#I did make Lucy friends with Lady Susan once

[bethanydelleman]

Do you think Isabella Thorpe and Lucy Steele could become genuine friends if they ever met? And I do mean truly genuine. This idea got stuck in my head, and I suddenly realized how much in common they both have. They want money and status, they could complain to one another about their boring, stuck-up, clergymen ex-fiances, and their ex-bestfriedns who think themselves too good for them. They like to appear as educated and sofisticated even though they definitely aren't. Since Lucy is already married, they wouldn't need to compete for the best conquest. And I feel like they could help each other with keeping up appearances (and convincing people they didn't in fact come up from nothing). Maybe Lucy would even help Isabella catch a husband among Robert's acquaintances (he would definitely be a flashy kind of idiot, and I'm pretty sure Isabella would like it) to make them closer. I feel like these two could accurately see the absolute worst in each other, and somehow end up finding that endearing and praiseworthy.

I actually started writing a JAFF where Lucy and Isabella team up to try and catch Bingley (the easiest mark, he constantly falls in love...) In that version, Mrs. Ferrars tricks Lucy so she isn't married to Robert legally. Lucy betrays Isabella in the end...

Anyway, back to canon. The problem is that Lucy is very selfish. We have no indication in the novel that Lucy is even helping Anne, her own sister, now that she's rich. I doubt Lucy would help Isabella unless something was in it for her!

Also, Isabella likes being the intelligent worldly friend that Catherine looks up to, that dynamic would be impossible with Lucy. But then again, Catherine was a mark, not really a real friend...

Do we see Lucy form a friendship with anyone? She hangs around with her sister, but we only see her in "suck up" relationships with people higher in status than her (Lady Middleton, Mrs. Jennings), or "forced confidence because I suspect you of stealing my man" with Elinor.

Lucy is more intelligent and far more focused than Isabella. Isabella encourages Catherine towards Tilney instead of her brother more often than not and manages to lose her fiance before landing the bigger fish. I feel like Lucy would hold her in contempt.

If anything, Isabella would admire Lucy and Lucy would despise her, so maybe a messed up Emma/Harriet relationship?

That's my take anyway, but I would read an FF of them being friends and see how I felt about it.

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 12

Minas Tirith

Margaery lowered the latest letter Sansa had sent her and thought about it.

“Are you going to talk to Queen Lucy?” Loras wanted to know.

“Sansa suggested it.” Margaery admitted, her voice thoughtful. “Apparently she is now friends with the other Queen of Narnia.”

Loras smirked. “Are you jealous?”

Margaery rolled her eyes. “I am not that kind of woman.”

Loras scoffed. “Maybe we should…” Noises coming from the hallway cut his sentence, making him frown. “Stay here.” He asked his sister, hand going to his sword as he marched to the door.

Margaery waited as her brother went out of her room. She wasn’t concerned -yet -as these didn’t seem like noises of alarm.

“More Narnians arrived.” Loras informed her once he came back.

Margaery frowned. “Then why the commotion?”

“Apparently they saw Lord Boromir somewhere, and you know how Lord Denethor feels about his precious son.”

The lady hummed. She was almost sure Denethor would tell her all about it later, so she didn’t need to hurry out of the room.

However, it was likely that Queen Lucy would be a bit distracted. She’d talk to her later.

***

“I demand to know about my son’s destination!”

“I do not know where Lord Boromir was headed to.” Asterius said, not for the first time. “We met them by the Anduin and then parted ways.”

“You should have an inkling of his direction.” Denethor insisted. “Of his condition…”

“Lord Boromir seemed fine.” Asterius reported. “We did not speak for long. He gave me directions and asked me to let his family know he was alright.”

“I do not believe my son would conceal from me his destination.” Denethor pressed.

“I cannot give information I do not have, my lord.” The minotaur threw back.

“Lord Denethor, this is quite enough.” Queen Lucy stepped in front of Asterius. It did nothing to actually cover him -considering his size -but it was the gesture that counted. “Asterius brought you news of your son, and you are treating him as a criminal. I understand your concern over your son, but Asterius has nothing to gain by hiding information from you.”

The Regent sunk deeper into his chair and sighed. “Who was he with?”

“A dwarf by the name of Gimli, an elf called Legolas, a man. Aragorn was his name.”

That made Denethor straighten his chair. “Aragorn? The ranger?”

“I do not know if he was a ranger.” Asterius admitted. “Just that he was called Aragorn, and he seemed close to Master Boromir.”

Denethor mumbled something to himself, but the Narnians were soon free from the room.

“This man…” Lucy grumbled.

“He does love that son.” Edmund winced. “Poor Faramir.”

Lucy looked at Asterius. “Was he really fine?”

“I think we should have that conversation in private, my lady.”

Lucy and Edmund exchanged looks, but led Asterius to a place where they could talk. The minotaur explained to them in detail what Queen Susan had decided, how she’d given him the drop of the cordial and told him to use it at the right moment. He told them about the group’s difficulty to move out of Rohan and how they found Lord Boromir by accident.

“It was no accident.” Edmund sighed. “Susan was right and it was meant to be.”

“It was timely, that is for certain.” Asterius agreed. “They left to chase after their friends.”

Edmund nodded. “Did they ask anything?”

“They wanted to know why we were there. And also… If we knew anything about the people from Westeros.”

Edmund hummed. “Did Lord Boromir mention he met Lady Tyrell on the road?”

Asterius shook his head and Lucy scoffed softly. “I do not think it was an accident.”

“You are very convinced of this woman’s wicked powers.” Edmund observed.

She took a deep breath in. “I am sorry. There is just something about her…”

“I do not know anything about Lady Tyrell and Lord Boromir never mentioned a previous acquaintance.” Asterius spoke up, distracting the siblings from the previous topic. “However, I wish to talk to Lord Faramir. His brother asked me to talk to him. Had I known his father was…”

“That is a whole other thing.” Edmund nodded in understanding.

“Let us look for Lord Faramir.”

***

“I feel like he is lying to me.” Denethor grumbled.

Margaery held in a sigh. “Lord Denethor.” She called softly. “Lord Boromir is a smart man. Why would he tell a stranger his destination?” She indicated. “Especially a stranger that hails from another land.”

Denethor scoffed.

Margaery had been thinking a lot about what Sansa had written in her letter. The son of the King of Rohan was dead, and the man himself was not well. His heir had been banished from the land, and she was going to try and find him.

Margaery wasn’t a strategist - not when it came to war - but perhaps the whispers they were hearing really meant something darker was coming.

Denethor himself was convinced the days of Gondor were numbered, but she could hardly tell if it was paranoia or something else.

She couldn’t tell if open war was really that close or not.

However, it would take days for a letter to arrive in King’s Landing and even longer for an army. If things were as urgent as some seemed to think they were, it might not be enough time.

But dragons could fly there faster.

Margaery covered Lord Denethor’s hand with hers. “My lord. What if I write to my Queen and kindly ask her to come with her dragons?”

***

Lucy watched as Lord Faramir talked to Asterius, clearly pleased to hear from his brother.

She hadn’t met Lord Boromir, but it turned her stomach to hear Lord Denethor talking of his eldest son as if he was the only one. He seemed to think Faramir was weak willed, not as brave or as strong as his brother. He also made no secret of that.

It made Lucy’s heart squeeze painfully. Faramir was a kind and caring man, and she didn’t believe for a minute that the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien wasn’t a brave man, willing to fight for his country.

The man in question had finished his conversation with Asterius and walked up to her, a smile on his lips. “Your Majesty.” He bowed her head.

“Lord Faramir.” She smiled back. “I hope Asterius’ words gave you confort.”

“More than I dared to hope.” He admitted. “I am glad to hear that my brother if fine.”

“Are you two close?” She asked, interested.

“We are. Boromir has been nothing but a great example and inspiration to me.”

“I see.”

Faramir made a gesture to indicate she should start walking, then took his place next to her. “He is a great man.”

“But so are you.” She told him.

Faramir’s laughter was a bit strained, even as he blushed. “You are too kind, my lady.”

“I only speak the truth, Lord Faramir.”

He cleared his throat. “We hardly know each other.”

“That is so.” She agreed. “However, I tend to have a good eye for these things.”

Faramir’s smile this time was soft, his eyes gentle. Lucy felt a tug on her heart.

***

“Hum.”

“My King?” Asterius asked, turning to Edmund.

“Hum.”

The minotaur frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Edmund’s eyes were fixed on his sister and Lord Faramir. “Not really. I just have a… Feeling.”

[queenlucythevaliant]

She was ladylike and lively, not "the type you would expect."

Some of the oldest members of court still remembered how as a child Queen Lucy had always been black and blue from practice yards she wasn't supposed to visit as often as she did. Raffin the Dwarf, who'd been the royal armorsmith back in the day, could tell endless stories about her: how Lucy had stolen swords and sparred with the boys; how she'd been slight and quick and laughed as she sparred; how she'd sometimes even beaten her brothers. It had taken all the High King's force of will to pry the sword and dagger out of his little sister's hand and replace it with a bow.

But even so, Alabast the unicorn, who'd carried her wounded from battle once, claimed in his old age that she'd scarcely ever ridden astride. "She was still a lady, for all that she was a warrior. She wore skirts and armor both," he would say. Peridan remarked that in the command tent she'd had none of the masculine coarseness of the other commanders. She had a temper occasionally, but she did not elbow or jostle to make herself heard. When she spoke, everyone listened.

She laughed loudly and often. That was the main thing that everyone said. The archers, the commanders, the beasts and the centaurs and the giants and the satyrs all said she had a great, carrying laugh that could be heard up and down the battle column.

With a braver heart than many and a slot-shot to respect.

"Queen Susan wins her tournaments and Queen Lucy her battles" people would sing in praise of their sovereigns. While Susan had the better aim in the precise, level field of a fairground, Lucy was dauntless with hell all round her.

