Jul 14, 2007 19:47
Tomorrow is Sunday. Tonight is Peter's last night 'alive.'
From his windblown hair, it's pretty clear that he can now cross off One last ride on Duncan from his list of things to do. And from the cup of tea, it's clear that he is still, in fact, himself.
cora,
peter pevensie,
amy
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Comments 29
Three years gone and more, for her, now.
(She looks different. Older. Grandly dressed. Very, very pregnant.)
"Good evening, Peter."
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It's funny how everything confirms the decision. He smiles when he sees her, and grins at her pregnant belly. "At it again, are we?"
(If things had gone as planned, as once planned, there'd be no Princess Susan. No who-ever-this-is. And if Susan--Susan the elder, as it were--had been on the train, there'd be no neice and maybe-nephew.
It's all for the best. And this is what they call perspective. You get it when you're dead.)
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Amy shrugs lightly, and grins back. "A king with no brother and no son tends to make the populace nervous," she says.
Besides, Amy really is excessively fond of her husband.
"May I join you?"
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He doesn't know if she knows.
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But he catches her gaze for at least several moments--whether it is the windblown aspect of his hair, or his cup of tea, he is at least more interesting than the teaching theories Cora can't find it in herself to concentrate on.
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