A/N: This is my first story dealing with character death I've ever written, so please bear with me if it's horrid! XD I did my best! (This is an AU of Prince Caspian, by the way!)

A/N: This is a fanfic based on a You Tube vid by preciousxrayne, which is beautiful! I highly recommend watching it (but perhaps not, if you want to be surprised for the ending and what comes next)!

Disclaimer: I do not own Chronicles of Narnia, though I dearly wish I did! C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, and (now) Fox does!

From Where You Are

Lucy had gone on ahead through the Narnian woods she loved and had missed so much, and Peter could no longer hear her. He had begun running a while back, just in case she needed his help and he was too far behind to know, but he still heard nothing.

She had been right to come this way, of course; she had been right the entire time. He had been too stubborn, too proud to come down off the pedestal on which he'd put himself and admit that he was wrong, to believe her when she said she'd seen Aslan. He should have believed her; she had always been correct about the Lion growing up as a Queen of Narnia, so who was he to say she hadn't been this time around, too?

He hated the person he'd become in these last six months. Ever since leaving the comfort of the Professor's house behind, he had been getting angrier and angrier, finally letting it out in the numerous fights in which he had recently found himself. Edmund had been there, too, this morning, helping out on his side with a couple of the bigger, meaner boys trying to hold him down.

Tilting his head back as he ran and closing his eyes for a few seconds, he relished in the feeling of the pure, Narnian sunlight bathing his face.

Edmund…

He missed his brother now; really, he had been missing him for a while. The boy had only volunteered to go with Trumpkin and Susan to scout out the surrounding area once more for good measure, to be sure. It wasn't that he was gone forever or left behind in England, it…it was just that Peter hadn't realized what was there the whole time. By acting as he had in Finchley, he'd pushed his brother away from him…

Edmund, never ceasing in fidelity when it came to his family, no matter if they deserved it or not, had been right beside him in each combat despite his not being directly involved. The majority of the time, Peter had been too focused on his own pain to even thank him for his help or treat his injuries after Edmund had tended to his.

He blinked back the tears and sudden wave of nausea as he thought of just how selfish he had been these past half-dozen months.

He, Lucy, Susan, and Edmund had returned through the wardrobe a year ago at present. They hadn't all adjusted well.

Susan had reverted back to her old self: always alone, her face perpetually buried in a book. No stories about fairy tales or adventure, though that hadn't changed from before either. She would be her real self, Queen Susan the Gentle, around her siblings, fellow Kings and Queen as they were; yet, around adults, she would act like the perfectly mature woman they expected her to be, while her siblings thought her painfully distant and foreign. It was just too painful for her.

He had been causing grief for their Mother as of late with all of his skirmishes, and his Father had sounded so very disappointed in some of the rare letters they received from him…

Peter struggled to force down the bile that rose in his throat at these mere thoughts. How had he slipped so far behind in what he knew was right, in everything he'd learned as a Golden Monarch of Narnia? How had the others let it happen?—

He froze in his tracks immediately, eyes wide and breath gone, not even registering that he had stopped at all.

Had he really just accused his siblings of everything he had done wrong? Had he really—really blamed them for his mistakes…?

Looking up at the sky once more, he closed his eyes tightly as twin, shining tears leaked from them and trailed down his cheeks. High King Peter would never have done such a thing, would have put them first above everything and all else, would never have let things get as bad as they were now.

He really had messed up, hadn't he?

Hearing twigs snap straight in front of him, he shook himself from his self-pity for the time being and drew his sword in a practiced, fluid motion, ready to face any assailants that may have sneaked up on him in his moment of weakness.

Instead, he checked himself as he saw Lucy calmly making her way back to him, face solemn as she came to a halt in front of him and her blue eyes bore into his.

He was relaxed now, for the most part; his shoulders were slumped, and he was breathing more easily, but his hand muscles seemed unwilling to relinquish his sword to its proper place. The feel of it in his hands was so familiar, so loved and hated, something he had longed to feel again for such a hideously long time... How could he bear to part with it once more, even if it would only be in its scabbard at his hip?

He felt so silly. If it hadn't been so important to him, he was sure both he and Lucy would have been laughing out loud before now.

