Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Chronicles of Narnia; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, 20th Century Fox, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: I hadn't ever intended to write a second chapter for this story, but in the interest of continuity in my "England Chronicles" series, I thought this would help. It came to me while I was working on "Reduced Circumstances" and "Balancing the Scales," and I hope it will help enhance those two stories, as well as add something to this one. I must thank Autumnia for being a thoughtful, helpful, and altogether wonderful beta reader for this revised story and the one that follows it. Her insightful comments, careful canon checking, and cheerful encouragement have been invaluable.

Still Magnificent – Chapter Two

The oldest and youngest Pevensie siblings sat curled up together for a long time, Peter drawing strength from his younger sister and Lucy silently sending reassurance and love to Peter as she relaxed against him. A cool autumn breeze stirred their hair and clothing, and the pungent smell of earth and the crispness of the changing season reached their noses. Though the wind was cool rather than warm, it was still sweet and refreshing, gentle as a benediction, and Lucy thought that it felt like an echo of Aslan's breath on her face.

"Speaking of confidences," Lucy said eventually, her voice quiet, "may I tell you something I never told any of the others?"

"Of course, Lu," Peter said, looking concerned. "You know you may always tell me anything."

Lucy nodded gratefully. "When we were on Coriakin's island," she began, "and I went to his book to try and make the Dufflepuds visible, there were so many other spells in his book that it was really quite fascinating. There was one that was supposed to make you beautiful – and I wanted to try that one a great deal. However, I had a terrible feeling that I shouldn't – and then Aslan's face appeared in the book, and he looked dreadfully stern. I was afraid," Lucy whispered. "I almost can't understand how I went on to do what I did, not after seeing Him, but I came to another spell that would tell you what others thought of you."

"I had wanted to try that first spell so much that I went ahead and said the second one before I could change my mind," Lucy went on, looking mortified. "The pictures in Coriakin's book came alive, Peter. They came alive, and they showed me two of my classmates talking about me on the train. One of the girls was my friend, and she said some things about me that were quite mean to an older girl whom I don't like. It – it hurt."

"It would," Peter murmured, squeezing her shoulder.

"The worst of it was that I knew saying the spell was wrong," Lucy admitted. "I had gone to the book to begin with in order to help the Dufflepuds and to keep them from attacking Edmund and Caspian and the others. My original motives were unselfish. The reasons for saying that spell were purely self-centered, and I think the book knew that and reflected my own insecurities back to me. Coriakin is a rather extraordinary person, to have such magic at his disposal and manage not to harm anyone with it. It holds its own kind of fascination."

"I would imagine so," Peter said, thinking with a shudder about what such a book could do in the hands of the wrong person. "Consider, though, Lu, that Coriakin is also a star. Such a being must have a greater perspective on the universe than we do. He is obviously imperfect, but after centuries of being in the sky, I am sure he is aware that even small actions can impact the world – all worlds – in significant ways."

"I finally said the spell to make the Dufflepuds visible, and just after that, Aslan came into the room," Lucy confessed. "He said he had been there all the time, and he reprimanded me for eavesdropping on the girls. I felt like such a fool! His eyes are so terrible when he's disappointed in you, and it's even worse because he always knows why you have done something."

"I know," Peter agreed soberly, thinking of several occasions in Narnia where Aslan had reproved him in much the same way.

"I never told Ed or Eustace about what I had done," Lucy said despondently. "I told them about seeing Aslan, of course, and about meeting Coriakin. I couldn't tell them the rest. I was so very ashamed of myself."

Peter pulled her close and hugged her. "You are human, Lucy. You were curious about the book and what it could do, and curiosity got the better of you. It happens to the best of us. I don't quite understand why you chose to say that particular spell, and perhaps that was your mistake. You know that the people in your life who matter most to you care about you greatly. You should trust what they tell you, trust what they do when they are around you. Why did you say that spell, of all the ones in the book?"

Lucy became even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. "It – it's to do with Susan," she whispered, wringing her hands. "It was really the first spell, Peter. Su is so beautiful, and people love her. Our subjectsloved her. They loved her kindness and gentleness, her gracefulness, the skillful way she can smooth over a difficult situation. And a tiny, tiny part of me has always wished that I could be more like her. It isn't jealousy, exactly. I love Su so very dearly, and I've always admired her for everything she is. But some irrational corner of my mind thought that if I could look more like her, perhaps I could be more like her. She has so many gifts that I lack."

