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Will there be a Narnia secret santa this year?

hi, thanks for asking! there will not be a secret santa event from this blog or these admins, but it looks like sophie ( @telmarines ) is organizing a similar event through the @narniachristmasexchange! go check it out!

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@narnianroyalties secret santa for @wolfgrace14

CASPIAN x READER HEADCANONS 

After he becomes comfortable with you, he loves to cuddle 

Beforehand, he wasn’t really into it as most of his childhood had been void of much physical affection 

It had nothing to do with you, he just wasn’t used to touching anyone really 

Going on voyages together 

At first Cas was super opposed to it 

His Angel? Going out on the rough, endless seas? Over his dead body 

You finally convinced him, but you had to promise him that he could set the perimeters, anything he said goes 

Long, sappy love letters when either of you are away 

Seriously, you both have boxes dedicated to the piles of parchment you have received from the other 

Each one contains a disgustingly sweet story of one of your adventures or the 100 reasons why you love the other

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Queen Lucy the Valiant

@jstar97 secret santa for @minncompany

The sun started to sink in the sea, painting the sky in lavender, crimson, and gold. Most of the others on the Dawn Treader retired to the interior of the ship to eat. But Lucy wasn’t hungry. She quickly excused herself. Edmund found her looking at the sunset, leaning against the breeze.

“Hey, why aren’t you inside?”  

“Not hungry. Nice match earlier.” “Thanks. It felt good to hold a sword again.”

“I imagine it did.” Lucy mumbled as she rested her head in her arms.

“Okay Lu, what’s wrong? We’re in Narnia, on a great adventure, and you’re all gloom. If it’s about Eustace -” “It is not about Eustace. Speaking of which, where is he?”  

“After complaining for about ten minutes about how unsanitary it was to eat with animals, he went to hide under his covers after Reepicheep did that tossing-an-apple-and-cutting-it-in-quarters trick. Mumbled something about, ‘barbaric chew toys’ or something like that. Anyway, if he’s bothering you, we could always leave him on the next island or something. He’d make a nice snack for some giants or sea monsters-”

“Edmund!” Lucy stood up straight and slugged her brother.

“Ow! I was kidding. I’m not that awful. He’d probably scare them off anyway with his bad breath. I’d call it dragon’s breath but that’s an insult to dragons. And I bet he’d be tough and chewy.”

“That’s not nice.” Lucy said sternly but she couldn’t help but smile. “But for the record, I bet he’d taste like the rear end of a Minotaur.” Erasmus, the Minotaur watchman scheduled for the nightshift, happened to be passing by. “Your majesties, if you’re talking about your landlubber of a cousin, then I’d say my behind would make a finer meal,” was all he said before heading towards the mast.

The two dissolved in laughter. When they finally recovered, Edmund reminisced, “This was just like the time we defended Galma from the Ettins. It happened in the middle of the Ettinsmoor War -” “Susan kept court and met with diplomats,” Lucy continued, “We went with Peter to defend Galma after receiving word that the giants were using the River Shribble to ambush the island in the middle of the night.” “You came up with the idea to use empty ships with burning masts to terrify them out of the water onto dry land where ground troops were waiting for them. And then you came up with that quip about General Achard.” “'You should take a lesson from the giants. Height doesn’t make up for brain capacity.’ By Aslan, his face turned every shade of red.”  

“You always knew how to win a fight.”

Lucy’s smile faded and she crossed her arms, “'Knew’ is the key word. Besides, giants and generals are easy.”

Edmund ruffled her hair. “Why so down all of a sudden? Why’s little Lu miffed?”

Pinching her thumb and forefinger for emphasis, she replied. “That word. ‘Little’. I was a queen who planned attacks and fought battles and won wars. Aslan and all of Narnia called me 'Queen Lucy the Valiant’. But now I’m back to being little Lu. Half the time, people treat me like a porcelain doll.”

Combing his hand through his hair, Edmund let out a short laugh. “Wow, you sound like me back home.” “If we’re going to be completely honest, you were worse. I didn’t go on about it 24/7.” “So why didn’t you?”  

Lucy took in a deep breath. “Because I knew Aslan has a plan. I trust him.” She turned back to watch the now carnelian sun sink deeper into the sea and the sky’s varied canvas shift to a deep blue. “But watch you fight made me itch to get my hands on a sword again.”

