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Peter arrived at the Western Wood one Sunday evening and got himself busy. He had with him a force of twelve hundred Narnians to defend the western border. Not bad, but not great. The North still needed to be looked after, he couldn't need Cair Paravel unprotected, his brother and sister had each taken a small force with them on their ventures, and there were still troubling Narnians in the South. Twelve hundred was the best he could manage in the short time he had had to prepare.

He might not have had a large number with him, again, but he had his wit.

Barricades were quickly built around the camp and trenches were built where he indicated. Spies were deployed to gather information on the enemy. Dryads, birds, squirrels and owls had all returned with vital information to Peter's plan.

"What they want is to take over Narnia and the only way for them to do that is to come further in. That is why we're attacking in two instances: the first will dispose of the giants but give them confidence in their numbers, leaving them with no choice but to chase after us; the second will give us the advantage by dividing their forces." Peter explains. "But while we do that, we need to destroy their backup," he declares.

"Oreius," Peter turns to the most trusted and revered centaur in all of Narnia, "While we engage them you are to take your regiment, sneak past their lines, destroy their camp and release any prisoners you find,"

The centaur nods solemnly bringing a fist to his chest in a noble gesture. "As you command, my liege,"

"I will charge at them on a frontal assault with half our numbers. It is here, during this first fight, that we must dispose of their giants," Peter said. "Now, our trees can handle them, but we need the archers to protect the treefolk from their flying beasts," Peter said turning to Ioleope, the blonde female centaur in charge of the archers.

"We will take care of them, Your Majesty," she replied.

"There are only four giants, as say our spies, and if we manage to take them down, we will be halfway there." Peter states. "Once the giants have fallen I will order a retreat, forcing them to give us chase and leading their forces East, to this clearing," he points to the battle plans before him to better lustrate his strategy, "right between the trenches our dwarves have dug up."

"The ones you had us cover in oil?" Sir Derrick interrupts.

"Precisely. We shall make our second fight there, and once their forces have situated themselves between the trenches Ryze will light them up from across the field, forming an H and trapping their forces between the flames," Peter says looking at Ryze, the phoenix, who nods proudly at the King.

"Lord Bratham, I want you and Sir Derrick to take a small company of spearmen and hide in the trees to our left," Peter says quietly. "You will wait and make charge from the north once Ryze lits the trenches,"

"I'll do my best, Sire," Lord Bratham agrees equably, and turns to march his company of two hundred speared Narnians, mostly fauns and dwarves, into hiding.

With his blood-spattered helmet under his left arm and his dirty battle gloves secured on his belt, Peter wiped his brow and pushed his sweaty hair back with a proud smile.

It had been an arduous battle, but they emerged victorious. The enemy played right into their trap and succumbed to his forces as he had planned. It all worked out perfectly. Almost too perfectly.

His comrades were congratulation each other behind him for an accurate shot, a great plan, the perfect timing, a flawless decapitation. Peter was enjoying his hard-earned victory and the stream of compliments it resulted in when suddenly, he saw her. She was on the other side of the camp, but he was certain it was her.

The same dryad who had once delivered to him the terrible news of Aslan's death in the eve of the Battle of Beruna.

News travelled quickly amongst the trees, and upon seeing her, Peter only wished he could travel as fast as they did and get back to Cair Paravel.

He left his companions at once, without sparing them a thought, and walked fearfully to meet with the dryad.

All the confidence the battle had given him dissipated with each step he took and was replaced with fear. His face turned pale and his eyes were fearful. Once he reached her he found himself at a loss of words.

It was her who spoke first. She who once called him Prince. "Fear not, my King, for I bring happy news from your Queen,"

He arrived two days later at Cair Paravel by himself, wearing the same blood-stained battle armour. Peasants cheered as their High King dashed by on Narnia's most prominent unicorn, but he did not waste a second on them.

He galloped through the castle gardens and halls, not minding the attention he gained as he did so, until he reached the courtyard below his window. Our window. When his trusted unicorn came to a halt Peter jumped off the saddle and rushed up the stairs to see his wife and sons.

Everyone bowed as Peter entered the buzzing room. He caught a brief glimpse of Lord Henry and Becc, Roselynn, Thea, the beavers, Mr. Tumnus, Darren, and Danielle. The rest he couldn't be bothered with but were all esteemed friends of Imira or Peter.

The first to approach was Darren. With a warm smile, he congratulated his cousin, earning nothing but a dismissive thanks as he walked past the main sitting room and towards the bed chamber. The doors were closed and by them stood Sir Nick and Alcibe, who promptly opened them for him after offering a respectful salute.

The windows were opened and in ran a most pleasant breeze. flowers in expensive vases decorated every available surface, giving the room a most pleasant and relaxing smell. He scanned the room and quickly spotted me, sitting by the window in a rocking chair, holding one of our sons. I smiled as soon as I saw him.

"You're back," I stood up at once and gave our firstborn to Lucy.

In a moment I have run to him, barefoot as I am, and I am in his arms again.

"Our sons," he demands after he has held me and kissed me and asked about my wellbeing.

"They are strong, and they are well," Lucy says, bringing the first of our boys to him, followed by Lady Phoebe, who holds the second.

He gently puts me aside and takes his son from Lucy's arms, and although he whispers a "thank you" he barely sees her: he is quite distracted.

"What are their names?" Peter asks, not taking his eyes from the son he holds.

"This," I say, taking the son Phoebe holds from her arms and showing him to Peter, "is Edward. And the boy you're holding is your namesake,"

He turns surprised at me with a smile. "Peter, my heir. What made you change your mind?" he asks allowing Prince Peter to take hold of his index finger.

"There are two boys. No reason why we can't both have our way," I reply. "And besides, he does look just like you, doesn't he?"

"So what happened? Are you alright?" I inquire once everyone has left and he's had a proper bath and a change of clothes. The look he had when he came in was a bit unnerving with all the dried blood and splatters of mud on his armour.

"Oh, you should have been there, you would have loved it. We engaged the invaders in the clearing, just west of Mr. Tumnus's, and then drew them into a trap of my making."

He goes on to explain the battle while he eats and, I must say, it was very clever all that he came up with.

"I am glad you are back," I say reaching for his hand. "You are back, right?"

"Yes, love. I am back,"