Truly Magnificent

Ages: Peter, 19 Edmund, 16

"Night Lu," Peter hugged his youngest sister tightly, attempting to draw off the peace that she carried to soothe his own tormented soul that he kept so hidden from the others. Would she notice his anguish? Even at 13, she was very perceptive. Perhaps she did feel the tightness in his fingers as he clung to her with desperation. But only for a moment, before releasing her.

Peter watched as Susan ushered her younger siblings upstairs to bed, even though they were all teenagers now. Or so people would think by looking at them. The Pevensies knew better. They were adults in children's bodies, and that was a struggle they all battled with every day. It was much harder than one could imagine, especially at first. Could their peers tell they were different since they returned last? Or were they always to be looked on the same: as children who had grown up in war-torn England like all the others.

Peter was and always had been the fortress, the anchor holding his family together, supporting them. Ever since their father had left for war several years ago, the role of being the man of the house had fallen to him. Why, he'd been the father to all of his siblings both in Narnia, and in England, and probably knew more about each of them than their real father did.

In Narnia, Peter had enjoyed and even cherished the responsibility of being the leader, the eldest, the high king. But here, ever since being sent back for good, it was different. Oh, so many things were different. Narnia was a place of warmth, of love, where everyone cared for each other. England was just…cold.

In the initial year of their return, Peter could ignore the fact that he had a hard time making any friends because he could no longer relate to them, or the odd glances that he received from his piers when one of his siblings would run straight to him for comfort before their own parents.

"What's with them?" A student would whisper.

"I don't know, but he's strange, that one," Another would add, turning his head to shun the odd family out.

He could even suffer being alone and pretending he was normal at school when everything they seemed to teach seemed so pointless and insignificant now. Why would Peter care about figures and British history when he had mapped out battle strategies on a regular basis and studied Narnian historical events for the good part of a century? Even though he was always naturally a bright student, since returning he had slacked off. Why waste his time with things that didn't matter?

Yes, for a long while, life went on quite mundanely for the eldest Pevensie. One long, pointless day of pretending after the next. But he could carry on because he never once doubted in his heart that Aslan would call them back sometime. Back to their true home. And He had. But then it had changed.

Their last visit to Narnia had come most unexpectedly for Peter and his family. After one lifelong year of being away, they had finally been called back to set things right for the Narnians, who were oppressed by the rule of a foreign enemy. All was going well, and even though the battle was bloody and difficult, Peter was finally beginning to remember what it was like to be the high king once more.

When he'd first picked up his sword, Rindon in the treasure cave after all these years, he had sighed with happiness. They were home, and perhaps this time for good. They would set their kingdom right again, Peter would reclaim his throne, establish freedom to his country, and it would all be as it was before.

At least, that's what Peter thought.

When he had found out that a new king, Caspian the Tenth, would be taking his place as ruler over Narnia, he had been crushed. Everything he'd fought for, been through, hoped for, everything he had once held onto so tightly was no longer in his control anymore. Peter felt his kingdom being ripped from his hands.

As if that wasn't enough though, at the end of the battle, Aslan had pulled him and Susan aside and had a conversation with him he'd never forget.

"All things have their time, Son of Adam. You have grown up. You two have learned what you can from this world, and it is now time for you to live in your own."

He had said what Peter had secretly feared all along: that this was the end of Narnia for him forever. He would never return.

Saying goodbye that day was the hardest thing Peter had ever done, and even though he had put on an act for the others, his heart was being torn from his chest when he stepped through that tree. Because this time, it was for good. This time when he got back home, he wouldn't search the wardrobe with Lucy every night, hoping by some miracle to find Narnia in it again. He wouldn't search for dryads in the forest with Susan on sunny afternoons, or practice sparring with Edmund so they could keep their skills sharp to show Orius for when they returned one day. No, this time leaving for him was permanent. This time, he wouldn't ever go back. That was when the depression had set in.

Day after day, week after week, life seemed to drag hopelessly on for Peter. He kept to his room often, refusing to go out when Susan insisted he accompany her to some party or other. Or when Edmund said that he had better get out and at least make some friends if he wanted to keep his sanity. He would sometimes go out and take long walks by himself at the park, contemplating all that had happened, and what he was to do now. And he would always come to the same conclusion: there was nothing for him here. Nothing that could even come close to what he had before.

Peter gazed at the clock in the corner, it's large hands ticking softly as the minutes wore on. It was now half past midnight. He should be in bed, like the others. He stroked his hand back through his messy hair to try and stay awake.