His little sister, though, only kept her somber countenance and read him further than she already had; she knew what he'd been contemplating during his run, during his self-loathing. She had examined him in the air and was only getting a better picture the closer she got to him.

He wasn't shy of her touch when she stretched careful, tentative fingers toward his face, but he flinched sharply when she wiped away the two tears from earlier with her gentle thumbs. Pulling her hands away slowly, she wiped the wet remnants on the front of her dress and proceeded to take his hand tenderly.

Looking down gradually, Peter squeezed her hand as she did his, glancing up and giving her a small smile. She returned it, though it was smaller even than his, and he became aware of just how much the past year had killed the youngest of the family.

They all considered this Lucy's place, after Aslan's and His Father's, of course; Narnia, that is. She had discovered it, believed in it, loved it, brought them into it, shared her love with everyone there and let it spread for all five thousand and near-fifty days of their reign: it was her place, indisputably. Therefore, it had killed her to leave it; even more, it had killed her to have been the one to lead them all out of it.

Thinking back, he remembered the nights when she had cried herself to sleep after they'd fallen out of the wardrobe that fateful day. He and the others had comforted her in the beginning, but as the tears went on to be an every night given, he terrified himself now by realizing that had been the careful rhythm to which he'd fallen asleep every night these past, numerous months.

The air painfully sucked out of him as he tried to take in more and couldn't, as his eyes were wide for the third time that morning alone, he couldn't function. He had unknowingly been letting his sister suffer for Aslan knew how long, using her tears as lullabies?! Now, he knew he was going to be sick.

Dropping his sword to the forest floor and bending away from his sister quickly, he threw himself into a pile of bushes and disposed of his breakfast from that morning, feeling Lucy's small, loving hands rub his back in consolation. He was glad she didn't decipher his sobs through his wretches, but for all he knew, maybe she did and just refused to outwardly acknowledge them.

When said hands disappeared, he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and drank from the water skin Lucy handed him, smartly having had enough sense to hook one to her dagger belt before leaving the Treasure Room back at Cair Paravel.

Once the wicked taste of bile mingled with an apple and piece of toast had mostly left his mouth, he shakily handed the liquid carrier back to the girl. Taking it, she reattached it to her belt and did her best to smile for him. Unfortunately, that smile had the backward effect.

Lunging forward suddenly, Lucy seemed almost completely invisible as Peter gripped his sister exceptionally tightly, releasing his tears a second time and with more force now that he had her in his arms.

She was not crying now, but she had been every night before this one; she was safe now, but she hadn't been when he had been fully prepared to unwittingly run her through with his sword several minutes ago; she wasn't worried about herself now, but she should have been, as she was the most likely of them all to have lasting scars from the painfully beautiful memories of their lives as Kings and Queens.

Having her gathered against his chest, he agonizingly squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed hard and loudly, gasping for breath between each one. His face was very red and incomprehensibly vulnerable, not something at all befitting when any Old Narnian thought of the eldest of the Ancient Sovereigns.

Lucy held him in turn, grasping him around the middle as strongly as she could with her own limbs going numb from his desperate clenching. Finally thinking she would be unable to hold in her own tears any longer, the burning in her eyes became too much and compelled her to blink, sending the droplets cascading down her face.

Soon after came the sobs, and the two siblings were both a crying heap by the time they even somehow heard Edmund and Susan's voices a quarter of a mile off over their noises of misery. They didn't stop just yet, couldn't stop, and it was then that Peter mostly succeeded to speak through his tears.

"I'm so sorry… Oh, Aslan, Lu…I'm sorry… I didn't know… I just…" His voice broke even further as he choked on the salty beads, and he buried his face further into the back of her shoulder as he held her increasingly tighter. "You were crying, and I…Lion's Mane, Lucy…I just—"

His tears defined and dissolved him now; he was the solute, they were the grouping solvents. His sister was the only thing that kept him even partially attached to any world, much less their own, their former kingdom.

Lucy spoke to him in this break, in a bit of her old tongue out of habit. Her voice was a quiet whisper as her own tears forced her into near silence.

"Peter…you were emotionally worn by each day's end; you would have broken had you been there the unending nights I cried. Leaving Narnia—" Her voice caught here, and they both knew why. "A fault, which is mine alone, I have never ceased regretting."

