A/N: What is up, my people! How are you this fine day? Or night, depending on your time zone and when you read this. It's night for me right now, so. How are you this fine [insert time of day]? That works. I'm excited. This is the first fic I've posted this year. Yay! And it's a Narnia fic! Yay again! I hope everybody enjoys!

This is book based. The only thing I took from the films was Peter and Edmund's physical appearances because they weren't really detailed in the books. Though it's been way too long since I read them, so if somebody knows where to find their canon descriptions, please tell me! I want to know!

Disclaimer: I actually do own Narnia. My sister was able to get it for me after marrying me off to a Spartan idiot. And it's about time, too. She took way too long in getting me my own country.

When Mrs. Pevensie picked up her children at the train station after their stay in the country, it was a pleasant summer day. It was nearing the end of summer, but the weather was still warm and peaceful. She couldn't wait to see her children. It had been much too long since they went away, and the longer she waited, the more impatient she got.

But finally, Mrs. Pevensie saw the golden hair of her eldest son. "Peter!" she called joyfully, waving her hand in the air. Peter saw her hand and, with a smile on his face, tugged his siblings through the station behind him. She couldn't believe how her children had grown! Peter was taller, his face a little less round, but still just as cheerful, and if it were possible, even more handsome.

Susan had become a beautiful young lady. Her hair was longer than she had last seen, flowing around her shoulders in thick, raven sheets.

Lucy was still a happy child, her bright hair shining like sunlight as she skipped behind her brother and sister.

But the biggest change was in her third child. When they left Finchley, Edmund had been a sullen, irritable child, his favorite pastime being creating conflict and tormenting his siblings, particularly Lucy.

Now, however, Edmund's eyes were radiating happiness. There wasn't a bit of the anger that he had been filled with before. He held Lucy's hand tightly but gently, with great care. Just like his brother, he had grown a bit taller, though he still had plenty of growing left to do.

But what struck Mrs. Pevensie the most was the air about her children. Despite still being children, they carried themselves like adults. It was familiar, somehow, but the mother couldn't put her finger on it.

But as her children neared, these thoughts were shoved to the back of Mrs. Pevensie's mind and she welcomed the boys and girls with a warm embrace.

"Oh, my dears," she cried in joy as she held her children for the first time in too long. She let go of them reluctantly. "Let's go home, shall we?"

Days and weeks passed as the family tried to get back into a routine after being separated for an extended period of time. While Mrs. Pevensie was under no illusion that it would be easy, she had no idea it would be so strange.

The first was the way they spoke. The subjects of their conversations could be trivial and innocent, but their speech was different. Like their bearing, their speech was more grown up than their mother would've expected. They used a strange vocabulary that she'd really only heard used by the royal family.

"That's what it is," she finally realized. Her children weren't just grown up. They had a very regal air about them, and Mrs. Pevensie couldn't help feeling a distance between her and her children. Despite this, the boys and girls were still happy children, reveling in the peace of summer.

As the weeks went by, however, Mrs. Pevensie could see another change coming over her children. It was now September, and the weather was starting to take a turn for the cooler. As time passed, the children became more sullen and down, especially Edmund. He was borderline depressed. It had Mrs. Pevensie concerned, but she didn't know how to approach her children. Their new behavior had Mrs. Pevensie puzzled. They were still her sweet children, but they had become unapproachable somehow. The woman could only hope things would start looking up for her children.

One late September morning, Mrs. Pevensie opened the curtains to let in the bright sunlight. Stepping out on the porch, she breathed in the crisp, cool morning air. "I love this time of year," she mused wistfully as she watched the sun rise. When the sun was up, she went back inside to begin breakfast. As she scrambled eggs, Mrs. Pevensie heard footsteps above her head. She smiled softly; she'd really missed that sound. But then the steps became more frantic and there was a faint slam. This worried Mrs. Pevensie. She turned off the stove and hurried up the stairs to see what was the matter. The first room she came across was the girls' room. Lucy and Susan were curled up in one bed, pensive expressions on their faces.

"Is everything alright?" Mrs. Pevensie asked her daughters. "What's wrong?"

Neither girl answered, but Lucy's eyes scrunched up and she buried her face in Susan's neck. The older sister ran a hand up and down the younger's back and through her hair. "It's alright, Lu," Susan whispered, not answering their mother. "Everything will be okay."

