Peter gasped in pain as he locked his sword with a Telmarine. His left arm ached, and it was torture to put the needed force against the swords. They were at an impasse—he could not force the Telmarine to retreat, and the other's footwork was not good enough.

Suddenly, the Telmarine gurgled, and his sword skated down as he collapsed in a bubbling puddle of blood. Peter looked at him blearily and wondered what happened.

" You are not defending yourself well, your Majesty." Lyra's melodic voice soothed away the murk. " Have you been wounded?"

Peter ducked under an incoming blow, kicked the man's groin, then stabbed his sword under his ribcage and pierced his heart. He turned a full revolution, killing a man at each quarter of the clock before he was able to face the guardian Zephyr.

" Thank you. Not wounded, just incommoded."

She laughed at him, launching herself over him in a dangerous twist. Her sword slashed twice, the vital ichor flowed, and she landed a victor. " Your wrist. I saw the pressure Miraz put against it. You need to bind it."

" I cannot leave the battle." Peter spun on his knee, dodged under two opposing weapons, and stabbing the one, he twisted him into his partner and then decapitated him. " Lyra, I'm all right. I'll make it through."

" You can't break a lock!" Her voice was imperious. " You're coming with me."

Peter exclaimed and was going to push agains her when there was a swoosh of air: his head swum and his stomach dropped. He gulped desperately trying to maintain his composure and remember to balance.

He landed as she floated down and immediately fell to his knees. His stomach was none too steady and he fought desperately against the inclination to remove its contents. He was not successful.

" My apologies, your Majesty. I'm sure the amount of blood you've spilled and the sudden uprush of my wings did nothing to steady you." Lyra told him, attempting to ease his discomfort.

Peter snapped at her. " You're a wanker, did you know that? You don't ever just bugger off?"

Lyra raised an eyebrow at him and then pulled him up. " I'm going to assume that you're saying something not so nice to me. In that case, I'm not going to listen to you." Peter rolled his eyes. " Stop! I'm not going to let you get hurt because of your own pride. I can't let that happen to Elain. You're too important to her."

Peter sighed and allowed his anger and discomfort to be alleviated. " I understand. Ow, what are you doing?"

Elain had pulled up his mail and was currently tearing a strip of cloth from underneath her feathery armor. She wrapped it tight around his wrist twice. " I'm doing this so that it will relieve the pain. You should be able to break a block now if you push past it. And you won't loose your circulation either."

Peter flexed his fingers and wrist and he admitted ruefully that it did feel much better. " Thank you."

Lyra shrugged. " I exist to protect you and your queen. I don't know any other way of life."

Peter wanted to inquire further when Lyra seized hold of him and his stomach lurched. This time though, he flew in better shape.

The battlefield was not. In the time that they had been gone, the reinforcement of the Telmarine army had begun and now the Narnians were outmatched eight to one. It wasn't an impossible fight; it just became a grueling, agonizing, focused fight. Every soldier was on his guard, and his vision and senses were split between his overall position, his enemy, and the placement of his fellow soldier. This was devastating since, despite their training, they were often caught off guard.

Peter, Edmund, and Caspian had grouped around each other. And around them was the leaders of the Narnian army. In a wide circle around the core group, the Zephyr army flew interference. It was fearful the way that they sliced through the air. A majority of the enemy fell because they were attacking. Heads fell helpless, arms were hewn off, hearts were pierced, and despite the occasional winging or falling of a Zephyr, still they were the epitome of Narnian fearsomeness.

Trumpkin drew near to his King, " Too many of us are falling. We need to draw back into the How."

Caspian shook his head, steadying Destrier. " Peter, if we do that, they'll bottle us up. I say draw into a straight light and force them to charge us."

Peter trembled. His army was falling too quickly, and he was not able to defend them at all. He looked at Edmund who did not share the squeamish look of the rest of them. " Edmund, what should I do?"