He was tired. Not just physically however, but emotionally, mentally. He was tired of holding on. Going through the motions of a life that was so mundane in comparison to what he once possessed, that he had nothing to look forward to anymore except for waking up every day and feeling the pain that had become his constant companion since he'd last left Narnia. He had tried to become numb to it, but it was ever there, ever grating on his heart mercilessly.

So many times he had felt like crying out, releasing his pent up anger and hurt, that had become buried deep within him, but he wouldn't allow himself to, even though every time he shoved his feelings away, they became worse. Sometimes, a chilling thought would cross his mind: Would it really be so bad just to end it all? Truly, death would be better than the life he now lived.

Peter put his head in his hands, hunching over in the chair. He rubbed his temples that ached immensely.

It's gone. It's gone and its never coming back to me. He said so. Oh Aslan! Why would you make me a king, only to rip it all away from me and leave me with nothing?! Why?! He shouted in his mind. He had failed. Peter had failed his kingdom, his family, and his people. What did he have to live for if Narnia was gone? What was left for him? What was his purpose? Susan could still be gentle, Edmund could still be just, and Lucy could still be valiant. But magnificence? How could he be magnificent anymore if he hadn't his kingship? And if he was not King Peter the Magnificent, then who was he? His heart ached just contemplating it all. I cant do this anymore…I just can't….

Shaking violently, Peter rose to his feet, steadying himself with the chair. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he stood.

After months and months of turmoil, he couldn't bear it anymore.

He was done.

Done with the nightmares that plagued him daily. Done with the grief of never being able to see Narnia again.

Done with pretending he was alright when inside he was dying.

His siblings didn't know. Nobody knew. He was always strong on the outside for his family. They didn't know the truth.

Blinking back unwelcome tears that threatened to spill, Peter shoved back the chair and made his way swiftly outside through the back door. The cold night wind blew in his face as he tried to see which direction he was going. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made his way to the side of the house hastily. He finally felt the shed in front of him.

Flinging the door open, he dug recklessly through the piles of tools and supplies until his hands felt the coarseness of the fatal object he was searching for. Wrapping the spiraled rope around his shoulder, Peter exited the shed quickly and quietly, and ran out the side gate of his yard and towards the direction of the forest on the edge of town. Where he would be alone.

As he sprinted out into the cold night, beads of sweat formed on Peter's brow. He was exhausted, but he didn't care. What did that even matter? He passed through all the city alleyways, and past the buildings and neighborhoods.

All the places he didn't belong.

Just where did he belong anymore? The tall buildings stood above him, looking down on him. Their dark silhouettes almost encouraged him to keep running away. Peter rounded a corner and passed a church building, and for an instant, he halfway felt drawn to it. But then the feeling left, and he remembered how empty he had felt there as well. Why, if the church-goers knew what he was doing, they'd no doubt turn against him too. Peter could practically hear their voices now, accusing him.

He kept running until he reached the border of the forest. He paused only momentarily before darting further into the foreboding woods. It was pitch black out, and the moon was hidden by clouds, casting an eery feeling over the forest. The great shadows of the trees loomed over the black landscape. Peter wasnt frightened by the scene. No, he had been in more frightening places than this before. It was his own soul that troubled him, causing him to sprint.

Finally, Peter stopped when he saw the river rippling ahead. The dim moon beams cast their light on the water, making an already dark place seem even more haunting.

Peter walked over to near the water, out of breath from sprinting all that ways. A gust of the freezing night wind once more whipped in his face, causing a shiver down his spine, although he couldn't tell if he was shaking from the cold or from fear. His breath came out in sharp gasps, which he could see visibly in the air because of the temperature. A light rain began to fall, but Peter hardly noticed, as his skin felt numb. Oh, what it would be like just to feel again?

Without allowing himself any time to think, Peter reached up towards a crooked branch that hung over the creek, and swung the rope over it. His hands were trembling so much though, he could hardly fasten the knot to keep it in place. But he forced himself to do it.

Unwelcome thoughts darted through his mind as he proceeded to grip the rope, his palms sweaty and clammy.

Would anybody even care when he was gone?

He thought of Susan, and how he and her had gotten into so many fights since coming back from Narnia. She would scream and threaten, and Edmund would try to calm them, but to no avail. After every fight, Peter felt worse than before, feeling as though he had failed his family.

Ah, hadn't he though? Wasn't he the one who was supposed to help them, take care of them? Hadn't it been his responsibility to protect his family and his kingdom?