This had Mrs. Pevensie very worried. If the girls were this upset, there must be something wrong with one of her brothers. The mother left the girls' room and proceeded to her sons'. What she found shocked her.

Much like their sisters, Peter and Edmund were curled up in Edmund's bed, the younger brother held closely by the elder. To Mrs. Pevensie's concern, Edmund was whimpering and shaking in Peter's arms, occasionally nuzzling under Peter's chin. Peter was whispering to Edmund, his fingers carding through his hair comfortingly and pressing gentle kisses to his forehead.

"Edmund?" Mrs. Pevensie called in concern, hoping she could bring some comfort to her son.

The sound of her voice, however, only made Edmund cringe and shudder against his brother. "Ed, it's just Mum," Peter soothed. "Remember? We're with Mum again." Peter's whispers became more quiet, but Mrs. Pevensie could still hear him, just barely. "It's not her. She's dead, remember? Aslan defeated her. She can never harm you again." Peter stroked a gentle knuckle down his brother's cheek. Edmund's hand shot up and clenched tightly to his brother's. "You're safe, Ed. Safe here with me. Lucy and Susan are safe here as well. She can never get to us. Do you remember why she can't get to us?"

"Because she's dead," Edmund's raspy voice croaked, nearly inaudible. "Asian defeated her."

"That's right." Peter smoothed his little brother's hair down and kissed his forehead. "And how long as she been gone?"

"Sixteen years."

"That's right, Ed. It's been sixteen years. And she's never coming back." Edmund shivered again and tried to get even closer to Peter. Peter briskly rubbed his hands up and down his brother's arms and back, trying to give him some extra warmth. He caught sight of their mom still standing in the doorway. "Mum, could you bring an extra blanket? Edmund's freezing."

Nodding absently, Mrs. Pevensie went downstairs to the linen closet for a blanket. Grabbing a thick quilt, she rushed back upstairs and spread it neatly over her sons. "Is that okay?" She asked softy.

"That's perfect, Mum," Peter said, giving his mother a small, grateful smile as she went back to the door. Mrs. Pevensie couldn't deny that she felt a little awkward now that she wasn't doing something to help. She stopped in the hallway when she heard Peter speaking again. "That's better now, isn't it, Ed? Now we will be extra warm. There's no way the cold can get to us here."

Edmund gripped the quilt tightly, relishing in its warmth and finally starting to calm down. "Look, Ed. Look at what's on the quilt." Edmund's tired eyes darted over the top of the quilt and saw the pattern on it. Right in the center of the blanket was a lion. "Aslan is watching over us. Even here in Finchley."

"I want to go home, Peter," Edmund mumbled tearfully. "I want to go back home."

Mrs. Pevensie, thinking her son might have been caught in a nightmare and confused, stepped back toward the door to speak words of comfort, reminding him that he was home.

But Peter spoke first. "We will, Ed. I know we'll get to go back one day." The boy spoke so softly Mrs. Pevensie thought she must not have heard correctly. But she had, and she thought her heart would shatter into a million shards. "Aslan will call us back home one day. How will Narnia get on without her kings and queens?" The words had their desired effect, as a small snort of lighter left Edmund's nostrils. "We just have to be patient."

Edmund snorted again, and it took a huge weight off Peter. "That's rich coming from you. Need I remind you who was always the one who lost a jousting tournament because he started too quickly? Or who always got a smack on the hand from Sennia because he tried sneaking dessert out of the kitchens before supper?"

Mrs. Pevensie didn't know what to think about what her sons were saying. Obviously, they didn't know she was still there; she had the distinct feeling that they wouldn't be speaking so freely if they knew she was listening. But what they were saying had her monumentally confused.

Before she could ponder more, though, her youngest son spoke again. "How long will I have to live with this?" he asked sadly. "Like you said, it's been sixteen years since Beruna, since Aslan killed... her. Why am I still so afraid of winter? Of cold in general?"

Mrs. Pevensie wondered the same thing. "Because what she did to you was awful. You were traumatized, Ed. Aslan even had you drink wine to calm you down once you'd been returned." Edmund had drunk wine? At his age? "It was no small thing that you went through."

"But I'm 26. Shouldn't I have learned to deal with this by now? It happens every year when the weather starts to get colder, and it doesn't let up until it starts getting warm again. I'm tired of living in fear all the time."

"I know, Ed." Peter kissed his brother again, holding him even more tightly. "I wish you didn't have to suffer through this every winter. If I could, I would take you right back to Narnia so you would at least have shorter and milder winters."

