Yeah, I know, this is just about the most original idea ever, in the realm of Narnia fanfiction. Oh well. Can't be helped. Actually it can, but...nevermind.

Oh, right, the obligatory disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, &etc &etc.

"Molly!"

Molly stayed where she was, as still as a cat, but her efforts at being inconspicuous were no use. A moment later her mother swept her up out of her place before the mirror, scolding as she did.

"Molly! You know you're not allowed to get into those things." Susan surveyed the mess of makeup on the dresser, and the powder and lipstick on her daughter's small face. "Come on now, it's almost time for bed."

"A story, a story," Molly whined, resenting her mother's insistence to get her clean.

Susan whisked a cloth across Molly's face with its undeniably original cosmetic experiments, and sighed as she put Molly down. "Go get Ben, then."

Molly scampered away, her long nightgown trailing on the ground.

--

The two of them came back a moment later and bounced on the bed until Susan told them to stop. Ben, six years old and very proud of that fact, sat down obediently and looked at his mother with great patience.

"Well?" he said. "A new story. One we've never heard before."

"All right," said Susan slowly. She searched back through her memories, even the things she had tried for so long to forget, and finally came to the best story she knew.

"Once there was a land filled with dryads and fauns and talking animals--"

"What's a dryads?" said Molly.

"Quiet," said Ben.

"Spirits of trees. And they were all very happy. But then a Witch--and evil witch--came. She covered all the green places in snow and made it so it was always winter and never Christmas."

"No Christmas?" said Molly, trying hard to comprehend such a horrible existence.

"That's right," Susan went on, not looking at her, "and she was a cruel and evil woman. She would turn her enemies into stone with her wand. But after years and years, four children were called into--that place. The Witch--"

"Two boys and two girls. Make it two of each," said Ben, who liked congruity.

Susan smiled. "Yes."

"What did they look like?" asked Molly.

"Like--" Susan began. "Like that." She pointed to a familiar photograph by the side of Molly's bed--a picture of four children by the sea. The oldest boy was sitting in the sand beside the youngest girl. The older girl was looking away, as if something had caught her attention the moment before the picture was taken. They were all smiling, though the younger boy had a sort of mischievous smirk on his face.

"That's just the aunts and uncles. And you," said Ben disdainfully.

"Well, that's what they looked like. Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Ye-e-es," said Molly, scowling at her brother.

"But the Witch tricked one of the boys. He snuck away from his siblings and went to help her. The others were terrified--they knew that she wanted to kill all four of them, so she would be the only queen in that country."

Ben shivered. "Did she catch 'em?"

"No. But she was about to kill the younger boy. She would have, but--but there was a Lion."

"Ohhh," said Molly. "I hate lions."

Susan looked her sharply. "He was a good Lion."

"A tame one?" Molly said, brightening. "I guess I don't mind time lions."

"No," said Susan. "A good Lion. He offered himself to the witch in the place of the boy. I mean--he said that the witch could kill him instead."

"Did she?" Molly whispered.

"She did. The girls saw it. It was horrible. The boy was safe, but the Witch thought she had won."

"But she hadn't," said Ben, confident in the fact that heroes who lose are rarely worth telling stories about.

"The next morning there was a great crack--and the Table broke--and when the girls turned round they saw the Lion, standing there looking golden and glorious in the sunlight."

"Dead?" asked Ben.

"No, of course not. He was alive. He had conquered death. There was a great battle afterward, and the boys fought in it. The younger one, the one who had been a traitor, had a duel with the Witch and he broke her wand. Then Aslan--the Lion--came, and finished off the Witch. He did away with her, and set Narnia to rights again. The winter had gone, and the children were made kings and queens and they ruled there for years and years."

Molly sat back contentedly, nodding her approval at the storyteller.

"But it's not really true, is it?" asked Ben. "Talking animals and talking lions. It's all very silly. It didn't really happen, did it?"

His mother stared the dead ashes in the fireplace for a long while, until Ben began to grow impatient.

"No," she said finally. "No. It's just a story."