Chapter 15

The Great Battle

The room was very dim, and he could see a figure so small under the blankets. He wandered in, finding Ethan's very thin, ashen body. Had it truly been only three days? He looked as though he'd been fighting a battle for weeks and weeks. Surely there was some mistake!

Mrs. Hunt was sitting beside the bed, sobbing softly, clutching her rosary necklaces tightly in her hand. Neither of them noticed he was standing there in the corner; neither did the priest, who came into the room shortly afterwards.

Peter walked to the otherside of the bed and called his friend's name, but no one looked up. No one heard him. "Ethan? I'm here…"

"Come to his assistance, Saint's of God…come forth to meet him, Angels of the Lord…"

"No, no, he's not dying, he's not! He's only twelve…"

"Angels of the Lord, Receiving his soul. Offering it in the Most High…"

"Ethan, snap out of it! Open your eyes and say you're kidding, really…"

Mrs. Hunt began to cry harder as the priest made the sign of a cross over Ethan's body.

"May Christ receive you, who has called you, and may the Angels bear you into Abraham's bossom…"

"He's not dead yet! He's not dead yet," Peter yelled, kneeling down beside the bed and gave his friend's shoulder a shake. Ethan's breathing was so shallow. "He's not dead…he isn't dead!"

Edmund opened his eyes to Peter's whimpers of, "not dead…he's not dead…not dead!" he lay under his covers, knowing it was still very late; and there was a chill in the air. Peter was crying softly, tossing from one side to the other, so Edmund decided to snap him out of it before he fell out of the bed.

"Peter?" he called, raising his head, and suddenly saw a few pink petals floating through the flap in the tent. He raised his eyes, hearing what he swore was a soft whisper. He tiptoed over to where he kept his sword and pulled it out in case; he couldn't understand why, but he felt as though something terrible had happened. There was just this feeling…this strange feeling. "Peter, wake up, you're having a nightmare." He shook his brother's shoulder gently, knowing that if he was too rough, he might panic.

Peter cried out in alarm and reached for his own sword, missing Edmund's nose by an inch. "Oy!" he cried, and his older brother sat, panting hard and hiccouging a little. "Peter, it's me, Ed," Edmund promised, embracing Peter tightly, and allowing his brother to burry his face against his shoulder. This wasn't normally something he allowed, but he hated seeing Peter in this state.

"Ed…" Peter gulped. "What…what are you doing up?" he wiped his eyes, setting his sword beside him.

"I heard you talking in your sleep," Edmund explained, and Peter blew out his breath, massaging his forehead.

"Wonder what time it is," he croaked, and Edmund shrugged.

"I don't know. It's still dark out, though. And I don't hear much outside, so that probably means it's still pretty late. Everybody's still asleep I'm sure. Are you all right? Should I get you some water?" he asked, noticing his brother's flushed cheeks and sweat-soaked hair.

"No," Peter promised. "I'll be all right. Sorry, Ed." He swallowed, glancing towards the tent. "What in the name of Aslan…" he pointed as a wave of pink petals drifted through the tent, approaching the young Kings and tickling their faces. Edmund stared, open-mouthed as a figure created from the cherry blossom petals peeped its head in. Peter hopped to his feet and brandished his sword, not sure whether he should attack or not.

"Do not fear," the cherry blossom figure spoke in an almost echoy-voice. "I mean you no harm. However, I bring grave news from your sisters."

Peter and Edmund stared at each other; Susan and Lucy had left the camp?

"What happened?" Edmund asked, and Peter gripped his brother's shoulder, feeling faint.

"Aslan…" he breathed, and the creature nodded its head softly.

"Aslan…?" Edmund glanced behind him, biting his lip. "He's…"

Peter let go of Edmund's shoulder and burst through the flap of the tent, ignoring his brother's shouts of, "Hey, wait!"

He flew through the campsite and reached the great lion's tent, pulling up the flap. He stopped short as he peered inside, and found his heart racing fast. Ethan stood where he had the previous night, looking very grave in deed.

"What…what are you doing here?" Peter asked, his voice a little hoarse. "You said you weren't appearing until the battle…"

"I know," Ethan replied quietly. "But I knew you would come here, too."

"What happened?" Peter asked, and Ethan merely gazed into his eyes.

"A great sacrifice. One Edmund must not know anything about," he replied, and Peter swallowed.

