Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own characters and plots. The original universe and everything in it belong to C. S. Lewis. All photos used of film characters belong to Walt Disney Pictures. The content I have written is fanfiction and its only purpose is to inspire creativity and to further immerse oneself in the universe C. S. Lewis has created.

Author's note: I've received many kind reviews and messages since I last updated my story in December, thank you so much to all who's read and enjoyed my story so far. I work in health care, and since January, outbreaks of Covid-19 combined with the continued vaccination against the virus has kept me super busy. I'm thankful I've managed to stay healthy, and I hope my readers continue to stay safe. Without further ado, here is at long last a finished chapter.

"Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different…"

- C.S. Lewis, "Prince Caspian" (1951)

Chapter 5 – You Were My Forever – May 2315 – Narnia

If you've ever experienced the loss of a loved one, then you'll know that grief comes in stages. At first there's denial – your mind tries desperately to reject the concept of loss, and clings onto hope that an alternate reality exists in which no harm has ever been dealt.

Then, once the denial can no longer go on, comes anger. Anger at destiny or God for inflicting so much pain when instead they should use their divine power to relieve you of your burden. Your rage then turns into a hopeless sorrow. Like waves crashing mercilessly upon the shores, the feeling rakes through you and threatens to tear your heart to pieces.

Your fury was the fuel that drove you forward, but now that it has burned out, it's comparable to when Icarus flew too close to the sun and crashed into the cold water below. The sorrow engulfs you and darkens your mind until you are sure nothing will ever make you smile again.

If you have ever lost a loved one, this is exactly how it feels. And if you have been fortunate enough to have been spared this feeling, then you cannot possibly imagine it.

Peter Pevensie felt numb as he rode through the once silent Narnian woodlands. Birdsong filled the crisp morning air, and dryads emerged from the trees to walk beside Aslan, the royals, and the Narnian and Telmarine soldiers as the company made their way to conquer the Telmarine castle. Even as he sensed the warm horse move beneath him and the smell of the forest penetrated his nostrils; he felt nothing. He was unable to think clearly and of anything other than the lifeless body of his wife that he knew lay underneath a blanket on the wagon that his horse pulled carefully behind him.

Few words were exchanged between the animals and men as they travelled further North. Even fewer words were said amongst the royals; to which the only exception was Aslan's muted conversation with Caspian as the pair of them lead the group forward. The procession moved slowly, as everyone were quite tired after the battle. They stopped to rest and feed a few times, but with Aslan's encouragement everyone mustered the strength to carry on. Edmund and Lucy walked side by side with bowed heads and clasped hands. Susan walked behind the carriage with Trumpkin following closely. She studied Peter's back intently; watching like a hawk for any signs of a breakdown. His posture remained rigid and his gaze unfocused until they reached Miraz' castle, just as the sun set beyond the horizon and nightfall was upon them once more.

The Telmarine stronghold, to most of its inhabitants simply known as the Castle of Caspian, appeared before them in all its glory. The castle itself was easily twice the size that Cair Paravel had been, but according to Caspian it housed very few people, with most citizens living in villages close by. The enormous fortress was built with the use of callous stones and hardened rocks, and was surrounded by a moat filled with murky water. The wooden drawbridge was pulled up and the place seemed eerily abandoned as darkness painted the grey stone walls black.

But Caspian knew better. He knew that the greedy and corrupt followers of Miraz hid behind the solid walls. He had warned Aslan that most of the lords that made up the King's council were cowards and had never intended to fight by Miraz' side. And though most of the noble men were soldiers within the Telmarine army, the most important aristocrats would likely still have personal guards to protect them given the unlikely event that Miraz would fail to vanquish the Narnians. Caspian had known these men since he was a little boy, growing up lonesome in the spacious castle, and he knew that the lords of the council could be persuaded to back the winning side.

There would be no more fighting today.

The drawbridge creaked and complained as it was slowly lowered before Caspian's feet. He turned to Aslan and his subjects as they all looked to him for guidance. Caspian took a deep breath and turned towards the gate that would lead him into his childhood home.

"Follow me."

