Peter shivered as his breath rose in soft wisps of vapour. Snow piled up around him, some landing on his head, dropping from the bare, leafless trees. He was oblivious to it all. Taking a deep breath, summoning all of his courage (which is extremely little), he leaned forward and brushed the snow from the gravestone with a single, gloved hand, revealing the words engraved into the stone.
He'd been doing this ever since he had been crowned. The large Throne Room had seemed so quiet and empty without his little brother sitting in the throne beside his, flashing him a wide, toothy smile. Edmund would have loved his crown - it was silver and medium-sized, though it paled to his own. Still, it was simple. Sapphires rimmed the edges and the curved lines. The crown shone in the light, but there was no person to wear it. They'd all been given special, royal names: Susan the Gentle, Lucy the Valiant… Edmund had post-humanly been given the title Edmund the Just, of the Great Western Woods, and Peter himself had been called Peter the Magnificent. More like Peter the Wreck, he thought to himself.
As he stood there, shivering and tormented in memories, a beautiful butterfly landed on his arm. He slowly turned his head to look at it. The delicate wings were covered in elaborate, dark brown curls. 2 round circles were at the very tip of the 2 wings, with a smaller circle, still a deep brown, in the centre. Somehow, the insect reminded him of someone… but it couldn't be…
"Edmund?" he breathed. The butterfly bobbed up and down, as if Edmund was nodding. Peter wanted to hug him, never let him go, but he couldn't. Butterflies weren't all that strong. The butterfly - his brother - flew in front of his own name on the gravestone and mimed flying back to his castle, Cair Paravel. "I don't understand?" Peter asked, frustrated. Edmund repeated the action several times, until finally, the High King realised what he wanted. He wanted him to leave. He shook his head furiously. "No, I can't." he protested. Edmund observed him with sad eyes. The butterfly flew up to his shoulder and settled there. Peter could almost hear his brother in his mind.
You can't dwell on the past too much, Peter. You have to realise, I'm gone. I can't come back. Losing yourself in the past isn't going to help, Peter. Susan and Lucy need you.
Peter had to realise that Edmund was right. His little brother was safe in Aslan's Country, as the Great Lion had said on the day of their Coronation. "For his great sacrifice, Edmund Pevensie will be welcomed in my Country: but not as a mere boy, but a King: King Edmund the Just." Aslan had announced to all of Narnia. Peter thought about Susan and Lucy, in the Castle, worrying about him.
Peter slowly turned away from Edmund's Grave. The butterfly flew off his shoulder and disappeared into the horizon of the Great Western Woods, into the sky. He vanished into thin air. Peter's mouth broke out into a smile and he ran through the slushy white snow, back into Cair Paravel. Susan and Lucy were waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. "Are you okay? You usually stay longer," Susan hugged him, Lucy joining in. Peter grinned at them. "I'm not going back there to think about the past anymore, Susan, Lucy. There's only the future ahead." Peter declared. "Who convinced you to leave?" Lucy asked him. Peter smiled mysteriously.
"Edmund told me."