"Oh, Lu," Peter said, very gently. "You don't need to be anyone but yourself. Don't you know that there are qualities you have that Susan has always wished for? You have the ability to make friends so easily, to be so open with others, to walk around with a constant sense of wonder and joy. Su is a little more like Edmund that way, though she would probably never admit it. She has a tendency to be naturally careful and guarded around others until they have proven themselves to her. She wishes she could be like you just as much as you wish you could be like her. That is why you are sisters; that is why you look to each other for support and strength. You complement one another."

Lucy's eyes were uncertain as she looked at Peter. "Do you really think so?" she asked shyly.

"Absolutely," Peter said emphatically, taking her hand in his. "Don't ever be ashamed of who you are or who you were, Lucy. You are a delightful, courageous, optimistic person, and that is true whether we are here or in Narnia. We all need you; there were four of us ruling Narnia for a reason."

"Thank you, Peter," Lucy said, tucking her head into his shoulder again. "I'm not usually so silly, and I knew I was giving in to my own fears, but it helps to tell you about it."

"I'm glad," Peter said tenderly. "That's what I'm here for. And in case you've forgotten," he continued, his tone becoming lighter, "you grew up into quite the beautiful woman, Lucy the Valiant. Ed and I had to keep constant watch when we had visitors. We even resorted to threats occasionally."

Lucy laughed. "You did not!" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Oh, we became very skilled at being intimidating without actively creating hostility," Peter contradicted her. "Ed especially; he was so good at being subtle and yet terrifying."

Lucy nodded, her eyes dancing. "All that diplomacy," she said. "I'm sure he employed it more on Susan's behalf than on mine – she is older than I am, and she was always getting all of those offers of marriage and ridiculous courtship gifts – but it's fun to know that the two of you had to speak up for me occasionally."

"Thank Aslan for Edmund's expertise, too; he and Susan and Corin would never have made it out of Tashbaan alive if he hadn't become so good at negotiation and delay," Peter recalled thankfully.

Lucy's expression sobered again as she thought of her older sister. "Peter, has Susan talked to you at all since you've been home?"

Peter sighed. "A little bit, Lu, although not as much as I'd like. She seems to be struggling with the social expectations of her friends; they have very different ideas than she does about what constitutes fun, and what they ought to do with their spare time."

"So you've noticed that she's . . . changed," Lucy said carefully. "I wasn't sure whether you'd been home long enough to see it."

"I could hardly help seeing it," Peter said dryly. "I was away for almost five months, and you know long absences tend to give you some startling clarity, particularly when it comes to those you are closest to. Even you and Edmund seem different – older, steadier. I'm sure your time aboard the Dawn Treaderwas part of that change. But I think Su is somewhat confused about her place here; she seems at home when she's with the three of us. When she's with her own peer group, I think she tries to conform to their ways of behaving."

"Yes," Lucy agreed. "While you were away, she would come sit with Ed and me at night, and talk about Narnia, and laugh as we all used to do. I think it helped all of us with missing you," Lucy acknowledged, giving Peter a warm glance. "She is still Susan the Gentle, when we're all together, but when she is around anyone else she behaves so differently. It scares me, Peter. We used to be so close. In Narnia we told each other everything, and now there is a whole side to Su that I don't know. I feel so helpless."

A vivid memory swept over Peter, of Susan on a train platform more than a year ago, her blue eyes as full of despair as he had ever seen them. He remembered the feeling of dread that had struck him while he was looking into her face. He knew with sudden certainty that whatever had changed in Susan, it had begun the day that they had returned from helping Caspian, perhaps had even begun while they were in Narnia the second time. Peter hoped that she was still not completely beyond reach – but the root cause for this new Susan went far deeper than he had realized.

"I'm not sure Susan knows what she wants or who she's meant to be right now," Peter said aloud. "We've all struggled with balancing England and Narnia, and Su might be trying to cope with that problem differently from the rest of us."

"She should know that she does not have to run from us simply because she is unsure or scared," Lucy said softly, the hurt evident in her voice. "She is our sister; there is nothing she can do or feel that would make us stop loving her."

"Have faith, Lu," Peter murmured, kissing his youngest sister's hair. "We will do our best to help Susan, and so will Aslan. She will come back to us."

"Aslan let it be so," Lucy whispered fervently.

"I'll talk to Edmund," Peter decided. "He may know something we don't, or Su may have confided in him. In the meantime, I think we simply have to let Susan know that she is loved as much as ever, that we are here for her whenever she needs or wants us."