“Why don’t you? You can always ask for a sword.”

“I don’t know. I guess I was afraid of making a fuss. We’re trying to find missing lords and sail to the edge of the world. Add that and the mountain of unknown wonders waiting for us and my problem seems pretty small. And I don’t like lording over people. I want to prove that I’m, I don’t know, worthy.”

“Of holding a sword?” Edmund asked incredulously.  

Exasperated, she rubbed her temple. “No, of…being called Queen Lucy the Valiant.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her gaze pierced the distance as if searching signs of a fading memory in the horizon.

“Now you sound like Peter. And you’ve already proven that. Whether we were at Beruna or Galma, whether we were facing Ettins or Telmarines, it was your bravery that pushed us to succeed. You found Narnia. You found Aslan. History books are filled with tales of how Queen Lucy defeated ogres and trolls and monsters. And when this ship gets back, they’ll write about how Queen Lucy helped defeat slave traders at the Battle of Narrowhaven.” He looked back at the cabins. “Plus, it takes a special kind of strength to be kind to a beast like Eustace. No matter where or how old you are, you’ve never stopped being Queen Lucy the Valiant.”

Lucy smiled. “You’re a good brother.” “I try to be. And next time you feel like that, talk to me. Sometimes you try to be a little too valiant.”

“I will.” A smile crept on her face. “Now that we’re being completely honest, you could have won that sword fight.”  

Edmund smirked as he dramatically bowed. “Please explain, Valiant Queen.”

Grabbing a nearby mop, she showed the sword positions.  “When Caspian was coming towards your head, you could have gone into fifth position to counter.”

Grabbing an adjacent broom, Edmund countered. “But then he could have an opening to attack like this.”

“Ed, you have to use second position -”

From the Crow’s Nest, Erasmus stopped staring at an uneventful sea and looked down to see the two young sovereigns dueling. He had read the history books and seen the tapestries and heard the stories. Still, he couldn’t help but be amazed as the little slip of a girl skillfully countered every one of her brother’s moves and delivered some blows of her own. As the last of the sun’s rays bathed the deck in rich gold, he saw in the girl’s stead a warrior laughing in the face of the wind.

He saw Queen Lucy the Valiant.

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@randomestfandoms​ secret santa for @istillliveinnarnia​: merry christmas (5/5)

Now at last they were beginning chapter one of the great story no one on earth has ever read, which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before

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@alwaysinnarnia secret santa for @sheisthehighqueen

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Valiant

@quecksilvereyes secret santa for @straightouttanarnia: (4/4)

„Young lady“, Time says, eyes gleaming. „Her time is up.“ The pocket watch in Alice’ hands feels smooth and cold, the ticking just a bit off, somehow. Like all the others, it is golden and Alice hands Time the clock. He takes it, carefully, as if it was made of glass and would shatter under his gaze.

“They will come home.” He traces the flowery ornaments with his little finger and lingers at the dial.

“They are not made for your England, Miss Kingsley.” Alice thinks of Lucy’s laugh, of her bare feet on the bark of the old oak tree, thinks of whispered words and proverbs and the knife on her ankles.

“No”, she says. “I know.”

Lucy isn’t English, she was raised a Narnian woman, dancing with dryads and singing with satyrs. Sometimes, when she sneaks into her room and Edmund distracts their parents, she finds Lucy praying, whispering into her folded hands. And when she’s done and Alice presses a feather light kiss to her hair, they trade stories. About the Lion, the Cheshire cat, the Mad Hatter, about Tumnus. Lucy’s voice is strong and soft, her fingers tracing Alice’ wrist.

The watch stops ticking and Time closes the lid. “I am sorry, young lady”, he says and Alice wakes up.

When she rings the Pevensie’s doorbell, hair unkempt, heart racing, the ringing sounds loud in her ears and wrong. Susan opens the door, eyes rimmed red, a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. “Please”, she says. Her voice breaks and she takes a deep breath. “Please don’t come in.”

“Susan.” Alice takes a step forward and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Susan grasps at the door frame. “There’s been an accident.”

Lucy is dead.

Lucy, ray of sunshine, Lucy, fierce and knife wielding, Lucy, who smells like summer rain, Lucy, who is a woman, is a girl, is a sister, is a queen, her Lucy is dead.

