Disclaimer: Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.

ONE DAY

Peter watched the dancers swirl past him, a blur of red and white and pink, feathers and lace and sparkling gems, velvet, silk and satin, laughter and music. This was their fourth Sweethearts' Day here at Cair Paravel and Susan had outdone herself. Red ribbons and white pearls, pink rosebuds and tiny, fragrant white flowers sent from the southern fields of Archenland all festooned the walls and the banquet tables, and the smell of sweet and savory treats filled the room.

Susan herself swept past in the arms of a solemn Centaur lieutenant. Lucy was not far behind, dancing a merry jig with Mr. Tumnus. Even Edmund, who typically scowled at the mere mention of dancing, was smiling as he glided by with a silver-haired Naiad. Peter sighed and looked longingly at the dark-eyed duchess from the court of King Lune who danced in the arms of one of the Galmian noblemen. She had looked Peter's way three or four times before finally accepting that man's invitation, but how could Peter ask her or anyone to dance when a certain tiny Bunny clung to the buckle on his boot and looked with liquid brown eyes at all the people and Animals and Creatures filling the Banquet Hall?

He had tried earlier in the evening, and at Christmas, and at the Harvest Feast, and at almost every occasion up till now to get her to venture out and play with the other young Animals present, but that only made her big eyes fill with tears. Since he had rescued her from a forest fire the summer before, when she was barely the size of his palm, she had taken very literally his promise that she could stay with him. It had only been a week or so ago that she had declared herself to be "a grown Bunny" and stopped hiding herself in his shirt most of the time, but it was only thanks to Edmund or Oreius (and occasionally Lucy or Susan) providing a distraction that Peter was allowed to bathe and change without a leporine audience.

When they were alone, or at least when no one but his brother and sisters or the General were around, Poppy was a voluble talker, always asking questions and making up stories and telling him about the kinds of flowers she would like to eat. But in company, especially times, as now, when the Banquet Hall was packed, she merely clung to his boot buckle and stood with one paw in her mouth, saying nothing, merely watching, as if she relaxed for even a moment, she would look back and find him gone. Well, she was a tiny thing yet. He would give her whatever time she needed to realize that he wasn't going to abandon her, that she had a safe home with him as long as she liked. And one day . . .

He looked at Susan, dancing now with a nobleman from the Seven Isles. Lucy was at the banquet table feeding mince pie to Edmund's Wolves, but then a boy from Archenland was bowing before her, obviously wanting her to dance again, and she smiled and took his hand. One day . . .

"Your Majesty?"

Startled, Peter looked down to see Sir Benjamin Lapin and his considerable family had gathered at his feet. Poppy hid herself behind Peter's boot.

"Ah, Sir Benjamin," Peter said. "Good evening."

"Your Majesty." Sir Benjamin bowed so deeply that the long feather adorning his red-velvet cap swept the floor. "If you please, Your Majesty, you remember my wife, Lady Cecily."

"Lady Cecily," Peter said with a deep bow of his own to the charming, plump, golden-brown Rabbit in lace and pink satin. "And these must be your very fine children."

"Indeed, My Lord," Sir Benjamin said. "We thought perhaps this would be the ideal occasion to present them to you."

"I would be honored."

Poppy chose that moment to peep out of her hiding place, and seeing one of the little Bunnies staring back at her, she ducked back into it.

"If you will allow me, Majesty." Sir Benjamin began to point out his progeny by name. "This is Yarrow, my eldest, then Mullein, Rose, Comfrey, Amaranth, the twins Parsley and Sorrel, Purslane, Lovage, Clover, Chicory, Pennycress and–" He broke off, frowned, and looked at Lady Cecily. "My dear, whatever has happened to– Ah, I do beg your pardon, Your Majesty, that is my youngest, Foxglove, there behind you. Foxglove, you will please to present yourself to King Peter at once."

The little Bunny that had stared at Poppy earlier, the one as golden-brown as his mother except for his paws and ears which darkened to almost black, hopped guiltily to his father's side and looked up at Peter, his dark eyes enormous. Evidently he couldn't manage to say anything, but he made a little bow and then looked up at Sir Benjamin.

"There's a Bunny over there behind the High King," he whispered. "Do you think she will come and play with us?"

Poppy peeped out at him, clinging again to the buckle on Peter's boot, her little nose wiggling at a furious rate.

Peter smiled down at Foxglove. "Perhaps you and your brothers and sisters could play right here for a little while. Would you like that, Poppy?"