"Of course," Lucy said determinedly. "Of course we will." She clasped Peter's hand and he squeezed it in return, silently sealing a pact. They would help Susan find herself again. They would keep trying, for as long as they had to.

"You have told me about yourself and about Su," Peter said after a pause. "Now tell me about Edmund."

Lucy smiled, her eyes wise and knowing. "Why don't you tell me about him, my brother? For I know you have noticed every detail of him in the weeks you have been home. You and Edmund still speak without words."

His sister's effortless transition into the speech of Old Narnia made Peter smile with her, even as the echo of Cair Paravel's court roused the ever-present ache in his heart.

"He is Edmund, but he is less the Edmund I left five months ago and more the Edmund the Just that I remember," Peter said thoughtfully. "He was content when we returned from helping Caspian – well, except for worrying about me," he amended, prompting a small huff of amusement from Lucy. "Once he helped me sort through everything I was feeling then, he seemed happy to be here in England. He even said to me before I left for the Professor's that he was glad to be going to Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta's with you, simply because he didn't want you to be alone."

Lucy's expression softened at this mention of Edmund's love for her. "Bless him," she murmured.

"When you wrote me at Professor Kirke's, you were both so glad to have been back to Narnia, despite how hard it was to leave again," Peter continued. "Yet there was – something – about Ed's letters that seemed wrong. There was something he didn't tell me. You are right that he tends to leave himself out of the stories he tells. It was doubly true in this case. He told me more about Eustace, and Caspian, and you, and even Reepicheep than he said about himself. At the time, I thought it was purely that he wanted to tell me everything that he could about what was happening in Narnia. While I'm sure that was part of it, now that I'm home, I catch him looking at me as though he wants to pour out whatever it is that he's holding back."

"There was more than he told you, Peter," Lucy confirmed sympathetically. "I didn't mention it to you either because I felt it was his right to tell you."

"What is he afraid of?" Peter asked worriedly. "Even when things were at their worst in Narnia, we always confided in each other. It isn't like him not to come to me with what's bothering him. Did he and Caspian argue?"

"Once," Lucy said. "Before we left the ship to take Reepicheep to Aslan's Country and go home. Caspian wanted to come with us, and Edmund in particular told him that he absolutely could not, not while the throne of Narnia was his. Caspian was furious. Aslan spoke to him and settled everything, but it was terrible for Caspian as well as us. Ed had the right of the argument, though, Peter, and I don't think that is what's upsetting him." She stopped for a moment, hesitating before she spoke. She knew that Edmund's well-being was everything to his elder brother, and if her suspicions were correct, it was going to be a difficult conversation for her male siblings.

"What is it, Lu?" Peter questioned her uneasily.

"I think what happened to Edmund was rather similar to what happened to me," Lucy said cautiously. "There was an incident on Deathwater when Ed and Caspian had – not an argument, exactly, but a confrontation of sorts. They were both very unlike themselves, neither of them behaving as they ordinarily would. They were tempted, much as I was by Coriakin's book. There was evil in that place, Peter."

Lucy paused, slowly articulating her next painful thought. "It was very hard for us to be in Narnia without you and Susan, and there were moments when we felt . . . inadequate. I won't say any more, because beyond that I'm only guessing. Educated guesses, maybe, but guessing nonetheless. You might need to coax it out of Edmund, Peter, but he needs to talk. Whatever is distressing him, it has to do with you, or he would have told you long before now."

Peter wore a determined expression that Lucy had seen many times before. Peter allowed no one to hurt Edmund, least of all Edmund himself, and if it took cornering his younger brother in order to heal him, then corner him Peter would. "Edmund would be himself, I think, but for this nameless something, and I will not allow it to torment him."

"And you worry about balancing King Peter the Magnificent and Peter Pevensie," Lucy said fondly, watching him. "If you could see yourself now, you wouldn't worry. You have worn that expression a thousand times as King of Narnia, and also as our brother. Whether you are here or there, loving us and your subjects is what you do. Loving, and healing, and redressing wrongs to the best of your ability."

Peter stood and held out his hand to Lucy, helping her rise so the two of them stood together under the apple tree. He gathered Lucy close, bending his head over hers, which still did not quite reach his shoulder. "Aslan be praised for sending me the wisdom of Lucy the Valiant," Peter whispered lovingly in her ear. "For the three of you, Lu, I will always be here."