In Alice’ dreams, Time hands her the broken clock and she clutches it close to her heart.

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@luxaofherperides secret santa for @makingdragonsretire

lucy + edmund : youngest pevensie siblings

Merry Christmas! ^^

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@randomestfandoms​ secret santa for @istillliveinnarnia​: merry christmas (4/5)

And to the Clear Northern Sky, I give you King Peter the Magnificent!

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@somniariis secret santa for @christmaspev (4/4)

-defeat never suited her anyway // k.s.

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@wolfgrace14​ secret santa for @jstar97​: Merry Christmas 🎄 (2/2) 

Ladies of Narnia : Aravis, Susan and Lucy

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@neverchristmas secret santa for @edmundpev

you’re a little bleeding a little gorgeous a little burning

and a little bit mine

lucy pevensie x jill pole

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The Pevensie's Christmas Gifts HCs

secret santa for @christmaspev​ (¾)

Peter:

before coming to Narnia he’d probably like books

the more difficult they were, the better

they made him feel a connection to his father

after becoming a king, he’d prefer simpler things like a new pen, a personalised bookmark or a bottle of coloured ink

he’d get a lot of those from diplomats

he’d also get wine and mead from Archenland and Calormen, otherwise very expensive to import, and while he’d know they were essentially bribes, he’d still be thankful enough to let Susan pressure him into writing short, formal thank-you notes attached to equally precious Narnian wines back

He’d say he never drinks the gifts, but he’d enjoy a glass of mead on occasion, especially in winter when politics would drive him half mad

Susan would give him children’s games she’d find on her trips to town

mostly board games because she knows he loves to spend time with his family and they give him the perfect excuse

of course, every time they do end up playing them, all of them lose their tempers and it just becomes a shouting match

Edmund usually wins both the game and the shouting match, though Lucy isn’t far behind

it ends up making Peter sulk, but he’s always happy to receive a new game

Edmund would probably get him mock gifts

a pillow with ‘magnificent’ embroidered into it so he could throw it at Peter’s head when he was being hot headed and stupid

a chest full of fluffy animal toys, with ‘little beast’ carved into it as a reminder of when Peter called him by that name

a ‘Best Father’ cup

a fake fountain pen which would spritz ink at Peter’s face every time he tried to use it (and he did so by mistake too many times to count)

he’d get him proper gifts once in a while (something like a handmade scarf) and laugh at Peter when he tried to figure out what the trick is

he’d get handcrafted journals from Lucy, made of any type of paper shed stumble on, sometimes full of encouraging quotes or heartwarming messages

they’d vary in sizes so he’d end up with an eccentric looking shelf, filled with the journals she’d given him over the years

sometimes she’d switch it up to surprise him, giving him little pouches of herbal teas or statuettes

Susan:

she’d receive expensive looking dresses from the ladies at court, all wanting to impress her

back in England she’d love dresses like that, but in Narnia they turn out to be most irritating

she would say thank you, of course, but she’d rarely wear the dresses

the one time she does wear one of them, a feud breaks out between two ladies and she decides never to get involved in such drama again

she’d never wear the jewelry she’d receive from foreign ambassadors or suitors either

she refuses to become a “prize” in a duel between two arrogant suitors thinking they have ownership over her because she’d worn their jewels

her siblings never give her clothes and jewels for that exact reason

Peter would struggle with Susan’s presents, not wanting to give her books all the time, so his gifts would vary

he’d get her a chessboard one year so she wouldn’t have to borrow Edmund’s all the time

a trip to Archenland the next year

he gets her a horse once to try and convince her to go out on rides more, a charming white stallion whom she grows to love

and a myriad of other little trinkets, diverse and eccentric, always a bit badly made (Susan suspects he gets the craftsman to let him help in the making)

she gets arrows from Edmund, crafted from different types of wood

some of them are made from branches given to them by dryads, which makes them even more special since dryads rarely part with even fallen branches

Edmund makes some of them himself, carving little flowers or lions into the wood

once he carves a lamppost, a wardrobe and a little inscription of “logically, it’s impossible” and it makes Susan choke on her tea as she remembers

he attempts to make a bow once, fails miserably, and still gives it to her, because at least he tried

Susan hangs it on her wall because ‘she appreciates the effort’

in reality it’s just so she can show all the visitors the extent of King Edmund the Just’s crafting skills

