head down, boy and answer up quick if he asks you somethin'." Mrs. Timmons muttered. They reached the table and she set the tray down in front of his lordship.

"Who's this now, hey?" Lord Acere demanded irritably as he shoved eggs and half a pastry into his mouth.

Mrs. Timmons nudged Ed and he answered, still keeping his head down, "Ed, my lord. The new scullion."

"Ed, eh?" Acere shoveled more eggs into his mouth and washed it down with a whole mug of beer. Telmarine, by the look of it, Edmund noted.

"Named for that idiot kid king up at Paravel, are you?" Acere demanded with an unpleasant laugh.

"No, my lord," Ed answered quietly.

"Pour me another beer and get out." Acere waved a hand, and since it was the one with a knife in it Ed obeyed quickly.

He breathed a quick sigh of relief as soon as he was back in the kitchen. Cook looked up from the cookbook she was perusing. "Back already? Well, am I to fire you?"

"I do not think so. He just asked who I was and then told me to pour him a beer and get out."

"Sounds like he was in a good mood." Cook commented wryly. "Good. You're the best scullion I've ever had and I don't intend to lose you, especially on Christmas Eve. Well, what are you standing there for? There's dishes to wash."

As Ed was scrubbing a particularly bad pot a few minutes later, Alice came in. "I'm awfully glad you're all right. He does get in a frightful temper sometimes."

Edmund noted her involuntary movement of one of her hands to her head and guessed shrewdly, "some of which you've experienced for yourself?"

Her hand jerked down and she looked scared. "I - I must get back to work." she stammered and left hurriedly.

That day was the busiest day Edmund had ever had, and that included Beruna.

He was running back and forth all day doing errands and since everyone else in all of Narnia was also doing errands and running out of ginger at the last minute and having to run to market to get more and then finding they hadn't enough lions and scurrying back to get some and then coming back only to find all the ginger had been bought up - well! Suffice to say Ed was much more appreciative of dishwashing then ever he thought he would be.

At length Cook collapsed into her chair by the fire and looked around in satisfaction: "There! The dinner for tonight and breakfast for tomorrow are all ready, and we needn't worry over Christmas luncheon or dinner, for his lordship's dining out; praise be to the Lion! If we can just make it through tonight and tomorrow morning we can all go home. Let's see now." she studied the servants before her, all in front of the fire in various weary attitudes. "Alice, I guess you and Ed had better help Mrs. Timmons in the dining hall tonight."

Ed heard Alice gasp and Cook added, not ungently, "Come, come, child, you'll be fine so long as you don't vex him."

"But what if I do?" Alice asked, quaking.

"Duck." Cook replied briefly, and that was all the conversation had on the subject besides the serving instructions themselves.

That night, just before they were to go in to serve, Ed glanced at Alice, who was biting her lip nervously. "Is he really that bad?" he asked softly.

Alice nodded, then shook her head, and then nodded again. "I don't know. He - he only hit me once, but there have been others -" she broke off as Mrs. Timmons beckoned to them.

"It'll be all right, " Ed murmured as they walked carefully down the long hall, "you'll see." He didn't believe that himself, but it seemed to afford her a small bit of comfort.

Sitting with Lord Acere was a beautiful woman and Ed heard Alice draw a breath. "No wonder Cook was in such a fret! She said he'd have a guest, but-!"

Edmund silently agreed with her. The woman was gorgeous (if somewhat scantily attired), and he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing spending Christmas Eve with such a pig.

Then as he and Alice got closer, the woman turned her head and looked at them. Edmund had heard the phrase 'she raked him with her gaze' before, but he hadn't really understood it until now. It was rather like a dragon swallowing you, and then deciding it didn't fancy your taste and spitting you out again.

And then Ed had no trouble seeing why she and Lord Acere were in each other's company. The one was loud and cruel and the other was icy and cruel. Bother. This complicated the plan a little - especially if she was staying the night...but on the other hand, Acere would be distracted more, which would allow freer access for Peter to - but they were next to Mrs. Timmons now, and remembering his earlier instructions, Ed placed the well filled tray on the side table placed there for that purpose.

Cook had told them, a bit impatiently because Alice was still biting her lip, that they most likely wouldn't do much actual serving at all; mostly make sure the wine didn't get low and fetch things back and forth from the kitchen. Alice had cheered up slightly at this news, and indeed all was going well.

It wasn't until the dessert course had just been served that Edmund made his move. Pouring Acere another cup of wine - the sixth since the meal began with who knew how many before - Edmund deliberately stumbled and splashed wine all over Acere, even managing to splash the woman (dressed as she was he could not call her lady) as well.

Edmund heard Alice gasp in horror as Acere rose with a growl to his feet. "You clumsy oaf!" the man yelled, "you incompetent cur! Curmongery scoundrel!"

Edmund waited composedly, head high. No fear Acere would recognize him now, incensed as he was. He raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

Half an hour later, as he landed heavily on the cold dungeon floor, Edmund admitted to himself that saying that might not have been the brightest thing ever, because there was lots 'else'.

Edmund could say one thing for the chap - he was certainly thorough. Though, as he gingerly levered himself into a half sitting, half leaning position against the damp wall, he couldn't help but wish that Acere hadn't been quite so thorough. The beating until he was unconscious would have been quite enough without the hour in the stocks. On the positive side, it had been too cold for anyone to relish the thought of throwing things at him and so nobody had, but the negative bit was the fact that it had been cold. Very cold. As in, freezing cold. Edmund had never liked cold, even before the Witch, and had he not been so utterly worn out the night before he knew he most likely would have had nightmares without Peter's comforting warm presence beside him - snores and all. Edmund snorted a little wetly. Now was not the time. Besides, he'd see Peter again in a little less than half an hour, Aslan willing.