After many heated discussions, a few drawn swords and one lord fainting upon the sight of Aslan, the council lords had finally bowed before their new King and countrymen. Caspian had to reassure them that he did not intend to overthrow the Telmarines in favour of the Narnians, and that he intended to unite the people and govern them all in unity. The lords had been outraged, and the Narnians were equally sceptical, but Caspian and Aslan had in the end convinced them to reconvene the next day to hold a joint meeting where every voice that wanted to have their say would be heard.

When morning came, Caspian was the first to arrive in the council's chambers. The main chamber was located in the extravagant east-wing of the castle, not too far away from the grand throne room. Caspian had visited the council's lodgings many times when accompanied by his uncle, but he had never been able to attend a meeting. The Telmarine traditions of distribution of power was limited to a very exclusive group. And so, corruption spread as easily as the seeds of a dandelion drifting through the wind.

The room was sparsely furnished and modestly decorated. The seats were designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, and Caspian remembered that he found it quite funny as boy when he spotted that the council lords always wore robes that were especially well-cushioned around the buttocks. The glass windows were covered in heavily draped curtains, and the warmth provided by the numerous lit torches created a suffocating and dark atmosphere.

Caspian had sat with his tutor and oldest friend Doctor Cornelius into the night, discussing the importance of the upcoming assembly. Doctor Cornelius had warned him that the remaining Telmarine lords, seven of them in particular, would try to undermine his claim to the throne, and that it was crucial that he win them over as they controlled much of the land and governed many of the Telmarine settlements in Narnia. Caspian knew that what happened next would decide if he was capable of reuniting the two nations into one kingdom successfully.

He was disappointed to learn that Aslan had departed in the night with promises to return shortly, for he had counted on the Great Lion's wisdom to guide him through the meeting. Caspian had extended an invitation to High King Peter to join him as one of his counsellors, but he had not heard from either of the Pevensie siblings since they retired early in the evening. With a sigh, Caspian pulled on the tight collar of his tunic and sat down in the chair designed for the monarch. On either side of him were two similar chairs; the left chair was intended for Peter and the right for Doctor Cornelius.

The soon-to-be-crowned-king was joined by his Narnian subjects shortly after he sat down. Trumpkin and Trufflehunter sat close by Doctor Cornelius, and were joined by two fauns, three squirrels, one cheetah, and a minotaur Caspian knew to be named Darros. He was bigger than the rest of his kind with dark brown fur and shiny pointed horns. He had fought bravely in the last battle and had lost his left eye as a result. A fully recovered Reepicheep, and his trusted deputy Peepiceek, proudly swept through the room before they were joined by the Telmarine lords.

Under Miraz' rule there had been twenty-two noble lords that served in the council. Four had died in the battle, two were imprisoned for the time being, and five had left the castle before the Narnians had arrived. Their whereabouts were currently unknown, but every available Narnian with wings had been tasked with uncovering their locations. The remaining eleven lords entered the room scowling. The dark-skinned, greying men eyed the creatures wearily before sitting down in the available chairs.

Caspian wanted to wait for Peter to join him, as the Kings and Queens of Old played an essential part in his successful coup, but he soon sensed that everyone in the room were growing more and more agitated as the minutes passed. Caspian cleared his throat and stood.

"I wish to thank you all for joining me." He began. All eyes were upon him, whether they be devoted or distrustful, and the attention left Caspian feeling flustered and tongue-tied. "I-uh." He choked out before the council doors slammed open.

Dressed in a simple, long-sleeved black gown and with her hair tightly drawn back from her face, Susan entered the room and made her way to the empty chair beside Caspian whilst addressing the Telmarine lords.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lords, for my tardiness. I'm afraid it could not be helped." Susan sent the Narnians a gentle smile and briefly met Caspian's bewildered gaze before facing the gobsmacked older men.

"You … you are not …" Stuttered a man Caspian recognized as lord Vargas.

"I am not what, lord Vargas?" Susan answered simply, her face void of any emotion or surprise at his outburst.

Lord Vargas' eyes widened as she addressed him directly, and by name, but before he could answer, another spoke up:

"You are a woman." Stated the lord sitting two seats down from lord Vargas. He had an intricate family crest pinned to his maroon-coloured tunic – a wooden ship sailing into the golden sunset.