Lucy would paint for her, usually landscapes from back in England or scenes from the balls Susan organises

the most ridiculous ones mostly, like the time one of Susan’s suitors slipped on the marble floor and fell into an elaborate strawberry cream cake

or the time one of Edmund’s wolf guards attempted to sniff at a lady’s dress, convinced she was carrying poison in her skirts, but ended up sending her into an outrage

she’d paint Susan herself sometimes

the way she sees her in war, in an armour, face and clothes covered in mud, bow and arrow in hand, standing in the middle of a battlefield

other times it’d be the way she looks in the evening, sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, her loose hair surrounded by a golden glow, her feet bare, comfortable and completely alone with her thoughts

the paintings would hang side by side in one of the galleries, the duality obvious though most visitors wouldn’t recognize their Gentle Queen in them, blinded by the image of her usual overwhelming grace and elegance

Edmund:

back in England he’d always ask for sweets, particularly turkish delight

he wouldn’t get it often, but he would receive a variety of toys

he’d tinker with them through the year, take them apart and combine them, making even better toys

after coming to Narnia neither the turkish delight nor the toys would sit right with him anymore

he’d receive chess sets, heavy sets of books or newly forged weapons instead, particularly from foreigners or nobility he doesn’t know well

at some point he has about ten chess sets, including ones made of gold, marble and glass, but he always uses the same one - the first one he’d gotten

Peter would go all out, probably getting him elaborate weapons or marble bookends

accompanied by dad jokes because he can’t hold back when it comes to seeing Edmund scowl at them, even though he secretly enjoys them

sometimes he’d give him packets of coffee from Calormen, knowing Edmund loves drinking it when he’s reading

and the note would read something like ‘Why did the coffee file a police report? Because it got mugged.’

Peter and Lucy would be the only ones laughing while Edmund and Susan would just look at them in disgust

Susan would get him detective stories, like the ones he read back in England, only the cases would include Narnian creatures

she’d write clever notes inside them, having read them first, making it more difficult for him to figure out the murderer

eventually they’d start competing over who can figure out the culprit first

(Edmund would usually win, much to Susan’s complaints of “he cheated”)

Lucy would write him a book of their family adventures complete with colorful illustrations and written in perfect script

it would include a snippet of his story with the White Witch as well, accompanied by an illustration of a petulant, pouting Edmund asking to become taller, at which point Edmund would just smile

and hug Lucy with all his might for making it so obvious he’d been a foolish child

every time he’d read it, the ridiculousness of the illustrations would make him laugh through his grief

Lucy:

she’d get gifts from half the land, having travelled around and made friends everywhere she went

she’d send them all handwritten, personalised thank-you cards back along with some simple trinkets

Edmund would complain about it being unfair how she gets handmade chocolates from the cooks

and pastries from the bakeries in town

she’d just laugh and tell him he should go out more often instead of staying inside like a hermit all the time

but she’d share (some of) the food with everyone

(not quite ready to give up the chocolates)

her siblings would all compete about who can make her react the most actively with their gift

and they would all spoil her immensely

Peter would give her the oddest little books from local bookshops

stuff like “How to climb on the back of a centaur without them noticing” or “10 tips to becoming a faun in your free time”

often they’d be falling apart or covered in odd marks

which would just make seeing Lucy’s reaction funnier

but also paints and paintbrushes because he knows how quickly she uses them up

she’d surprisingly get her best daggers from Susan because she’s all for self-defense

all kinds of daggers, from tiny ones meant to be hidden in sleeves, to ones as long as her calf

then again, Susan would also get her etiquette guides every year

Lucy would just use them to keep her desk from wobbling or as target practice for her throwing daggers

it would drive Susan mad (which is partly why Lucy would do it) but she’d end up shrugging and mumbling about how they were at least being put to good use

Edmund would be the most likely to win their competition

he’d spoil her the most which means Multiple Gifts

one year he’d get her a very badly knitted lion toy

the next a very badly knitted mr tumnus

and it would become tradition to give her badly knitted toys or pieces of clothing

but then he’d also give her gifts like pressed flowers from his adventures

and jars full of water from the no-longer-frozen frozen river or the beavers’ dam, jars of honey from the lantern waste and little trinkets from his travels

because he knows how much she likes to stick them in scrapbooks or keep them on her shelf

most of the time, she’d be with him on adventures, so it made it that much more difficult to hide the gifts

they’d also have to stay hidden for a very long time

once he gives her a shred of a Narnian flag from the Battle of Beruna and she weeps from the overwhelming memories coming up suddenly