The old archers said they never served under a captain that was her equal. Queen Lucy held on whatever ground her archers were stationed. She placed herself as far forward as the High King would allow her. The rows behind her would speak of her small figure poised among so many tall warriors, of her braid being tossed about below her helmet, gold like the Narnian standard.

Hardrum, an old centuar who had been fierce with a flail in his day, told his children about the day the Narnian army had fallen back from the mouth of the River Shribble. "Queen Lucy covered our retreat with no more than fourty archers at her command. I remember seeing her when I galloped past. She was firing arrows two at a time, with a lioness's snarl on her face."

And I guess she'd once decided this was where she'd like to be,

"Why?" Tumnus asked her once. Lucy was growing older; her spun-gold hair had threads of silver in it, but she had yet to hang up her bow.

"When I was a child, because I wanted to be brave," Lucy answered thoughtfully. "But now, I think, I just want to be the sort of person who doesn't put down her weapons until Aslan asks it of her."

When Lucy and the others disappeared beyond Lantern Waste, Tumnus told stories about his best friend: how brave she was, and what kind of person she'd decided to be.

And I thought, if she could do it, why not me?

[aceofbooksandtea]

The Problem of Susan

so i’ve been reading some narnia fics lately and i keep seeing people mention the problem of susan and getting really upset about how c.s. lewis handled her character. admittedly, i haven’t read the books in a while, but i had them practically memorized as a kid and what i remember doesn’t really fit with what i’m seeing people say about susan.

(although, i haven’t really been reading a whole lot of those fics bc i like to ignore the last battle and just pretend susan’s still a friend of narnia)

but i think that a lot of people are reading something into it that isn’t necessarily there. what i’m hearing is a lot about how c.s. lewis did her character dirty by implying that looking beautiful and being involved with the world was a bad thing, and i can see why they might say that. but i see it differently for 3 reasons: what i know of c.s. lewis; how he portrayed susan from the beginning; and his references to women and looking beautiful throughout the series.

let’s talk about the last one first. throughout the series (to the best that i remember), c.s. lewis talks about plenty of female characters in ways that positively view women wanting to look beautiful. jill wants to bring home that gorgeous dress in the silver chair? yep, you got it! no negative references whatsoever. any of the queens and ladies of narnia or archenland physically described? i’m pretty sure jewels, crowns, and pretty robes and hair are all mentioned with no negativity for dressing pretty.

(one might argue that the whole thing with lucy wanting to look pretty like susan in the voyage of the dawn treader might be considered negative representation of a girl wanting to look beautiful, but honestly, it just sounds more like encouragement to love your body as it is, and not wanting to be someone else. which is very healthy!)

so. the fact that susan wants to wear lipstick and nylons isn’t the actual problem. (i’ll get back to this in a bit)

now, let’s talk about c.s. lewis. from what i remember, he believed that imagination was really important and that children should be encouraged in that and that more adults should foster it in themselves. now, this may seem like it has nothing to do with susan, but in the books, one of the things that makes her no longer a friend of narnia is that she dismisses it as fairytales and make believe. considering c.s. lewis’s thoughts on imagination, i’m pretty sure he was using this + the lipstick comment to imply that susan is trying to be a grown-up by england’s standards and tossing aside important things like imagination and playing (which are healthy psychological needs for any age)

(i’m not even going to go into what he implies about creativity with professor kirke’s comments about logic and schools)

now, last point before i’ll tie this all together: how susan is portrayed from the very first book. from the beginning, she’s a bit of a follower (if i’m remembering correctly). she likes rules, order, and doing what’s proper. in england, that means no make believe or wild active play once you’re past a certain age. in narnia, that meant believing in aslan and being good to all the magical creatures and talking beasts that were her subjects. she’s just following the rules. (i could be missing some things here about her character, but honestly, she fades into the background so easily).

yes, this could be considered a point against c.s. lewis for writing her this way, but honestly, if i had siblings as charismatic and brave and outgoing as peter and lucy, i’d probably give up and fade into the background too. it just makes sense for the siblings to be very different personalities and if you have too many leaders in a group of siblings/close friends/family, you’re never going to get anything done bc you’ll just be planning and arguing about the plans and then starting over. so i think susan got used to being the follower of the group.

(i’m pretty sure edmund did a bit of that too after he grew up a bit)

this doesn’t mean that susan isn’t capable of leading or doing things on her own, but i think she likes to know where the socially accepted boundaries are and then breaks them only when she absolutely has to. in narnia, that would be in the defense of her subjects and her siblings. in england, she has no subjects and her siblings are only in danger of being thought crazy if they keep up the narnia talk. so, she adjusts. she conforms. and the others don’t get it.

but. that doesn’t mean that there’s not a problem with how she’s acting. it isn’t the lipstick that’s the problem. it’s not that she’s trying to take on more adult expectations. it’s that she’s not handling her return from narnia at all. when you lose something important to you, it’s not great for your psyche to just deny that it every existed. it’s not great to throw yourself into expectations and responsibilities as an escape from your grief. it’s really, really not great to practically try to gaslight your siblings into believing your shared experiences never happened. (at least, i think gaslighting would be the correct term for dismissing real events as fiction and imagination to a person they actually happened to)

she bottles it up and and ignores it and shuns people who try to get her to talk about it. honestly, it reminds me a bit of how the movies had peter acting at the beginning of prince caspian, but even more serious bc peter at least acknowledged their shared experiences.

meanwhile, her siblings basically put together a support group for people who had been to narnia and are really hurting that she’s dismissed them in favor of things that can’t help her heal. so, yeah, they might be a bit snippy and resentful when they mention it in the scene that gets so many people talking about the problem of susan.

(and this isn’t even taking that this is a faith analogy, so she’s not only spitting on their shared experiences but on the worldview they all once shared.)

and this is why, while not the best way to phrase it, calling it the problem of susan fits. it’s not that susan is a problem. it’s that she has a problem and she’s not going to fix it properly any time soon with the path she’s taking. Gentle hearts can be easily hurt and she’s trying to mend it with all the wrong things.

[ashdumpsterpile]

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream I // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, strict parents, missing persons, cops, violence, death, and angst

Words: 3k

A/N: Finished one series, starts a new one then gets hit with a dream of a crossover with Narnia and JATP. My brain needs to stop.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Patterson Home, 1994

The teen’s hands laced up her boots with her mind stuck on the successful dinner with the boy situated on the couch. His eyes lost in daydreams of the girl he had shared a sweet goodbye with, seeing her at school felt like it would be years. Luke Patterson was slowly building up to ask out the girl of his dreams.

You glanced over at the messy-haired brunette you had known for years through your older brother Alex. A year separated you from Luke and Alex, but it didn't matter to the bond you had with them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Reggie’s picking us up.” You waved at the seventeen-year-old teenager cupping his cheek in one hand.

Unable to stay seated Luke rushed to tug you into an abrupt hug before just as quickly letting you go. Cheeks dusted pink Luke’s lips parted to form the words that could make one of his dreams come true.

"Would you…" Luke trailed off, feeling the confidence falter at the hopeful look in your pretty eyes, "Tell Alex that he still has that movie?"

The hope in your chest fluttered before it shuddered once more as Luke retreated from asking his question. With a nod, your fingers opened the door to walk down the streets to own home.

With one last wave Luke watched as you disappeared behind the trees in his front yard with the promise he’d ask her out tomorrow.

That chance wouldn’t happen.

That hopeful night in 1994 was the last night Y/N Mercer was seen. The night that it all started to fall apart in Sunset Curve’s lives.

The sword was thrust in the air as victorious cheers sounded over the hillside filled with the war's casualties. Chest heaving from the fight she had won against one of the Boggles in the White Witch's army. Your eyes scoured the battlefield for your friends you had made in the short time you had been in Narnia.

Across a great distance, you found Peter already beaming across at you as the adrenaline of winning overtook you. The happiness wavered when you saw the prone body of Edmund in the grass.

“No!” You shouted racing in the armour to the three remaining Pevensie children gathering around the youngest male sibling. The breath leaving Edmund’s body in the presence of his siblings he had made up with.

Let’s go back a few weeks to when your most significant issue had been the feelings for Luke Patterson. To when your decisions didn't include making battle plans with your new friends and avenging the death of Aslan; the talking lion.

Moments after leaving Luke’s place.

There was something about the night that soothed you from the disappointment in your body as being let down. Alex had been telling you for so long that Luke had feelings for you, but every-time you believed him it didn’t happen.

Once more, you had left the Patterson home with knowing if Luke liked you or not. Continuing to walk, you halted at hearing something. Soft music so unlike what you heard blasting from Alex's room or the gigs you attended to support the band. It was reminiscent of the music box that used to put you to sleep as a child.

"Hello?" You asked, shifting the beanie that slid on down your forehead a little. Your eyes peering around the silent streets.

The music grew louder as it entranced you into following the sound to a dilapidated building situated near older stores. So taken by the music you didn’t question why the door to the store was unlocked nor how a golden light shined from one of the antique wooden furniture.

“Come along.” A voice whispered from inside the imposing wardrobe.

Your fingers shook as you slowly pulled the door open with a creak that blasted around the darkroom. The first thing you noticed was the old fur coats hanging in the small wardrobe. The door closed behind you with a click, the golden glow dying as any suggestion she had been in the store disappeared.

The breath caught in your throat as the temperature dropped and somehow you found snow inside and trees. The crunch of snow beneath your boots surprising you but not as much as your hands pushed the branches away. Vision no longer obstructed you discovered a new world of winter and sunlight.