"Indeed, I am, lord Iordanus." Susan once again addressed the astonished lord correctly by his name. "I know you were expecting my elder brother, as it is customary that the Telmarine lordship is passed down from father to firstborn son, and when the extension of that title also offers a seat on the King's council, it is only natural that these seats have only been occupied by men." She explained confidently.

A third lord huffed and raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by the young Queen's nerve. "I must say I'm impressed that her highness has made an effort to study the Telmarine law and customs. Especially since your majesty has only been in our capital for a day." He drawled slowly, a hint of mockery to his tone of voice.

Caspian, who had been just as stunned by her entrance as the rest of the men in the room, quickly regained his wits as he recognized the sleazy man speaking to Queen Susan. Lord Dima was not one to be trifled with, even his uncle had once feared his power and influence would challenge the royal bloodline.

"I'm an eager pupil, my lord." Susan continued unabashedly. "And I tend to educate myself on all matters that might help Narnia prosper."

Lord Dima opened his mouth, but Susan cut him off.

"However, my brother is unable to attend as he is still grieving the loss of his wife. As you so nicely put it, lord Dima, it's hardly been a day since we arrived from the devastated battlefield on the fields of Beruna." She added slyly.

"You have a younger brother." Lord Iordanus argued.

"Indeed, I also have a younger sister. Neither are here in this moment as they are tending to the wounded; whether they be Telmarine or Narnian." Susan countered swiftly.

Lord Dima turned to Caspian. "No doubt you have an opinion on this King Caspian?"

Caspian sourly noted his exaggerated emphasis on the word "king".

"I mean, I look around this room and I see a peculiar gathering of men and beasts to be sure, but to my old eyes the only female in the room is Queen Susan." Lord Dima continued. "Our laws are clear on the matter, though surely your uncle supervised your education, your majesty, and you are aware of the complication the Queen's presence poses?" He added arrogantly, addressing Caspian was if he was a child.

Caspian felt his blood boil as he was reminded of his uncle's teachings, and how lord Dima was trying to undermine him. He briefly remembered Doctor Cornelius' reminder to not let their words agitate him, and to keep his temper in check at all costs. He exhaled sharply and turned to lord Dima.

"With all respect, my lord, I am not here as a woman." Susan interrupted fiercely. "I am here as the second eldest of my house. I speak for the Kings and Queens of Old Narnia, for the Narnians and for our country's ancient laws!"

"Enough!" Caspian's raised voice put an end to the bickering between the lords and Queen Susan. "I welcome Queen Susan's council." He said, mostly to lord Dima. He then turned to Susan. "Now, let us all sit and begin our meeting."

Susan sat down without another word, her expression composed and impassive.

Lord Dima leant back in his chair and raised another brow expectantly. "Well then, your majesty, what happens next?"

Caspian swallowed thickly and looked over at Doctor Cornelius for reassurance as he sat down. "Doctor Cornelius will be our mediator, and he will also have the first word. Doctor?"

Doctor Cornelius adjusted his glasses. "Firstly, we all need to agree to support Caspian's claim to the throne. Then I propose we spend the next week establishing a new council, and work to adapt new laws that incorporate both the Telmarine and Narnian way of living."

"Hear, hear!" Reepicheep and Trumpkin both voiced.

A few concerned looks were exchanged between the Telmarine lords.

"After the burial of lady Philippa, I recommend the coronation be held within a fortnight. That should give us all plenty of time to mourn respectfully whilst we plan for the future." Doctor Cornelius spoke softly.

Caspian sneaked a glance to the left, but Susan remained stone-faced.

"We also need to prepare a trial for those still loyal to the usurper Miraz. It is my understanding that Aslan shall assist us in this task. All in favour so far?" Doctor Cornelius asked the congregation.

A chorus of "aye's" rung throughout the room in various volume and enthusiasm.

"Now," Doctor Cornelius proceeded. "Are there anyone in this room who oppose his majesty's claim to rule Telmar, Narnia and the Lone Islands?"

