𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘 || peter pevensie [3]

chapter one ~ the letter

Peter dropped his pen and rubbed his temples. He knew that Susan wouldn't reply to this letter so, to anyone else, his agonising over it would have seemed pointless. But this wasn't like any of his other letters about Narnia. This could be the very last.

Returning to Narnia was something that Peter had never even considered, particularly since Aslan had told him that he no longer needed the country he had once been the High King of. But at the sight of the strange apparition, it didn't seem as though any of them had a choice. Something like that could only happen at the will of Aslan.

There came a soft knock at the door, but Peter only hummed as an invitation in.

"Hey, Pete. You alright?" Edmund poked his head around Peter's bedroom door.

Peter sighed. "Yeah, why?"

Edmund stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "You've been up here for over an hour."

"I just didn't think it would be this hard." He leant back in his desk chair and closed his eyes. "She has to know." Edmund pierced his lips, nodding. "Perhaps we could ask Lucy to write the letter. Do you think she would?"

"I think, if anyone has a chance at convincing Susan to come home, it's Lucy."

Nodding decisively, Peter took up several sheets of paper and his pen and followed Edmund downstairs. Lucy sat in a large armchair, her huddled form looked ever smaller as she shifted closer to the crackling fire, with her sketchbook on her knees and pencil rubber pressed to her lips.

"Hey, Lu." Peter dared not speak louder than a whisper. "That's coming along really well," he said, pointing to the picture on the page. Lucy looked up at her eldest brother and grinned.

Ever since Lucy had left Narnia for good, her family had been finding everything from little sketches to detailed oil paintings of landscapes, creatures, and castles all around the house. Their parents marvelled at Lucy's talents, but for her brothers, though they had left Narnia, it was as if Narnia had never left them.

"Lu, will you do something for me?" Peter said, softly.

"Anything," the girl smiled.

"Will you please write this letter to Susan? If anyone has a chance of convincing her to come home, it's you."

Edmund sniggered from behind Peter, where he had taken the armchair across from his sister and resumed reading his book.

Lucy smiled again. "Of course," she said. Putting down her drawing things, both she and Peter moved to the desk in the corner of the living room.

Laying down a clean sheet of paper, Lucy took Peter's pen and scribed 'My dearest Susan' at the top of the page, then paused. After a moment, she gave a little squeak and carefully wrote their home address in the top right-hand corner. And paused again.

Peter bit the inside of his lower lip, wondering if he should get up and leave her to it. But Lucy looked up at her brother's worried expression and rested her free hand on his arm. She didn't have to say anything, just turned back to the page and placed the tip of the pen onto the paper.

Line after line she wrote, in a neat cursive – doubtless something Susan had taught her – making no mistakes and stopping only to shift the position of the paper on the table. Gradually, Peter allowed himself to smile, not at all envious of how easily the words came to his youngest sister. After all, she had been the first to believe.

When she had finished, Lucy signed the letter from the three of them and held it up to reread. In the shadow that the paper cast on the desktop, Peter traced unknown shapes with his left ring finger, his mind shifting to another woman who was far away. Unreachable by any letter.

Lucy turned her head sideways to look at her brother, who didn't notice her quick gesture. Taking a clean sheet of paper and placing it in front of Peter, she set down his pen and he looked up.

"Write to her," the girl said softly.

Peter glanced over at Edmund, who seemed well engrossed in his book. "But you just-"

Lucy giggled. Peter had seen her grow up twice, yet her smile still held that child-like wonder that never failed to raise his spirits. Even so, he dropped his eyes.

"She'll never get to read it."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't write it."

The truth was that not a day went by that Peter didn't think of the young woman from the Island. After what had happened when he and his siblings had left Narnia the first time, Peter needed to make sure he didn't forget her, that he never doubted that she had been real.

Many times had he thought about ways he could reach her. He would catch himself staring a moment too long into his wardrobe when he went to pick out his clothes in the morning. Every time he caught the train, he'd close his eyes, let the wind whip up his hair, wondering if, when he opened them, he'd be in on the shores of the Eastern Sea, staring up at Cair Paravel where she would be waiting for him.

Had she been sent a vision, a sign that Narnia needed her one last time? Did she still think of him when the night skies were clear, when she passed the sword exhibits in her city's museum, or when she stood in the midst of something she wished she didn't have to face alone? Did she now wonder if, maybe, there was a chance they could meet again?

Peter picked up his pen, took in a deep breath, and wrote.

My dearest, Nimueh...