Standing not too far away you found four bodies of varying height staring around in wonder just as you had. The group turned on their heels at the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

The tallest of the group had honey blonde hair neatly cut and styled off his pale forehead revealing a startling pair of blue eyes. He was at least six feet tall as your estimation. His own widened at the sight of you before you took in the three other people with him—an older brunette girl standing over a younger brunette female. Set a small distance away was a young teenage boy appearing standoffish.

“I don’t suppose that is another one of your friends, Lucy?" The teen asked glancing down at the youngest of the quartet.

"No, but Peter maybe she's friends with Mr. Tumnus!" The little girl exclaimed already making her way to you when the other girl stopped her.

The next thing you noticed was their odd choice in clothing, the older boy Peter wore a light grey button-down with his dark slacks held up by suspenders. Not a single piece of clothing you recognized on people in your life.

“Lucy, she’s a stranger in a strange place.”

“This is Narnia.” Lucy stressed pouting, “Susan, it’s not polite.”

Susan's hand loosened at the reminder of manners, but with that, Susan pushed her little sister behind her. Peter stepped in front of his family to walk over to you.

"Hello, are you from around here?" Peter asked, coming closer, "I'm Peter Pevensie. This is my younger sisters Lucy and Susan. The boy over there is my little brother Edmund.”

The scowl on Edmund’s face twister further, “I’m not your little brother! I’m thirteen. Lucy’s the baby!”

“Edmund!” Susan admonished with a furrowed brow before stepping up with Peter, "What is this place?"

"Look, lady. I was walking home from my friend's place and heard this music. It's a little foggy, but I followed into an antique store." You spoke glancing at the winter wonderland that made you question if you had taken drugs.

“You’re American!” Lucy gasped rushing closer, “Why did you come to England? It’s it safer from the war in America?”

You stepped back in confusion, “I’m Y/N. War? In England? When did that happen?”

All four of the Pevensie’s stumbled back in shock at hearing that someone of your age being unaware. Susan finally took the time to take in your appearance a stark contrast to the modest, loose red and green tartan knee-length skirt. Instead, you wore a mid-thigh red plaid skirt over sheer black tights, but the most scandalous part of your outfit for Susan was your high neck black top that revealed your midriff.

“Are you daft?” Edmund questioned, stepping closer, his dark eyes pinning his angst on you, "We got evacuated from London because of it!”

Your eyebrows raised in response to the very posh accent berating you even as he was shoved back by Peter.

“You really haven’t heard about it?” Susan asked, confusing you further, but slowly it came together in your mind.

As a Mercer, you had expectations placed upon your shoulders to keep your family’s reputation in place. One of the expectations was academic excellence for your parents to boast about among their friends. To get them off your back, you studied hard with Alex in order to get away with the way you dressed and Alex being in a rock band.

Your eyes scanned the individuals' outfits before you while calculating the years London, England, was evacuated by war. A faint memory of sitting in your history class sparked on the action to evacuate mostly children. Operation Pied Piper. World War II.

"Can we go to Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy inquired, bringing her older siblings' attention to her shivering in the cool air.

“But we can’t go hiking in the snow dressed like this! Let alone Y/N in her clothing.” Susan protested also rubbing her cold arms. Peter simply strode back into the wardrobe, grabbing an armful of the coats still hanging in there.

“No, but I’m sure the professor won’t mind us using these.” Peter spoke, handing out a coat first to his siblings before turning to face you with a smile, "Would like you to join us?"

Your eyes turned to the tree hiding the door of the wardrobe to the place you knew. To return to the Mercer household where it felt stifling under the watchful eye of your parents. To a house that judged you for your dreams that went further than your parents' plans. To a boy that threatened to cradle your heart or shattered it to pieces with only a few words.

"I'd love to join you." You spoke sealing your fate by grasping a coat, but Peter stepped around to help you put it on.

The feel of his hands pushing the collar further rose a dust pink blush on your cheeks at the care he displayed. His blue gaze held firmly with yours before he shook it off with a throat cleared.

“Anyway Susan, if you think about it logically, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe.” Peter finished shoving the very last coat to Edmund to draw out the young boy’s discomfort.

"But that's a girl's coat!" Edmund whined offended at the fur pushed into his torso. His offended feeling rising at Peter's confirmation that he knew that too.

A cheeky smile expanded at the interaction that reminded you of Christmas mornings with Alex on who got to open the first gift. The sibling fighting that was never really as vicious as they felt like at the moment.

“To Mr. Tumnus’!” Lucy exclaimed skipping ahead of the group with Edmund trailing behind.

The Mercer home, 1994

Luke woke up with a feeling that last night had been his last chance to admit his feelings for his best friend’s sister. It felt like something had drastically changed from the previous smile he saw from you before you turned that corner. He made himself a promise he wouldn't break to shout his love from the rooftops just for you.

He couldn't wait for Reggie to pick him up, so he quickly grabbed his backpack to race out the front door. His plate barely in the sink before he was racing down the streets to Alex and your place. The grin of excitement faltered at the sight of a police car parked at the Mercer house's curb.

Mrs. Mercer sobbing in her husband's neck as a forlorn man, held his hat in his hands as he continued speaking. Luke's world lost colour for a split second before he found the blonde drummer collapsed on his knees, clutching his hair in his hands.

Then the colour leeched from Luke’s life as the once thought impossible happened.

"Alex, what's going on?"

“You!" Mrs. Mercer shouted, hearing the voice of the teenager that had taken something from the woman, "What did you do to her!”

Luke stumbled back at the heated glare from the mess of a woman so unlike the posh made-up woman. Alex was quick to push by his parents to stand shakily next to his best friend with splotchy red skin and swollen eyes.

"Luke didn't do anything! I saw her on the way home when I went to dropped that movie off at Luke's place." Alex smoothly lied to his parents saving Luke the exhaustion of a police station, and it would be the one lie that would go to their graves with them.

“My baby.” Mrs. Mercer screamed hands digging into the perfectly mowed green grass uncaring of the stains on her once immaculate elegant pearl satin slacks.

Turning robotic Alex ushered Luke down the street to the Wilson home they had turned into the band centre. Luke followed like a puppy into the open garage where Alex promptly collapsed into a fit of sobs and heavy breathing.

"She's gone." Alex cried, leaning into the sudden body hugging him with soft whispers in his ear, "Luke, Y/N didn't come home last night. None of her friends have seen her. My little sister’s missing!”

And just like that the world no longer made sense to the seventeen-year-old guitarist. The next year dragged by with running away from home. When Luke wasn’t writing music or sleeping in the studio, he was on the streets.

Clutching his favourite picture of you as he walked the streets asking if anyone had seen you while avoiding his own missing person’s poster.

Cair Paravel, Narnia

The sun rose over the land you had come to love and protect for as long as you could remember. Sometimes you hoped you’d see Aslan in the distance, but he had been gone ever since the coronation. The feeling of missing him shifted to something, no someone else you missed. It felt like a dream, and when the dream started to become clear, a hand brushed against your hip.

"Hello, darling," Peter spoke brushing a kiss on your cheek before his silky hair shifted on your skin to rest atop your own head.

A soft smile overcoming your features as his ring clinked against your own and you turned in your private chambers to stare up at him. Your hand brushing the stubble that had grown. Your eyes taking in his tanned skin from riding in the sun. For a second you swore his blue eyes flickered to hazel green.

Sometimes when you slept, you dreamt of a time where everything was different from what you knew here. Of a time when your heart fluttered for a man with hazel green eyes and a curtain of messy dark brunette hair.

“Are you alright?” Peter questioned leaning back to scan your features. It wasn't often, but he was sure you wandered off in mind.

“I’m feeling perfect.” You replied turning to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m standing the arms of my King-“

“You looked beautiful tonight.” For a second, your personal bed-chamber melted away into a large room with poorly made decorations and lines on the floor of different colours. Instead of standing in Peter's arms, you found yourself moving to the music in another's arms. The same faceless person in your dreams.

"Maybe it's time we give Narnia an heir." With Peter's words, the world returned to the way it had left a bitter taste in your mouth, "What do you think of the name Luke?"

The name choked you with emotion.

Alex jogged into his sister's room, huddled over her white desk reciting information of her exam the next morning. His blue eyes lit up as he hurried to your side.

"What do you want, Alex?" You sighed turning to look at your brother with disinterest only wanting to ace this test. That way, your parents could rub in in their friends face on beating Sarah with the highest grade.

“I joined the band.” Alex beamed bringing your attention fully on him in surprise, “I’m tired of pretending to like classical music and wearing a suit that chokes me. I’m tired of having to play dress up in fancy clothes when what I want is that big pink sweater from that thrift shop. I’m tired of looking like they think a Mercer should look like. I wanna look like Alex, like myself.”

Your lips turned up at the passion ignited in Alex at the mention of three friends that had quickly become family. In welcoming Alex, they had welcomed you into the group as well. Luke being the closest friend you had that didn't care what you wore or what you said.

"You should come. You've never stayed to listen to them rehearse. Luke would love it if you came." Alex teased poking your side in the pale pink silk blouse and white knee-length skirt.

You were tired of pretending as well. You wanted to be the girl wearing a band shirt and ripped jeans. You want to wear what you wanted instead of what your parents expected. Instead of voicing a reply, you moved to the walk-in closet of designer clothing. At the very back hidden from sight was your chosen attire. In seconds you changed into one of Alex’s old band shirts tied in the back for a cropped shirt and your favourite pants.

A swipe of rebellious red lipstick to finish the look you followed Alex to his room with the large tree. You had no clue if the feeling of butterflies was from rebelling against your parents or seeing the teenage boy slowly stealing your heart.

“Not Luke.” You whispered to the man you had matured from an angsty sixteen-year-old to a twenty-five-year-old.

“Lucy may think we named him after her.” Peter joked retreating as the door to the chambers was knocked on, “I believe we owe Edmund a birthday feast.”

