Author's note: Oops. Done forgot a disclaimer, so here it is: I own nothing and make less off of Narnia.

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Chapter 1: Anniversary

Later on, looking back, the thing I remembered most vividly was how happy we all were.

It was high summer and all of Narnia was celebrating the first anniversary of our victory at Beruna. We had actually been celebrating all week - parties and dances and feasts of all kinds. Gifts and well-wishers poured into Cair Paravel from across the country and the islands to the east. There was even an embassy from Calormen that brought us chests of exotic spices, the most beautiful silk carpet, and a gorgeously illuminated book none of us could read, but which thrilled the librarians and our chief scribe. Nobles from Galma and Terebinthia and the Lone Islands, while few in number, were ecstatic at reestablishing commerce and communication with Narnia. King Lune would have been there, but both his older sister and younger brother were each about to become parents for the first time and so he sent his mother-in-law, Princess Eo, as his representative. She was round and jolly and hugged us all every time she saw us and tried her best to get Edmund to eat more. Like Lune, Eo did not dismiss us or our opinions simply because we were children, but held us all in the same high regard afforded us by our subjects. The Archenlanders, descended of old from Narnia's kings, held Aslan in respect and love almost as deep as the Narnians. Eo talked clothes with Susan, politics with Edmund, games with Lucy, and horses with me, and we all basked in her motherly glow while Lune enjoyed a bit of peace, for she nagged him endlessly to have children of his own.

So all was music and happiness and feasts and we lacked only Aslan to make the celebrations complete. The last night before the anniversary was spent dancing and singing around a huge bonfire on the shore next to Cair Paravel so the Merfolk could join in, their haunting voices rising sweetly on the night breeze. We drank wine out of carved wooden bowls lined with gold which Tumnus called mazers and which he said were ages old. They were difficult to drink out of because they had wide brims, but we had all night to practice. The Fauns and Nymphs danced and sang and I knew it would be long into the morning before they slowed down. Mrs. Beaver was happily fussing over the food as it was served until Princess Eo and Susan grabbed her and they put their heads together and talked about heaven only knew what, probably marriage prospects for the lot of us. Edmund was in deep conversation with some Dwarf smiths, his particular friends. Celer was trying to teach Lucy how to play a pan pipe. She was giggling far too hard to make any progress, but it was fun to watch. Everyone was happy, I not the least of all.

"King Peter! Queen Lucy! King Edmund! And gentle Queen Susan!"

It was Tumnus with several Fauns and Satyrs behind him. They all carried what looked like wreaths, some of greens, others of flowers.

"Your Majesties cannot sit amongst your subjects without crowns, good king," said he.

I laughed, realizing what they held, and bent my head. One of the Fauns crowned me with ivy and holly. I looked at Edmund beneath a great crown of laurel and celery leaves. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing and feeling silly. The girls were crowned with roses, red for Susan and pink for Lucy. Both looked radiant. I noticed Tumnus took a long while getting Lucy's crown just so, crowding Celer out in the process. He adored her, I knew, and in truth I couldn't blame him, for Lucy was nothing if not lovable.

We drank many toasts to Aslan, to the fallen heroes of the battle, to the victims of the White Witch, to Narnia, and to her new monarchs. I was careful to make sure our wine was cut with water else we would have grown drunk in minutes, for Narnian spring wine is strong and the stuff that Princess Eo brought with her from Archenland could down even a Giant if taken straight. I only knew that because two days past one of the good Giants that had fought on our side at Beruna drank half a cask of Archenland wine and he had yet to wake up.

The merriment grew as midnight approached. I saw Lucy yawn and I knew she wouldn't make it far past the anniversary hour. There were enough celebrations planned well into tomorrow, though, to keep her busy. She smiled at me and I grinned back, catching Susan's eye. She laughed merrily, nudging Edmund as he sat there as grave as a judge. He was fighting a smile, I could tell, and between the wine and his expression I couldn't bear it any longer and I laughed aloud. For some reason that set us all off, even Edmund, and I listened to his laughter with joy, for in truth it was a rare sound.

A troop of Talking Mice, whose people had not spoken a word until a year ago, stepped out and sang a ballad in their shrill voices. The song was so high-pitched and piercing some of the Dogs started howling and none of us could understand a word. I did not dare look at Edmund throughout. It was wonderful how excited they were and by the last chorus we were all singing along, making up our own lyrics and drowning out the Mice.

A few minutes before midnight I stood and raised my mazer of wine. Everyone rose with me. I felt the flush of wine and excitement upon me as I called out a toast I had thought over all night,

"Narnia! Tonight amongst friends and allies we celebrate our freedom! Winter holds no dominion over this land thanks to Aslan, son of the Emperor-over-Sea! Drink with me now to Narnia and to Aslan!"

"To Narnia and to Aslan!" cried the crowd, and they raised their bowls and goblets and drinking horns in salute.

"Drink or drunk?" whispered Edmund beside me. I laughed. He was right, I had consumed too much wine. It was time for water, which in Narnia was almost as good as wine. Beneath his crown of leaves he was smiling as he picked up a pitcher and refilled my bowl with water. "The silver pitcher, Peter. Silver. Not the brass one." He set the brass vessel far out of my reach.

His tone struck me as remarkably funny and I burst out laughing. He shook his head, laughing right along with me. We were standing next to each other, watching Susan dance with the Nymphs around the bonfire as the Centaurs scanned the night sky, waiting for tomorrow. The dance was growing wilder, the music louder and merriment was at a fever pitch when Cheroom, the oldest Centaur present, lifted his mazer, the signal for midnight.

"To victory!" he shouted, and we all echoed the cry as loudly as we could, yelling and screaming out our delight. Trumpets and horns blared into the night, accompanied by huge drums played by the Dwarfs. Lucy threw her arms around my middle. I held her about the shoulder and I pulled Edmund close with my other arm. Susan saw and flashed us a brilliant smile as she danced by, beautiful in red and roses.

We were so happy. All of Narnia was united in celebration.

Suddenly Edmund stiffened as if startled. I looked down through the fringe of laurel and celery crowning him. The surprise on his face was replaced by shock and disbelief and he bent over as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Both his hands went to his middle, just below his heart, and he made a faint noise as if all the air had been forced out of his lungs in a rush. It was a sound of pure agony. I let go of Lucy and turned to him, reaching out to steady him as he peeled his hands away.

They were covered with blood.

"Peter," he whispered, and without another sound he collapsed.