Edmund glanced at the King. " You are the High King. You are the commander. I only serve."

" I don't know! Help me!"

Edmund winced at his brother's command and then lifted his sword. " Fall back into into a straight line!" His order rang out firmly and every Narnian paused and looked at each other. It then became a wild scramble to disengage and to draw ranks.

Lyra screeched on high and watched as they regrouped. A small smile decorated her features and she was about to issue an order to her soldiers. Her jeweled eyes dropped and she gasped in pain as she saw the Aerial, who had led the right flank.

Elain was struggling to disengage from her opponent. Opponents. Three foot soldiers surrounded her and her wings was blocked by the swinging mace of one of the cavalry. Lyra's soul crumbled and she called out in a firm voice. " Defend the line. I will defend our Queen."

Her second-in-command blinked, uncertain, but then ordered the Army to descend and fight against the oncoming rush of Telmarines who were charging the Narnian ranks.

Peter had watched Lyra, expecting her battle call. Following her flight, he saw the distress of his wife. He pushed himself out from the surprised front to help defend Elain at the right flank.

Edmund held them in placed and watched as his brother assumed command of that flank.

Lyra reached the High Queen first. With a swift swoop, she caused the cavalryman to be trampled by his horse. Two men went down quickly, one bleeding out, the other death immediately.

Rhindon came between Elain and the final soldier. The Telmarine looked into the fearsome eyes of the High King, and after seeing the butchery of the Zephyr, decided that it was better to yield. " Don't—don't kill me. Please! I beg of you."

Peter was about to grant his request when Lyra seized the soldier. Her wings soared, and Elain watched her rosy flickering pennants. " She may not let him live. I fear that the mercy she encouraged me to extend she will not."

Peter shrugged, " Get back to the line. I will bolster the flank."

Elain shook her head fiercely. " Peter, let me stay. Let's fight together."

Peter gazed at Elain, took her hand. He kissed it and bent himself over it. " Elain, I'm asking you to go. Please do so. I will safe."

Elain felt her heart beat in a staccato rhythm and knew that her husband was separating them so that one would remain at the end of the day. But she agreed. She removed herself from his side and went to join Edmund and Caspian.

Peter took immediate command of the right flank; his sword was held up defensively, and he prepared himself for the grating physical crush of the incoming army. He knew that he had to lead his people, but he also knew deep down that Lyra would stand—

" You are risking your life here." Lyra told him. Her wings spread over his face in a striking pattern of resplendence and shade. " Elain—"

" I am King. I will lead my people to any end."

Lyra's voice sucked in and then she gave him a grin as she arched herself over him. " Well, then, let's go to the end together."

Peter reached out after her as she rushed the attacking soldiers alone. Her wings plowed through them, and the moment she touched the ground, the trees, which had been waiting all this time to join in the fight, came to life. They rippled through the Narnian lines, and greeted the Zephyr who was flying through their oppressors and decimating them.

Peter and the rest of the army stopped in amazement and wondered what had changed. The ground quaked with fearsome control and Peter fell to his knees as gravity fought against him.

Elain found the features of her husband and shook her head. She did not know what it was either. The trees had been brought to wage battle. Elain issued a command to her soldiers and they rose in the air. As they did so, a triumphant roar sounded, and the air turned ripe with the smell of summer wine.

While the Narnians struggled to understand what had happened, their enemy, fearing defeat, advanced with no care. Peter quickly engaged and organized the right flank into a phalanx that rebuffed their efforts to break through the line.

Peter stabbed at a menacing warrior and was arrested by his brutal power. He might have been half-giant how he fought. The soldier pushed Peter, whirling and dancing with a rapidity that was unbelievable. Slowly but surely, Peter was maneuvered from his lead position and exposed.

The brute swung his sword under Peter's and, with a quick flick of his boot, flung him to the ground. Peter fell and awaited the blow. Suddenly, he was covered in down and metal; he felt the clinking of mail as he rolled and opened his eyes to a blizzard of aurelian snow. He heard a sharp cry and gasp, and the world finally stilled.