"Those feelings I had earlier this evening…" he sat down on the ground, burying his face in his lap.

"It is not as terrible as you think," Ethan said softly.

"Aslan's dead…and that's not…" Peter lifted his head. "I'm…I'm supposed to lead this battle alone? How can I?"

"Aslan truly believes you can. I do, too, Peter. The army—they are not exactly confident about you, but they will follow you to the end no matter what."

Peter snorted. "Thanks, Ethan." He blew out his breath.

"Where are my sisters?" he asked, feeling sick with worry over Susan and Lucy. He hadn't even known they were gone; they could have been hurt.

"They're safe," Ethan promised. "They are at the Stone Table."

"The Stone Table…" Peter breathed. "Why are you here, Ethan?" he demanded, and Ethan looked at him.

"To give you confirmation."

"I see…" Peter sighed softly.

"What is it, Peter?" he came forward, and Peter stood up again, feeling a bit dizzy. He could hear Edmund's voice in the distance, and glanced over his shoulder.

"I dreamt about your death tonight," Peter said bluntly. "I haven't…haven't had a nightmare about it in quite sometime. It was probably trying to tell me about Aslan, because Ed and I felt strange about him before we went to bed."

Ethan gave a small smile, and Peter raised an eyebrow. "That's not meant to be funny," he snarled, and Ethan shook his head, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It must have hurt so badly." He took his friend's hand tightly, and Ethan shook his head.

"No…well, I don't know, really."

"What was it like to die, Ethan?" Peter asked, sitting down in the chair for a moment.

"Peter, are you in here?" Edmund called, and both boys jumped.

"Ed, not now," Peter called. "Don't come in here. I insist you go back to bed…"

"Are you okay?" Edmund asked, and Peter had to smile softly.

"Yes, I'm all right. Just go, please," he begged, and he heared Edmund's footsteps as they headed off, without another word. When Edmund was out of earshot, Peter turned back to Ethan, who looked satisfied.

"Um…" Peter wet his lips, and his friend looked down.

"I don't have much time, Peter," Ethan said quietly. "I'm sorry. I wish I did…"

"I understand," Peter croaked.

"And dying? It wasn't bad, really, Peter. It was like falling into a really deep sleep, and waking up feeling light as a bird, you know. Nothing hurt anymore. My grandparents were there to welcome me, and took me with them."

"I miss you so much," Peter choked, and Ethan squeezed his hand tightly again. "I don't know how I'm going to say goodbye when you have to leave."

"You still have time to think of what you want to say to me," Ethan insisted. "There will be no loose ends, I am quite sure."

Peter bit his lip and nodded, a couple of tears falling down his cheeks. "You will be there?" he asked softly, and Ethan grinned.

"I promised you I would, didn't I?" he asked, and Peter nodded again, pressing Ethan's hand to his cheek. "Go back to sleep, Peter, There are still a good many hours until the battle begins. You need as much rest as possible."

Peter yawned at that very moment, and apologized quickly afterwards. "Thank you," he said softly, and Ethan stepped back.

"I will be there, Peter, I promise," he said, before disapparating into the darkness. Peter wiped his eyes quickly after his friend was gone, and, sniffling a little, pulled open the flap to step outside. He lifted his flushed face to the cool night air, and took his time walking back to his tent. He couldn't imagine the agony the girls were going through at the moment; sweet, little Lucy, especially. She was too young, too innocent, to be experiencing any of this.

He stepped into the tent he shared with Edmund, and found his younger brother waiting up for him.

"I told you to go back to sleep," Peter said quietly, sitting on the edge of his cot and removing his shoes.

"You've told me a lot of things I should be doing," Edmund replied. "I haven't felt the need to listen to you before, so why should I start listening to you now?" he winked, and Peter rolled his eyes. "I love you, Peter. I was merely joking. I just wanted to make sure you were really okay."

Peter smiled softly. "I'm fine," he promised, before sliding under the covers.

"It's true, then, isn't it?" he asked, and Peter looked at him.

"Is what true?" he pulled the blankets to his chin, his eyes focused on his sword that sat at the foot of his bed.

"He's really gone, isn't he?"

Peter bit his lip and turned over, sighing. "Yes, Ed."

"You'll be all right, Peter," Edmund promised.