“I’d rather not live another year of his complaining.” You moaned lifting the skirt of your long midnight blue dress to exit the room. All thoughts of a former life disappearing like smoke once more.

King Peter and Queen Y/N took their time to the dining hall where the rest of their family was patiently waiting. Susan and Lucy sharing a smile at the topic that had been flooding the kingdom since the royal wedding two years ago. Narnia was wondering when High King Peter and his Queen would proudly show off their firstborn.

"About time. I thought we'd enter another hundred years before you two came." Edmund spoke from his chair, but instead of the same tone as the boy that first entered Narnia, it was teasing.

"Shove off and eat your cake." Peter laughed, keeping his hand encased in yours. All of them at ease with the only worry on the conflict that threatened the royals from the Ettinsmoor nation.

Part Two

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[euphoricdumpsterfire]

It Was Enchanting To Meet You (Edmund Pevensie x Mutant!FemReader)

Chapter II: The Arrival of The Young Witch

Summary: Y/N ends up in Narnia and meets the kings and queens with one king catching her eye. She gets to know more about the new world she’s in and starts too see the things she’s seen in her dreams.

Masterlist

Warnings: being tied up

Word Count: 1270

A/N: I'm not sure about my upload schedule yet considering that I'll be going back to school next week. But hopefully, I'll be uploading 2 chapters every weekend. Hope you enjoy!

Deep in the forest of Narnia, a few young centaurs were galloping around and passing time. One of them stumbled upon an unconscious Y/N who laid by a tree. They then reported to the guards of Cair Paravel about the unconscious daughter of Eve.

Rumors immediately spread and everyone jumped into conclusions as to who she is and why she had suddenly appeared in the forest. The guards did not hesitate and immediately informed the four royals of Cair Paravel.

“The time has come...” The high king Peter said and the guards looked at each other confused.

Another guard came rushing into the room panting, “The human has awakened.”

“Then let’s go get her.” Peter said as he grabbed his sword and went out to the forest on his horse with the other guards leading the way. Once they arrived, Y/N sat there with her hands tied.

“You tied her up?!” Peter asked the guards.

“I-I wasn’t sure if she was an enemy sire.” The guard answered guiltily,

“Hey, uh...” Y/N spoke and all eyes turned to her, “I just wanted to say... I’m no enemy.” she said.

“How can we be sure of that?” Peter questioned,

“Well first, I have no idea where I’m at. And second, I just want to know where the old lady with the ice powers is so I can maybe ask her to stop haunting my dreams or something...” Y/N answered,

“Wait, you know about the white witch?”

“Not exactly. I just saw a vision and she mentioned something called Narnia, so I used my powers and now I’m here.” Y/N shot a tight lipped smile and the guards looked at her like she was insane.

“What’s your name again?” The king asked,

“It’s Y/N... Y/N Y/L/N.” She answered.

“Welcome to Narnia Y/N, I’m the high king, Peter.” He said as he helped her up and freed her from the constraint.

“Oh geez, thanks. Your guards tied it way too tight I thought I was gonna lose circulation.” Y/N said jokingly,

“My apologies ma’am.” The guard apologized with a shameful look on his face,

“Oh no it’s fine, I mean I get why you did it, it’s no sweat.” The guards looked at each other, bewildered by how the woman spoke.

“Why don’t we go to the castle and introduce you to my siblings. I believe you are someone of importance to Narnia and I will explain everything once we get there.” Peter said as he hopped on his horse and reached his hand out to Y/N to which she awkwardly grabbed and hopped on the horse as well.

Upon arriving at the castle, two women and another young man dressed in the finest of silks approached the incoming king and their new guest.

“Is that her?!” The younger girl exclaimed, very giddy to meet the guest.

“Everyone meet Y/N Y/L/N.” Peter said,

Y/N did a curtsy and said “Good day your highness...ses.” The awkward pause made the young man with dark hair chuckle catching Y/N’s attention but soon enough the younger girl approached her and greeted her with a big smile.

“I’ve been so excited to meet you! By the way I’m Lucy.” Y/N shook her hand

“Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” She said,

“Oh you don’t have to call me that, you can just call me Lucy!” Lucy said with a bright smile that Y/N mirrored. Another girl approached and introduced herself as Susan,

“It’s great to have another girl around here, we’ve finally outnumbered the men.” Susan teased,

“Hey I heard that!” The young man with dark hair said as he walked towards the group of girls who were already giggling.

“This is our brother, Edmund.” Susan said, Y/N looked at him and she froze. Even though she’s seen an abundance of magical creatures such as centaurs, pixies, and talking animals so far, the man that stood right before her was the most enchanting person she had ever laid her eyes on.

“Pleasure to meet you Y/N.” Edmund reached out for her hand and kissed it, Y/N’s face turned bright red and the two girls had a shocked expression plastered onto their faces. When his eyes met Y/N’s, he felt the same heart fluttering jolt that she did the moment she smiled at him.

“Edmund!” Lucy yelled out his name which made him snap out of trance, making the girls giggle once more. “Peter’s calling for you.” Lucy reminded him,

“Ugh what does he want now...” Edmund groaned and walked to where his brother stood.

Peter's smug expression caused Edmund to roll his eyes, "Pleasure to meet you Y/N" Peter mocked Edmund's line from earlier, earning him a punch in the gut.

"Shut up." Edmund says as he continued walking,

"Wrong way Ed!" Peter yelled, the three ladies giggled as Edmund scurried to Peter's side as they disappeared into a hallway.

“Y/N come with us, we’ll show you to your chamber and get you a change of clothes.” Susan interlocked her arm with Y/N's as they led her to a chamber complete with a huge canopy bed, large balcony, as well as a tall bookshelf.

"We have so many spare bedrooms, we're glad someone's going to occupy them now." Lucy said cheerfully. But the way she had said it made Y/N think about how long her stay will be in this magical world of Narnia. At some point she would have to go back to her own world because that's where her family and friends are. However, she set those thoughts aside and decided to go along with the present.

After changing into a deep maroon dress, Y/N went to the throne room where the other ladies had been waiting. "You look incredible Y/N!" Lucy exclaimed as the two sisters looked in awe at their newly found friend.

"Well thank you, for lending me this amazing dress," Y/N said as she tidied up the lower part of her dress,

"Of course Y/N, whatever you need, we're here to help out." Susan replied.

"Is everyone ready?" Peter appeared with Edmund beside him,

"Ready for what?" Lucy asked,

"To show our guest around Cair Paravel of course!" Peter said

– – – –

The five of them hopped onto a horse-drawn carriage that was also escorted by several guards. They went around the kingdom, the kings and queens greeted their subjects and they cheered them on. They've stopped by shops and had several conversations with shopkeepers. The four siblings are the most humble and most closest to their own subjects Y/N thought, and it was very heartwarming for her to see.

Y/N was completely mesmerized by the whole kingdom, it's as if the fairy tales she had read as a child had finally came true and she was there to witness it all. Edmund on the other hand was completely mesmerized by her. Peter secretly kept teasing his younger brother for staring at the girl for way too long that which the other sisters had noticed as well except for the oblivious Y/N.

Later on their trip, Lucy had requested to stop by Mr. Tumnus' cave and everyone agreed. Once they had arrived, Lucy hopped off of the carriage immediately and knocked on the faun's door. The rest stood behind Lucy and the door opened, revealing the faun whom Lucy had been telling stories about to Y/N.

Y/N's eyes widened as she exclaimed, "Professor X?!"

[setaripendragon]

I don’t know if anyone remembers my silly little Narnia fic where the Pevensie kids all get meet-cutes with their future partners, but I’ve been working on a silly little sequel ever since, and I finally finished it. So, here’s the Pevensies finally getting together (sort of) with their partners, from the partner’s PoV, because I figured t hey deserved to get a say.

Jane had crushes before. A couple of really childish ones that were more her playing at mimicking the concept before the war forced her to grow up too fast, and then a few more serious ones after her little jaunt to Neverland as puberty dug its nasty little claws in. Peter was different.

Her Peter, not Peter Pan, even though Peter Pevensie wasn’t really her Peter at all. He was her best friend, sure, and had been since the day he’d let her flatten a couple of bullies by herself before he leapt in to de-escalate the situation, but he wasn’t hers. Not like she wanted him to be. Because not only was he kind of ridiculously handsome, and just carried himself with the sort of confidence and poise that could steal anyone’s breath, but he was also just an incredibly good person.

Which, Jane had found, was kind of rare, in boys. And maybe part of that was because Peter – her Peter, not- whatever – was a lot more grown up than the other boys her age, but she didn’t think so. He could be verygrown up when he wanted to be – which was awe-inspiring in it’s own way – but even when he was being silly and playful and ridiculously childish, he was still good. He was never horrid, never unkind, not even in jest. He never looked down on her, never held back if she instigated a bit of rough-housing, but he also never pushed her too hard, or gloated when he won, or sulked when he lost.

Jane had felt strangely alone after she got back from Neverland. She’d gained a new appreciation for the joys and wonders of childhood, but she hadn’t lost her understanding of responsibility and duty. She could get along with kids and adults, but she always felt so out of place. Like she was hiding half of herself just to fit in. That, and, she’d never been particularly lady-like to begin with, and living with the Lost Boys even for a few dayshad ruined her for any sort of delicate dignity and grace, so she didn’t really fit in with the girls her own age.

Peter – not-really-her Peter – was the same as her. Too grown-up for his age, but with a strong sense of whimsy and fantasy that would have most grown-ups giving him the same odd looks Jane got. He told the best stories, and her temper never seemed to throw him, and if he was sometimes a bit overbearing, like it didn’t even occur to him that she might, possibly, have a different opinion or a better idea, he never acted like she didn’t have a right to call him out on it. When they argued – and they did, fairly regularly, even – it was never with intent to wound, just with passion and ideas spilling out too fast and too loud and too important to hold back.