Caspian held his breath, though he suspected none of the lords would speak up. Their position was too weak to challenge him at this moment. He needed to earn their trust, and until he did, they would continue to scheme in the shadows. Hopefully, by the time this week had passed, he would have convinced at least some of them to accept the Narnians.

When no one spoke up, Doctor Cornelius turned to Susan.

"Many of us, with the blood of Old Narnia running through our veins, would like to hear your opinion on the matter, your majesty."

"My siblings and I fully support King Caspian's claim, not only as the undisputed firstborn son of the late King Caspian IX, but as our heir to the Narnian throne." Susan looked at Caspian briefly before she turned towards the Telmarine lords. "As part of the, now ancient, scriptures of Old Narnia, when the current rulers of the throne fail to establish a natural lineage through childbirth, it is within their power to select a worthy successor. No matter our different interpretations of the events that transpired 1300 years ago, at least we can all agree that my siblings and I were robbed of that opportunity." She added – and if Edmund had heard her tone of voice; he would have rolled his eyes and complained about Susan's incessant need to lecture everyone.

"Hear, hear!" Reepicheep and Trumpkin both exclaimed again.

Caspian studied the faces of his council members. Most of the Narnians were eagerly shifting in their seats, excitement written across their furry, friendly faces. Some of the Telmarine lords had adjusted well to the newcomers and no longer looked as sceptical. Lord Iordanus and lord Vargas were whispering faintly to each other as they studied Susan closely – She, however, paid them no mind, and kept her attention glued to Doctor Cornelius as he continued speaking of the plans for the council's coming week.

Caspian once again adjusted his suffocatingly tight collar and wiped his sweaty palms discreetly on the soft fabric of his breeches. When Darros, the Minotaur, growled low at the back of his throat as lord Vargas laughed nastily at Reepicheep's lively re-enactment of a duel he had fought on the battlefield of Beruna, Caspian had to remind himself to keep faith in Aslan's parting words;

He was ready to lead those who wanted to follow.

He simply needed to keep them from killing each other before his coronation.

Elsewhere, in the darkest corner in Caspian's castle, Peter Pevensie sat motionless on the floor. His eyes were closed and his head leant back against the stone wall as he tried to clear his mind. He was used to sunshine and company, but now he was beginning to prefer the darkness and solitude – especially to the pity he saw in his people's eyes as they spoke to him of his loss. What the devil did they know of it?

Peter clenched his fists, and allowed himself to cry out in misery as his heart broke for what felt like the thousandth time. He recognized the feeling of loneliness he had felt when he and Pippa were separated in England seven months ago, only now, the feeling was woven into the sorrow of not knowing when he would see her again – if he ever would. Aslan had spoken of his country – a wonderful, safe haven where she would wait for him to join her – but Peter, not usually known as an impatient man, desperately wished to seek her out this instant.

But he knew what that meant. And therefore, he knew he couldn't. That was perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow. That whilst he still had family that needed him to keep them safe, he had lost the one person he felt kept him tethered to earth. Without Pippa in his life, he would simply float away and fade into nothingness as she was the purpose that had kept him driven and focused.

Together, they had faced impossible grief and conquered it. They had loved each other so fiercely through the joyous moments of their marriage, and when darker times were upon them that love endured. Peter felt he couldn't remember a time when they weren't together, either as friends, lovers or companions. The time before she was in his life simply didn't exist anymore. Perhaps, being lucky in love so early in his lifetime would be his downfall? Was he destined to endure the rest of his life alone?

Peter's clenched fists pummelled the stone beneath him. The skin on his knuckles ruptured and warm blood escaped the wound. The metallic smell and the rusty colour brought back memories of Pippa's dying moments on the dusty battlefield. He stared at the blood intensely, watching, but not really seeing. The pain was nothing compared to the gaping hole in his chest, for it ached and throbbed far worse than any flesh-wound ever could.

It would haunt him forever; the moment the first arrow struck her and he was powerless to help. He had fought ardently to reach her, cutting down enemies left, right and centre to reach her before the second arrow would fly her way. Everything happened in slow motion, and once he had reached her, he knew it was too late. Pippa's murderer had dislodged the final arrow when Peter finally came down on the soldier with Rhindon raised in his right hand. The soldier had fallen easily, but Peter feared it would never be enough to satisfy his need for vengeance.