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Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

@swlotakulady34 secret santa gift for @quecksilvereyes

It’s also a sibling fic, no ships, cause that’s all I had inspiration for lol I hope you like it! -Swlotakulady34 (Katie)

Third Person POV Edmund, Peter, and Susan, were all woken up by a squeal. Blearily, they all walked down to the kitchen, only to see Lucy ecstatically jumping up and down. She was yelling “ it snowed!” Over and over again the words escaped her lips.

Susan grabbed Lucy’s arms and asked “what happened, what’s the matter?” Her brain hadn’t quite started up all the way, still addled with sleep. Lucy just grinned and pointed at the window, prompting Susan to look at it. A gasp puffed out of her lungs as the sight of the snow reached her eyes. It was magnificent! She hadn’t seen so much snow since… Well… Narnia!

Susan’s lips twitched into a smile and she hurriedly dragged the boys’ attentions to the frosty film on the lawn. Lucy asked if they could play, and turned to Peter. He thought for a moment, before saying “only for a little bit, we don’t want to get sick.” Lucy’s little grin widened as she said “of course”, before running to her room. Her giggles echoed down the hall, and Peter shook his head with a smile. All three left to get into their winter gear, and met up at the door.

Lucy ran out first, with all the glee of a girl her age. Edmund went next, excited to try and get his brother with a snowball. Next was Susan, beckoned by Lucy to come play. Finally, Peter himself stepped into the cold, wonder-filled yard. At first they just ran around, chasing each other with giggles and smiles.

Edmund was the first to make a snowball, and threw it at his brother. Peter had turned to ask him something, only to get a ball of icy snow in his face. Lucy gasped a little, before she started to laugh uncontrollably. Soon she fall to the ground, laughs shaking her shoulders. Susan was next to fall, sitting with her sister with mirth to match. Edmund only snickered when his brother started to grin.

Soon it was a full on war, snowballs flying every which way. After about 15 minutes they trudged in the door, tired and cold. Peter led Lucy and Edmund to the fire inside, while Susan started on making breakfast. They ate together, sharing stories and laughs together.

They forgot about Narnia, and the war, and how much they missed their father. They were together now, and that was all they could focus on. And so they all fell asleep with each other, smiles on their face.

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@amatsumikaboshi secret santa for @rosesnvines

I’m not sure if this is to your taste, but I hope you like it!

When they first returned, it was the death of a miracle.

“Wait, we have to go back, I—” Lucy was the first to speak, the first to get up and turn back towards the ancient wardrobe that stood among other antiquities in their great aunt’s attic. “Mrs. Beaver, she said that she—”

Lucy stumbled over her own two feet as she got up, not used to the small body she hadn’t felt in fifteen years. Her short hair fell over her shoulders and in front of her face freely, and she desperately brushed it away, hoping it would stay draped behind her as it did when she was queen.

When she was queen.

Susan stared at her sister, taking in her tiny stature, short hair, and rounded baby face. She then looked at her two brothers. She saw what she thought were mere memories of them, the children she had known years prior to their rule in Narnia.

“Ed.”

Edmund gazed down at his hands with furrowed brows. He didn’t seem to hear his brother and was only shaken out of his stupor with a vigorous nudge from Peter. “Ed!”

The third Pevensie shut his eyes, scared to look over at his brother now more than ever. What had happened? One moment, he had just been riding through the forest with his siblings, and the next, he was back in his great aunt’s attic from fifteen years earlier. He didn’t want to acknowledge the situation. Perhaps if he kept his eyes shut, he’d open them to see that it had just been a silly dream. He’d be back at Cair Paravel, as Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, ruling alongside his brother and sisters.

Peter was the only one who had tried to reach out to his siblings. When Edmund didn’t seem to respond to his calling, he tried Susan and Lucy next. Yet Susan only continued to stare after their sister, and Lucy continued to deny the fact that she couldn’t find a way through the back of the wardrobe.

