A/N: The second instalment. Enjoy!

This is Henry Pevensie

Epilogue: Part Two

The Golden Age draws to a close; The Final Year of the Reign of the Prophesised monarch's of Narnia.

Hunting was an exhilarating experience.

The thrill of the chase, the triumph of the catch, and the crushing disappointment of a failure…it all contributed to the overall appeal of the sport. However, hunting in Narnia was quite unlike hunting within the four Pevensie sibling's own world.

There were no lumbering automobiles, nor rapid-fire pistol with which to cheat the opposition. There was only the tip of your blade, the refinement of your wit and the level of your skill and experience to help you.

Edmund, for one, considered it the highlight of his week.

As the white stag whipped between the trees and disappeared around a bend in the forest path, Phillip slowed to a canter before halting completely, and Edmund leant down to pat his neck, slightly concerned.

"You alright there, Phillip?"

The horse let out a short huff, and wheezed slightly.

"Not as young as I once was…"

Edmund raised a sceptical eyebrow and glanced up as the light patter of hooves alerted him to his sibling's return. Obviously they had been unwilling to go on without him…or maybe they had just lost the stag and needed an excuse to go back.

"Come on, Ed!"

Susan's dark eyes twinkled with mirth as she and Lucy stopped in front of him, Peter turning sharply around a corner in quick pursuit before stopping too. Edmund smiled, gathering the reins into his hands once more.

"Just catching my breath."

Phillip nickered softly, grateful, as Susan sighed exasperatedly and shared a knowing glance with Peter, who rolled his eyes upwards to the forest canopy.

"Well that's all we'll catch at this rate!"

Lucy's sea green eyes caught Edmund's, and she grinned mischievously.

"What did he say again, Susan?"

Edmund inwardly sighed as the two sisters once again ganged up against him. This had become aggravatingly common recently, and Edmund glanced helplessly at Peter, who shrugged.

"You girls stay at the castle; I'll get the stag myself."

Susan mimicked in a falsely deep tone, and she and Lucy broke into a fit of giggles. Edmund slumped in the saddle, Peter giving him a sympathetic look before glancing about, taking in the autumn beauty of the forest.

Then he frowned.

"What is this?"

Edmund glanced down, and hastily followed his brother as Peter slid off his horse. In the center of the forest clearing, there stood quite the strangest structure Edmund had ever seen; it was not made of wood, and yet appeared in the likeness of a tree trunk, bearing neither branches nor parched leaves.

They all circled the strange structure, until Susan paused, and shivered, rubbing her arms as if the wood had turned suddenly cold.

"I feel…strange. As though…well…like a dream..."

"Or a dream of a dream..."

Lucy added vaguely, her eyes clouded with an unreadable flow of emotions. Edmund glanced at her, just in time to see her eyes widen in seeming shock, or recognition.

"…Spare Oom…"

Quite suddenly, to the dismay of her siblings, she turned tail and hurried off into the depths of the trees. The others hastened to follow, crying out warnings and exclamations as the forest grew steadily denser.

"Lu?"

"Not again!"

"Lu!"

Lucy glanced back, a radiant smile now making her face light up with excitement. Edmund grumbled under his breath as a branch Susan had pushed aside came flying back to snap at his shoulders.

"Come on!"

They had now been reduced to fighting tooth and nail to get through, wincing as the twigs and leaves clutched at their clothing and scratched their bare skin, ripping the clothing where they couldn't reach flesh.

"These aren't branches…"

Peter murmured softly, and Edmund glanced up to note that his brother was right. There were no longer in a sea of thick foliage, but rather in a cluster of dark, brown objects which were softly textured.

"They're coats!"

Susan muffled voice sounded from up ahead, and suddenly Edmund felt very strange indeed. His clothes felt baggy and loose on him, and the coats about him suddenly seemed so much larger than they had a moment ago.

And then, all was chaos as they were pressed into a tiny, tight space, all jostling and pushing each other.

"Ow! Ed, that's my foot!"