Jane was pretty sure she loved him. Her mother had warned her to be careful, not to hang all her hopes on one boy when she was still so young, and Jane tried, she really did, but she honestly couldn’t imagine a better man than Peter Pevensie.

Not that there was anything happening. Because the problem was that she and Peter had been best friends for years. Peter didn’t have quite her problems with his peers, he got on well enough with the boys in their year, but it was clear – to Jane, at least – that he was also holding a little of himself back, when he was with them. Not with her. And that was good, that was great – it was amazing, quite frankly – but it was also a little bit painful.

Because, of course, they got teased. A lot. A boy and a girl spending that much time together? Everyonejust assumed they were ‘together’. And Jane got flustered, and that made her angry, and that made her even more flustered. She yelled at the other girls who wouldn’t stop asking about her ‘boooyfriend’, and she punched the boys who wouldn’t stop making lewd commentaries, and blushed ridiculously at any mention of the notion.

Peter was phased at all. ‘Hey, Pevensie, is that your girlfriend?’ was invariably answered with the sort of stern-disappointed stare that would put any parent or teacher to shameand a bland ‘Jane is my friend’. Which, of course, Jane really did appreciate, because being Peter’s friend was just about the best thing that had happened to her since Neverland. It just… would have been nice to see even a hintthat he might possibly have even once thought of her as more than that.

Still, she’d thought, they were still young, they had plenty of time. Only they didn’t. Because then Jane found out that Peter had enlisted. He was too young, technically, but Jane wasn’t surprised that that hadn’t stopped him. He was pretty big on duty – a bit too much, sometimes, but Jane really kind of loved him for that, too – and on fighting bigotry anywhere and everywhere he found it, so it really, really wasn’t a surprise.

It wasscary, though. A little bit terrifying, because he might not come back. He might go out there to fight, and he might dieinstead. That would tear her apart no matter what, but it alsomade her think that she might not have another chance to ever tell him, to ever knowif maybe…

And if there was one thing Neverland had taught Jane, it was that sometimes the amazing things didn’t happen unless you believedthey would. Sometimes you had to jump off the damn cliff and just have faith that you would fly, instead of fall. She kind of wished she had a little pixie dust right now, though, just to give her that extra boost.

Because Peter was standing in front of her, and sometime while Jane had been fretting, they’d managed to walk all the way to the god damned train station, and he was literally minutes away from leaving. He looked kind of dashing in the uniform, but he also looked – hilariously – uncomfortable. She would have expected him to look at home in it, with how he was about duty and fighting and all, but no. He kept tugging at the sleeves and shifting his shoulders and grimacing.

And she loved the stupid face he pulled when he really just wanted to stick his tongue out in disgust but won’t because he was trying to be polite. She loved his stupid face no matter what expression he was wearing, and she needed him to know thatbefore he left. Just in case.

So she grabbed him by the front of his uniform – uncaring that she was interrupting whatever his little sister was saying, because if she cared, then she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, and then she’d neverget around to it – and told him “Don’t die.” in as stern a tone as she could manage before she yanked him down as she went up on tiptoes to press her mouth against his. Thatshould get the message across.

It wasn’t, exactly, the world’s best kiss. It wasn’t exactly even a proper kiss at all. Jane just held there for a long moment, not moving, eyes scrunched shut, her lips against his, until her courage faltered, and she dropped back down onto her heels and opened her eyes to stare up at him belligerently.

Peter looked… stunned. Which was at least better than disgusted. Or pitying. His eyes were unfocused, gazing off into nothingness somewhere a little above her head, and his jaw was slightly slack, lips just a tiny bit parted. “Oh.” He said, like it was a prelude to something, only that was it, he didn’t say anything else, just kept staring, and blinking, and staring some more.

Someone – probably Lucy – tried to pretend a snicker was actually a cough, and the noise seemed to knock Peter out of his trance. He shook himself, frowning for a brief moment before his gaze refocused on Jane, and- and everything just sort of stopped. Jane’s breath turned syrupy in her lungs and the rest of the platform just faded into fuzzy nothingness, because Peter was looking at her like he was really seeingher, like he was looking at something deeper than her damned bones, and was awed by what he saw. “Oh.” He said again, this time with a whole heap more emphasis and an entire world of meaning behind it.

It sounded infinitely better than the last one, so Jane tried for a smile. Peter grinned back, and Jane felt like she could possibly just float away without any helpful pixie dust at all. He reached up, curled a hand around the side of her neck – his hand was so warm – and leaned in. Then he hesitated, tilted his head, tried again, and finally managed to fit their mouths together. It was awkward, but also really endearing, and Jane didn’t care either way, because Peter’s – herPeter, and he really was hers– lips were on hers and moving and sliding and kissing, and her entire world narrowed down to that one sensation.

“I promise I will do my very best not to die.” Peter told her as he drew back.

“You’d better.” Jane snapped, letting go of his collar to poke him in the chest. “Because if that was all I getfrom you, Pevensie, I will drag you back from the land of the dead just to kill you myself.” Peter laughed, unfazed, and kissed her again.

---

The war was over, and Jack was finally home. Or, well, sort of home. He wouldn’t really feel like he’d made it home until he was back in America, but the Kingsley estate was close enough, the site of enough childhood misadventures to count. It was close enough, and if he was being honest with himself, he was putting off his return to the States, just a little. He could have been through the mirror and back home in a trice, without having to worry about boats or planes or travel time, but instead he was lingering about in London.

He made up excuse after excuse as to why he was staying, but the truth was, he was still hoping that he might run into Susan again. It was stupid, he knewit was stupid, she was a beautiful, clever, gentlewoman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that she’d even rememberhim, even if he did manage to find her again.

Everyone he’d asked from the pub where they’d met knew her, knew ofher, but no one knew any more about her than Jack did. Not even her last name. It was depressing, and made Jack feel like a stalker, so he’d stopped asking about her. He did not leave London, though, stupid hopeless romantic that he was.

Dwelling on it was even more stupid, he thought as he made his way back from a grocery run for Sunday lunch tomorrow that Lynn had forced him to go on to get him out of her hair for a while. He was being a pest, he should just go home, but the Underlandian in him insisted that home was where the heart was, and right now, his heart still hadn’t managed to let go of Susan.

Jack stopped dead on the sidewalk, staring, because there was no way- He was seeing things because he’d been thinking about her too much. Susan, walking with a younger girl at her side and arguing good naturedly with one of the boys a little ahead of them. “Susan?!” Jack called out before he could help himself, and jogged across the street towards her.

She looked up, eyes going wide with shock on spotting him. She looked so painfully youngin that moment, almost frightened, that Jack slowed uncertainly before he’d even reached her. Still, he pulled his most charming grin on, the one that she’d never been fooled by, but had seemed amused by, nonetheless, and swept her a gallant bow like he would if he unexpectedly ran into Lilibeth. “Jack.” Susan greeted, and that was definitely not the open, pleased greeting he’d been hoping for. She sounded reserved, wary, and worst of all, uncertain.

Jack let his smile dim a bit, and told himself it was ridiculous to feel disappointed. It wasn’t as if they had anything more than one evening of interesting conversation. But it had been the most genuineconversation Jack had managed in years, it had been so Underlandian, like a breath of fresh air in amongst the choking smog of the war.

“Su? Who’s this?” One of the boys asked, frowning at him.

“This is Sergeant Jack Manchester.” Susan introduced. “Jack, these are my brothers and sister, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.”

Jack offered his hand to Peter, then to Edmund, and then to Lucy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He said sincerely, and then returned his attention to Susan. “I was hoping I’d run into you again, maybe get your permission to buy you a drink, this time?” He asked, and it came out a little tentative, because she still didn’t look nearly as at ease as she had when they’d first met.

“You mean you didn’task permission the first time?” Peter demanded, glowering.

Definitely a big brother, that one, Jack thought with a grin. “I asked forgiveness, instead.” He replied cheerfully.

“Oh, thatJack.” Lucy said wickedly. “I should have known when you bowed.” She added, nudging Susan, who was going ever so slightly pink. “Mum went ballisticwhen she heard Susan talking about you, you know.”

Jack blinked. Would parental disapproval account for how wary Susan seemed right now? Not that he could imagine whythey wouldn’t like him, unless they were some of the people who hated Americans. He could whip out his ‘noble’ English lineage if that would help. “I’m not that scruffy, am I?” He asked, playfully looking down at himself as if checking for dirt or mis-buttoned clothes, and then peeking back up at Susan, looking for a proper answer.

“Not at all.” Susan assured him, and therewas that bright, sharp lady he’d met last time. She was trying to hide her smile, and the appreciative look she cast him, but she wasn’t trying that hard, and it made Jack beam at her in hope that maybe he hadn’t blown this before there even wasa ‘this’.

“No, I think she was more upset about your age.” Edmund interjected, earning himself a truly fierce glare from Susan. He smiled back innocently.

Jack blinked again. “My… age?” He asked. “I’m only twenty-eight.” He pointed out, cautious and bewildered. Susan might be a little younger than him, but not by more than four or five years. He’d thought as much in the pub, particularly when she laughed, that she was maybeon the wrong side of twenty, but he doubted it. Only, he realised, looking at her now, that she stilllooked like she was maybe on the wrong side of twenty.

Susan wasn’t quite meeting his gaze, and she looked… unhappy. Lips pressed into a thin line, and expression carefully neutral in a way that Jack didn’t believe for an instant. “Ten years.” Edmund murmured thoughtfully. “That’s not quite as bad as Mum was afraid of, I think.”

Ten years. That meant that when Jack had met her, when Jack had teased and flirted and fallen just a little bit in love with her, Susan had been fifteen. It made him feel dizzy. After all, he’d started fights with the sort of creeps who would leer after his little sister that way, and Susan was the same age as Ruth.