If only he hadn't gone horseback riding that day…if only he hadn't allowed Lucy's curiosity to get the better of her and lead them all back through the wardrobe…nothing would have happened. They would have been back home, home in Narnia, at Cair Paravel.

The land would be at peace. The sweet songs of the dryads would be echoing across the Western Woods. Lucy and Susan would be dancing with the tree nymphs around the fire at night, while Edmund studied the stars. And Peter….he would still be High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel. Courageous in battle, and feared by his enemies for hundreds of miles around. Yes, he would still be a king. He would still have his purpose. He would still have Aslan…

Peter lowered his hand for a split second, more unbidden thoughts racing through his mind too quickly. He saw his home in England, a place that should be of comfort to him, but had instead become a place of absolute despair. He saw their faces, as clear as if they were standing in front of him. Susan in anger, Edmund in dismay, and Lucy in sorrow. And one sentence replayed in his mind over and over as he studied their emotions: You have failed them.

"No!" He shouted into the stillness of the haunting night, overcome by darkness. He glanced up at the rope that swung above his head, almost beckoning him to it. He would not allow himself to rethink this. He knew what life he now had and he hated it. He hated who he had become. He was finished.

Stepping up onto a jagged rock just beneath the rope, Peter couldn't help one last glance towards the direction of his home, even through his agony. Just one thing held him back. The rain poured, and Peter's voice broke as he whispered hoarsely,

"I'm sorry Lucy. I'm sorry…"

Eyes brimming with tears, Peter clenched the rope tightly in his hands, his knuckles white as he lifted it slowly above his head. Breathing rapidly, and shaking, he began lowering it over his neck.

As soon as the rope touched him though, Peter heard the powerful sound of a roar that nearly deafened him. "Peter!"

But before he could process what was happening, he felt two strong arms wrap around him from behind, and saw a flash of dark hair whip in his face as he was pulled to the ground at the edge of the river. Within seconds, he had a sensation of falling, and felt an icy splash as he and the other man fell into the water.

The current was strong and swift, and tried to pull him under as he struggled to gasp for air. Peter's body was pounded against several sharp rocks as he fought the current. A pointed branch scraped against his side, tearing his shirt and causing a bloody gash in his stomach. The two arms however, never let go of him the entire time, and he felt them wrapped tightly around his torso even as he was slammed against rock after rock.

After several moments, Peter could feel himself being dragged up onto the river bank. He struggled to see, but found that his vision was blurry. Once on the bank, Peter rolled onto his side and coughed, expelling the water from his lungs.

Where was he? He looked up, squinting his eyes through the rain, and vaguely saw the silhouette of a young man laying on the muddy shore only a couple feet away from him.

"Peter," The young man said in a raspy voice, through coughs, and then proceeded to crawl over to him. Peter recognized him.

"Edmund…" Peter coughed again, and suddenly found it hard to move. "What…are you…"

Edmund struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving for a moment. He coughed up more water, then he spoke, "I came to save you."

The boy's words rang in the air. Save him?

Peter forced himself up to a sitting position, confusion, outrage and guilt all stirring within him. He was still shaking violently from the current of the river. Or was it his anger that caused him to tremble?

"Why?" He asked with a sharp tone.

Edmund studied his brother, "Because you were about to die and I couldn't let that happen."

Peter shook his head slowly not taking his eyes off the river that rushed before him. "You should have. You shouldn't have come," He spat out angrily, never moving his gaze away from the welcoming water.

Edmund raised his brow at his older brother, and pulled himself up weakly. "Peter, you—" He began cautiously, but Peter cut him off, violent rage flooding through his body.

"Shut up! Just let me go, you hear? Let me go! This is my choice!" He abruptly threw himself closer to the river, attempting to jump in, when he felt Edmund's arms again around him from behind, locking him in place. Peter tried to throw Edmund off of him, but before he knew it, Edmund was on top of him, shoving him down and pinning him to the ground.

Edmund's fingers dug into Peter's flesh as he held his wrists down with all his strength and looked him in the eyes. "You're not leaving me! Not yet!"

"Let me go, damnit!" Peter cried through gritted teeth. He struggled to break free, but found that he couldn't due to his weakness.

Edmund stood firm. "No! Peter Pevensie! Come out of it!" He shouted into Peter's face that was red with anger. Peter could feel his brother's hot breath in his face as he rasped for air.

"Just let me die!" Peter yelled in desperation and hysteria.

"No!"

Peter found that he couldn't break free from his brother's grasp no matter how hard he tried, and cursed.

"Bloody hell Edmund! Just let me go! It's over for me! It's done!"