Tears splashed from his cheeks and wetted his injured hand. Suddenly, a small stream of light burst through the darkness he surrounded himself with as someone slipped through the crack in the door. Peter knew who it was instantly, as she was sobbing quite loudly.

"Pete." Lucy sniffled.

Whatever blackness dwelled in his heart softened a little at the sound of his youngest sister's sorrow. He opened his arms and allowed her to fall to her knees beside him and embrace him with her short arms.

"It's alright Lu. I'm here." Peter soothed and wrapped his arms around her.

With a sigh, he reached up and stroked her soft hair, before pushing his own golden fringe out his eyes. The touch of his own hand brought back memories of Pippa's nimble fingers brushing the long hair away, as she had a habit of doing; reminding him that his eyes were his best feature and should not be hidden away.

"How- how- how shall we ever go on, brother?" Lucy cried and hiccupped.

As Peter closed his eyes once more, he allowed himself to imagine Pippa smiling at him and encouraging him to be strong for his sibling's sake. "We just will. It will take time of course, but every passing day the pain will grow smaller and our memories fonder."

"How- how- do you know?"

"It is as you always say, Lu. We must have faith that everything happens for a reason, and that Aslan would never will such hardship on us if he knew we could not endure it." The words fell mechanically from his lips. He prayed it did not sound as rehearsed as it felt.

"I cannot bear this kind of sorrow." Lucy's words pierced Peter's heart.

Peter knew that both Aslan and Pippa would expect him to keep his family safe and strong, and so he let the darkness temporarily slip from his mind, and welcomed light and warmth as a long-lost friend. His arms tightened around Lucy.

"Then we shall bear it together." He vowed.

A week passed quickly, and as Caspian discreetly celebrated every agreement in his council as a victory, the funeral of lady Philippa, Queen Consort of Old Narnia drew near. Everything had been prepared down to the smallest detail, even as the grand event of Caspian's coronation was also just around the corner. Caspian had insisted that they hold an entire week of national mourning in her honour, despite the initial protests it caused within his council.

Every day leading up to Pippa's funeral had been bleak and foggy. The rain would not let up, and a cold unlike any May weather had spread throughout the land. On the day itself, absurdly enough, the sun shined brighter than ever.

There were a lot of things Peter didn't remember from that day, and a few things he did.

He didn't remember who woke him in the morning, or helped him dress himself in dark robes, or what he ate for breakfast.

But he remembered that they buried her in the early morning when the sun was just rising into the sky. It was far too sunny for such an event, but in the end, it had felt just right. It was as if she had commanded from the heavens to stop the spring rain long enough to let them bury her in a ray of sunshine.

Peter didn't remember walking behind her burial coffin. It was an open casket that was pulled mournfully through the streets by two grey horses – all the way from Caspian's castle and up to the chapel where she would be laid to rest. A crowd of Narnians and Telmarines alike watched and grieved the royal family's loss.

He did, however, remember how peaceful she looked. As if she was barely asleep, with the sun warming her pale, but rosy cheeks. Her dark brown curls surrounded her head like a halo. Clad in dark silk her body was adorned from top to toe in daisies and faint lavender-coloured lily of the valleys – Pippa's favourite flowers.

He couldn't remember the kind words said about her, but he knew that people loved her. Even the people that barely knew her, or did not know her at all. Even those who'd spent their entire lives believing her existence to be a myth felt love for her and what she had sacrificed for them.

But, most of all, Peter remembered the pain. He remembered the salt of his tears that burned like acid on his skin. Though he would not be ashamed of his tears, for Aslan had promised him that every teardrop spilled would be a burden relieved off his shoulders. He remembered how hollow he had felt after the funeral was over, and that feeling, he desperately wished he could forget.

After Pippa's body had been softly wrapped in white taffeta and lowered into the large, stone coffin, Peter, Edmund and Caspian pushed the marble slate into place. Her insignia was carved into the hardened piece of rock, as well as her name and last farewell. It read; Here lies lady Philippa, Queen of Narnia. Sleep well, my beloved, until we meet again.

