Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own original characters and a lot of responsibilities that I'm trying to run away from.

A/N: And here we are at the finale. Of the first book, that is. You'll find that after reading the the first chapter to the next book is already up and running so you'll see what happens next. I'm sorry I ended up taking a week and a half to post this, but I really am busy and don't have as much time to write as I like, so please be patient for me. For those of you who've read up until this point, thank you so so much. I had so much fun writing this, I can't even tell you. I don't want to get all sentimental so I'll let you go ahead and read. Please enjoy the final chapter of Saga of My Heart.

The Raids Have Stopped; You Can Come Home Now

The next few months were hardly remembered to the point where there was anything worth talking about. Everything sort of went by in a blur, as if we were running on automatic. My stomach had begun to show, and before I knew it I had to let out several of my clothes (and have new ones made for me). Around the time we began preparations for the baby's nursery (which was around the five to six month mark in my pregnancy), Peter decided it was a good time for me to have my portrait done. It was a long process that lasted several weeks, and soon became incorporated into my daily routine.

Though the artist wasn't much of a talker, I managed to engage him in conversation while he mixed his paints.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked, resting my arms on the pillar next to me.

"Um... maybe seven years," he said softly, pushing his hair back with a dry paintbrush. He was young – around nineteen, and thus more than ten years my junior. He had a slender frame and soft green eyes. More than one Lady of the Court had taken a fancy to him.

"And I'm assuming you enjoy it," I continued.

"Yes ma'am. Uhm—your majesty," He finished with a slight bow.

I laughed a little, adjusting my sleeve so it sat on my shoulder the way I wanted it to. I was wearing a sheer day gown of pale blue lace, my hair swept to one side. My hands rested on my belly, occasionally rubbing out of instinct. I took a deep breath, soaking in the fresh air through the open window.

"Okay," I sighed. "Whenever you're ready."

"Tilt your head down a little bit—not to that side—yes that's it. Hold the pillar with one arm and your belly with the other." He cleared his throat, then began painting.

"What if I have to scratch my nose?" I asked, sniffling.

"That's alright." So I did.

He cleared my throat again, then spoke. "So, have you thought about what you're going to name them? If it's a boy or a girl."

"I..." I trailed off.

"I'd heard that you had a few ideas quite sometime ago, that's what some of the court ladies told me."

"Oh yes, 'Rose,' or something like that. I thought those would be quite pretty. But they don't seem right now. I don't really have any idea."

"Oh," he nodded, ducking behind the canvas.

"What's your name?" I asked, not realizing I didn't know it until now.

"Florian... your – your majesty." He nodded again.

"Florian," I pondered on it. "That's a nice name. Maybe that will be a good possibility."

"For a boy or a girl?" The corners of his mouth turned up a little.

I shrugged. "Might work for both!"

Just then, Peter entered the studio.

"Hello, there," he acknowledged us both, then started towards me for a kiss.

"Oh! I've already been posed," I stopped him. "After today's session."

"Alright. How's it been going?"

"Very well," I said cheerfully. "We were discussing baby names."

"Oh? Found any good ones?"

"Florian," I said proudly.

He nodded absentmindedly and repeated what I said. "Florian. Well, I've just come to let you know that the White Stag has been spotted in Narnian forests."

"The legend of the White Stag?" Florian piped up.

"Mhm. If you hunt him and catch him, he'll grant you three wishes."

"So I'm assuming we're going to hunt him, then." I asked.

"Yes, yes we are. But not all at once. Not right away. We'll make a day of it soon. The five of us."

"Will that be safe? What with my growing baby and all?"

"If you take it a bit easier I'm sure it'll be fine," he chuckled. "Anyway, that's all I came to tell you. Dinner should be ready in an hour."

"Thank you, Peter." I blew him a kiss as he left.

Florian peeked out from behind the canvas again, this time blushing. "Why don't you name the baby after the High King if it's a boy?"

"I don't know," I mused. "We'll see..."

It was nearly another month later when we finally got around to the hunt.

"Darling, get up," Peter said, kissing my temple.

"No," I groaned, scooting away from him. "What for?"

"We're going hunting today. For the White Stag, remember?"

"I am not about to get on a horse and canter all about the woods," I rubbed my stomach. "Besides, Florian's supposed to finish my portrait today."

"It'll be fun! C'mon, Charlotte—"

"You go on with the others and call me when you get back."

"No, you're going with us." He sat me up and pulled off my nightgown, brushed my hair back and kissed me lightly on the nose before getting my riding attire.

I sighed before swinging my legs off the bed. I was greeted by a cold breeze fresh off the ocean's surface and I gasped, covering myself with the blanket. Peter helped me into my clothes (even though he really didn't need to) and brought over a tray of breakfast. After I ate, we left our room and joined the others down at the stables.

"I told you she would come," Peter said, winking at Edmund.

"Took you long enough," he rolled his eyes.

"Well then. Are we ready?" Susan asked.

"The sooner we leave, the sooner I'm back in bed," I shrugged.

We mounted our horses—Bree, Hwin, Copper, and Phillip included—and we were off.

It was a great chase, albeit its slow start. We first found the White Stag near the edge of the forest and it led us further into the greens of Narnia. We broke our stride for lunch and afterward, continued on our quest. Hours later, with no luck, we considerably slowed our pace.

"Which way do you think we should go now, Edmund?" Peter asked without looking behind him.

"I think we've gone in nearly every direction," Susan grumbled.

"Ed?" Peter asked again, this time turning his horse.

Edmund wasn't there.