"Thanks, Edmund. Now really, go to sleep, before I have to get up and box your ears," Peter warned, and Edmund gave a snort, laying down against the pillows.

The next morning, Peter was up before dawn, going over potential battle strategies with Orelius. He smiled when Edmund eventually stumbled out, yawning loudly.

"Morning," Peter greeted.

"M-m-morning," Edmund replied through another yawn, looking sheapish. "Sorry," he apologized, leaning sleepily against his brother's shoulder.

Peter kissed the top of his head, and turned to Orelius. "Is our armor ready for fitting?" he asked, and the Centaur bowed low.

"Of course, your higness. I have sent for it to be delivered to your tent after breakfast."

Peter cleared his throat with a satisfied nod. "Good," he replied softly. "Thank you."

"Shall I have your permission to take my leave?" Orelius asked, noticing the other soldiers beginning to stir.

Peter gave him persmission to do so, and, when Orelius disappeared amongst the other tents, Edmund put an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Are you doing all right?" he asked, as Peter continued to gaze at the map board and miniature figures.

"Mmm." Peter glanced upward as the sky began to lighten slowly with the early morning sunrise.

"At least it'll be a clear day," Edmund pointed out, as Peter coughed quietly, folding the board and carrying it into the tent.

Soon, breakfast was being served, though neither of the boys were feeling the least bit hungry.

"We really shouldn't go to battle on an empty stomach," Peter admitted, nibbling half-heartedly on a piece of bread. Edmund agreed, and they tried to eat what they could, before their armor was delivered.

Peter held his armor in his hands, just taking it in, and took a deep breath. "D'you need help with it?" Edmund asked, after finishing his wine, and stood to help his older brother with the chest plate.

"This feels so…it's like a dream, Ed," he replied, allowing his brother to fasten the straps around his back. He was able to slip on his arm and leg shields, and then went to help Edmund with his own armor.

"You really look like a King in that," Edmund laughed, once both of them were suited up and ready to go.

"So do you," Peter replied, blowing out his breath. "Ready?" he asked, and Edmund took his sword, sticking it into his sheath.

"I'm ready for anything," he replied, and the two headed out of the tent. They were soon surrounded by thousands of soldiers; fauns, animals, eagles, and Centaurs. Peter smiled as they all bowed low to him, and he nodded respectfully in return.

"What is your order, your Highness?" Orelius asked, once they rose again.

"Ed, you go with this half to the top of the ridge," he ordered. "And you'll stay there until I give the signal. Orelius…" Peter had the sense to look over his shoulder at that very moment, and saw Ethan standing a few feet away, coming towards them. Edmund was about to protest his orders, when he saw the figure, and his mouth dropped.

"Take…take the rest of them and form straight ranks on the slope. I want to be ready and waiting for her when she comes."

"Peter…" Edmund began, "I am perfectly capable of riding with you in the front lines."

Peter narrowed his eyes as Ethan came up beside him, and shook his head. "You will do as you're told, Edmund," he said. "We can't afford to loose you too quickly. Mr. Beaver make sure he doesn't do anything rash."

Edmund glanced down beside him, and saw Mr. Beaver dressed in a miniature suit of armor, carrying a spear.

"Aye, your Highness. You can count on me," he encouraged, "Let's go, eh? No time to waste. C'mon, mates!"

Edmund whistled loudly, and motioned with his arm for his battalion to follow him, and Orelius took the rest of the army to form the ranks as instructed. When they were gone, Peter embraced Ethan tightly, allowing himself to hold his friend tightly for a moment.

"Like a true king, Peter," Ethan told him, putting his hands on his friend's shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Peter took a shaky breath, nodding. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, I am ready."

Ethan whistled loudly, and both boys stood watching. Shortly afterwards, they heard the sound of hoofbeats, and Peter's white unicorn came galloping towards them, bareback and with only his reins for support.

"Good boy," Peter complimented, stroking it, and took the reins. Ethan took his hand, squeezing it.

"You will not see me again once you join your soldiers," he said. "I will merely be a voice inside of your head if you start to falter. Well, that was a bit of a lie. You will see me again, but one last time, and after the battle."

Peter laughed as he mounted his horse, and brandished his sword, putting his helmet on.

"Remember your central focus," Ethan told Peter, after he lifted his face shield so he could see. "You want to destroy the witch."