"I loved that one year it didn't get much colder than 10 degrees."

"That was an easier winter than the others," Peter agreed. "It was easier on all of us."

The pain in Peter's voice tugged at his mother's heart. Mrs. Pevensie had half a mind to go out to the country to find this Professor Kirke and give him a piece of her mind. What on earth could have happened to her children to scar them so?

"My scar is hurting," Edmund whispered painfully. It seemed Peter knew just what he was talking about, for not a second later, he had Edmund lying on his side and was massaging soothing circles into his stomach. "I wonder why it hurts so much when it's cold."

"Well, it was an ice wand that you were stabbed with." Mrs. Pevensie almost couldn't contain the horrified gasp that tore at her throat. "Even if the power was gone after you broke it, it was still made of ice. I'm very glad you did break it, by the way. I don't know what I would've done if you'd been turned to stone."

"Aslan would've brought me back. Like he did with Tumnus and Oreius and the others. It probably would've been far less painful." His voice hitched when his scar twinged painfully. "Even after years of living with this scar, I can never get used to that."

"Well, if you think about it, you've really only had it for a few months. When we got back, we were kids again in the same bodies we had when we first got to Narnia. The scar came back when your body caught up with time."

"I miss my adult body," Edmund sulked. "I was so much taller."

"And I could actually grow a beard," Peter laughed.

"You're only 14 now, Pete. Remember, you didn't even start growing a beard until you were almost 16."

"You can't say anything, Ed. You were 17 before you grew facial hair."

"Shut up," Edmund grumbled, burrowing back into his brother. Despite her bafflement, Mrs. Pevensie couldn't help being amused. This was certainly an interesting conversation. "I'm going to feel sorry for Mum in a few years, though."

"Why?" Peter asked, confused. Mrs. Pevensie could relate.

"Remember what happened shortly after Lucy turned 12?" Peter thought for a moment before realization dawned and his eyes grew wide.

"Oh no," he muttered fearfully. "And we don't have Sennia to make her cinnamon and chocolate scones."

"Susan might know how to make them. She spent a lot of time in the kitchens learning how to make Narnian dishes."

"I'm glad she did, too." Both boys agreed that it was a good thing Susan had learned to cook in Narnia. Nearly every time she cooked supper, she made a Narnian meal. Her siblings were very grateful for the reminder of home.

"That explains a lot," Mrs. Pevensie mused. Shortly after returning, Mrs. Pevensie would find her oldest daughter in the kitchen making an odd dish that she'd never heard of before. And when they sat down to eat, the children would always have wistful looks of nostalgia on their faces. More than once, she had caught her daughters crying over their food, and even the boys had trouble holding back sniffles.

"What do you say we go out and practice later?" Peter suggested. "The air will be warmer, and you always feel better after a good fight."

"Sounds good, Pete," mumbled Edmund. Now that he was warmer and had calmed down, he was getting sleepy again.

Noticing this, Peter gave his brother one last peck on his hair before snuggling both of them under the heavy quilt. "I love you, King Edmund the Just."

"Love you, too," Edmund slurred, "High King Peter the Magnificent."

With both of her sons now asleep, Mrs. Pevensie was left to ponder everything she'd overheard. The things they'd talked about were so odd, some of it downright disturbing, and it made zero sense.

The first thing that puzzled her was what Edmund said his age was. "Edmund isn't 26. He's only 11." But a part of her knew that that wasn't completely right. Despite being so young, Edmund carried himself as a grown man. Oh, he was still a mischievous little bugger, but he had a grace and intelligence like she'd never seen. She was surprised and impressed by his ability to see both sides of a situation and settle it diplomatically.

All of her children had that grace about them. It just showed in different ways. Lucy was kind and gentle, and always had a joyful smile for anyone she came across. Susan was the epitome of a young lady. She carried herself with poise befitting a queen, and she was quick to settle any disputes between her brothers, which didn't happen often. And Peter, Peter was like a king in his mannerisms. He was kind and generous, but goodness, did he have a temper. It wasn't often that her eldest got mad. He was very slow to anger, but when it happened, he had a fiery tenacity the likes of which she'd never seen, particularly in one so young. Mrs. Pevensie was very glad she'd never been on the receiving end of her son's wrath, and she pitied those that had been.