That brought Jack’s train of thought to a screeching halt. Because trying to put Susan and Ruth next to each other and thinking of them as the same age just… didn’t seem to want to workin his mind. Susan had notbehaved like a fifteen year old in that pub. Not even a little bit. He wondered, giving Susan a slightly closer look, just how old she’d be on the other side of a mirror.

“At least I’m not as bad as Great-Uncle Tarrant.” Jack said, and then snorted, because, wow, that was an understatement, even if it was hard to gauge the exact age difference when some days he was actually younger than Great-Aunt Alice.

“How bad is Great-Uncle Tarrant?” Lucy asked curiously.

It was a bit of a struggle to do the maths. Underland didn’t really agreewith things like maths. “I’m pretty sure that, chronologically, Great-Aunt Alice is more than twenty years younger than him.” Jack answered, because that was as exact as he could get, and then he brightened as an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to him. “If you wanted, you could come meet them? We’re doing Sunday roast tomorrow, and the whole family’ll be there.” He offered to Susan, who looked just as shocked as she had when he’d called out to her earlier.

“You want me to meet your family?” Susan asked cautiously.

Jack nodded, smiling warmly. “I think they’d love you.” He told her, entirely honestly, and didn’t add the follow up that was sitting on the tip of his tongue; I think I could love you, my gentle queen.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Peter said, which startled Jack a little, since Peter didn’t seem to like him very much. The clap on the shoulder Peter then gave him was a little too rough to be called friendly. “We’ll be there.”

Ah, Jack thought, amused. Not letting his sister go off with a strange man into foreign territory alone, that’swhat that was about. “The more the merrier.” Jack assured him, and only realised just how right he’d been to say it when Peter wasn’t the only one who relaxed. Besides, it was true. If he was bringing Susan, then a good portion of the guest list from Underland probably shouldn’t come, and that meant that Lynn was going to make far too much food for just the ordinary human-like people. Three more mouths to feed would barely make a dent.

He gave them his address, promised them again that everyone would be delighted to meet them, bowed again to Susan and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand in farewell, and jogged off home with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

---

Tavan was finding it increasingly hard to sit still. Lynn reached across the table and put her hand over his, and it was only then that he realised he’d been fiddling with his cuff to the point of fraying it. Sheepishly, he tucked his hands out of sight under the table, and Lynn rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re fretting so, Tavan. Edmund’s already proven he’s not going to baulk at a bit of Underlandish magic.” She pointed out, going back to doing the household accounts.

Edmund had done a lot more than that, Tavan thought. Edmund had proven to be brilliantly sharp-witted, curious, and adaptable. Tavan didn’t think he’d ever once heard the phrase ‘but that’s not how that works’ or any of the derivatives from him, and he’d thought up as many of the more shocking things about Underland that he could, just to make sure. Edmund had figured him out in a hot second, of course, because Edmund was brilliant, but he hadn’t been upset. He just looked sneakily amused in that way he had, and asked drolly if he’d passed the test.

Tavan had kissed him.

It was only after, when Edmund had crawled into his lap and quite thoroughly marked up his neck, and rumpled his shirt, that Tavan remembered that he was in Upland, and the belated panic hit. Edmund had taken one look at his poleaxed expression, and said, in a fond murmur; “You’re fine. I don’t think bigotry is the natural order of things, either.”

Tavan had beamed at him. “Yeah, ye passed the test.”

So now, Edmund had an invitation to Underland. Which would be fine, it would be great. Except. Except Tavan had thought he’d be taking Edmund to see Iplam, to see the flower fields and show him Tavan’s study. Maybe to meet Grandma. And sure, Grandma was scary, but she was still family. He hadn’t counted on Her Majesty The White Queen insisting, all wide-eyed innocence, that Edmund “simply mustcome to Marmoreal and meet the wholefamily.”

Which meant that Edmund was going to be subject to meeting the Queen of Underland on his very first trip there. And, yes, Queen Lilibeth was like an aunt to Tavan, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the very literal heart and soul of the land, and that was intimidating no matter how sweet and gentle she, of course, was.

The doorbell rang, and Tavan jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste, and rushed to get the door. Edmund was, as always, a lovely sight, and his shy, sly little smile as he stepped over the threshold was as charming as ever. He was unfailingly polite to Lynn, and if Tavan didn’t know him, he would never have been able to tell that Edmund was actually quite eager to get on with things, he was so cordial and patient.

Still, he did know better. Quite a lot better, actually, so he gave his cousin an apologetic grin and said; “So sorry tae rush off, Lynn, but we’ve an appointment we just cannae be late for.” while dragging Edmund not too subtly towards the stairs. Edmund laughed, and Lynn waved them off with a roll of her eyes, calling after them that Lilibeth would never be so crass as to be impatient.

Which was true, but still, her disappointment if you caused her to considersomething as uncharitable as impatience could be crushing. “Lilibeth?” Edmund questioned as they made for the spare room.

“Ah…” Tavan grimaced. “The White Queen.”

Edmund flinched perceptibly, and Tavan faltered a little, concerned. “Sorry. Bad memories. Why is she the WhiteQueen?” He asked cautiously.

“Tha’d be because she’s the moral center o’ Underland. White for purity, open-mindedness, compassion.” Tavan replied thoughtfully, and then looked at Edmund again, checking on him, because his reaction had been unusual, to say the least.

Edmund was nodding, though, expression the same intense curiosity he always got about all things Underlandish. “Some cultures associate white with death and winter.” He pointed out.

Tavan laughed a little. “Well, don’t tell Lily that. Not that the Queen can be anything but hospitable tae any o’ the seasons, but I think she might do something un-queen-like if you suggested she was supposed tae represent winter. She loves her roses far too much for that.”

Edmund relaxed properly at that, and just in time, too, because they’d reached the mirror, and Tavan paused to take a bracing breath before stepping through. Lilibeth, of course, hadn’t listened to a single word of Tavan’s request for a modicum of privacy, and had invited what looked like half the court to come meet Tavan Hightopp’s beloved.

Exasperated, but not surprised, Tavan turned back and stuck his head and one arm through the mirror, holding out a hand in invitation. Edmund grinned as he took Tavan’s hand and allowed him to pull him gently through the mirror. But as he passed through the rippling surface, something strange happened. Edmund Pevensie stepped into the mirror, but the man who stepped out on the other side into the White Queen’s court was no London school boy.

Edmund was almost as tall as Tavan, now, with a touch of dark stubble over his jaw and a silver circlet gleaming in his dark hair. His clothes, too, were different. They looked like they belonged here, a fine tunic with a crest in the shape of a lion on his breast, and leather breeches tucked into high boots, and a sword on his hip that his other hand fell to perfectly naturally.

Tavan quite lost his breath at the sight of him.

Edmund’s breath caught a beat later, and he looked down at himself, even as his free hand left his sword to touch cautiously at the circlet – the crown, it was definitely a crown– on his head, and then ghost down over the corner of his jaw. And then he smiled, so beatifically that Tavan’s breath caught all over again, and he actually felt a little weak-kneed when Edmund turned that smile on him and offered him his arm. He took it, of course, and subtly guided Edmund over to where Lilibeth was rising to her feet. The crowd of familiar faces parted before them like they never would have if it had just been Tavan. Or if it had been Tavan and Edmund as he’d looked on the other side of the looking glass.

Lilibeth rose to the occasion magnificently, despite the confusion, and was all smiles as she greeted Edmund. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a properintroduction.” She lilted curiously.

“Your Majesty.” Edmund greeted, inclining his head respectfully, but notably notbowing. “It seems I am, once again, King Edmund the Just, of Narnia.”

---

Benji loved it when Lucy came to stay at Pemberley. Somehow, she lit the place up, and made everything that was familiar to him new and exciting again. She ran barefoot through the woods and taunted him into going skinny-dipping in the lake with her and taught him new dances under the watchful gazes of his ancestor’s portraits in the gallery.

She never stayed for long. That wasn’t her way, and Benji didn’t mind. Sometimes, he went with her when she left, whether that was travelling to far-flung places to meet new people and learn new languages, or to meetings and charities and projects closer to home, watching her throw her considerable will against any and all problems she came across, but sometimes he didn’t. And they both liked it like that.

That, Benji thought, was the thing he loved best about Lucy. Loving her was never a trap, never a cage, never a duty. She was a wild thing and she would not be tamed, and in turn, never once tried to tame him, and never asked for more than he could give.

He got a little caught up in it, caught up in herand her way of life, riding the high of being known, so clearly and effortlessly, by someone who shared his feelings and values. Which is why it came as a complete shock to him when, on the first evening of Lucy’s third stay at Pemberley, when his father leaned forwards a little and said; “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Benji, what the hold up is.”

“With what?” Benji asked.

“The engagement, of course!” Father replied, and reality crashed back onto Benji with a feeling like being submerged in ice-water. At his elbow, Lucy went suddenly still. An alarming thing, given she was usually always so full of movement.

“What engagement?” Benji asked, half genuinely bewildered, although he had a creeping sense that his family had gotten the wrong idea, because they never had understood when he tried to explain what it was about the girls he stepped out with that put him off so badly every time, and half stalling for time.

“Benji, darling, please.” Mother said, fondly exasperated. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“Don’t mistake us, we’re very happy you’ve found someone!” Father added. “But your mother is right, you’ve been very obvious about how much you like Miss Pevensie.” His lips pursed with something that was half way between amusement and disapproval. “A little tooobvious, sometimes. You’d better hurry up and make an honest woman out of her, or people will begin to gossip.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lucy said, before Benji could shake the feeling of a noose tightening around his neck and find the breath to speak for himself, “but I’m afraid you’ve all got rather the wrong idea.” She said it in her High Society Voice, which was a sure sign she was sharpening her metaphorical claws. “I’ve no intent to marry. At all. Ever.”