"Of course." Peter nodded. "Thank you," he replied, and Ethan merely smiled, before vanishing into thin air. Peter felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes; he hoped it wasn't going to be the last time he'd ever see Ethan, but he couldn't think about that now. She was coming soon, and he had to be ready. He gave a great "Yah!" and galloped towards the army, feeling the thrill of the pending battle filling his body.

He joined Orelius at the front of the main rank, glancing up to see the great lion-eagle bird soaring through the sky. "Orelius?" he asked, and the Centaur turned his helmet-covered head towards him.

"Your Highness?" he asked in a gruff voice, and Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" he needed to know, because he'd seen Orelius' doubtful expressions through most of the training.

"Yes, your Highness," Orelius replied without hesitation. "You have proven yourself worthy, I will not lie."

Peter smiled.

"And you will follow me?"

Orelius bowed his head. "To whatever end," he promised, as the bird-creature landed on the rock beside them.

"Your Highness," he breathed, and Peter glanced downwards, "they come in numbers far greater than our own."

He swallowed, the familiar butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His sword felt a bit heavy again, but he hoisted it up, refusing to drop it.

"Numbers do not win a battle," Orelius replied, and Peter sighed.

"No," he agreed, "but I'll bet they help." He glanced over his shoulder at Edmund, who was standing on the ridge as he was told to do. The two brother's eyes met, and Edmund saluted Peter with a nod. When Peter turned to face front again, he caught sight of the white witch's army. It was in deed greater in number, but he didn't care. Her destruction was what he cared about now.

Do not give the order until you see her eyes, Ethan's voice spoke inside of his head, and he felt his breathing quicken. Peter kept his gaze towards the witch's approaching carriage, drawn by two white polar bears. She looked vicious, Aslan's mane wrapped around her shoulders as a shawl.

He raised his sword, after turning back to Edmund, and made a swift motion with his arm. The witch was getting a head start; she was letting some of her soldiers go first, while she waited. He would not allow that.

Edmund got the point at once, and whistled loudly; an army of eagles made a formation in the air, carrying rocks the size of the witch's carriage wheels. Peter sighed with relief as the boulders began to fall on the startled enemies, crushing one soldier at a time.

You had me worried there for a moment, mate. That was clever…I suppose all the reading you've done has helped.

Peter bit back laughter, not wanting to look like a crazy lunatic in front of Orelius.

He turned to face the witch again, whose eyes were flashing with fury, her wand and sword raised high. The Minotaur, her head of ranks, gave a great roar and raised his axe after the entire front line had been destroyed by the air attack.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was time. There was no turning back now; he had to do this.

He eventually raised his sword after trying to calm himself down, and raised it high, pointing it in the direction of the witch's army. He took a deep breath, before shouting, "FOR NARNIA! AND FOR ASLAN!"

His unicorn gave a shrill whinnie and reared high, nearly unseating him, but he'd had enough training riding bareback to stay on. He squeezed his knees against the horse's sides, and felt it take off at full speed in the direction of the oncoming army. Orelius rode close alongside him, his sword pointed outward.

He could barely hear anything but the pounding of hoof beats alongside and behind him, and he heard the rawrs of the creatures on the white witch's side. The witch was staring right at him, her eyes blazing. They were coming closer and closer, and soon, they began the attack. When Peter took his first swing, he decapitated one dwarf, not even looking back when the lifeless body tumbled to the ground. His heart was pounding wildly as he swung this way and that, trying to keep his balance on the unicorn. Orelius fought a few feet away, ducking when several arrows flew in his direction.

The witch was so close, but Peter was blocked by a massive battalion, and had to slash his way through. He never seemed to run out of energy; in fact, the more he fought, the more strength he gained. Blood was everywhere, all over his face and his armor, but that didn't bother him. If he were to be a King, he would have to get used to quite a bit of blood and gore.

Between he, Orelius and their small series of ranks, they managed to destroy a bulk of the white witch's forces. Peter saw a phoenix shoot into the air at that very moment, coming from Edmund's area. He watched as it soared high, bursting into flames, and creating a line of fire between Peter's army and the white witch. Peter shielded his eyes with the brighteness of the flames, and gasped when the witch's sledge burst through it after a moment, creating a blue, icy haze.

Pull back, Peter…you have to pull back! Go back to the rocks. Tell them to go back, now!