Peter suddenly took her shoulders firmly and pushed her away from him, barely arms' length, wishing he hadn't as he at last saw her face.

Immensely red and tear-stained, liquid diamonds pooled in his sister's cerulean eyes and drifted down her cheeks, and he could feel his very heart break each time he felt her shudder with a stifled sob.

He lovingly took a tendril of her long, red-brown hair from her sticky face and stowed it behind her ear, beaming through everything when she leaned into his touch with closed eyes as he brought gentle fingers to her cheek to cast away her tears. A few new ones slipped past her eyelids to gather in the minuscule crevice between her wet visage and his index finger.

He threw his other arm around her shoulders and brought her to him once again, his hand going from her face to be placed behind her head and entangled in her hair. Sitting sideways between his parted knees as her head rested against his strong chest, she inched forward on her knees to listen to his heart, smiling and laughing tearfully as she felt her brother bend forward to whisper, 'I love you', in the opposite ear.

She could remember many a time when the roles had been reversed, when she had held him like this as he cried away his misery.

He would be inconsolable, even for Edmund, until she took him in her arms like he had her now, until she whispered gentle tidings and messages of hope and love, until he finally let himself show feebleness in front of the three of them.

Most times, he would cry himself so close to sleep that he would mumble the trouble, tell them what the matter was, and most times, they would see why he had been so irritable or downcast. On the rare occasion when it would be something of which they couldn't make head or tail, they would allow their brother to sleep until the morrow, spending the night with him in his chamber.

The bed had been big enough for all of them, being the High King's, so they would crowd in it together more often than not, Edmund and Lucy never ceasing to be ensnared in the protective, loving embraces of Peter and Susan before sunrise. Even in unconsciousness, Peter always wanted what was best for his siblings, and so, held them closely.

When the next morning came, Peter would awaken, see his younger siblings strewn about his bed, and smile with all the love he possessed. Their very presence would renew his heart, his spirit, and instantly, all would be set right with him. All shadows of doubt or torment would leave his mind after seeing them so vulnerable, knowing they had protected him in his moment of drawback just as he had reflexively protected them, and he would wake them gently.

Upon seeing him with the unconditional love for them gleaming in his eyes, they knew immediately that he would be fine. They had fixed him, and if that repair might only last for the time being, so be it. They would do it again whenever needed, for they would be there as long as Aslan permitted them.

They loved their High King, their brother, after all. They would always love him, no matter what he did or failed to do. They were a family, royal family besides, and they would remain as such until the end of their days.

Snapping back from her reverie, Lucy became aware of her other brother and sister's voices becoming louder and louder; at best, they were only a few yards away. Gradually pulling back from her big brother's grasp, he looked at her strangely as he relinquished his hold. His hands settling limply in his lap, she noticed he must have long ago stopped crying, though his face was still soaked and red.

Reaching up to feel her face, it was very damp, hot, and sticky, and she concentrated on the feel of her eyes. There were no longer tears forming in them, no more lighted crystals streaming, which meant they must have stopped without her notice while she had been 'back there'.

Her attention was switched to Peter as he tenderly drew her hand away from her cheek, intertwining their fingers as he wiped his previously soggy face with the opposite sleeve of his tunic. Taking the sleeve of the arm attached to the hand holding hers, he let go for just a moment to wash her face in the same way, their careful, yet jubilant laughs echoing throughout the forest.

Her countenance abruptly as serious as when she'd first walked back to him, she pierced him with those eyes yet another time and gave life-required breath to her thoughts. Her voice was airy and mature, making her sound every bit the Valiant Queen she had been and continued to be. She was twenty-four, after all, and had not gotten to speak as she was since being back in England, if solely in private.

"There is no easy way to forgive ourselves for past mistakes, Brother. Yet, there is time, as well as love, both of which can aid in healing. This is known full-well, especially by our High King." Smiling at him gently, she reached forward and barely squeezed his hand, her touch light and hand unimaginably soft.

