Love, a chronicles of narnia fanfic

~Love~

Peter sighed as he picked up his guitar. It had been so long since he had last held the instrument. The wood was smooth and cold under his fingers but more than that, it brought back memories of his life before this tragedy.

Peter had always tried to be like his Dad. George Pevensie had been his role model throughout his life, even when he still couldn't often remember the man.

Just before his father went off to war, he had told his eldest son to take care of the others, that he was the man of the house now. Peter had taken that very seriously, and he always did his absolute best.

There had been times when he had failed, but most of the time he succeeded. He had become a father figure to Lucy as she grew up, hugging her on a bad day, gently scolding her when she did something wrong (which was hardly ever), and when he couldn't reach her to give or get comfort, he'd write.

Edmund and Susan were different, he had to be a brother to them, not a father. He had been supportive, protective, loving, caring, everything a brother should be, and in the end, he had raised his siblings well.

The last time he saw his father, he had asked if Peter had done as he asked and taken care of the family. He thought back on all that had happened: wars, injuries, battles that had nearly cost them their lives Then he thought of all the blows he had stopped from landing on his brother, the lives he had saved, the love, time and attention, that he had spent on them and he was able to square his shoulder and look his father in the eye. "I've done my best, Sir."

Mr. Pevensie got an odd look on his face at that, almost as if he had seen his boy grow into a man in the space of a few seconds.

Peter closed his eyes and took his hand off the guitar. Sitting down heavily in a dusty chair, he sat for hours, just remembering the small things about his father.

"So, Son, you want to hear a story?" His father thick Scottish accent obscured his words slightly. "Well, I've got one for ya. Did you ever hear about the time that me and the band went on the road?"

Peter promptly shook his head that, no, he hadn't.

His father began to spin a wild yarn about how he and the band had gone off to Scotland and won and lost fifty fortunes all within the space of a couple of years.

Peter listened with avid attention to the tale, knowing that it wasn't true, but wishing to hear it all the same. His Dad was his hero and he would always remember the stories.

When he got older, Peter heard about how his father was an only child, and how Peters Grandfather was a cabinetmaker. It was a sad story that made Peter feel very proud to be hid fathers son, but it always brought his mind to what may happen in his life, and that scared him.

Mr. Pevensie had taught his son many things over the years, such as how to treat your family, how to work hard, how to be a good man, how to live his life well, but one of the things that Peter was the most thankful for, was music.

It was late and Peter couldn't sleep. He toppled out of bed and padded softly down the stairs.

His father was still up, sitting by the fire, playing a slow, sad song on the guitar. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Son?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm playing a song." His voice was sad, as if the music had transported him to another world, only to be brought back sharply to this one again. "Would you like to learn?"

His fingers were to small, then, for his father's large guitar, but Mr. Pevensie handed him a harmonica and started to teach him music.

Peter picked up the guitar, and with skilled, practiced movements, began to play a song he had written for his father, a musical biography:

An only child
Alone and wild
A cabinet maker's son
His hands were meant
For different work
And his heart was known
To none.

He left his home
And went his lone
And solitary way
And he gave to me
A gift I know I never
Can repay

Peters father had taught him everything he knew about this world. Peter always meant to try to somehow make him proud, or pay him back for everything he'd done for him, but it was to late.

A quiet man of music
Denied a simpler fate
He tried to be a soldier once
But his music wouldn't wait
He earned his love
Through discipline
A thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls
Took me years to understand.

His father had been gentle but firm. Peter had often had to learn a lesson the hard way.

The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band.

The whole time they were in Narnia, Peter had been holding himself to standards that he was sure that his father would have been able to meet. In his heart, Peter knew that he could never be his father. But he could try.

I thank you for the music
And your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom
When it came my time to go --
I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, pap, I don't think i
Said 'i love you' near enough --

Tears were running down his face now. They had been pent up for way to long, when his father died, he had tried to handle it bravely, and, for the most part, had done so with flying colors, but now, on the day of the funeral, he couldn't stand it any longer.

He finally understood: Sometimes you have to cry for your heroes.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! please feed the starving author, leave a donation in the blue box. Thanks wallACEwho, for betaing for me!

Disclaimer: Like, none of this story was mine, Lewis has the characters, and Dan Fogelberg has the song :D