A/N: Hi all, thanks for taking the time to read. This is set ten years after the train crash that killed Peter, Edmund and Lucy. The letters are being written by Susan. I hope you enjoy it!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia in any way, shape or form. I make no profit from this story.

1: Lucy

My dearest Lucy,

So here we are, ten years to the day now since the train crash. I don't suppose I need to tell you that there isn't a day that passes on which I don't think of you or about how much I miss you. I wish I could have seen you grow into a woman, seen you marry and have children of your own. Sometimes I think of something funny to tell you, or something happens that I remind myself to recount to you, but then I remember. I'm never going to be able to tell you anything now.

It was your birthday last Monday. Are you pleased I remembered? When you turned seven, you got so upset because I forgot it was your birthday and didn't buy you a present. You always were funny about little things like that when you were small. This birthday wasn't a time for celebration, I know, but I did congratulate your photograph, sitting in pride of place on the mantelpiece. It sounds silly, but I couldn't help it. It wouldn't have felt right not to wish you many happy returns.

You would have been twenty-nine years old. The last photograph I have of you was taken a year after you and Ed came back from cousin Eustace's – that summer when he changed so much. I'm sure it was the good influence of you and Ed that changed him. You always were so good with people. I remember all the girls in your class at school used to be jealous, because you could talk the teacher into doing anything for you. Isn't it funny, the little things I remember about you?

I suppose no letter would be complete without mentioning our time with dear old Professor Kirke in 1940. I can't tell you how it grieved me to learn that he too was killed on that day, along with dear Eustace. I don't imagine you remember all that much of our time in the countryside (you were, after all, just eight years old), but you were always merry in those days. Being too young, I suppose, to understand the war, you always cheered me up, one way or another. The old professor took you under his wing, too; I've never met such a kind man in all my life. I suppose the two of you were well suited: you both loved people and would do anything you could to help.

And now, dear Lucy, comes the most difficult part of this letter. The main part of those days was made up, I know, from our adventures in Narnia. I am not entirely sure how to express how I feel about that time; at the time of the crash, I was certain that Narnia was just a childish fancy we all had when we were young and innocent. But in recent years, I am not so sure. Much as I try to deny it, I cannot ignore solid memories, and even small tokens I brought back. I also find it difficult to understand how two trips to another world could be completely made up by my young mind. If you had told me about these adventures, doubtless I would have dismissed them as the mere pretences of youth, but I was not all that young when we travelled there. It is my one wish, therefore, to tell you that I honestly cannot ignore these signs, and so conclude, dear Lucy, that Narnia was indeed real.

Of course, I can never speak of this to anyone. My husband (how I do wish you could have met Arthur; I think the two of you would have got on well) would not believe a word of it, and would have me in an asylum before you could say 'Jack Robinson'. I suppose this is the main reason for writing you: I wish to confess to someone. Now you are all gone, I have no one to talk to about our times in Narnia. And although I saw you grow up there, I would dearly loved to have had another adulthood all together in this world

I remember you talking about sailing to Aslan's country when you and Ed travelled aboard the Dawn Treader. I can only hope that somehow, the three of you are now under Aslan's protection, wherever you are. I can merely curse my own foolishness that I am not there with you. I suppose I cannot say much more to you, my dear baby sister, only that I hope you are well and happy, with or without the boys. It is my fervent wish that one day I might join you there.

Farewell for now, dear Lucy, until we meet in happier times.

Your loving sister,

Susan

A/N: I hope you liked this letter. All reviews would be greatly appreciated!