Poppy put her paw in her mouth again and then nodded.

"If you'd like, Sir Benjamin," Peter said, "you and your lady wife are welcome to join the dance. I'll look after your little ones a while."

"Oh, we couldn't impose, Your Majesty," Sir Benjamin said at once, "could we, my dear?"

Lady Cecily sighed and shook her head.

"Oh, of course you could," Peter assured them. "Or don't you trust me with them?"

Horrified at the thought, both Rabbits immediately began to protest.

"Come now," Peter said, smiling. "It's Sweethearts' Day. Tell me, Sir Benjamin, when did you last woo your lady as you did before your younglings came along?"

Lady Cecily flushed prettily, and Sir Benjamin, after a moment of protestational throat clearing, took her paw in his.

"My Lady, I would be most honored."

She made a graceful little curtsey, and in a moment they were swept into the throng of dancers. Peter looked down at the little Bunnies gathered at his feet, obviously waiting for him to tell them what they were meant to do now. He got down carefully on one knee.

"I suppose your mother and father told you that you must be on your best behavior at so grand a place as the Banquet Hall at Cair Paravel."

Thirteen little heads nodded.

"But," Peter continued, "I'll tell you a secret. This is meant to be a party, and that means everyone ought to have fun. Now, if you were going to do something fun, what would it be?"

Poppy leaned forward a little as the other Bunnies whispered among themselves.

"Please, sir," one of the Bunnies said, "Sticks or Carrots."

"Wolf and Rabbits!" another cried.

And in another moment, all thirteen of them were naming different sorts of games, many of which Peter had played himself when visiting some of his smaller subjects.

"Hop and Hide!" Poppy said, waving her little paws. "I used to play Hop and Hide when I lived under the tree!"

The other Bunnies nodded eagerly. "Yes, Hop and Hide! Hop and Hide!"

A moment later, all of the little ones had scurried out of sight except for Parsley (or was it Sorrel), who had covered her eyes. Peter smiled, watching them. In her excitement, Poppy had hurried off with them and not even looked back.

When the last Bunny had hopped off to finish the game, Edmund wandered up to Peter, two cups of punch in hand.

"No Poppy?"

Peter shook his head, taking a cup from him. "She went off to play with Sir Benjamin's little ones. I think it's good for her."

"Of course it's good for her," Edmund said with a smirk. "For you, too."

Peter chuckled and took a deep drink. The punch was excellent.

"You could dance with Lady Thisbe now if you like. I'm sure she'd prefer you to that Galmian clod who's been pestering her all evening."

"Maybe, but Poppy–"

"Poppy," Edmund said as a few little giggles came from behind the vase of lilies a few feet away, "won't even notice."

"But I promised Sir Benjamin–"

"I'll watch the Bunnies," Edmund assured him. "Go enjoy yourself for a minute or two."

Lady Thisbe was delighted to accept Peter's invitation to dance, and then he danced with a Naiad and a very sprightly Beech Dryad. After that, he ate some cherry tarts with a lady from Terebinthia and then danced with Bast, one of his own Tiger guards. By the time he returned to where he had left Edmund, the party was nearly over and many of the guests had gone. Poppy was asleep in the crook of Edmund's arm.

"You didn't misplace all the other Bunnies, did you?" Peter whispered.

Edmund shook his head. "Sir Benjamin and his wife took them home. He had to carry the littlest of them. But I think they all had a fine time."

Peter looked fondly at his own little Bunny. "She wasn't upset when she got back and I wasn't here, was she?"

"Not at all. She told me all about the grand time she had and all the Bunny games they played and how she remembered some of them from before and how much she liked Foxglove especially and that he was born last summer just the same as she was and how they ate some of the lilies, though we aren't to tell Susan about that, and that she hoped maybe sometime you could take her to the meadow where Foxglove lives and let her play with them all again."

Peter laughed softly. "No wonder she's worn out after saying all that."

Poppy yawned as Peter took her from Edmund and then snuggled against him, not really waking up, and Peter remembered how often he had carried Lucy like this when she was still a little girl. He looked over to see her dancing again with that boy from Archenland. And Susan– Susan was standing in the moonlight with another of King Lune's nobles. And one day . . .

He smiled down at Poppy. One day she truly would be a grown Bunny, and she would go on to have a family of her own. And, he thought, swallowing down the tightness in his throat, it would be a good thing.

Author's Note: Happy Sweethearts' Day . . . even if it's a bit late. Reviews are love.

–WD