But after hearing her sons talking just now, things were starting to fall into place. She didn't know how, but hearing Edmund say he was 26 explained how he could be so mature about things. The only thing Mrs. Pevensie couldn't grasp was how it all had happened. The children hadn't even been gone a year. The timeline just didn't add up.

"Maybe I should ask Susan," Mrs. Pevensie wondered thoughtfully. Under other circumstances, she might've asked Edmund. He was the most diplomatic of the four. But since this concerned Edmund, she wasn't going to open up any old wounds. Peter was might end up getting mad on his brother's behalf, and she just couldn't bring herself to ask little Lucy.

Footsteps sounded down the stairs, breaking Mrs. Pevensie from her thoughts. Looking to the stairs, she found the very girl she wanted to talk to. "Susan, is everything alright?"

"Yes, Mum," Susan answered softly, almost deliberately. "Edmund just had a bit of a nightmare. Peter took care of it." Well, that vague answer did nothing to alleviate Mrs. Pevensie's worries. She watched Susan as she entered the kitchen, no doubt to start cooking those strange foods she'd taken to making.

Discreetly following her daughter, Mrs. Pevensie found the now teenaged girl just where she'd suspected, rooting around in the ice box. As she worked, Mrs. Pevensie could hear sniffles coming from her daughter. It pained her to hear the young girl hurting, but she was at a loss of what to do.

Reaching for a knife to cut a wedge of cheese, Susan paused, staring at the sharp object in her hand. Mrs. Pevensie could see her hand start to shake, and it dropped back down to the counter. Sobs erupted from her young daughter, and Mrs. Pevensie couldn't stand by any longer. She approached Susan slowly, careful not to startle her, and drew her into a hug. "There, darling, it's alright," she soothed. "It's alright now."

Susan started shaking her head frantically against her mom's shoulder. "No," she gasped, "it'll never be alright. Nothing about this is alright."

Mrs. Pevensie didn't know what to say to that, so she opted to not say anything. Sooner than she would've liked, Susan pulled out of her mother's arms, dried her tears, and turned back to the counter. "I need to fix breakfast for Edmund. He'll be wanting something when he wakes up."

"Why don't you let me do that for you, dear?" Mrs. Pevensie offered. But Susan shook her head with a sniffle.

"No, it's okay. I want to do it for him." And Mrs. Pevensie couldn't really argue with that. So she just watched silently as her daughter concocted a breakfast that she'd really only seen since her children had returned home. It still amazed Mrs. Pevensie that her children now almost refused to eat anything that wasn't fresh. All their bread, jams, and even juice were homemade by Susan and Lucy, Peter went out almost daily to the market for fresh meat and fish, and she'd heard Edmund grumbling more than once about not being able to go hunting.

It only added to Mrs. Pevensie's bafflement.

But a short while later, Susan had a spread of bread with jam, cubes of cheese, some tarts, and cups of hot cider arranged on a tray to take upstairs. It was a meal Mrs. Pevensie had seen Susan make time and again, especially when one of her siblings was upset. It was a simple meal that always cheered up the children. She wasn't sure why it was such a comfort to them. They'd had bread and jam, cheese, and juice all their lives. But there was something about the combination of them now that brought a sense of peace over her children. So, like many things she'd encountered since the children's return, Mrs. Pevensie just accepted it and let it go.

A little while later, Mrs. Pevensie decided to check on her children. They'd been quiet since Susan came down and prepared breakfast for them. When she got to the top of the stairs, she peeked quickly into the girls' room. Empty. That meant they were all in the boys' room.

Mrs. Pevensie wasn't sure what she might find in her sons' bedroom. She'd never seen the children this upset before, at least not since they came back home. So she was a little worried about what she might find.

She needn't have worried. Peering in from the hallway showed her four children sitting on one bed, a half-empty tray of food in the middle of them, smiling softly as they told stories. These were stories Mrs. Pevensie had heard snippets from for the last several months, about a magical land of kings, queens, and creatures of myth. And even though there was still a heaviness in the air and Edmund was still wrapped up in blankets, Mrs. Pevensie could see that her children were much happier than they were before.

So, despite the recent strangeness of her children's behavior and the odd fear they now had of the cold, Mrs. Pevensie couldn't say anything against it. Her children were safe, they were together, and they were content.

And, really, what more could a mother ask for?

A/N: Thank you! Thank you! *takes a bow* I hope you enjoyed the story. Please tell me what you think in a review. Reviews are love! And I love love. Who doesn't love love?