Susan slammed the door to the library with a harsh bang before turning to glare at Edmund

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or its characters, only Mona, Gideon and the farmer.

A/N: Well, this is it. This chapter nearly killed me, (you may have noticed it took me forever as well as how long it is), but I finished it. Hopefully this is a satisfactory ending!!

Darkness

Susan slammed the door to the library with a harsh bang before turning to glare at Edmund. Her palms contacted with the dark wood of Peter's desk but she hardly noticed the sting. The numbness had returned to her body following her calm, collected, and grieving statement. Yes, the High King has passed away and the next two weeks shall be reserved for mourning. Yes, we are deeply saddened at this sudden turn of events. Yes, we are preparing a public funeral service. Yes, everything is being taken care of. Yes, my heart is crumbling to dust. Yes, I'm lost. Yes… No… No…

"What did you do?" she screeched at him, her throat closing even as she flung the words at him.

Ed set his jaw, his hand wrapping fiercely around the hilt of his sword. "It's not important, Susan," he insisted gravely.

"Oh, but I think it is, Edmund. See, if you killed that-that- woman in cold blood and without proof that she had even known Peter, you're going to be put on trial. For murder. How would that look? The Just King of Narnia on trial by his own people for murder!" Susan was shouting again, her voice a bit hoarse and fresh tears pouring from her eyes. "Don't you get it?"

"How would anyone know?" he demanded.

"Do you think I, of all people, could harbor a murderer?"

Incredulity flashed in his eyes. "So you will turn me in?" Neither of them even glanced up when the door suddenly opened and shut. Lucy marched across the room.

"Then you admit it! You did kill her!"

Edmund threw up his hands even as Lucy shouted over their racket, "Stop it!"

The two older Pevensies looked to her wet cheeks and smudged makeup. Their faces softened and without a word they took her in their arms. The three stood there a moment, drawing on each other's strength. Yes, they had problems and, yes, those would have to be dealt with. But for the moment they needed just the thundering silence and knowledge that they were still a family, albeit slightly ripped.

The gentle click of the door locking behind them forced them apart. They tried vainly to appear composed but at the sight of their long-time friend and trusted advisor, Gideon, the three slumped. Gideon's eyes filled with pity. Where grace, elegance and strength usually stood was loss, misery and anger. For what was all that without magnificence? He sighed and moved to sit at the desk. Susan and Lucy sank into chairs and Edmund perched himself on the edge of the mahogany. Gideon cleared a spot amidst Peter's many papers and placed a leather binder in it. He opened it and pulled out several documents.

Taking a deep breath, he began, "This is your brother's will. I did not draw it up; he did it himself. As far as I know, no one knows what's on these papers-"

"Gideon." Lucy wearily held up a hand, halting his speech, before dropping her head back into it. Her elbow rested on the arm of the chair and her other hand was clutched in Susan's.

Gideon bit his lip. "Right. You know all that. Moving on." He lifted the first paper and began to read aloud.

--

Two hours later and it seemed Peter had more in his name than any of them had realized. He was rather particular, too, what went to whom. There were a few individuals listed none of them had ever heard of. This whole ordeal was difficult enough without the protocol. To lose a loved one is terrible; to lose him publicly is far worse. Everyone sees your tears and knows of your lack of sleep. There is nowhere to hide. But, finally, they came to the last page. Each of them sighed with relief in turn. Gideon cleared his throat and began.

Aslan stands beside me as I write this, not dictating but still telling me what to say. To my siblings, Susan, Edmund and Lucy: You may wonder why nothing has yet been left to you. That is because I have a rather queer request. If something should happen to me and you find yourselves reading these words, Aslan tells me only this. In a day's time, you are to leave on a hunting trip for the famed White Stag.

At this, each of them straightened. A chorus of confusion barraged Gideon and he held up a hand. "Hold on, there's more." With curiously knitted brows, the three quieted.

I know this must be confusing to you all, as it was for me, for hunting is hardly a part of mourning. However, Aslan wishes that you go to the Lantern Waste as soon as possible. He says that when you reach your destination, you will understand. Please see the letters to each of you.

High King Peter the Magnificent, Knight of the Noble Order of the Lion

Gideon handed three folded letters to them, each with a name scrawled in Peter's familiar messy handwriting. "And that is all, Your Majesties. I imagine you would like time to read your letters in private so, if I may, I will take my leave."

