I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. And apparently Shauna owns this chapter.

It was an hour before Peter was ready to speak to them. They stayed in his chambers while he seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, his body healed but some deep emotional wound obviously bringing him agony beyond their comprehension. While Edmund paced, looking quite ill, Lucy sat in one of the cushioned arm chairs of the High King's chambers and tried to gather her fleeing thoughts and emotions. She would not, she could not crack. Not a Queen. Her mind attempted to replace 'a' with 'the' and she thought she would be sick.

When at last Peter dragged himself upright, arms shaking in the still-chilly midmorning air, the two younger Pevensies stopped their moving and turned to face him expectantly. He would not meet their eyes. A moment of frightened silence passed, then he let out a shuddering sigh and began to speak.

"We reached the Rush around dawn," he rasped, meaning the river that ran south of the Cair. His voice was horridly scratchy. "The reports were from the wood between there and Glasswater, so we…we headed in. There was no one there. Not even dryads. We searched for a sign for…probably…an hour, I don't know…"

Lucy summoned her courage and slid onto the bed beside him, reaching out an arm to place on his own but not touching him because he flinched away. Peter swallowed hard. Looking up at Edmund, who stood with his arms crossed and his fingers clenched in his cloak, Lucy bit her lip and wondered if she really did want to hear the rest of her brother's story, but he had already continued.

"Then they came," he said quietly. "It happened so fast, I didn't…I couldn't know what to do, it was just screaming and swords and blood and…" He broke down again. Lucy's stomach twisted painfully. She wanted so desperately to aid him somehow, to make it easier for him, but she didn't know what to do – she'd had practice comforting her other siblings, but Peter had never needed (or at least hadn't let them know he needed) it. She settled for a hand upon his elbow. He shied away from the touch.

"It was dark and I couldn't see. Then someone…knocked me, they knocked me off my horse and stuck me in the back while I was down," he managed, his body shaking with the effort of holding in his tears. Lucy saw the wrath rise between Edmund's eyes; to strike an opponent when he was down was unforgivable. "Then…she came." Something about the way he said 'she' made Lucy sure it was Susan Peter spoke of. He remained silent for a moment, his breathing ragged and his eyes shut.

"Yes?" Lucy prompted gently at last. His face screwed up in pained concentration.

"She pulled me to my feet, forced me back up on my horse…" he hissed. "I could…barely breathe. She…she slapped the horse, told it to run, I wanted it to stop but…couldn't move…then I looked back and…"

He couldn't go on and he didn't have to. Lucy felt a dull sense of finality sweep over her. All fourteen years of her life, lovingly shadowed by her elder sister, the gentle queen who was – no, had been – a mother to all of Narnia, suddenly darkened in the face of this wrong. She sat rigidly still, hands vaguely trembling on her brother's sheets, staring at the carpeted floor. Suddenly, there was a strangled noise from Ed and he took off, crashing towards the door and overturning a chair in the process. Running footsteps echoed in the hallway, and he was gone.

Casting a frantic glance at Peter, Lucy felt the intense need to follow the younger of her brothers, to tend to him, but the elder needed her too. Her own need for comfort suddenly seemed disproportionate. Susan was gone. Susan could not be the tender comforter now, so Lucy…Lucy would have to be something of her until…until when?

"Stay here," she told Peter. Not that she actually expected him to go anywhere, but it seemed the right thing to say. Everything seemed very distant suddenly. All that mattered was keeping her family together. She rose to her feet and fled the room, hurrying towards Ed's chambers, wrapping her cloak around herself as if protecting herself from the overwhelming grief that pressed on the little sphere of denial she'd encased herself in. She would have time for her own grief later. For now, she pushed the door to the younger of her two brother's chambers open and slipped inside, immediately locating him on the balcony outside, back shaking with sobs, fingers white upon the railing.

"Edmund," Lucy said quietly, moving beside him. He turned to her, and to her surprise he looked as angry as he did heartbroken. Moved to silence, she shrank back slightly in fear as he continued to cry, tears leaking from his wide eyes.

"This is all my fault," he choked out. "If I wasn't so weak…"

"Stop, Edmund," she interrupted. He ignored her.

"A cold, Lucy!" he half-shrieked. "If I had just…just argued harder, just pressed it, then…"

"You would be dead instead," she said.

"No," he whispered. "No, I could have…somehow, I would have…" But he couldn't finish. Lucy wrapped her arms around him, making soothing noises as he clutched her to him and sobbed as if the world was coming to an end. Perhaps it was. How had things changed so drastically? Only an hour earlier, hadn't she been waking to a glorious morning? Where was the sun's warmth? Why was there no relief from the burning hollow inside her?

"We should go," she said at last, when her brother's body had grown still against her own. "Peter needs us."

He nodded weakly, allowing her to pull him away from the railing and back into the room. Just before they left, she chanced a glance out of the window and for an instant, thought she caught a glimpse of something golden, something moving, down on the beach below. Brushing it off, she and Edmund walked the short distance back to their brother's room. He lay limply on the blankets, still in his torn, bloodstained armor. Edmund, looking sicker than he had the day before but for different reasons, went to sit on the bed beside him, fists clenched in the sheets.

"Peter," he said croakily. Lucy sat on his other side, pulling one of his calloused hands into both of her own.

" Susan is dead," Peter said dazedly. No one had anything to say to this. "I…I am supposed to…to protect…"

"You did everything you could," whispered Lucy.

"My responsibility…"

"Don't, Peter, please."

He closed his eyes and would say no more. When a minute passed, she stood and made her way slowly to the window, where she leaned upon the sill and looked out upon the beach. Just like the day before, the waves lapped upon the sand lethargically. Just like the day before, the feeble sun reflected across the water as the birds swooped, looking for their morning fish. Just like the day before, the trees by the shore were nearly bare of their leaves. Just like the day before, the air was crisp and cold, heralding the inevitable beginning of winter. But unlike the day before, she now faced a lifetime – how long was a lifetime? – without her elder sister. Unlike the day before, the colors of outside were faded and dimmed. Only one thing seemed to hold any real color: the golden form of a great lion, striding steadily towards the castle, tail swishing, mane glittering…

"Aslan!" cried Lucy, startling her brothers. She turned on her heel and rushed from the room.