Caspian had commissioned a portrait of Pippa to be hung in the gallery in the castle, and as long as her body would rest in the mausoleum, which also was the final resting place of many of Caspian's ancestors, fresh and bright flowers would adorn her grave every single day.

Pippa's family and friends gathered around her sarcophagus with bowed heads. Lucy stood with Trumpkin and Trufflehunter. Caspian, Doctor Cornelius and Glenstorm were right by them. Susan was joined by Reepicheep and Luna, the fair-haired faun Pippa had met at the Centaur's encampment whilst Edmund stood steadfast by Peter's right side. Peter's left side remained unoccupied.

Susan broke the silence after a few minutes. "Would anyone like to say a few words?"

"No." Peter spoke suddenly. "No eulogies, please. I cannot bear it."

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

"But-" Susan started to speak.

"Please, Susan, I know you have a lot to say, you always do." Peter began. Susan's mouth snapped shut as she stared at him bewildered. "And you can say them, just not now, please."

Edmund put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's all right Peter."

"If everyone starts giving speeches about how great she was it just confirms she's truly gone from this world." Peter whispered; his voice raw with emotion. "I cannot bear it."

Lucy stepped forward and put her arms around Peter's waist. "Then we shall bear it together."

Peter's breath hitched as he lowered himself down to place a kiss on the tombstone. "You were my forever. You were my always. My wife." He murmured softly. "Sleep well until we meet again, my love."

As the High King of Old Narnia declared his love for his deceased queen, no one noticed Aslan the Great Lion lurking in the shadows. His eyes were soft and wet with tears. His fur lay limp across his majestic body, and his tail hung low to the ground.

For no one knew sorrow as Aslan did. He felt all death, all grief and all hurt – and he carried it with him so as to spare his people further pain. But he knew, no matter what he did next, that the Pevensies would face many trials and suffer many defeats before the Kings and Queens of Narnia would finally find peace.

He bowed his great head and spoke with a low growl. "I am truly sorry, dear sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. I wish I could breathe upon you and carry your agony away."

And then he turned slowly and vanished into the shadows. Solitude was, after all, the Great Lion's burden to bear.

At an early age, Susan had found that the best medicine for a troubled mind was going for a walk. It started out as strolls with her mother and little Lucy in the pram when she'd had a terrible day at school, but soon evolved into daily walks by the River Thames or along the train tracks leading away from London.

When she'd been crowned queen her walks often took her through the forest or by the seashore at Cair Paravel. After her fateful stay at Calormen, Susan had taken to walking late at night to avoid the pitiful glances or worried expressions that would often come her way.

It was currently around midnight, and Susan had just stepped into an unfamiliar hallway decorated with paintings of Telmarine kings, queens and lords. It was a hot night, and she walked barefoot on the plush carpet. As she studied the stern and regal faces before her with curiosity, she felt the rush of soft wind as another door opened, and Caspian's confounded face appeared before her.

"Your majesty." He greeted her; his accent thicker than usual in the quiet hallway. "Can't sleep?"

Susan took in his dishevelled hair and slightly skewed tunic. He looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed. But how could she have disturbed him? His rooms were located far from the gallery.

"No. I haven't actually gone to bed yet." Susan admitted.

When Caspian stayed silent, she clarified:

"Edmund and I are taking turns sitting outside Peter's chamber doors."

"I beg your pardon?" Caspian chuckled.

Susan smiled wide as she realized how ridiculous it sounded. "I know, I know. It's awful, but it's only to make sure he's alright, and besides he wouldn't let us into the actual room. I know you must think us mad."

Caspian said nothing for a moment as they continued walking down the gallery.

"Actually, I think it's kind. I would give a lot to have someone care for me that much." He confessed.

Susan stopped in front of a particularly large painting. The man portrayed on the canvas had the classic Telmarine look; with dark hair and even darker eyes, but he looked more forlorn and out of sorts than the accompanying pieces of art.

"Is every person in this gallery related to you?" Susan inquired.

"Yes. There have been many of us over the years. Although, I've never known any of them." Caspian mused quietly. "I used to run through this gallery every day as a boy, talking to the portraits, imagining them talking back to me."

