AN: This story is going to outline at least one experience for each of the Pevensies, maybe more. The chapters go in no particular order (meaning they're not all at one point, or the kids aren't all at a certain age) they kind of just happen.

Chapter One: Peter

Peter Pevensie gulped as he grasped his father's hand and shakily climbed onto the horse.

"Don't worry, Peter," George consoled his nine-year-old son, "I'll be next to you the whole time."

Peter nodded, not once doubting that his father wouldn't be there. But still, he thought as he mistakenly looked down, it's so high. He tightly grasped the saddle horn as he settled onto the horse.

"Are you sure this is all right, Dad?" Peter asked nervously.

His father chuckled. "Of course it is, Peter. We did rent the cottage and stable for the next two days. Besides," he said laughingly, glancing up at the over-anxious boy, "Grandfather and I used to come out here all the time when I was your age. In fact, I think the first time I ever rode I was closer to Edmund's age!"

Peter gaped at his father, glancing over to the blanket where his mother and three younger siblings were picnicking. "But… but Ed's so little."

George grinned. "I suppose I was probably closer to Susan's age, but you understand?"

Peter lifted his chin proudly. Of course he understood. As the oldest it was his job to understand. That way he could teach the others later. "Let's go." He said confidently, sitting up straight and forcing back any further fears.

George gripped the reins, eyeing his son as the horse began to walk. Peter's jaw was clenched tightly, and George slowed the horse.

"Do you want to stop, Peter?" He asked.

The boy shook his head firmly. "I'm fine. I was the one who wanted to do this, remember?"

George nodded as they began moving again. "Aye, I remember."

Peter stared straight ahead, still grasping the saddle horn as they leisurely passed the rest of the party.

"Look at you!" His mother exclaimed, grinning as she watched her son dutifully embark on his first horse lesson.

"I wanna try!" Edmund cried, rushing toward his elder brother and father. He stumbled, and Helen extended her arms to catch her son, but instead he fell firmly on top of Susan. She grunted and shoved him off lightly.

"Edmund!" She whined, clutching the crushed chain of daisies, "You ruined it!"

Edmund squared his shoulders to retaliate, but Helen cut in, nipping the conflict before it began. "We can make you a new chain, Susan."

She pouted and sent her brother one last glare before she consented. "But only if I get to ride."

Although Peter had been listening to the exchange, he hadn't actually taken his eyes off of the horse's neck, afraid to see how high up he actually was. Now he turned his attention to his sister indignantly.

"You can't ride, Susan." He said, reeling as he took in the distance from the ground.

Susan stuck her tongue out at him. "I can ride if I want to, right, Mum?" She turned to her mother expectantly.

Helen exchanged a look with her husband before shaking her head. "Not this year, Susan."

The girl plopped onto the ground with her arms folded. "Peter always gets to do all of the fun stuff."

Helen sighed tiredly. "Next year it will be your turn, Susan, but for now why don't you play with Lucy?"

Susan turned her attention to her younger sister and couldn't help but smile as the toddler threw a handful of grass at Edmund. "I suppose that's all right." She twirled a daisy between her fingers before glaring up at Peter. "I'll do whatever I want, Peter, I just don't want to ride." She stuck her tongue out again before engaging Lucy in a clapping game.

Peter frowned, upset that Susan was mad at him. George patted his leg reassuringly and led the horse away from the family. "She'll get over it, son. She's just feeling left out. You know how much she looks up to you."

Still not entirely convinced that he wasn't at fault, Peter attempted a look over his shoulder, only to sway dangerously before safely clutching the mare's mane. George said nothing, and Peter was glad not to be babied. They proceeded in silence for a time, and Peter felt his confidence level grow as minutes without mishap increased.

"Can we go over there?" He nodded toward series of grassy hills.

George looked up at his son and nodded. "Maybe by the end of the day you'll be cantering."

Peter laughed delightedly as his father led him toward the rolling hills, a thrilled smile stretching across his face as they picked up speed.

With the warmth of the sun on his face, and a slight breeze ruffling his golden hair, Peter felt as if he could be a knight in some magical land on an important quest. He puffed up importantly, forgetting his father was at his side. It was only him and his trusty steed. The grass waved in the wind, and Peter could almost feel a sword strapped to his waist as he traveled through this wondrous land. As the laughs of his siblings drifted toward him, he realized his horse was not alone. In fact, there were three others racing beside him.

In an instant he was galloping through the fields, challenging whoever dared to beat their High King. His body was changed, though he thought nothing of it, only wishing to beat his brother and sisters to the picnic lunch they had brought along. The wind whipped his face as he pulled ahead of the other three, hearing their indignant cries fade behind him….

"Peter? Peter?" George squeezed his son's leg worriedly. "Peter, are you with me?"

Peter blinked the sun out of his eyes, gazing down at his anxious father. "What happened, Dad?"

His father laughed nervously. "I was hoping you could tell me. One minute you were gripping onto that saddle horn like your life depended on it, and the next you were spurring your poor horse. She had no idea what to think, and frankly, neither did I."

Peter looked around at the meadow, confused. Everything had seemed so real. He glanced back down at his father. "I… I was just imagining a… a game."

Realization dawned in his father's eyes as the man connected the odd circumstance with Peter's love for make-believe games. The worry was replaced by mirth as he chuckled. "Were you a grand knight?"

The horse whinnied, and Peter pursed his lips together. His father misunderstood the reason for his son's boyish pout and laughed.

"Forgive me, you were a king?"

Peter frowned at his sudden inability to remember what he had imagined… if that was the word to properly describe it. "I think it was something like that… I can't remember."

George quirked an eyebrow at his son's odd behavior, deciding it best to ignore it. "Would you rather go back and play with your brother and sisters?"

Peter stared at the meadow and its hills one last time before nodding. For some odd reason, the 'game' had shaken him badly.

Soon after returning to the rest of the family, Peter forgot his troubling experience completely. He immersed himself in a full-out grass war that didn't end until Susan declared truce, claiming she had a gift for each of them. Her two front teeth missing, she grinned proudly at her siblings as she presented each of them with a crown of daisies. Lucy laughed delightedly at the gift, countering Edmund's whines that daisies were for girlsPeter had to agree with Edmund; the daisies were rather girlish, but he would never tell Susan so. Plus, he had to admit that there was something right about seeing them all crowned.

Even if Edmund did look ridiculous with flowers in his hair.

AN: So? What'd you think? I hope that this hasn't been done before, but if it has, I apologize. Please review and let me know if the characters are right and how the writing is. It's so hard to write the Pevensies as little kids!

Lily