“You’re young yet, my dear.” Mother said, looking a little concerned. “I know marriage can seem intimidating. Lord knows you and Benji are very alike in that regard, but it’s a wonderful thing to find the right person to support you through life.” She shared a loving look with Father. “You shouldn’t let something like that, with someone who understands you, pass you by just because you’re nervous.”

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. Benji suspected she was praying for patience. “I’m not letting anything pass me by.” She said sharply, a flash of fire in her eyes as she opened them again, the smile on her lips a challenge more than any sort of expression of happiness. “I appreciate having Benji in my life very much.”

Father chuckled, while Mother went a little pink at the rather salacious tone Lucy said the last two words in. Joan snorted, derisive, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a very unkind sound, and Benji startled, because he’d thought Joan and Lucy got on. They were of a similar age, and a similar temperament, and had had many a passionate argument about one subject or another, sparring with ideas in a way that Benji was entirely unsuited for. “He’s not the only person you’ve been appreciating, though, is he?” She asked pointedly.

The whole table went still. Benji’s other two sisters turned to stare at Lucy, suddenly resembling nothing so much as hyenas staring down prey. But Lucy couldn’t be preyif she tried, and met the sudden threatening stares with a complete lack of shame. In fact, her chin kicked up a little in stubborn, fierce pride. Benji almost smiled to see it, but the flicker of admiration was quickly dampened by the thick tension in the air. “Joan?” He asked carefully. “What’s this about?”

“You didn’t tell him?” She asked of Lucy. “You swore to me you would.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “Benji?” She called, and Benji hummed an acknowledgement, wary of opening his mouth again lest he be talked over. Again. “Joan walked in on me kissing Viscount Cranbrook’s son at that wedding last weekend.”

Benji blinked, startled by that reminder and a little uncomfortable at having such things discussed at the dinner table, with all his family sitting nearby. Then, he began to realise why Joan was looking so very upset. Why everyonewas looking so very upset, actually. “Yes?” He said, deliberately playing obtuse. “You already told me about that.” He paused to smile faintly. “In vivid detail.”

Joan dropped her fork. Father choked on his wine.

“Benjamin Percival Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Mother snapped, putting her own wine glass down with a very inelegant thump. “Such things are notappropriate dinner conversation!”

Benji felt veryindignant about being scolded for something that wasn’t his fault. At all. “Why am Igetting scolded? Joanie’s the one who brought it up!” He paused, feeling a little guilty, because Joan had been trying to be a good sister, to protect him, even if she had been making assumptions., and it felt a little unfair to throw her under the bus after that. So before Mother could start scolding again, he turned to his sister. “Thanks for worrying about me, though, but it really is fine. Lucy did tell me what she was about. She always does.”

There was another one of those stunned silences. Benji was really getting tired of them, and this time he couldn’t even tell what had prompted it. “You mean she’s done this before?” Joan demanded, sounding more bewildered than scandalised, which at least cleared that up.

“Yes?” Benji offered, looking around the table. Everyone else looked significantly more scandalised, and a bit insulted, whether that was on his behalf or the family’s, he couldn’t tell, and it made him feel a stranger in his own home all of a sudden. “Why are you all so damn surprised?” He blurted out. “I told youhow trapped it all makes me feel, with girls who are all thinking of marriageand one and onlyand forever. I can’t even tell what I my favourite foodis going to be on any given day, never mind who my favourite personis going to end up being next year, or the year after that!”

Joan was the only one who had the decency to look a little shame-faced. The others just looked vaguely appalled.

Except Lucy, of course. Who washis favourite person, and might even stay that way for the rest of his life. But still, the idea of trapping her in that role, of binding her to him and him to her in any way more than a simple question asked every day they happened to be together – ‘do you want?’ with no demand upon the answer being yes – was abhorrent.

Lucy just giggled, and reached out to lace their fingers together. “Why not everyperson?” She suggested cheerfully.

“I haven’t met every person.” Benji pointed out as solemnly as he was able, with his lips persistently trying to twitch up into a smile.

“Yet.” Lucy countered brightly. “And on that subject!” She declared enthusiastically, banishing the weight of the previous conversation and his family’s judgement as easily as a spring breeze scattering morning mists. “I was thinking about going to help the relief efforts in Morocco, and I thought you might like to come this time?”

[narniagiftexchange]

                              THE WINTER NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

                    for: @lukejulies from @teenagedpevensies.

my best friend, my sibling.           

for @lukejulies from @teenagedpevensies

“Why your Majesty it’s such an honor to run into you here,” Lucy curtsied deeply, giggling.

“Oh yes your Majesty, simply divine, what have you done with your hair?” Edmund bowed, keeping a serious expression fixed to his face.

“Brushed it, for once, your Majesty, and I must say where has your famous body odor gone this evening?”

“You mean you aren’t accessorizing with leaves and dirt anymore? Fascinating. You’re quite the trend setter, your Majesty, and if you must know my dearest sister I’ve taken the liberty of bathing today.”

“First time all week! Daring of you.”

“I thought so, yes.”

“Oh your Majesties! What an honor to run into you!” A noble from Archenland walked out into the hall. She was lady something or other, Edmund couldn’t quite remember which made him a little guilty. A little. To be fair, there were a lot of nobles here, and he was only twelve and had many many kingly duties. Like hiding out from the celebration with his little sister because if either of them went into the ballroom, they’d have to meet approximately 80 guests and then be expected to remember all of them. Very serious business, hiding from festivities.

Cair Paravel had finally gotten all fixed up, so they were hosting a huge celebration. It had taken about a year and a half to finish repairs and cleaning and furnishing, and it was good that the work was over and good to celebrate! But being in a room full of stuffy adults wasn’t Lucy or Edmund’s idea of a celebration. It wasn’t the first gathering the kings and queens had hosted since being crowned, but dear god it WAS the largest by a lot. Edmund had snuck out of the great hall and found Lucy sitting by the door making flower crowns, also having escaped from the chaos.

“Yes, good to see you again, madam,” Edmund said politely.

“Oh, your Majesty! Where did you get those divine flowers?” The lady motioned to the crown Lucy had placed haphazardly on her head.

Lucy and her quickly got into a lovely conversation about the flowers until the lady went to go find the gardens for herself. Lucy sent her off with a flower crown of her own and a brilliant smile.

“How do you do that?” Edmund asked.

“Do what, Ed?”

“Make friends with- well with everyone?”

“It’s not everyone, Tumnus’s nephew still hates me.”

“Impossible.” Edmund dismissed the statement with a wave. “Everyone likes you.”

“I’m just nice, I guess.”

“Well, I’m nice!”

“No, you’re polite, Ed. It’s different.” She took a seat next to one of the heavy wood doors.

“Is it really that different?” He sat next to her.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just cuter and sweeter and funnier than you and everyone thinks I’m an angel. It comes with being the youngest.”

Edmund shoved her, she laughed, the door opened, and Mr. Beaver stepped out.

“There you are! You can’t just disappear like that, Susan thinks you’ve been kidnapped. Or assassinated.”

“Oh Mr. Beaver, don’t make us go back in,” Lucy begged. “It’s lasted hours already, and I’m so tired.”

“Who said anything about going back in? Scoot over, I think I can hide away for ten minutes. It’s every creature for themselves at these things. The others can hold their own.”

The summer air in Narnia was heavy and warm, like the mantle of some great beast had been draped over them while they sat in front of a roaring fire. On days when there were no responsibilities to attend to, the teenaged kings and queens would often ride down to the river and swim there for hours, until their whole bodies shivered with the ice of the water. Susan and Edmund started the game of climbing the trees that trailed branches over the water and jumping in, and Peter and Lucy turned it into a competition to see who could make the biggest splash.

Sometimes the river turned their toes to prunes, or they began to fear catching a cold, and then they’d run around the forest, befriending squirrels and tree nymphs, climbing trees and rocks, and dancing and singing in clearings.

“Race you to the top of this tree,” Edmund shouted to Lucy, as she raced to catch up with him.

“No fair! We all know you’re the best at climbing!”

“Sounds like an excuse!” He was the best at climbing and demonstrated this with his graceful ascent into the tree’s lower branches.

“Edmund!”

“Better hurry up then if you want to win!”

Lucy reached the base of the tree, huffing and puffing, with a twig caught on the hem of her dress and dirt caking her bare feet. She jumped up to reach the lowest branch, caught hold of it, and promptly lost her hold. Edmund was seated on one of the middle branches of the tree by this point, watching with amusement.

“You’re the worst!” She called up, but she was grinning.

“Yes, but the best climber.”

“You have to race me later on foot, to make it up to me.”

“Actually Lucy, I don’t have to do anything.”

She caught hold of the branch and pulled herself up.

“One down!” He started climbing again, “only about twenty to go!”

She huffed in response.

They were quiet for a minute, both focusing on not losing their grip as they climbed higher and higher. Narnian trees, even the ones not inhabited by dryads, are particularly lovely. They are exactly the right height, always. They touch the sky or are as short as Peter and either way it’s right. They feel genuine; they make you think, this is a tree that knows, a tree that thinks, and feels. This tree has seen so much and is so beautiful, and being near it feels like being young. Each leaf is its own kind of beautiful, a tiny art piece. And each branch is strong and healthy, and holding onto it feels safe. Or maybe the trees back in England are like this, too. Neither Lucy nor Edmund could quite remember.

“I think I’ve gotten as high as the tree will hold me” Edmund called down after a bit.

“What do you-” Lucy stopped to catch her breath after heaving herself onto a particularly difficult branch, “what do you see Ed?”

“The forest, what do you think?”

“Oh whatever,” Lucy scowled up at him.

“Well, the trees all look plenty green up here. Like a sea of its own. The sky is lovely, it must be about noon, the sun looks to be straight up from here. The clouds look particularly alive today. Oh, is that-?” Edmund carefully stood, clinging tightly to the trunk of the tree, craning his neck to see something closer.