Peter gritted his teeth and glanced over his shoulder, where the rest of his battalion were still engaged in violent combat. He blew out his breath as the witch came nearer, and then backed up. "BACK TO THE ROCKS!" he shouted, after whistling loudly to get his army's attention. Orelius paused in his swordwork, and repeated the order to the soldiers who were too far to hear Peter's words. "PULL BACK!" Peter repeated, turning the unicorn sharply around in a circle, and having him go at a full gallop towards the narrow pass between the cliff.

He barely made it when an arrow came wizzing from out of nowhere, and struck his horse in the side. Peter cried out in alarm as the unicorn gave a squeal of pain and tumbled, knocking him off. He fell on his back on the grass, the blow knocking the wind out of him. He lay there, his head spinning.

Get up, Peter. Get up.

Peter tried to take a breath but felt a sharp pain shooting down his chest, and cried out. He hoped he hadn't broken any ribs.

Get up! I am not going to let you die here!

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, the pain slowly but surely dwindling. He struggled to sit, and at that very moment, saw Edmund dashing past on Phillip. "WAIT!" he shouted, "STOP!" but it was too late. He struggled to his feet at last, watching in horror as Edmund headed straight for the witch. Peter wanted to run after his brother, but his feet were rooted to the grass. He could only stand and stare as Edmund approached the witch, lashing at her.

Orelius noticed this, too, and began galloping in their direction, prepared to make a great swing with his sword. Peter's mouth opened and closed, and he felt as though he were going to pass out. If anything happened to Edmund, he would never forgive himself. Never. He watched as the witch turned towards Orelius, who struck a blow at her, but she blocked his move with her sword. Peter's eyes were wide as she raised her wand, and with a blinding white light, turned the great Centaur into stone.

Edmund let out a roar of anger at that moment and raised his sword high, slashing down so hard that he chopped Jadis' wand clear in half. The force of his blow caused ripples of magical energy to protrude from it, and the witch stared.

Ethan, I…why can't I do something? Peter thought, realizing his friend's voice hadn't suggested any strategy for helping Edmund. He couldn't move, he couldn't. He was paralyzed with fear.

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Jadis struck Edmund in the gut with the leftover point of her wand, and he let out a gasp of pain, falling to his knees.

"EDMUND!" Peter yelled, feeling sick, and watched as his younger brother collapsed to the grass. Jadis grinned with sadistic satisfaction, and turned her eyes on Peter.

This is your chance, Peter. Nothing will get in your way of battling her.

Edmund didn't deserve that!

Never mind…Edmund brought the task on himself. You gave him orders, he disobeyed. He is not dead, though.

Not yet…

Focus, Peter. The witch is coming for you.

Peter felt as though he were going to explode with fury…he let out a yell and dashed right for Jadis, slicing at her with his sword. She blocked him, nearly knocking him backwards with the force of her blow. He didn't fall this time, but continued to engage in a duel, putting forth every move he knew. Of course, he hadn't gotten that much sword practice in, but enough to keep him alive during the battle.

Jadis took both her sword and one stolen from a victim, aiming them at him. He gasped and leaned far back, the swords missing his neck by half an inch. He fell again, gritting his teeth as he hit the grass, and then yelled with shock when she stabbed her sword through his shirt. Again, he'd narrowly escaped a maming, but he couldn't move. Because he couldn't move, Peter couldn't see Susan and Lucy approaching from one of the nearby hilltops, followed by another army. Mr. Tumnus the faun shared a look with the girls, and they turned to Peter.

"Oh…" Lucy gasped as Jadis prepared to strike him; this time, to kill. She barely lowered her sword when everyone heard it: a great roar, a lion's roar. She looked up, her mouth opening wide, and saw Aslan bolting for her from the top of the ridge. Peter was shivering from terror as the great lion, whom he had presumed dead, leapt over him, and pounced onto the witch. With a flash of enormous teeth, the witch was gone.

After Aslan finished with Jadis, he turned slowly to face Peter, his yellow eyes blinking softly. Peter pulled the sword tip out of his shirt, struggling to sit up, and then stood. He saw Susan and Lucy rushing at full speed towards him, and Lucy leapt into his arms, sobbing as he held her tight.

Susan glanced around the battlefield, all of the white witch's soldiers and a good deal of Peter's army laying dead on the grass. "Peter…" Susan breathed, "Where is Edmund?"