Making sure Acere was gone; Edmund took out a small, curiously carved whistle and blew into it. He did not seem at all put out when no sound came from it, and in a couple minutes there was swishing noise and a soft thump and Edmund smiled at the Bat clinging to his hand. "Thank you for coming so swiftly, good Cousin."

"My honour, Sire. What is my message?"

"Mark you when Acere retires. Then to the Cair. Tell Peter to send someone to get me out quietly - I don't want Acere to know, if possible."

"At once, My King."

Edmund tossed the Bat lightly into the air and as the messenger winged silently to carry out his will, he thanked Aslan, as he had had many occasion to do, for these faithful cousins. A Cherry Dryad, at his request, had made the soundless whistle for him. The sound emitted was too high-pitched for human ears to hear, and even most animals, but the Bats heard it, and before long nearly every Bat in the kingdom knew the summons.

Then came a long time of anxious waiting, in which his bruised ribs and muscles stiffened, and he knew the least movement would bring agony. It seemed very long before he heard again the soft thump and the Bat landed. "Sire, King Peter says 'tell him if he's going to make a habit of this it might be easier to leave him where he is' and then he called Lord Peridan and Sir Giles and Lord Jerime and told them to go get you and make it quick, because didn't Edmund ever think that maybe someone else needed him - and he said it very crossly, but I don't think he was, Sire, because his eyes were wet, and that's what happens when you humans are feeling something very much, isn't it?"

Edmund felt his own eyes grow wet as he answered the Bat. "La, cousin. My deepest thanks for carrying out your mission so speedily. What is your name?"

"Leatherwing, Sire."

"Then, Leatherwing, pray conduct my best good wishes to your clan and all your folk. You have ever served me faithfully. A very merry Christmas to you all."

"Thank you, My King. It was my honour to serve you. Merry Christmas to you as well." And so saying, Leatherwing took his leave.

Edmund rested his head back against the wall with a weary sigh. Truly, he had not felt so tired, nor so stiff, since the morn after the werewolf attack - almost a year ago now. He made a mental note to himself to increase all the scullions' pay. Whatever they were getting definitely wasn't enough.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew there was a soft paw on his knee and Sir Giles was peering anxiously into his face. "Are you all right, Your Majesty?"

Edmund tried to smile. "I will be, once I'm out of this place and in front of a good fire and wrapped in about twenty-nine blankets. Truly, Giles, you don't know how cold you can get until you are in the stocks for an hour, in the evening, in the middle of winter."

"Sire!"

"It's all right, Giles, I got what I came for." Edmund attempted to sit up, then fell back with a barely stifled cry. "I don't know if I can get up by myself." He whispered, looking down and biting his lip.

"Stay where you are, Majesty. I brought good help." Giles went to the cell door and called softly.

In a moment Peridan and Jerime appeared. "King Edmund! Are you all right?" Jerime asked worriedly, while Peridan stepped back, looking for a way to open the door.

"King Edmund cannot move at present, my lords, and I believe you will have to help him outside." Giles answered for Edmund, and then to the king again he added, "Philip is waiting at the gate. He would come."

"Thank you." Edmund found he hadn't energy enough to do more than say that much, and he laid his head back against the wall again, reveling in the warmth of Sir Giles in his lap, for the good knight had seen how cold his king was and had curled up to do as much as he might to warm him. After a very few minutes Jerime discovered that the door, while very securely locked, could merely be lifted off the hinges from the outside, and this was done in all possible haste, and then the two lords hurried to the king's side.

Cautiously they helped him up, and by dint of biting his lip until the blood came, he made no noise save that of his ragged breathing. They got him safely to Philip, where the good Horse expressed his indignation in no uncertain terms, and thence to the castle.

At the entrance to it a Faun came running up quickly, and told them the Queen Susan had said to take him straight to his rooms and a healer would be up immediately.

Before falling asleep (cocooned in four blankets with a roaring fire and three siblings cuddled close) Edmund just managed to make them understand that his 'badges of service' as he called them, were to be left alone, or else the whole thing would have been for naught, and they, very reluctantly, agreed, though Peter declared in his High King voice that as soon as the trial was over Edmund was going to take a drop of the cordial, like it or not. Edmund did not say much to this, which either meant he agreed, or (more likely) that he was going to keep quiet about it for now but would come up with forty-eleven arguments why it shouldn't happen in a day or so.

Safely in their chambers after the trial of Acere, former lord of Narnia, and watching Edmund devour toast and warm milk at a ferocious rate, Lucy asked curiously, "What was the worst thing about it all, Ed?"

He assumed a pensive expression and said in a very small voice, "You really want to know?"

"Of course!" Lucy looked a little alarmed. "Was it - was it very terrible?"

"Horrifying."

Peter and Susan looked concerned now. "What, Ed?"

"Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Edmund, tell us now. And Aslan help me, if that Acere has done anything -"

"All right, I'll tell you." Edmund looked almost on the verge of tears. "No sooner was my back turned than Lucy drank all the hot chocolate!"

The pillows thrown at him were justly deserved.

Acknowledgement goes to Elecktrum, from whom I borrowed (with permission) Sir Giles Fox' name and also the mention of Edmund fighting a werewolf. And cleaning out ovens. Go read her stories at once, if you haven't already.