"Susan, get off me! I can't-OUCH!"

"Shut up, all of you! Let's just-oh!"

Quite suddenly, the enclosed space fell away before them, and they all piled out of the wardrobe to slam into wooden floorboards with cries of surprise and alarm.

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Llangollen village, Wales. The stately residence of Mr D. Kirke, 4th April 1941.

Peter groaned, his head spinning as he carefully levered himself up onto one elbow. There was a strange, warm but not entirely pleasant feeling in his limbs, and the base of his palm's throbbed from the impact upon the hard floor.

He glanced up, vaguely noting that his hair, which had previously hung in chin length strands around the side of his face, now obscured half of his vision. He frowned. He had grown his fringe out long ago…

Beside him, Edmund muttered a grumbled curse, and Peter started as he noted his brother's appearance. He was…well…

Eleven.

Just as he had been when…they had first come to Narnia. He frowned, as he recalled the events which had led to their reign in a rush of realisation. And then he raised his head to survey their new surroundings.

They were painfully familiar.

The dead bluebottle still lay on the windowsill, which now reflected the dying rays of the afternoon sun with a soft glow. The wood beneath him was polished and varnished to a mirror like quality, and the walls were a creamy, old fashioned colour.

They were back…well, not home…but back to the beginning.

Peter jumped and raised himself higher as he heard echoing footsteps drawing nearer, and stared with slight apprehension as the door creaked open to reveal a thatch of white hair and brightly coloured clothing.

"Ah, there you are!"

The Professor smiled benignly, idly tossing a very familiar cricket ball up and down in his palm. Peter looked to Edmund, whose face bore a look which stated quite clearly that he had just as little clue as Peter did.

The professor leant down, a slight quirk of dimpled cheeks and a gentle smile making his features seem more youthful than many men his age. The children stayed perfectly still, waiting.

"What were you all doing in the wardrobe?"

He asked softly, and Peter looked to his siblings. They all smiled at one another, and Peter shook his head disbelievingly as he turned back to look the professor in the eye with a sheepish grin.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you, Sir."

The Professor smiled knowingly down at him, and lightly tossed the stitched leather ball to Peter, who snatched it out of the air with a confused frown.

The Professor's smile widened.

"Try me."

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Weybridge Train Station, London, 24th November 1942; 12:37 pm.

"Careful, Lu. Mind your feet…there we go."

Peter helped his youngest sister down from the steep steps of the carriage door, and hefted his suitcase more securely under his arm. Lucy stood quietly by as Susan hopped neatly out, straightening her coat as she landed and breathing in the fresh air with a sigh of relief.

Edmundgurnted heavily as he attempted to heave the rest of the luggage out of the door, and Peter reached over to take it from him, smiling gratefully.

Once the last case was safely off the train, Peter reached out to grasp his brother's arm and steadied him as Edmund stumbled tiredly. It had been a very long journey, and even though Edmund had slept through most of it, he was still stiff from sitting still so long.

Peter rolled his eyes as he reached down to retrieve one of the cases, while the others all hastened to grab one of their own.

"Honestly, Ed. I think you had the best time of us all."

Peter winced as he rubbed the sore juncture between his left shoulder and his neck.

"Did you have to lean on me the whole way?"

Edmund frowned petulantly, his eyes glimmering with mirth as he gave his brother an innocent, if slightly sheepish smile.

"But Peter, you make such a wonderful pillow!"

Peter grumbled softly under his breath while their sister's laughed, and decided to take it as a compliment rather than an insult. Their hearts sinking somewhat, they moved carefully through the jostling crowds towards the sign labelled 'Evacuee Collection point'.

Susan snorted.

"Makes us sound like some sort of excess baggage! 'Collection Point' indeed, what a mess…"

Lucy, who was too excited to really care that her sister was acting imperious once again, simply grinned and ducked hastily under the rope which separated the small space set apart for returning evacuees from the rest of the station.

Edmund vaulted thebarrier without incident, while Susan and Peter collected the luggage together in an efficient pile and stood just outside the barrier, Peter noting that he appeared to be the eldest child there.