They all wished and wished, but it never went away. Even when Edmund and Peter finally got themselves to their feet to look for an opening in the wardrobe, even when Susan sat holding and comforting Lucy as she broke down in tears, they were back fifteen years in their lives.

“My goodness, children, what are you doing up here?”

After their aunt had found them sitting together among the unsettled dust and artifacts, they were sent downstairs to mingle with their relatives. It was the usual family reunion: adults observing niceties, kids sent to play amongst themselves but ending up on their tablets and phones, the occasional squabbles here and there that just added to the tension that had built up from previous reunions.

People knew the Pevensies. They knew them, would say hello to them, but would never stick around for a conversation to unfold. They knew the Pevensies loved to gossip and debate more than anything, even with people they barely knew, but with fellow Pevensies, all sorts of hell would break out. It was like tossing a piece of meat between two starving dogs. Things would never get physical though, no. They were far too civilized in this day and age for that. It would always start with little remarks here and there, bits and pieces all fueled by jealousy and needs for rivalry within the family. Then there would be more observations, more comments on more unnecessary topics, and full altercations of words would break out.

And all the while, the children would sit by on their little gadgets and wonder when they would be able to go home.

The four Pevensie siblings mentioned earlier never liked the family reunions, just like the rest of their relatives. After all, it was never something that anyone in the family except their great aunt Millie desired, but when great aunt Millie wanted something, she was going to get it. And this particular reunion was just about up there on the list of the worst family reunions ever.

After all, just moments before, they were fifteen years older, and they were kings and queens of a kingdom that was every single bit of the life they had wanted to live.

“Mum, Dad, when can we go home?”

The second time they returned, the acceptance of reality was quicker than the first. But that didn’t help ease the heartache that came with. Because this time, Peter and Susan knew. They wouldn’t be returning to their kingdom anytime soon.

Fate wasn’t as merciful to them as before, for their train pulled in just moments after, and they were left scrambling for their backpacks. All four of them made it onto the car, and as they mulled over what had happened, they found themselves forcing smiles and cheery greetings as familiar faces of classmates and former neighbors came and gone. They knew to not make a scene since the last time they did, their father had reprimanded them for burying themselves in useless media instead of focusing on their studies.

But the dams broke, and once they were home from school, they locked themselves in the boys’ room and sat together on the floor just as they had done before. Susan had her head on her older brother’s shoulder, and Lucy was doing the same with Edmund, and while the boys would most likely deny their tears, the girls would say different.

Lucy cried for her dear little friends; who knew if she would be able to see them again at all? By the next time she returned to Narnia, anytime from a year to a millennium could have passed, and she would be thrust into a strange yet somewhat familiar world with strange yet somewhat familiar people. And what would she do without Peter and Susan? How would she and Edmund be able to help Narnia without them?

Edmund cried for their loss at the castle raid, for foolishly leading Narnian troops alongside his brother in a reckless attempt at showing that they were kings and that their rightful places as Sons of Adam would not be taken from them. Still, here they were, back in their world and timeline, back where the stars were drowned out by man-made travesties, acrid stenches constantly filled the air, and people had their lives glued to digital worlds. The throne of Narnia now belonged to a different Son of Adam.

Susan sobbed herself dry while clutching her brother’s shoulder to cry on. Yes, she was sad about leaving Narnia for good, she was sad about not being able to see Aslan anymore, but more than anything else, she repeated between her hiccups, “I liked him, I really did.”

Peter wept, but he hid his tears because he was the oldest, and he knew he had to comfort his sister. He was no longer reigning as Peter the Magnificent, Lord of Cair Paravel, but he was still Peter Pevensie, the eldest of four siblings, and he knew he still had a duty to them. So he tried to selflessly cast aside his own feelings and be the older brother he knew they needed him to be. He held Susan tight, murmured some comforting words, and stroked her head. He tried, and although he didn’t think so, it was enough.

And the three younger Pevensies knew that out of the four of them, Peter, who had tried his hardest in proving himself as a man and as a king, was hurting the most.

This time, it was their father who discovered them, and he wasn’t pleased when he did so.

“What is this?”

The Pevensie children never had a moment in their lives when they thought of their father as a benevolent figure. He was a very stern man: always had creases between his brows and never seemed to smile no matter what happened. This was all very understandable. As a military man, he had been on three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and each time, he returned more and more like a commander than a father. He made sure that both his boys were in tip-top condition, both physically and mentally, and his daughters were no exception. He had made it clear to them that every day after returning from school, they were to do their exercises and come straight in to start their studies.

