Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or any of the characters.
Author's Note: This is taken from the first draft of Battle For Narnia, but is a stand alone, I'm in a depressed mood so I thought what the heck. This is not related to the version of BFN that I have posted. Hope you like, I'll try and update BFN soon.
Saying Goodbye
It was only as I stood there, rain pouring down, black dress clinging to my stockings and umbrella in hand that I realized my mistake. I'd foolishly worn imitation diamonds. Lucy for once had the sense to borrow Mother's pearls, which hung over her simple black blouse and pleated skirt. Even Edmund looked better than me, in his crisp black suit, he looked so downtrodden, so depressed. For moment my eyes flash and my temper flares, I think how much he deserves this, it is his fault after all. Then it passes and once again I go back to watching the scene before me. Tears are in everyone's eyes, Mother's, Father's, Lucy's, Edmund's, Professor Kirke's, his friend Polly Plummer's even the boys from school are trying to dry their eyes. I try to make the tears come but I can't, and my eyes remain dry. All I feel is angry, angry at Edmund, Miraz, Aslan, myself, even Lucy but mostly I'm angry at Peter. How could he do it, just so heedlessly rush into combat against someone who was definitely his superior? How could Edmund let him? How could Aslan? Why couldn't Lucy save him? Why was I so late? Why couldn't I say goodbye? Now he's gone, just like that, and he isn't coming back, that's the worst part. He isn't coming back.
The tears are here now, but they're not tears of sadness, only of frustration, anger. That's all I seem to feel now, them and hate, I'm no longer the innocent girl I was at the train station, or before the war. It's all His fault he was the one who dragged us into Narnia, who made us Kings and Queens. I hate Him. How could he let this happen? How can the others not feel the same? I know they don't. The way Lucy buried her face in His mane and Edmund stood beside Him next to Lucy. I was going to join them but I couldn't, how could I when this was his fault, he started all this, if wasn't for Him, my brother would still be alive.
My tears stop, and in their place I find a new strength, a way to make all this hate and anger go away. I had to forget Narnia, I wasn't going back again so that's what I should do. I could quite easily hide, I have the perfect means and the perfect reason. Yes, it was just a silly game. You heard the report, it was a heart attack, yes, a heart attack. I clung to those scarce beliefs, they were all I had left. The innocent girl at the railway station was gone for good and in her place was a new and stronger woman.
Tears flowed freely down my cheeks, torrents of water, gushing down to rest on my blouse. They mirrored the rain, the cascading silver drops that fell off my umbrella and onto the already drenched ground. Even England felt sad, with her falling tears that covered everyone, I can understand it though. Peter was the perfect gentleman, yes he had a temper, but he tried not to show it, he would always try and sort the problem in a calm and civil manner. Though it didn't always work this was one of the reasons he made such a good High King, and such a good big brother. I look around here now and all I see is tears, and then Susan, she is just stood there pain etched in her face and then something else too, anger? Why would Susan be angry? Confused I look away, I look at Edmund, he is stood across the way from me so I can see his face clearly. Unashamed tears wash down, I think back to the eulogy he had read earlier his voice quivering, breaking, but he refused to cry, when it was done and he had returned to his seat, he broke down. It unnerved me, I had never seen Edmund cry, but despite my initial shock I wrapped my arms around him and he in turn enveloped me. We had stayed that way for the rest of the service, and had only let go because Edmund went to comfort Mother.
She couldn't understand how Peter could've died, neither could the doctors, no marks nor blemishes told the true story, Aslan had seen to that. The official autopsy was that he had had a heart attack and it was left at that. We who knew the truth though will always remember his sacrifice, not this charade, not this lie. I continue to observe everyone. Father and Mother hugging, both trying not to cry but failing, Professor Kirke who is stood next to me looks so serious. We of course told him and his friend Polly the truth of Peter's death, them also being friends of Narnia. I look past the two of them at Peter's friends, even they, 'hardened' boys are tearing up. Next to them are some of the teachers, also weeping into silk handkerchiefs. Everyone here liked Peter, it was hard for anyone not to, everyone was shocked and upset about the suddenness. None of us got to say goodbye, all because of that horrid, nasty, evil, Miraz, oh how I'm glad to know he's gone thanks to Peter.
He was a hero, whether it was fighting evil Kings or just chasing away scary monster's that I used think hid under my bed. He was King, with a crown or without he commanded respect but also he carried many affections. He was a warrior ready to lead his troops into battle or simply spearing an imaginary dragon. He was a politician, working out trade agreements, alliances, and the distribution of provisions, or debating with other boys about who played first in whatever sport. Student, whether he was learning math, Latin, geography or how to rule a Kingdom. His most important role though, was being an elder brother and he played it to perfection, no matter which world, understanding, caring, firm yet gentle, patient, wise and helpful. I miss him so much but I'm not the only one, everyone here misses him and others who couldn't attend. He won't be forgotten, whether he's remembered as a great hero, High King, warrior, politician, student or elder brother. He will be remembered. He will, I promise.
It hardly seemed fitting, to me anyway. He was a King, he died a hero, and yet here he was buried in a plain old coffin in a plain old cemetery. He didn't deserve this, he deserved better. It's exactly what he would have wanted though, something quiet, family and close friends milling around the grave stones. He wouldn't want it to be raining like this though; I however think it's perfect. Sunshine wouldn't seem right, in Narnia maybe but not in England, it would seem to be a lie. In Narnia death seemed softer, easier somehow, maybe it's because he would always be remembered. Here, when we are all gone, the only thing left will be another name on another stone, marking another mound; he'll be all but forgotten. An unknown Prince among men. In Narnia he'll always be remembered, everyone would know the legend of the High King, and he will be immortalized by his deeds. There will always be someone by the grave that rests by the East Tower of Cair Paravel, looking out to sea. Just like he used to.
His funeral there was magnificent, everyone dressed in black, except Peter; who wore a rich, red tunic underneath his armor which was embossed by a red lion, there he lay in splendor, Rhindon and shield by his side. Six dwarves carried the coffin, to the site and as they lowered it into the ground Aslan spoke to all about Peter; what he did and how he did it. Lucy was in tears, Susan looked lost and confused, Caspian and the others who hadn't known Peter long were also dabbing at their eyes. Respect was there, appreciation, adoration and sadness, it was a terrible blow to the country but at least freedom had come with it. Reepicheep and the other mice were saluting with their swords and all were silent save Aslan. The grave was then filled in and the gathering disbanded, only myself, Aslan, Caspian, Doctor Cornelius, Susan and Lucy remained. No one spoke and then one by one the others drifted away 'til it was just me and Aslan, still neither of us talked. I nodded to Aslan and then with a heavy heart I turned away, it was the hardest thing I had ever done turning away from the grave. With it's stone plaque reading; 'Here lies the High King Peter, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Who died in battle in the 2303rd year of Narnia.' Caspian said he would have a statue constructed at a later date but for now it was as it was in England. Only here it read 'Peter Pevensie Born 1927 Died 1941.' Yet another difference.
I said earlier it was the hardest thing I had ever done when I turned away from the grave in Narnia, well this time it was even harder. It finally meant moving on, that he was really dead, in Narnia it didn't seem like that, it seemed that it could just be a dream, a nightmare. This proved it wasn't and there was no waking from it, I'd lost my brother for real. I felt someone grasp my hand, Lucy motioned to everyone leaving, in return I just squeezed her hand, and looking about I couldn't see Susan, she'd already left. Then I realized, we'd lost our sister too.
A/N So what did you think? Please Review.