AN: This is just a short concluding chapter to tie up the loose ends of the story. Hope you all like it.

Now that this story is coming to a close, the reader might rightly be wondering what became of the Narnian court after Edmund and Lucy left it to sail on the Dawn Treader for seven years.

Well, at first, things were a little unstable, in spite of Caspian's strenuous efforts to keep everything in line. A few of his subjects must have suspected that he had never really killed Edmund Philippe, though they said nothing about it aloud, and there was the occasional nobleman who would stand up against the king, thinking him too soft to rule Narnia. Thankfully all that grumping resulted in a battle which-while relatively small as far as battles went-was a dramatic enough display to show Caspian's strengths. Afterwards, Aslan himself turned up and told the court not to rebel against their king. The only one who said he would not listen to 'some big whooping, jabbering cat' was Lord Sopespian; and he was later beheaded for treason. A sad-yet fitting-end to the life of the man who had used wickedness and half-truths to bring down a queen and her knight.

General Glozelle became a Lord again after Sopespian's death, gaining back all he had lost.

The knight who had blackmailed Peter into leaving the court at Cair Paravel caught a serious illness that drained his face of all colour and left him weak, sweaty, and breathless. The physicians were at their wits ends as far as helping him get better went, and finally thought it would be worthwhile to grant him a last request in case he slipped away without warning. His request, strange as it may sound, was for someone to send for Sir Peter at his manor in the countryside and to bring the retired knight to his deathbed so that he could speak to him.

Everybody figured the knight would die before Sir Peter Wolf's Bane arrived-if he even bothered to come at all-but, remarkably, the knight did not die, and Peter came.

"I'm sorry," said the knight when he saw Peter enter the room.

"You went against my sister," Peter said slowly, his eyes flickering between pity for the man who looked so weak and helpless, and hatred for the man he had been before he had fallen ill. "You threatened me into leaving court when the queen needed me the most, you're unbelievably lucky you didn't lose your head along with Lord Sopespian, and yet, you call me all the way from my home just to ask my forgiveness?"

The knight closed his eyes; the ash-coloured lids looked rather ghostly. "Yes."

"Edmund Philippe was my brother-in-law, if it weren't for you-"

"Do you believe he really died?" croaked the knight.

"You're trying to trap me into treason," said Peter, coldly. "It won't work. I won't say anything that-"

"No, Peter, I'm not asking you as a courtier, I'm asking you as a person. Do you think a king really would kill his wife's lover himself instead of having someone do it for him?"

"That would depend on the king," Peter replied cautiously, "and what sort of man he is. It would depend on how much he loves his wife and if he really believes her guilty of sin. A lot would be staked on the lover, too."

"Do you think it would depend on who betrayed the queen's secret as well?"

"Lord Sopespian is dead, Sir, and lackeys like you cannot be held as the hub of the wheel, can they? That is why you keep your head."

"I did not send for you to torment me," said the knight, his tone bordering on sulky.

"You don't think I deserve to after what you did?"

"Point taken."

"Good."

"So, am I forgiven?"

"Are you only asking me because you're dying?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe."

"If you get well, will you threaten me again?"

"I shouldn't think so," said the knight, leaning back on his pillows with a pensive look on his face. "After all, even if I told the king now that Susan helped Edmund that night at the drawbridge, what would he care? There is a new queen, no one cares anymore."

"In other words, you're powerless?"

"Don't I look it?" He was a frail, sickly man.

"Very well then, I forgive you." Peter told him.

"You will return to court?"

"I don't know yet," said Peter, "I like the countryside, it's free of a lot of problems you get sucked into at court, but I think Susan might want to come back. We'll see."

"You could be a knight again," he said; "even if you are a Pevensie."

"We'll see."

The knight recovered from his sickness, surprising everyone, and as time passed he became a reformed character. He and Peter were never on the best of terms; there was always the tension of betrayal and blackmail between them. But they got along better than they had before, and by the time they were old, old men, they were almost something like friends.

As for Peter himself, he did return to court and-with King Caspian's permission-took up being a knight again. Susan came with him, of course, and shortly thereafter had her baby. It was a boy, who she christened Philippe Edmund Pevensie; in spite of protests from up-tight courtiers, appalled that she would name a child after a dead traitor. But Philippe grew into such a strong, beautiful little boy with golden-brown ringlets, possessing the tenderness of his mother and the bravery of his father, so that soon nearly everyone forgot-or simply stopped caring-where his name had come from.

