AN: Ho hum, I'm back with yet another quartet on the Pevensies. Perhaps next time I'll branch out. Anyhow, not sure what I think about this one, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Mostly these are just for fun. This does contain spoilers for the Last Battle.
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"You think we ought to go on?" said Lucy.
"I'm not sure that High King is lost," said Trumpkin. "What's to hinder this river being the Rush?"
"Because the Rush is not in a gorge," said Peter, keeping his temper with some difficulty.
Prince Caspian, C.S. Lewis
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A time before this life flashes before Peter Pevensie's eyes, warring with other moments spread throughout two lifetimes. The world around him blurs, screeches, and rumbles. So many thoughts rushing by in a manner of seconds. He can hardly wrap his mind around the cacophony of images, but then, he has never been one to accept things easily.
He remembers his disbelief at Dad's departure for the War. Stoic, Mum had called him, but in his mind he had been a grieving child, unable to accept the possibility of his father's death or the burdening responsibility he now felt for Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.
He jerks forward, throwing a protective hand in front of his brother.
During Edmund's days as a victim and bully, Peter had pushed his brother's pain aside. Not wanting to believe his brother to be helpless or cruel, he had carefully contrived an ignorance that masked his own hurt as well as Edmund's.
The lurching beast growls, bullying its victims into fearful submission. Beside Edmund, Peter straightens his back, facing an enemy he can not beat.
The first days in Narnia had tested a faith he did not know he possessed. How could one possibly believe in the existence of a world within a wardrobe? He had resisted the sweet air, refusing to accept the destiny woven through a new life. An army behind and a crown before, Peter had feared the role he had been born to.
With naught but a suitcase beside him, Peter's fists clench, yearning for a sword, a shield, something, to fend off impending doom.
Returning to England was hell. Thrust into a magical kingdom tested belief, but changing from king to boy challenged faith. Peter had never had a strong supply of either. He remembered his surly manner, his desire to fight with other boys. After a life of splendor and purpose, accepting an existence of menial tasks and daily routines proved impossible. He gladly would have escaped England in any possible way.
Fear clutches his heart as the bland, gray station fills with a featureless roar. This world does not possess Narnia's beauty or heart, but Peter has not yet finished living.
The new darkness of Narnia had shaken him—his kingdom plunged into all that he had fought to keep it from. Cair Paravel ruined, his friends lost, the Narnians in hiding—how could he accept this sinister change? How could he face a Creator who had abandoned both king and kingdom? This world was not the land he loved, yet it struggled for his heart, forcing him to accept an Almighty Will that stripped him of his role in both past and future.
The train gives a final blast of noise, and Peter reels toward Edmund, images flying like the rubble around him. He remembers the lamppost and Cair Paravel, never to be seen again. He imagines Lucy and Edmund aboard the Dawn Treader, without him or Susan. He recalls Susan, whirling off to another party, pecking him on the cheek as she goes and calling him a "silly dear." He sees Edmund, face tight, screaming wordlessly for his brother as the train collides.
Peter cannot accept these things. He is flawed, he realizes, but how can a person easily allow such pain? Another image enters his sight, this one radiant. His eyes squint, and he cowers, feeling the full taint of his faults. The vision clears, and he is looking at the Stone Table.
Before the last breath can escape his lips, Peter recognizes the quick approach of death. Eyes fluttering shut, the screech of metal becomes the roar of a Lion, and finally, Peter accepts.
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"Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst."
1 Timothy 1:15
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AN: So, loved it, hated it? Did the snapshot idea work or was it just tedious? Reviews are very much appreciated.