They nodded and waved cordially, not really paying him any attention before standing and hurrying to their rooms.

--

Lucy was already slicing open the seal with her fingernail as she strode down the hallway. She turned her doorknob and swung inside, letting the door slide from her fingers to shut, and sat down at her vanity.

Dear Lu,

I don't even know how to begin this letter. We've always been close, you and I, and I can't imagine us separated. To think that if you are reading this, I will never again swing you around in my arms or tuck you into bed at night, pains me deeply. I love you, Lu. I don't know how else to say it. I'm not a poet or even much of a diplomat; I'm just your brother. No matter what has happened to me, you must know that. I would never leave you intentionally and with Aslan in mind I have the feeling it shant be as long as we might think before we see each other again. Don't despair, Valiant. You must believe that though I am lost, not all is.

With love,

Peter

Lucy cried herself to sleep that night.

--

Susan had an ounce more patience than Lucy for she found an envelope opener and comfortably seated herself in the window before she pulled back the red wax.

Dear Su,

Whenever I've been in trouble I've turned to you. Lucy and Ed are my little brother and sister. You, though, you're my best friend. There have been times you've hated my guts and a time or two you very nearly pushed me off a cliff, but you always come through. So I'm turning to you one last time, Susan. I need you to be strong for the others. Not because you're the oldest, but because you can do it. Where Lucy will burst into tears at every little thing and Ed will be angry, you can still be a Queen. I know you and I don't care how much you might want to shut the door right now and never face the world again, you won't. You will stay strong and keep our family together. I love you, Su, and I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't.

With love,

Peter

Susan cried herself to sleep that night.

--

It was with trepidation and guilt that Edmund finally brought himself to open his letter. The weight of his actions was crushing him and he knew Susan's harsh words were right. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the cold stone wall and began to read.

Dear Ed,

I know you're angry and you're feeling rash. You're probably blaming yourself whether you had anything to do with what happened to me or not. I can assure you this: no matter what, I know it wasn't your fault. So stop acting like an idiot and listen to me. I know you've always felt you had to make up for your past sins but I think you ought to know I forgave you the moment I knew you were going to be all right. How could I stay mad at my only brother for long? You have to believe me, Ed, or you'll never stop beating yourself up over ancient history. Don't let it drag you down any further, especially without me there to pull you back up again. I love you, Ed, and I don't want to see you hurting because you couldn't forgive yourself when I already have.

With love,

Peter

Edmund never got to sleep that night.

--

A passing farmer on his way to the market caught sight of a swinging door and, at the stray drops of blood on the stone path, feared the worst. He let himself in only to find that he was much too late. A beautiful, foreign woman lay cold on the floor, once tan skin an unnatural white. Her dark hair was splayed around her and her blank eyes reflected emotions the dead should never feel. The gaping wound on her chest was shocking enough, but what really drew his attention was clutched in her hand: a piece of red cloth. Gently, the farmer pulled it from her fingers and gasped as he recognized the Mark of the Lion.

--

Fitted in extravagant black, the King and Queens descended from their rooms for the funeral, barely glancing at each other. Peter would have been astonished to see how grown-up and composed his siblings appeared, though only Lucy had yet to break 25 so it shouldn't have been surprising. Susan's veil gave her the look of one so far removed from her surroundings no one dared approach her to offer condolences. Lucy's low-scooped, feathered gown bordered on rebelliously inappropriate, as though she wished to lighten the mood for Peter's sake. After all, every time she had worn the dress before, he had taken great delight in giving some unlucky nobleman a black eye for staring too long. The presence of Edmund's sword and chainmail put everyone in a somberly strangling mood, for they all seemed to sense he was more than shocked and depressed by his brother's untimely death. There was something deeper brewing in his eyes. The something that only flickered there when he prepared for battle.

The three watched as Peter's body was laid by his generals in a shallow boat on the beach. Nobles and friends stepped up to honor their lost king but his family hardly heard their kind words. Finally, with a slow heave, the small boat was pushed out to sea. Oreius lifted his bow and Gideon raised a burning torch to light the arrow, but Susan stopped him with a hand on his arm. Both centaur and man knew what she wanted and, with a slight incline of his head, Oreius signaled for the Queen's bow to be brought out.