He returned the smile and cupped her chin in his calloused, yet porcelain hand, and bent forward just enough to kiss her on the forehead for numerous seconds. Allowing her eyelids to plunge her into complete darkness in her euphoria, Lucy couldn't help but let a tiny, gorgeous smile brighten her outwardly from the inside. Sighing in absolute contentment, she was forced to keep back a sob and new brigade of tears. How she had missed this, the indefinable beauty of the two of them together.

They were startled by a young male's affectionately sarcastic voice and a gentle, blissfully feminine sigh to their right.

"So, is this what you do when you're alone and we're risking our lives?" Peter drew away slowly, knowing perfectly well they weren't in the least bit of danger as they both turned to face their fellow King and Queen. Susan, Edmund, and the Dwarf, Trumpkin, had rejoined them, returned safely.

Peter looked to Lucy with a grin as he offered her a hand, and she returned the beam and took it, reveling in the warmth that emanated from the palm and not minding when the wet part of his sleeve touched her wrist.

He stood and helped her up at the same time, her free hand plucking the forgotten Rhindon from the ground as he did so. Handing it to him by the lower hilt, he gripped the higher part not occupied by her fingers and confidently slid it into the scabbard at his side. They smiled at each other meaningfully before they broke apart, eyes shining.

Lucy trudged up the small incline to meet them with Peter right behind her, the master surgeon within her looking them over with a thoroughly contemplative expression on her face. There was no sign of paleness or quickly beating hearts to them, no sign of struggle or injury, their clothing and weapons appearing as unruffled, unsoiled, and unused as one could keep them while poking around a forest. Yet, she couldn't help but want to make sure.

"Are you all right?"

Chuckling good-naturedly as he smiled, Edmund looked to the forest floor a minute prior to lifting his head. Glancing at Peter for a split, desperately needed second, he smiled lovingly in relief as he saw that his dearly loved brother had come back to him at last.

His grin widening as he again turned his attention to Lucy, he laid a soothing hand on his little sister's shoulder, eyes, face, and manner tenderer than any of the siblings had seen in a long time. The Narnian air was working on him already, bringing back the Just King they knew and loved.

"Yes, Lu, we're perfectly all right. But, you…" Suddenly, Lucy's heart raced as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and gently traced an invisible line down her cheek. Withdrawing his hand, he grinned sympathetically as she dipped her head; he knew she recognized that look in his eyes, the one that said he wasn't finished.

Taking her hand gently in his own and stepping beside her so as to carefully lock their arms together, he led her away from the others, her tense shoulders becoming less and less so with each step. Her brother would never do anything to harm her, never allow her to be harmed or made uncomfortable if he could at all help it. She loved him implicitly.

The echoes of Edmund's quiet words reached Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin as they watched, and the eldest of the child-rulers looked to the two left with him.

"Ed'll take care of her. Come on. We'd better start walking or I'll lose Lu again." Walking forward as he began talking, he winced as soon as he concluded his sentence and waited for the inevitable scolding from Susan. When it didn't come, he became worried and looked over his shoulder to where he had last seen her. What he saw amazed him.

Susan, their practical, gentle sister, who had been kindly reminding them of what was accepted as appropriate in English society ever since they'd been forced back, was laughing: laughing at the fact that he'd potentially let something happen to their youngest sibling! Even as his walking recommenced, he drifted back to be beside her and couldn't keep his mouth from dropping, unchecked.

"What's funny about that, Su?!" He couldn't keep even slight laughter from his voice; his eldest sister's recently seldom heard laughter was nothing short of contagious and joy-inspiring. Striving to talk through her bouts of chuckles, she explained.

"Of course…I'm not laughing…at that, Peter! But, really…not even Edmund can keep…track of Lucy for more than…ten minutes at a time!" Recovering finally, she smiled at him, face flushed beautifully from her giggle fit. "You remember how she was at this age—goodness, even at twenty-three! So full of energy and life…" Her voice quieted in adoring tenderness as she paused to glance in the direction in which the youngest members of their family had gone.

Noticing his sister's expression had become suddenly thoughtful, sadly fearful, Peter's blue eyes narrowed protectively as he halted, the girl and Red Dwarf confusedly following suit. Laying a strong hand on her shoulder, she breathed in quickly and grimaced with closed eyes, as if he had touched a wound.