Edmund held him fast. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing his brother saying. Had it really been this bad for Peter this whole time? Why had it taken something like this to bring Edmund to his senses? He knew Peter was really good at hiding things, but he should have suspected what was going on. Maybe he had, but ignored it because he didn't know what to do for him. What could he have done? But now here he was, in the dead of night, literally holding his older brother and best friend back from death. Edmund's mind raced back to all the times Peter had saved him, and the girls on the battlefield. How he had sacrificed so much for them, and they'd hardly ever even thanked him. He cringed in disgust at his own actions. He could have done more, so much more. He should have…It was now Edmunds turn to protect Peter. And by Aslan, he would not let him down this time!

"You listen once and for all Peter Pevensie! I WILL NOT let you drown in that river! You may think it's over for you, but it's not over for me! I NEED you here! You're my brother!"

Peter's chest heaved up and down wearily as he looked into his brother's moist eyes that were full of fear of losing him. He cared…he cared and he understood. How could he? The look in his brother's eyes shook Peter to the core.

Oh Aslan….oh Aslan…. What had he done?

Suddenly, Peter became limp and loosed his grasp on his brother's arms slowly. He moaned, and then rolling over, coughed violently.

Looking away from Edmund, Peter began to weep bitterly. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook his whole being as he cried for the first time since leaving Narnia.

He kneeled and bent over, burying his face in his hands that became wet with tears. He felt Edmund's hands on his back through it all, holding him as he began to throw up into the river. As he retched, his body was wracked with sobs. Feeling Edmund's hand somehow made him cry more.

"Shh…" Edmund whispered quietly, attempting to calm him. What more could he do? He wished with everything in him that he could trade places with Peter right now. If anyone, it was he that deserved this, not his brother! Not self-sacrificing Peter who had given up practically everything for his family, asking nothing in return. Edmund was the one who had betrayed them!

Several moments later, Peter splashed some water on his face and wiped his mouth. He turned to face his little brother with watery eyes. "I'm sorry Ed…I…"

"You don't have to be sorry Peter. As long as I know that you're okay now." The 16 year old replied, in his usual matter-or-fact way.

Peter turned away, and hugged his knees to his chest, shivering from the cold rain. "I…" He shook his head. "How did you you know where I was?"

"Well, I heard the shed door slam in the backyard, so naturally I assumed that we were either being robbed, or you were outside since the girls were in bed. So I went down to investigate and found you gone without even locking the side gate. So I knew something was up." He paused, a tiny smirk on his face. "You always have been able to beat me at running."

Peter sighed, but couldn't bring himself to smile. A somber mood filled the air once more. Shaking his head, Peter said, "It's just been so hard since we left, Ed. It's been…"

"Hell." Edmund finished. "I know." He knew the feeling. He knew it all too well.

"Yes. But it's different for Lucy and you. You get to go back, remember?" Peter stated.

"But who knows when? And even if we do, who knows how many years will have passed when we return? Everyone we knew before could be dead for all we know."

"I know. I think that was the worst part last time, especially for Lucy. But at least you get to go back at all." Peter said, staring at the river.

Edmund glanced down, a far away look in his eyes. "But for what purpose? If Aslan sent you and Susan away because you grew up, who's to say he won't do the same with us too? I don't know which is worse. Going back then having it taken away again, or just not going at all." He reasoned to himself. A long pause rested between the two brothers until several moments later when Peter broke the silence.

"I just seem to have no purpose here, Ed. I mean, anything I try to do doesn't even come close to what we had before. How can I just stop being a king?" He threw a rock angrily into the water. "You can be just, and Susan and Lucy can be gentle and valiant, even here in England, but magnificence? That's something only a king can have."

Edmund studied him. "Ah, but it's there that you're wrong Peter. You don't need a kingdom, a crown, or a throne to be magnificent. It's just in you. It's who you are. It's who you've always been…even in England."

Peter furrowed his brow at him. "What do you mean? The title was king Peter the Magnificent, remember?"

"Yes, that was the title of your kingship. But you don't seem to understand. You don't have to be a king in order to live up to it. The way mum and dad trust you with everything, the way Lucy runs to you when she needs someone to hold her, the way you are the first person Susan comes to when she needs someone to talk. They love you. We all love you, and trust you with our lives, just as we did in Narnia. That, Peter, is magnificent."

Peter looked his little brother in the eyes, taking in all he said, and then pulled him into a strong embrace.

The two of them held each other fast by the river bank, that night, and for the first time in his life, Peter understood.