But here they were, inexplicably crying amongst themselves like they had done a year ago at that dreadful reunion.

He barked orders, snapped at them, threatened to ground them for the rest of the month, but they just stared back with teary eyes and looks that weren’t unlike the ones he saw in the eyes of grieving soldiers.

Meanwhile, the children knew they were in trouble. Their father had accused them of getting lost in their wild and untamed imaginations the first time, and they knew that their tears were not going to be tolerated in his presence. But they couldn’t get over their grief as immediately as their father would have liked them to. So while Lucy, Edmund, and Susan tried their best in holding back their sniffles, Peter took the role of eldest brother once more.

“Dad, I can explain. It’s just that—”

A swift movement of their father’s arm cut him off, and years of conditioning made all four of them flinch and shut their eyes. But what came next was far different from what they expected.

Their father simply waved away Peter’s effort at making an excuse; perhaps this one instance of seeing his children cry made the father side of him surface for just a moment, or he was all too used to seeing the looks of grief in people’s eyes. Whatever the reason, Lieutenant Pevensie left his children alone to shed tears in peace but not without a small directive.

“Make sure to keep up with your studies. And Peter, Susan, your mother and I have something to discuss with you at dinner.”

The third and final time was so unlike the other times for several reasons.

One: Peter and Susan were enroute to America and hadn’t come with them.

Two: their cousin Eustace Scrubb became the first non-Pevensie to come to Narnia with them.

And three: they were strangely at peace with the result.

As the water drained out of Eustace’s room, leaving them and everything around them strangely perfectly dry, they sat silently for a long while, taking in all that happened. There were no tears this time, no grief, no regrets. They understood the purpose of their moments in Narnia, and they would make sure to remember their lessons for the rest of their lives.

“I’m sorry.”

Eustace was the first to speak, and his nasty little temperament from before they left was replaced with a softness that surprised everyone who saw him later. He felt guilty about being the only one who could return to Narnia now, and after seeing what the magical world was made of, he could see how anyone would want to spend the rest of their days talking about their adventures in that land. If he were to be truthful, he was scared of returning without his cousins, but he would address that later.

Edmund only nodded slightly and smiled reassuringly at his cousin. Yes, he had wanted to prove himself as High King in the absence of Peter, but he didn’t let bitterness overtake him. He now realized and accepted that he wasn’t entitled to the land of Narnia. It belonged to him and his siblings as much as it did to Caspian and Eustace. There would be many more Sons of Adam after him.

Lucy shook her head and held Eustace’s hand. She was glad he had been able to experience Narnia just as she and her siblings had, and she was excited that he would be returning as well. She then sent text after text to both Peter and Susan about their latest escapade despite knowing that they were on a plane above the Atlantic at that moment.

And they sat in silence for a few moments longer before they were called downstairs for dinner.

They spoke of Narnia fondly for the few months that followed until Edmund and Lucy’s departure for America. Every chance they got to the three of them, they would sit together and recount the events of their expedition on the Dawn Treader: the islands, the mist, the final fight. They would laugh and cry, tease and embarrass, and they would share memories that no one else in the world could share with them.

When it came time for the two Pevensies to join the rest of their family across the ocean, Eustace wept, because he knew that he would miss them with all his heart. And he did, just like how all Narnians missed them when he returned.

Thus, the Golden Age of Narnia ended, Telmarines and Narnians made peace, and the Dawn Treader sailed its last voyage. The Kings and Queens of old continued living out their lives in their world and never saw another glimpse of their beloved Narnia—at least, not until the very last battle.

[narniasecretsanta]

@lucypcvensie secret santa for @edmundwheeler

Edmund Pevensie x Juliet Capulet

[narniasecretsanta]

@snowytumnus secret santa for @quietlykeen: Susan Pevensie

i know houdini’s last lesson by heart. the magic in disappearing acts lies in the coming back. — natalie wee, our bodies and other fine machines

[narniasecretsanta]

@nylonsandlipstick secret santa for @hauntedthief: you have an awesome christmas and new year, babe!!

↳ social media au || in which the pevensie siblings are addicted to their instagram accounts