Peter stared at her; during his battle with the witch, he'd almost forgotten his brother. Lucy released her grip from around his waist, and the three siblings hurried towards where Edmund lay, his arm outstretched and grasping at the dirt. He was gasping for breath, his skin covered with sweat. "Ed!" Peter cried, falling to his knees. Susan did the same, and Lucy quickly removed the phial of cordial from her belt.

Susan hoisted Edmund's body onto her lap, her tears falling down her cheeks. They splashed against his breast plate, making small tiktik sounds. Peter felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, as well, and felt his throat choking up.

No, no, no, no…don't take Edmund, please…he begged. Not after all he's been through. Don't do this!

Ethan was silent; Ed was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Lucy uncorked the cordial, and, as she had done with Peter after his injury following the death of Maugrim, allowed a small drop to fall into Edmund's mouth. Peter held his breath as his brother's body sagged, and for a moment he thought it might be too late. Susan began to sob softly, and Lucy glanced at Peter with wide eyes.

"Peter," she choked, and he reached for her, holding her tight.

Edmund suddenly let out a loud gasp and began to breath normally again, his dark eyes fluttering open slowly. Susan's sobs ceased almost at once, and she let out a laugh of relief, releasing her grip from his hand. Peter let go of Lucy, who sighed with relief, and immediately pulled Edmund into a great hug. Edmund held him tightly, not struggling…he could feel his brother's shoulders trembling as he cried softly.

"When are you going to learn to do as you're told?" Peter asked, and Edmund smirked when he was able to see his older brother's expression. The girls glanced at each other with amusement, and eventually pulled into a great group hug.

"Peter?"

Susan heard the voice and lifted her head, looking at Edmund, who raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, and she stared.

"Did you ask for Peter, Ed?"

"No…"

"Ohhh!" Lucy hopped to her feet, and the remaining three siblings on the ground, turned to where she was looking. Susan gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Impossible…this is impossible," she breathed, when she saw Ethan's figure standing beside Aslan.

"Well done, mate," Ethan told him with a smile, and Peter stood slowly.

"Is he…is he real?" Susan asked, standing with him, and took a step forward.

"Hello, Susan," Ethan told her quietly, and she felt more tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

"Ethan!" Lucy squealed and bolted towards him, wrapping her arms around him as she had done when he was alive at the cottage. Susan and Peter watched with amusement as he held her for a moment, and then looked at Peter.

"Children?" Aslan spoke softly, and Lucy, after letting go, looked at the lion. "Allow Peter time alone with his companion. This will be their last meeting."

"Oh Peter," Susan breathed, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder, and he smiled softly.

"I'll be all right," he promised, and she bit her lip, after giving Ethan a soft hug.

"Come on, Su," Edmund encouraged, having stood up at last, and they followed Aslan.

For a few moments, Peter and Ethan stood gazing at each other, not really speaking. "I was not certain if Aslan would let me come to the coronation tomorrow, Peter," Ethan began. "but I am afraid that is not possible. So here I stand, sending my blessings to you for a long and successful rule."

Peter nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

"You fought bravely. I am proud of you."

"Thanks," Peter managed to squeak. "So…so this is goodbye, then?"

Ethan smiled. "Well, yes…and no. This is the last time you will see me in human form again. But I'll never truly leave you, you know. And you can talk to me whenever you like."

Peter managed a small laugh. "Yes, but then people will think I've gone crazy," he teased, and Ethan winked.

"I don't mean you have to speak out loud."

"I know," Peter replied. "I had to tease you just once."

Aslan suddenly crept up behind them, and nuzzled Ethan with his nose. "It is time," he said, and Ethan lowered his head.

"I will never forget you, Peter. I love you, as I always have."

Peter choked on a sob. "I love you, too," he replied, and Ethan smiled.

"I'll be waiting for you," Ethan added, and lifted his hand in a single wave, before his body, engulfed in bright, golden light, disappeared. Aslan watched as this occurred, and then turned to Peter, who was still crying silent tears.

"Now," he said gently, "we retreat to Cair Paravel, and tomorrow, you and your brother and sisters will become Narnia's King's and Queens. Come, my son. It is a long journey."

Peter stared at the spot where Ethan had once stood, finding it a bit difficult to turn away. But he heard Lucy calling his name, and did so, and his siblings were waiting for him.