The familiar, worn ivory beneath her fingers offered her a small comfort as she swept her veil back and fitted an arrow. Those close enough winced at her bloodshot eyes, red-rimmed from endless crying. Gideon lit the tip of the arrow with fire and she raised it, taking aim. The unmistakable crimson arrow landed in the side of the boat and quickly engulfed it in flames. It seemed that even the water burned.

--

It was dark, the kind of dark that is a tangible thing. Peter could not be sure whether his eyes were open or closed, let alone where he was. Out of nowhere, he glimpsed red. Focusing, he realized it was fire. Peter knew he should be afraid, for the flames circled him, licking ever closer. Yet something told him the fire could not touch him. As he glanced around, he saw a figure, separated from him by the flames. She came nearer and by the way she moved, the High King knew it was Mona. His heart flashed with a dark anger that frightened him, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. She stopped a few feet from him, the wall of fire still separating them.

"This is how it was always going to be, Peter," she whispered, though it felt as though she were shouting in his ear. He was lost again, floundering, and she smiled slightly, as though sensing his confusion. "No, not you and I. But what is to come. We made our decisions, and though they were unwise and unjust, they still lead to this, Peter. All roads lead to the same conclusion. There are no forks to destiny."

"What destiny? Darkness? Flame? The end?" He gestured around them.

She shook her head, waving a hand to her side. As she did so, images appeared. Images he recognized. A tall tower with a clock in it. Fantastic machines for transportation. People with smiling faces he knew. Mona waved her hand again and the images disappeared. Peter met her eyes through the flames.

"Home. For both of us."

For the first time, Peter saw the ugly red mark on Mona's breast. He gasped as it began to spread and tried to reach for her over the fire but she held up a hand.

"It's all right, Peter. It's my time," she reassured him, "But it's not yours. I'm irrevocably sorry I forced you here when you don't belong yet. You still have a life to lead." With that, she turned her back on him and began to walk away, but he heard himself call her name. Pausing briefly, she blew him a kiss and then disappeared as though she had never been there at all. He wondered if he were hallucinating.

--

The farmer rushed into the marketplace, dropping his cart at his stall as he rushed for the palace. It stood high on the hill above the town but with the bloody lion crest still clutched tightly in his fist, he ran all the way. He came to the gates, panting and gasping for breath. Glancing down at the reason for his mission, he feared the worst for the second time that day.

--

Susan, Edmund, Lucy and Gideon gathered in the stable, the former three in black riding outfits. A strange sense of foreboding filled them and, unbeknownest to the others, each of them tucked Peter's letter somewhere on their person for safekeeping. Gideon reminded them that this was part of Aslan's plan and that there must be a good reason for it. It was that statement alone that kept any one of them from breaking down at any given time. They had decided to leave without letting everyone know, for how could they explain Peter's odd will? The Pevensies bid Gideon farewell and mounted their respective steeds. They galloped from the gates, creating a gust of air that tore the lion from the farmer's hand. It floated away to land on the sea.

Gideon questioned the exhausted man and he spilt his story: the open door, the dead Calormene woman, the now long gone ripped tunic, and Gideon vainly attempted to piece the story together in his head.

--

Peter was running through the woods, branches whipping him in the face and leaves crunching beneath his feet. He didn't know how he got there, just that he was. He could hear pounding hooves behind him and knew he was being chased. Once again, his brain told him to be afraid but his heart coaxed him on. He ran with every ounce of power he had in him. As the hooves slowed and eventually stopped, he heard voices.

--

The farther into the Lantern Waste they went, the less troubled they were by Peter and the serious matters that awaited them back in Cair Paravel. They became carefree, cheerful, child like. Peter wasn't dead and Edmund hadn't killed anyone. They forgot all their troubles as though they had been erased. Each of them saw flashes of the Stag up ahead in the trees, but was far more intrigued by this lamppost for the moment. Yet the Stag beckoned to them and they set off on foot, pushing through the brush and foliage.

Where three monarchs and a mythical beast had entered, four children emerged.

They were wrapped in too-big coats and tumbled over each other into a room coated with dust and trapped in time. They stared at each other and at the solid wooden back to the wardrobe that blocked them from their home. Three pairs of eyes met stormy gray ones and wondered why they were so happy to see them sparking with life and emotion.

Peter. Susan. Edmund. Lucy.

Magnificent. Gentle. Just. Valiant.

Each with their mistakes but forgiven so wholly they were allowed to forget.