Peter looked up into Lyra's eyes and saw the glazed-over look of them. " Oh, Lyra, what did you do?"

Lyra gave him a slight laugh, gasping for breath. Peter lifted his hand from under her and examined her back as best as he could. His hand came away sticky, the ruby substance flowing down his hand in a vaunt of victory.

Lyra screamed in pain as she was seized and thrown bodily away from Peter; the bright, blue sky appeared only for a moment, and Peter was confronted with his ghastly enemy again. This time, Peter was prepared. He lifted his legs and caught the man with him. He grunted, fighting for balance, his weight helping. Suddenly, just as he leaned forward to stab the young King, Peter released the pressure and rolled.

The soldier fought to recover his balance, arcing towards the ground. As he did so, Peter found Rhindon and quickly slashed the lower back. His spine crumpled, he fell with an animalistic growl.

Peter noticed that the battlefield was suddenly more in their favor and his mind clutched at reasons to understand this. But his flank, being the weakest, was still greatly besieged, and Lyra lay, gulping for breath, fighting against her own drowning blood. Peter maintained his position around her and focused merely on allowing no-one to hurt her again. Ten soldiers fell by his sword, and he was still fighting.

Around him, his soldiers had gathered and they formed a circle that protected and guarded the brave Zephyr. His guardian angel. Then stillness; the quiet emptiness of ordinary day when there is no wrath or violence.

Peter gasped, seeking relief from the terrible oppression of death. He looked across the battlefield and noted that there were a great many humans on their side than there had been. In fact, there was Caspian embracing a particularly tiny human woman.

" Your Majesty, Lyra wishes for you." A young satyr pulled him from his reverie.

Peter pushed aside his befuddlement and knelt by the side of the Zephyr. Her face was painted with blood, and they were holding her up so that the gushing wound on her back and wings could be treated. " Lyra, why did you do it?" He could not bear to look at the macabre whiteness of her features.

" Because— I believed that you did not go because you wanted to. Because I knew you were noble and good and deserved my love. I kept on trying to tell Mother—she couldn't see it. I'm glad I was here. You're worth it—" she gulped for her life, holding tightly onto his hand, " Father."

A roar astounded Peter and his attendants and his gaze rested upon the battlefield again. Aslan stood in the midst of all the Narnians who gathered about him. Some were bowing, others were hugging and embracing the Highest King. Beside him, Elain was hugging her wine-haired brother and twirling him in the air. Peter knew he should be laughing, but he couldn't. His eyes continued to look unseeing. He saw Edmund bowing to the little lady that Caspian presented to him, Caspian saluting Aslan fearfully. Lucy and Susan were embracing Trumpkin, their voices laughing. Lucy!

Peter choked on his own idea, but quickly regained his senses. " Lucy! Lucy! Come here!"

His youngest sister looked up from her merriment and then turned around the field searching for her brother. Suddenly, she found him and almost shouting a greeting, she saw the prone form of the General of the Zephyrs. Susan saw what had stopped her and then gasped, tears welling immediately.

Lucy tore towards the King and the Zephyr. Behind her, Elain screamed in agony and it was only Bacchus that kept her from falling in disarray. Lucy skidded to a stop beside them. Trembling hands reached out towards her. Lucy gave her brother a scared look and then took the diamond bottle from its case.

The bottle should have reflected in Lyra's eyes, but the two jewels did not sparkle together, and there was a stillness evident in Lyra's features that caused fear and terror to slide its poisoned blade through both Lucy and Peter.

Lucy was about to drop the ruby gem into Lyra's lips when Elain dropped beside them and pushed it away. " No. Lyra has no need of that." She sobbed the words.

Peter exclaimed, " But—"

Bacchus interjected, " Peter: in her veins flows the blood of Aslan. The juice of the fire-flower cannot heal those who live by the Deep Magic. My dear niece has departed for Aslan's country."