"Were there no other children around for you to play with?"

Caspian shrugged faintly. "Occasionally I was allowed to play with the cook's son or the stable boys. But it was very frowned upon, and it stopped the moment I turned ten. That's when Telmarine princes are supposed to stop believing in fairy tales and grow up. Or so I've been told." He added with a grin.

"Sounds lonely." Susan commented.

"It was." Caspian answered shortly.

They moved further down the gallery in silence.

"How about you? Surely, there was never much quiet in your childhood?" Caspian asked in an effort to lighten the mood.

Susan shook her head with a broad grin. "Nor in adulthood, mind you. I cannot imagine my life without them, or their noise."

Their joint laughter bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the hall.

"I'm happy you are here. All of you." Caspian said, suddenly serious again. "You bring some much-needed light to these dark halls. And I appreciate the advice. More than you know."

Susan briefly smiled in gratitude. "I'm sorry if I've seemed uncommonly cold to you during council meetings."

"It's no problem. I'm sure there's a very good reason."

Caspian had in fact wondered this past week if he had done something to offend her as she always seemed distant during their meetings, but only when he addressed her directly.

"Indeed. Edmund's the most political of us; capable of keeping a cool head under pressure, and he's always been very eloquent when it comes to diplomacy and state affairs." Susan confided. "I took a crash course, but I'm afraid I'm much too stubborn and emotional when it comes down to it."

"That makes two of us. Perhaps, King Edmund will teach me too?" Caspian grinned.

"I think you are doing admirably well. It's no easy task Aslan has bestowed on you." Susan praised sincerely. "Although, if anyone can unite the Narnians and Telmarines it must be you, look at the progress we've made after only one week." She added.

Astonished by her kind words, Caspian thanked her. "Thank you. And I was equally impressed with your knowledge of Telmarine law and culture. You've surprised us many times this past week."

"Thanks. I'm afraid I've bothered Doctor Cornelius quite a bit though." Susan revealed with some embarrassment. "And I might have improvised a little from what I knew of the diplomats I met from Telmar during my reign."

The two royals shared another laugh, before Susan abruptly froze as they arrived at the end of the southern part of the gallery where an empty spot stood out like a black hole in a sea of glittering comets.

"Oh."

Together they stared at the shadow on the wall before Susan spoke once again with tears lurking in the corner of her wide eyes.

"I still can't believe she's gone." She nearly whispered the words. "When I first met her, she barely spoke a word – she was incredibly shy, always hiding behind a book and her enormous glasses." A cheerless giggle escaped her lips. "Then we travelled to Narnia together, and I learned how brave she could be. I admired her greatly, even at fifteen. She made my brother so very happy. And now…" Susan trailed off as a tear slid down her cheek.

Caspian watched as Susan struggled to keep her composure. "She will never truly be gone if we keep her alive."

Susan nodded. "But how?" She questioned.

"I've actually thought of an idea…" Caspian said whilst deep in thought.

"What?" Susan prodded.

"It's still a surprise. I don't even know if it's possible yet." He mused.

Susan raised a dark eyebrow. "I hate surprises."

Caspian smirked. "That's noted."

Susan tried very hard to ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. "I should get some sleep before it's my turn to be ignored by Peter again."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"You've already done so much for us." She turned to walk away. "Goodnight Caspian."

"Goodnight Susan."

TO BE CONTINUED.

Songs for this chapter:

You Were My Forever – Thomas Bergersen

Burning the Past – Harry Gregson-Williams

Ragnar Says Goodbye to Gyda – Trevor Morris

Damaged – John Lunn, The Chamber Orchestra of London

Allegri: Miserere mei, Deus – Gregorio Allegri, Edward Higginbottom

Peter Pevensie – Born 19th of January 1924 (17 years old)

Susan Pevensie – Born 2nd of June 1925 (16 years old)

Edmund Pevensie – Born 6th of March 1927 (14 years old)

Lucy Pevensie – Born 25th of December 1929 (11 years old, turning 12)

Prince Caspian X – Born 14th of July 2296 (18 years old, turning 19)