"Ed," Lucy called. "Where are you?"

"I'm here!" He responded. "Phillip and I were just taking a breather."

"That's rich coming from the one who wanted to find the stag himself!" Susan laughed, Lucy and I joining her.

"What's this?" Peter asked, getting off his horse. "It seems familiar."

We followed his gaze to what appeared to be a... a lamppost. I felt a sort of heat in the pit of my stomach. I knew what it was.

As if it's from a dream. Or a dream of a dream.

"Spare Oom!" Lucy exclaimed, disappearing into the thick of trees behind the post.

"Lucy," Peter called. "Lu?" He helped me down from my horse and we began to follow her.

The trees were thicker than usual in this spot. It was getting very crammed very quickly, but Lucy kept running, and we tried to keep up with her.

"Ow!" Susan cried, "Edmund that hurt."

"I'm sorry! Peter move over you almost elbowed me in the stomach."

I was suddenly jostled into a soft bed of fur. "Wait a second, these aren't branches."

"They're—they're coats." Susan murmured.

We kept moving, thrust forward by the weight of gravity, until we fell out of the sea of coats and landed in a heap on a wooden floor. The next thing I heard was a chorus of gasps, the realizations that we were in our old clothes, and that we were in fact fifteen years younger. We weren't in Narnia anymore. We were so dumbfounded, we couldn't say anything.

Before we could think of what to do, the doorknob turned and Professor Kirke walked in, holding a cricket ball. "Oh!" He said, widening his eyes. "There you are. What were you all doing in the wardrobe?"

Peter smirked. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir."

The Professor tossed him the ball. "Try me."

I daresay it was after midnight when Lucy finally fell asleep. We spent the rest of the day telling Professor Kirke about our time in Narnia (and avoiding the ever-listening ears of Mrs. McCready). After a meal of ham sandwiches and milk—as we had forgotten all about eating—we found our way to our rooms in the dark, tucked Lucy in, and left.

"What do you think the Professor thought when he found out about us? In Narnia, I mean." I asked as we felt our way down the hall.

"I suspect he thought it was only natural." Peter chuckled. "I mean, it would've probably happened here anyway."

"Ruling the whole of England with an evil council watching our every move?"

"Well no, not that part. Just us getting married."

"You think I would marry you here?"

He stopped. "Well I would hope so."

"Eh," I shrugged. "Wishful thinking!"

"Hey!" He said, as I opened the door to my room.

"Oh," I said, immediately hushing my tone. "This is your room. Edmund's asleep."

"So? He's a heavy sleeper, we won't wake him. C'mon."

"Peter, I can't... I can't sleep with you in here."

"Why not?" He said, perplexed.

"Because we're home now. We're not married anymore. We can't do this anymore. At least not now."

"But—"

"I know. I don't want to be apart either. It's going to take some getting used to but we have to start somewhere."

"We'll just be sleeping," he pleaded, walking towards me. "We won't be... doing... anything..."

Before I could manage a reply, he had taken my left hand in his and pressed his lips against mine. I took in a deep breath, and noticed he smelled different. The scent of rich pine that engulfed him just hours ago was replaced by inexpensive men's cologne. It was familiar, yet it made me feel tense.

He fixed his fingers into the dent of my spine and pulled me closer to him. His tongue slid across my upper lip and when I opened my mouth to accept him, he bit down on me softly, causing me to moan.

"Darling we really should get to bed," I whispered raggedly, smiling.

"Alright," he nodded, brushing my nose. He let go of my hand and pushed me onto the empty bed behind us, letting out a low laugh.

As his lips covered mine again, I fixed my hands onto his neck and wrapped my stockinged-legs around him. It wasn't until he further pushed himself into me that I noticed something was different. Wrong, even.

"Peter," I said, breaking away.

"What is it?" He sat up, sensing the concern in my voice.

I pushed him off of me and looked down at my stomach. It was as flat as ever. Maybe it was just the dark, maybe a shadow. But when I touched it with my own two hands, I knew.

"Oh my God," my voice began wobbling uncontrollably. "The baby"—I was sucking in breaths—"I lost the baby! Oh my God I lost the baby!"

Peter ran to the bedroom door and turned on the light, horror overtaking his expression. It wasn't five seconds later that I began screaming.

Epilogue

"Dear Mum (and Mrs. Dawson),

Everything is fine and well at Professor Kirke's home. Both he and Mrs. McCready have been very generous to us. However, there's been a bit of a... cloud cast over us (save the Professor and his housekeeper, of course) for reasons unspecified. I think it's just the fact that we all miss home. Charlotte has taken the worst of it, though. I daresay she's depressed; sometimes she doesn't even want to leave the bed. Lucy often has to coax her. I'm unsure of what to do, but maybe after warming her up to the wonders of the country she'll become herself again. I hope you and Mrs. Dawson are doing well. Please tell her not to worry too much – I'm sure this will pass on soon enough.

I love you both,

Susan."

Three weeks later, Mrs. McCready brought Susan a reply.

"Dearest Susan, Edmund, Peter, Lucy, and Charlotte –

We are both well. The raids have stopped. You can come home now. Enclosed is the train fare needed for your trip. Please thank both the Professor and Mrs. McCready profusely for their hospitality towards you. We love and miss you all and can't wait to see you home again.

Love,

Mum and Mrs. Dawson."

A/N: I won't say much here because that was a pretty heavy ending. Head on over to my profile to find the link to After the Raids and read what happens next. Thank you a lot, seriously. I appreciate all of you.