Author's Note: My unending thanks to electrum for her help with this and for her permission to write a prequel to her amazing story When We Were Kings.

Winter, 1941

"Peter, it's getting late."

"One more."

"Peter . . ."

Her brother gave her a look that was purely High King Peter: a mixture of stern authority, benevolent reproach and the tiniest hint of anger all contained in stormy eyes and tightly pressed lips. Only Queen Susan had been brave (some would say stubborn) enough to disobey him when he displayed such a look. It was a much milder version of what his enemies experienced in battle, or so said Edmund.

Fortunately, she was not an enemy. She also had a new weapon: pursed lips, folded arms, and a glare that would never have sullied her lovely features in Narnia. In Narnia she would have been gentle, but firm and it would have taken her several minutes to coax him to do (or at least listen to) her will. This was much quicker and far more effective. Shock was written over his surliness and, for once, he couldn't manage a single word of protest. He simply closed the dusty volume he was reading and added it to the pile he was taking home to read during the rest of the hols.

"Oh, Peter, please! Tomorrow's Christmas Eve."

"All the more reason to have a book around. I'm certainly not going to subject myself to another evening of Harold and Alberta. Besides, what if we find something?"

"We?"

"You don't want to look?"

"Peter," she snapped. His sharp glance at the librarian made her lower her voice. "Peter, we've been going at it for hours. The hols are nearly over and I haven't spent near the time I promised with my friends what with Harold and Alberta being here and Lil has invited me to go on a drive with her family and-"

"So you're going to spend time with that ninny Lillian instead of searching? Instead of spending time with your own family? Come off it, Su."

"Come off what?" she was shouting now and didn't care what the librarian said or did. "The fact that I'm moving on and living my life in the present? That I'm accepting my country? That I'm not dwelling in the past? For heaven's sake, Peter--"

She was cut off by a very upset librarian in grey tweed and lavender spectacles who checked Peter's books out at a remarkable speed and with a strength that surprised both of them all but threw the two from the library. Susan wouldn't talk to him, but allowed her brother to help her into her coat before angrily stalking home.

He didn't understand what was happening to his sister. Upon returning to England they had made a pact in their first letters to each other to search for Aslan in their country. Admittedly, it had been slow going at first. They had ruled out Richard the Lionhearted quite quickly. It had taken time to discover Henry the Lion and Robert III of Flanders, also called the Lion of Flanders, but neither of them fit the description. Then Susan had discovered the gods in lion form that the ancient Egyptians had worshiped: Maahes, Dedun, and Sekhmet…They hadn't been him either, or anything related to him. Peter had gotten quite excited over Narasimha the Hindu "Lion God." But Susan had sent him a sketch of the god and a note that said it resembled Tash far more than Aslan. Peter was forced to agree.

That had been back at the beginning of November. In her more recent letters she didn't mention anything about how her search was going or Narnia or even Aslan. Lately her letters had been filled with random facts about England and its monarchs and legends that surrounded the British Isles. He knew what she was doing: she was trying to love England as she had Narnia. He wondered if it was working out for her. For her sake he hoped it would. He had known before coming back that he would never love England as he had Narnia, but never revealed such things in his letters to her. When they were together again during the winter holidays, he had begged her to go with him to scour the library. At long last she had joined him in searching the library's scant mythology collection, but she grumbled about it. Their search had not gone well, both of them had already read most of the myths. Still there were volumes on Norse and Armenian mythology that weren't in his school's library (the resources of which he'd nearly exhausted) and they might have something. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by.

He walked home about half a block behind Susan, silent and brooding. Mrs. Pevensie didn't say anything to him as he walked in the door, but her eyes held questions. Peter didn't say anything either, instead inviting Eustace to a game of chess (he surprisingly accepted). Lucy shot him a grateful look and disappeared and he caught Edmund's glance of sympathy. He squared his shoulders and did his best to be nice to Eustace, knowing the books would be there when he finished.

Early Summer, 1942

"Peter, this is the third time you've torn this library apart since you've come. I would be happy to retrieve any volume for you, it would certainly save us the mess."

"I'm sorry, sir. I was hoping you'd have some books on mythology." "Mythology? I daresay you've already read the Greek and Roman manuscripts. May I ask what you need them for? Your exams would go much better if you read that essay by Thoreau."

"I know, sir. I'm just . . . searching." And then Peter relayed the conversation he'd had with Aslan before leaving Narnia and how he and Susan had searched voraciously and how Susan had lost interest and the trail was growing cold. He finished with, "He told us to look for him here, but so far there's been nothing. I think Susan's given up, but I can't. I just have to find him, sir. I feel so . . . so empty without him here."

The professor sat in silence for a while, regarding him carefully. He then strode over to his desk and removed a well-worn leather bound book from the right-hand drawer and handed it to an eager Peter. "Read this."

"The Bible?" Peter felt his excitement deflate even as he pushed the book back at Professor Kirke. "Sir, I've already looked there. It was actually one of the first places we searched. But we decided that Daniel had nothing to do with Aslan and that the Lion of Judah was just an epithet for King David. He's not there, sir."

Professor Kirke was nearly reduced to sputtering: "Nothing to do with Aslan? Just an epithet? What do they teach in schools these days?" He firmly handed the book back to Peter. "No. You read this. You'll find him."

Peter was skeptical, but obeyed. He opened the book randomly and started half reading, half making plans to stop at the library the next time they went to town. A verse caught nearly jumped off the pages at him and his heart nearly stopped beating even as his breath caught in his throat. Behind him, the professor cleared his throat and gave Peter a nudge.

"If you go about it with that sort of attitude then you'll never find him. The beginning, boy. Go to the beginning. Genesis."

Peter flipped through the pages until he found the said book, but kept his finger in the place he'd first opened the book to. When he was sure the professor had left the room, he flipped back to Proverbs 8:17, suddenly feeling as if his journey was drawing to a close.

"I love those who love me. And those that diligently seek me shall find me."

He couldn't keep back the yell of delight.

Author's Note: If you want to see what happens next, read electrum's When We Were Kings.