If they could even be considered children anymore.

There was an excited surge of murmurings as the station clock struck twelve forty five; the designated time for collection sent out to anxious parents.

The four Pevensie children huddled tightly together, sinking down onto their luggage as the chaos began. Unlike the other children, they simply sat quietly and patiently waited for the crowd to calm, except Lucy, who was practically jumping up and down in eager anticipation.

Peter swallowed hard as he caught sight of the sandy, mud coloured uniforms and crimson stained bandages which indicated the return of the wounded soldiers.

Not all those who had left this station would return.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to meet Edmund's dark, concerned gaze, swirling with a mature solemnity far beyond his years. Peter smiled and shook his head, turning away from the returning wounded to stare up at the gate where a seething mass of adults hurried about, trying desperately to find their wayward children.

It was not his right to tell, not his decision to make.

He was no longer the only person there for his siblings, and although this was some comfort, he felt…powerless. Last he had seen, mother had been…a broken woman. How fast would news have travelled from the front line?

Would he have to bear the burden alone, until the dreaded letter finally arrived like the grim reaper itself upon the doorstep?

He didn't think he could bear it.

Just stop, and listen. Listen to your heart, Peter. Trust in it.

Peter drew a deep breath, and looked inwards to himself. He had grown stronger, more resilient. He would find a way. He could bear the weight. After all, he had governed an entire realm for a great many ages, hadn't he?

But this was…different. A different sort of burden.

"Momma!"

Peter was abruptly snapped out of his reverie as Lucy leapt to her feet, her eyes gleaming with joy as she stared at the distant figure rushing towards them. She seemed so much…smaller.

Or maybe Peter had simply grown bigger.

The eldest Pevensie shuddered as he saw her pale, drawn face, and the way her clothes seemed to hang off her body. Her eyes held a forlorn, broken look, but something shone within its depths which Peter found some small semblance of hope in.

She halted just a few feet away, her haggard face shining with a joy which Peter had not seen since before the war. The shadow of sorrow lingered within their depths, but still they shone with pure, unbelieving rapture at the sight of her four children.

And Peter smiled.

I'll never be gone, Peter. Not as long as you, and the others, remember. Helen Pevensie's gaze moved from Lucy, to Susan, to Edmund, and, finally, to Peter. Her face grew brighter and brighter, until she reached her eldest son.

Possessing the forgotten eyes of a dead man was both a blessing, and a curse.

A fleeting shadow of understanding passed between them, and they moved together, both desperately reaching out to the only person with which they could share their agonising pain.

And Peter finally let himself go.

He choked as he clutched his mother's thin shoulders to him, resting his cheek against the coarse, scratchy surface of her coat. She still possessed the lingering scent of the 'Lily of the Valley' perfume their father had given her for her thirty sixth birthday.

At this thought, Peter broke, and no longer repressed the welling tears which had been gathering in his eyes.

The other children surged forwards, their mother touching a hand to Susan's cheek and wrapping an arm around Lucy as the youngest Pevensie buried her tear stained face in her mother's side. Peter drew back, his eyes seeking Edmund's as his brother hovered uncertainly, face hesitant.

He smiled weakly; placing a hand in the small of Edmund's back and giving him a gentle push forwards.

Edmund was rapidly enveloped in the hug, while Peterscrubbed at his face furiously, his family embracing tightly, tears of joy and sadness mixing across their flushed, smiling faces.

Edmund frowned, turned, and looked curiously at his brother. Peter did nothing, suddenly uncertain.

What if he wasn't strong enough?

I'll lend you the strength to carry on.

Then Edmund smiled, and extended a shaking hand to pull his older brother close to him, wrapping an arm around Peter's waist as their sister's closed in, and soon they were all entangled in a joyful mess of Pevensie.

And as Peter allowed his eyes to slip shut and his head to lean against his brother's dark hair, he realised he had found his strength.

It had been there all along.

I'll always be with you…

Always…

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Fin.