Peter told himself this pain wasn't his to carry; his sister wasn't his to save. He knew it. He'd lived through this before as a King, looking out over Narnia and knowing his strength alone was not enough to save it, not from Giants, not from the ships of Calormene. He'd even lived it with Susan before, watching her begin to fall for a snake in prince's clothing.

Each time, Peter withdrew and spoke to Aslan. He acknowledged that only the Lion can truly save. Only the Lion's strength could completely shield. Only the Lion's breath could heal till there was no scar.

Peter stood alone in his room, breathing heavily, and did what he'd done before. He knelt.

"Aslan," he started, "Lion who leads, Lion who loves—" Peter tries to start by reminding himself who the Lion is, for it makes the rest easier. He tells his Leader, "There's one—she's Your Queen, Aslan. You promised, once Your Queen, always Your Queen. But she's—does that hold true, when she doesn't seem to be a Queen anymore?" He bowed his head.

"Peter?" There's a voice outside his closed door, followed by a knock, and Peter winced. It's not Susan's voice or Susan's knock. It's not his sister coming back to say sorry after breaking her promise to go with them tonight. It's his father's voice, his father's sharp, quick tap. Peter breathed a silent sigh and stood.

"Come in, sir."

The door swung open. "Lucy asked if you could have the car toni—something's wrong."

Peter didn't not answer, and his father blinked behind his glasses, before coming in and shutting the door. "Why don't we sit down."

Peter sat down on his own bed, and his father sat on Edmund's. The two boys had put their beds across the room from each other for just that purpose, but their father seemed big on Edmund's bed, reassuringly large.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Peter hesitated before shrugging. He doesn't want to bear tales of Susan's broken promises to their parents.

"Does it have anything to do with the way Susan left, upset, after Lucy told me the four of you were going to the park tonight?"

Peter looked over at his father, at the faint smile, and Peter found himself smiling back, wryly, but the pain felt a little less heavy, shared this way. Peter wanted to share more.

"I can't help but think I'm losing her," Peter explained, running his fingers over the pale blanket.

"Because she's spending more time away?"

"Because she's changing." Peter bit off the sharp tone, closing his eyes and inhaling. "She would never have broken her promise before." He had to explain it, to explain why it's important. "Even if she didn't want to go, if she thought it was stupid—I can understand those changes, though I don't like them. But she's breaking her word." He can't add what he would with the others, that it's something a Queen should never do.

"Ah." And Peter glanced over, for his father's tone holds understanding. His father laced his fingers together and looked at them through his gold-rimmed glasses. "Have I ever told you what Alberta was like as a girl?"

Eustace's mother—Peter remembered all that Eustace told him, Eustace the un-dragoned, about his struggles with his mother. But he can't recall anything about Alberta as a young girl, so Peter shook his head. "No, sir."

"I rarely met someone more alive. In many ways Lucy reminds me of her." Lucy? Peter thought incredulously. "Both of them love things passionately. Alberta as a girl—everything she took an interest in, she knew everything about. She loved the world and the way it worked." Peter's father sighed and shook his head. "She loved it for its own sake. But when her new friends came along—her whole place in them was defined by how much she knew. And suddenly she wasn't learning things for their own sake, but for how smart they made her sound."

Peter thought of Susan, of how beauty no longer thrilled her for its own sake, but was her medium for interacting with the world, and for proving her worth to it. His father might understand this far better than Peter thought. "And then?"

"She lost her joy." The man smiled ruefully. "I am very glad Lucy still has that joy. Alberta's knowledge became a possession, rather than a delight. When she met Harold I hoped—Berta knew what joy was again. But the joy did not last, though I think the love did. Then Eustace was born, and she got it back. For a while, at least. Till pride shoved out love, and then…" Peter's shrug was mirrored by his father. "We have almost nothing in common anymore but the memories," and Peter heard a taste of his own bitterness in his father's tone.

We don't even have the memories, Peter thought, but he would not burden his father with that.

"Still," Peter's father added, "Berta's heart did come alive those times, Peter. And you four are a lot closer than the two of us were. If her heart comes alive again, I think the three of you could keep it that way." He smiled, and Peter felt the trust in that smile. "Conclusion?"

"Look for the things that keep her heart alive," Peter responded slowly, and his father nodded.

"And leave the rest in God's hands. We're made to be His hands as He saves, but not to be the heart of the saving."

Or His paws, Peter thought, but he didn't say it out loud. "Thanks," he said instead.

"I missed doing this, during the war," Peter's father said quietly. "It's good to do it again." He stands and heads towards the door. "You can come by my study at any time, you know," he offered before leaving.

And Peter knew that didn't mean Peter wouldn't still kneel to Aslan, and take his burdens to the Lion—but "bear one another's burdens" was another command Peter found in this world, and it is good to know his father can help shoulder them.

Peter goes to get his remaining siblings, and the three of them go to the park, to keep Narnia's traditional evening of storytelling, and Peter knows he'll have one more story to tell, about his father, his aunt, and the hope for their sister.

A/N: I know there's some disagreement about whether Harold or Alberta is related to Mr. or Mrs. Pevensie; the only thing we know is that Harold and Mr. Pevensie aren't related, since they don't have the same last names. I don't have a strong opinion, but I thought of this conversation and wanted to write it.