Seeing his panicked face when she opened her eyes a second later, Susan knew he would have her dress off her shoulder in a second and alarm everyone in the vicinity with his demands to know what happened if she didn't clarify quickly. Grasping his hand with both of hers, she kissed it and held it tightly, blue orbs gazing into his as she spoke in a tender voice.

"I promise you, Peter, I'm all right; Edmund's okay; Trumpkin, too. It was just…bad timing. I was…" Removing her eyes and one of her hands from his, she kept them toward the forest floor as she forced him to resume his walking. Absentmindedly, nervously, she took her other hand from his and let it fall to her side, his eyes flickering from their previously joined hands to her face. "It scares me, you know, how vibrant Lucy is. It makes me worry about…" She seemed to falter, and his eyes hardened further, cheeks a deeper red than they had been when she admitted to being frightened. "Peter...what if..." She bit her lip. "What if something happens? What if she…"

Peter held up a hand instantly, and Susan looked up at him. His eyes were scrunched closed, face pinched in unimaginable pain as he thought of what the rest of her sentence would have been. He didn't open his eyes, for Susan knew the rush of tears he was holding in lay just beyond the lids.

"Stop…please…" His voice quivered, and it destroyed Susan to know that she had been the one to cause such pain. Tears entered her own eyes, and she looked down after closing them, feeling guilty and conflicted all the time.

She knew what he was thinking, of course. Being the eldest, they had always had quite a special bond, not unlike the equally as strong, yet emotionally different ones they had with each of their younger siblings.

We've spoken of this already, so many times… Don't you remember how I was whenever she was hurt in battle? I can't bear the memories again; I can't bear for it to happen again. Just…Su…I beseech you, Sister, say no more...

Yes, she remembered. Sighing almost inaudibly, she lifted her face to the sky as the memories vividly flourished to life within her.

He wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak unless necessary. He would sit by her bedside whenever possible, tightly holding her hand and staring at her with tears swimming in his eyes, silently begging her to be all right, for Aslan to please preserve her.

She couldn't explain why, but she unexpectedly felt the sickening need to pray for her sister. Bowing her head just the slightest bit, not wishing to call attention to herself at the present time, she prayed.

Even if only for his sake, for the sake of my beloved brother, the High King Peter, preserve her...

It was short, but it would serve its purpose: the purpose of protecting their sister after all of these years.

Noticing the sudden silence of the forest for perhaps the first time, she listened. Twigs and leaves crunched underneath their feet as she, Peter, and the Red Dwarf walked, the gentle breathing of the Narnian and that labored kind of her brother adding to such familiar sounds and making her emit a minuscule smile.

Slowly raising her head, she locked her eyes on the small figures of Edmund and Lucy quite a ways ahead of them, and her smile grew. They were still holding hands, though it was in a much less serious manner now, and she heard an abrupt, loud laugh from Lucy as she threw her head back with a wide, buoyant, open-mouthed grin.

She felt a hand grab hers from her left, and she peered at Peter apprehensively. There were no more tears in his eyes; they had dried up at his pressing, not desiring to dwell on such dark thoughts, especially after just coming home. Her wary expression softened into another, warm upturn of the lips.

Abruptly, they stopped, Peter motioning for Susan to peer before them and see the younger two had also halted far ahead. They glanced at each other questioningly and sprinted toward them, keeping their eyes peeled for danger and their hands readily on their weapons.

Sojourning beside them, Peter and Susan next to Lucy while Trumpkin popped up alongside Edmund a second later, they understood: they had, again, reached the gorge.

They all looked to Lucy now, waiting patiently as she briefly scanned the opposite side of the carved ravine. Glowing excitedly, she looked down at her feet as she walked, careful not to trip over any rocks or roots or twigs that might result in injury. Glancing up as she got to the edge, her concentrated eyes this time more seriously set on the other section, she shuffled her feet accordingly.

Shifting to her right, she paused, furrowing her brow and narrowing her trained eyes to identify complete sureness. Half-whirling to look at them, lengthy, red-brown tresses dancing around her face, eyes glimmering in perfect joy, she provided them with the most dazzlingly beautiful beam her siblings had ever seen.

Then:

A horrible groaning from the earth beneath her,

A scream,

And Lucy fell.