The Pevensie name was cleared with time and-after Sir Peter was given an earldom and any number of extra lands and manors, including one in Ettinsmoor which he allowed his grandfather to live in-the scandal of Queen Lucy was almost never spoken of, and the family was able to keep on advancing in court.

Harold and Alberta caught wind of the fact that Peter remained steadily in the king's favor and always tried to use their connection to him to whatever advantage they could. They did not get anywhere worth mentioning. Their son Eustace fared better; he married Lord Pole's daughter, Lady Jill, and was happy. He and his wife also became very wealthy after discovering the lost lair of a dead dragon, filled to the brim with treasure.

Countess Helen Pevensie and Edmund's half-Calormene stepmother eventually became friends again. They bonded over the fact that, because of politics, they were unable to publicly mourn their own children; the one dead and the other sent away in disgrace. The Count and Edmund's father just sort of sat brooding next to each other with sullen expressions while their wives talked most times, but there came to be an understanding between them so that they didn't hate one another any longer.

The Duke of Galma's daughter proved to be, though not a terribly regal queen as far as appearance went, a very kind co-ruler, and her subjects began to love her. Rilian liked her because she never gave him a moment's worry; the knights all adored her, as if she was their sister as well as their queen, but the chances of her having a romance with any of them proved to be greatly limited. After a while, Caspian came around to her and started to fall in love for the third time in his life. She was nothing like his last two wives, yet she was good-natured and devoted to him. Although she was quiet and sort of dull, there was an endearing factor under all of that; one always knew she meant well and wasn't going to get herself into any scrapes. And she adored her husband whole-heartedly, poor girl, having little else in her thoughts to really cling to.

Her end was rather sad; she died in childbirth, giving the king a set of twins, a boy and a girl. Before she faded away, she christened the girl Princess Jane, not living long enough to give the princess's brother a name as well.

The boy remained unnamed for a while, since his father was too busy grieving to think of one.

Then came the day the king wandered into the nursery to see his children. They weren't very pretty babies, either of them, as plain and freckled and pale as their mother had been, but they were his and he couldn't have loved them more if they had been as plump and golden as Rilian was at their age. It seemed wrong that one of his precious little children-a legitimate son and possible heir to the throne if anything should ever happen to Rilian, no less-didn't have a name, so the king finally decided to call him Peter, after one of his most highly-regarded knights.

Now one might rightly assume that Caspian had the worst ending of the lot; but he was not really the sort of man who cared all that much about endings. The way he saw it, especially as he got older and grey appeared in his dark hair, was that he had been a man blessed with three loves, three children, and a kingdom. What man could ask for more? True, it hadn't been an easy road, and he had lost so much along it. Still, he always reminded himself that it wasn't how matters concluded that mattered; it truly was what happened in the middle. And the fact that he could look in the mirror each morning and be proud of what he saw, that he could know the face that stared back at him was a good father and a strong king, was no small matter to him.

Caspian never took another wife after his third one, despite those who urged him to do so. He said he was getting too old and that sooner or later Rilian would be king anyway. If they needed to find a young girl-bride for anyone now, he told them, it wasn't him, it was his son.

The Dawn Treader's seven years at sea came to an end, Lucy and Edmund returning to Narnia. Things weren't easy for them in those days. Edmund needed to make a living for himself and his wife now that they were back on land again, but getting employed proved a little difficult for a man who was legally declared dead. Somehow or other they managed to get by; Lucy wasn't a very demanding wife, pleased with whatever progress her dear Edmund could make, never asking for anything besides clothes on their backs and food for them to eat.

If you're wondering, Lucy and Peter did see each other again when she returned from her seven year voyage and their reunion was one of tears and embraces and cheek-kissing. How amazed he was when she introduced her husband, none other than Edmund Philippe! The two men also had a rather misty-eyed moment when Peter finally recognized his brother-in-law and pulled him into a group hug with himself and Lucy.

Unfortunately, very sad to report, the same could not be said of the meeting between Edmund and Susan. His sister, having thought him dead for seven years, didn't recognize him at all, simply unable to see her little brother in this grown-man's eyes as her husband could. She didn't believe him when he told her his name, nor even when Lucy explained the whole story, but she accepted him as a brother-in-law, while she stubbornly refused to call him, 'Ed'.

Edmund and Lucy went on loving each other as the years dragged on so that those first seven were scarcely more than a minute's worth of time; and they had one daughter, a girl, who they named Helen Susan Philippe, for her mother and his sister.

And so, you see, whether this story-this tale of love, betrayal, loss, and flickering lights-is a fairytale or not, well, that's up to the reader alone to discern.

-The End-

AN: Reviews welcome (last chance for this fic!)