Peter allowed the tears to flow down his face and he clutched onto his wife's hand. " Niece? Father? What is were they telling me? Elain, please!" His voice was broken and it hummed a symphony of grief.

Elain pulled Peter into her arms and held him, caressing his head, while his presence helped sooth her own grief. " She told me not to tell you. That she wanted you to know her for herself. She did not wish that you should know guilt for never being there."

Peter sobbed. " And even now, I'm not. What kind of a father am I, that my daughter has to die for me?"

" Peace, Son of Adam." Aslan's glorious voice flowed over the group. " Lyra would have died defending anyone. That she chose you shows that she loved you dearly. That she left her mother's side gives evidence that she adored you as father. Lucy, my little lioness, give her the cordial."

Elain looked up into her father's eyes wondering why he was torturing her. Bacchus choked in surprise and touched his mane. " Father, the Deep Magic has fled. She's not human."

Lucy had obeyed as Bacchus questioned his father. Peter and Elain looked on hopefully yet believing the truth of what Bacchus had said. After all, Lucy would never have been able to revive Aslan when he died.

As the ruby jewel slid down her throat, Lyra's body became very warm. Peter gasped as he felt something pulse beneath his hand. Glancing down, he saw that the blood was slightly receding from the bandages that had been forced into her wound. The Narnians removed them; the wound was healed and only a scar remained.

Elain felt her daughter's pulse but cried when there was none. Peter held on tighter, daring her to open her eyes, begging her to live. And then she turned cold again and there was nothing.

Nothing— but the beautiful face of the daughter he would never know. The cordial had only returned her to what she had been. It had not healed.

Elain sobbed into her husband's arms and then looked up at her father. " Why do this to me? Why make me hope when there is none?"

Aslan knelt besides his daughter and drew her between his paws. She sobbed against the auric mane which mingled with her own rosy feathers. " Elain, the Zephyr that your daughter was is dead. I did not mean for her to come back to life. But I promise you; Lyra's not dead. The daughter of Peter Pevensie is not dead. She lives and he will find her. But not in this world."

Elain looked up at his features and stroked his nose. " Is this what you meant by saying Peter would never sit in Cair Paravel again?"

" Yes, dear one. Peter is needed: in England. For his family and for the little girl who awaits him. You had her for thirteen hundred years. Don't you think he should know what it is to be a father?" Aslan licked her tears away and drew her even closer to him. His scent enveloped her and gradually soothed away the mourning. He promised peace and hope even as he had when he had called her husband away the first time.

Lucy was comforting her brother and saw that his eyes were not quite right. He did not seem to hear anything that Aslan promised. " Peter, did you hear what he said? You'll see Lyra again."

Peter didn't respond and Lucy gazed at Susan in alarm.

Aslan rearranged his daughter and then held out a paw for Peter. Susan and Lucy maneuvered him so that he was leaned against the mighty Lion too. Peter stiffened at first, but the glaze fell from his eyes, and he too yearned for the intimacy of the King's embrace. Round about them, Lucy, Susan, Edmund, Caspian, Bacchus, and several others who had a personal interest in the matter, gathered about and gave their presence too.

And thus it was that Lyra, who had been a guardian angel for so many, left Narnia and the wings which had named her so. But Lyra still lived and the Magnificent would still be a Father.

Hello all my lovely readers! I just wanted to thank you so much for making it through my story. Yes, this is the end of The Magnificent, a Father, but there will be another book after this one. This is about King Peter meeting and getting to know his daughter. The next will be about Peter Pevensie finding and raising his daughter. So there's a definite difference- mostly between worlds. I hope that you enjoyed the book and that you aren't too sad or angry with how I ended things.

I hope that you are all looking forward to Christmas and that you are able to spend time with your family.

Love and Merry Christmas,

Living for Christ,

JettaLee