“What is it?”

“It’s a birds nest! Lucy get up here!”

“I’ve been trying! Don’t touch the eggs!”

“I’m not going to touch them, I’m not stupid.”

It was a phoenix nest, the eggs were red and looked hot to the touch. Lucy finally got to the top branch, Edmund giving her a little help by calling directions on where to put her feet for the last few branches, and the siblings stood on the branch together, overlooking the forest.

“We should name them,” Lucy said reverently, studying the three eggs.

“They have parents, you know.”

“Sure, but these can be special names that only we know. Then when they hatch, we’ll see phoenixes flying around and say to ourselves, I wonder if that’s little-” Lucy looked at him expectantly.

“Bartholomew?” He laughed at her scowl.

“You’re the worst. Pick a serious name,” she demanded.

“We should be climbing down, Susan and Peter are probably ready to head home about now.”

“Right.”

“Lucy?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, looked down at her hands instead as she picked at her fingernails. “It’s a bad night.”

It was late; most of the castle was asleep. Edmund hadn’t been, he was finishing the last chapter of the book he’d been reading. And clearly, since she was here, Lucy wasn’t sleeping either.

“Come on in.”

They sat on the floor, beside the mural on Edmund’s wall. They’d painted it for him when he turned 13. It turned out Mr. Tumnus had quite the artistic talent. Trees, tall and strong, the sun shining through the leaves. They’d all helped, and Susan said her favorite part was Lucy’s little squirrel she’d painted in the top left corner.

“What’s bugging you?” Edmund asked her, solemnly.

“Well not- Not bugging me so much as it’s just…” she paused. “No, I guess it is bugging me. We love it here, right?”

“Right.” They’d been over this conversation before, the two of them, and they’d both talked to Peter about it, and Susan, and many times all four of them had spoken about it in tearful tones.

“There’s no place I’d rather be, and it’s home, and we’ve been here for five years, and I’ve never truly really wanted to leave but. Do you ever think about it?”

“The professor’s house?”

“No, bigger.”

“Where our parents are.”

Neither acknowledged that they hadn’t said its name. Neither admitted that they no longer remembered.

“Do you remember what dad was like?” Lucy asked. She looked just as small as she had been, that very first day when they’d found Tumnus’s house empty.

“Brave. Funny. He told us stories.”

“I remember those. Do you remember what mom was like?”

“Worried.”

“And?”

“Kind. She loved us. She used to sing us lullabies.”

“I don’t remember the lullabies anymore.”

“I do. One of them at least. Do you remember anything?”

“A little. Nothing solid. It feels like that place was a dream. Like we were always meant to belong to here instead.”

“We do. We belong there too, but we do belong here.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Do you think they miss us?” Lucy asked.

“Of course they do.” Edmund sighed. He laced his fingers together, remembering being a very small boy and holding his father’s hand to cross the street.

“Do we miss them?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, you can stay as long as you’d like.” After a minute, he picked up his book again, and Lucy sat quietly, staring off into the middle distance.

“Edmund?”

“Yeah, Lu?”

“Will you sing one of mom’s lullabies for me?”

Edmund hated singing. ”Sure.”

She scooted over to sit next to him, and he hugged her.

“Um, the only one I really remember is this,” he cleared his throat and began to sing, resting his chin on Lucy’s head. “Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened the birds began to sing— Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?”

He sang that song, and remembered another so he sang that one too, and another, and another. When he finally looked down at Lucy, he noticed that she’d been crying.

“I don’t remember any of them,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, Lucy.” He felt close to tears himself.

She was quiet for a long time, sniffling.

“Do you need to talk any more?” He asked gently.

“No. I think I’m going to go back to bed.”

“Probably a good plan.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

When she left he set to work writing down as many songs as he could remember. He wanted them to always have them.

It’d taken teamwork and dedication and a week of trying but Lucy and Edmund had finally figured out how to scale the pillars of the throne room to perch in the rafters. And they were taking full advantage of it.

“Lucy! Edmund!!” Peter called from somewhere a few hallways away.

“Should we go see what he’s after?” Lucy asked, munching on a scone.

“Of course not, he either wants us to do some chore or other, or he found out about the scones.” They were Peter’s scones, he’d baked them yesterday.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have stolen them?”

“Hey, he bakes a whole batch every week and never finishes them before they go stale. We’re helping.”

“Fair enough.”

“Plus he’s being a jerk.”

“That too.”

Peter had been training all week for a tournament with some important noble. It was supposed to just be a friendly match, but Peter treated it like he did any of his other kingly duties, far too seriously. He was tired from training and tired from still keeping up with all his other work, and he’d been far more snappish than he normally was. This was agreed to be, by the two younger Pevensies, completely justified payback for the way he’d been behaving all week. Plus, his scones were delicious.

“LUCY! EDMUND!”

Peter was in the throne room now, stomping around. Magnificent though he was, and extremely kind most days, their brother acted like a toddler when he lost his temper over something petty. Lucy and Edmund exchanged looks. When Peter was below the rafter they were situated on, Edmund drew something from his pocket. Making a shushing gesture toward Lucy, he daintily dropped the acorn in his hand onto their brothers regal head. Both of them gathered themselves, hiding any trailing sleeves and dangling legs from Peter’s line of sight as he looked up. Lucy muffled giggles into her elbow, and Edmund hid his smile behind his hand. The door to the throne room opened and shut. Peeking over the side of the rafter and verifying that Peter wasn’t there anymore, they allowed themselves to burst out into laughter.

“Glad you find it so funny, now what HAVE you done with my armor?”

And there was Peter, leaning by the door. It had been a ruse.

“Armor? Why brother dear, I haven’t the slightest notion of what you’re talking about,” Lucy said sweetly.

“Get down here.”

“Come up and get us,” Lucy challenged, and there it was. Peter was hiding a grin, and soon trying and failing to climb the pillars of the throne room while they alternatively cheered him on and said he would never catch them, and his missing armor was completely forgotten in their laughter.

A good thing too because the smiley face they’d painted on the armor was still in the process of drying.

“I don’t know, Lu, doesn’t it seem a little. Well, risky?” Peter asked, moving a pawn.

“And how is it risky? It’s just a stag.”

“Yes, a magical stag. One that no one knows much about. I don’t think we should risk it.” Susan said, scribbling away on the paper that rested on the arm of her chair. She was writing a letter to someone, had been writing letters almost constantly for months, and no amount of pestering from Lucy or sleuthing from Edmund or curious looks from Peter had gotten answers as to who it was.

“Risk what? A few days away from the palace? Tumnus and the beavers and Oreius are perfectly capable of looking after things, they always have been before, and there’s nothing too pressing going on! Catching the stag could be big!” Lucy kicked her feet against the legs of her throne as she always did when she was excited. She was already dressed in her riding outfit as if she expected to go out and hunt right then.

“I think we should listen to Lucy,” Edmund spoke up from his game of chess with Peter, one that he was about to win by the looks of it.

“And why is that?” Susan sighed, casting an irritated look at her little brother.

“Because she’s never been wrong before,” he answered easily. “Well, other than thinking Tumnus is a good cook.”

“Is this still about finding Narnia?” Susan asked crossly.

“It’s always about finding Narnia. Lucy found our home, Susan, and we didn’t believe her, and she was right. That has to count for something.”

“I’d nearly forgotten about that,” Peter said thoughtfully.

“Me too,” Lucy said, a soft look crossing her face as she looked out the window at the people outside. Their home.

“Well just because she’s been right in the past doesn’t mean she’s always right,” Susan said, but her scowl had softened considerably. She smiled at Lucy. “No offence Lucy.”

“Still, she’s right about this. And who knows, we haven’t gone hunting well… hardly ever, it could be fun,” Edmund moved a piece on the board. “Checkmate! What does that bring our score to, Pete?”

“You’ve won nearly every game for the past year. I’m pretty sure our score is ‘I am solidly losing’” Peter looked at Susan. “What do you think?”

She sighed, fingers playing with the ends of her dark hair. “Fine. Let’s go hunt the white stag. Why not?” Her eyes glittered. She was excited about this even if she didn’t say so.

Lucy shouted with joy, stood right up and did a jig on the spot. “You won’t be sorry! Edmund! What should we ask it for when we catch it?”

“Well, we have to catch it first! I’m going to go to the library to research it.”

“I’ll come with!” Lucy looked out the window again, to the sea, to the people on the shore. She was glad that they were there. She looked at her siblings, the furrow in Susan’s brow as she thought of what to write next, the twinkle in Edmund’s eye as he headed off towards the library, the grin Peter donned as he tried to read over Susan’s shoulder. Yes, it was good that they were there. Very good.

[hoe-for-writing]

wake up next to me tomorrow

A/N: trigger note for sexual assault and attempted rape please don’t read this if it triggers you It was well known that you were promised to the High King Peter. Ever since he had laid eyes on you when he first met Aslan, he had fallen under your spell. And you were totally, absolutely in love with him. So, if fit well. It was still dark outside when Peter started moving next to you. For some reason, a part of a king’s duty was to wake up early and talk to a bunch of people. Pete got up and kissed you on the cheek, then walked to the bathroom. You drifted into a state of half sleep and barely noticed when Peter once again kissed you and then left, only leaving the smell of fresh herbs.

A happy and soft “Good morning, milady.” woke you up once again. You opened your eyes and saw Eliza, one of your maids. “Good morning.” You managed to sit up and stretch out your arms. It took you a few seconds to lose the sleepiness but then you got up and went to the bathroom. Eliza had already prepared a warm bath and just pinned up your hair. You took of your night gown and sank into the warm water that smelled like lavender and sage. For a few minutes you forgot the whole world around you and just enjoyed the scent of your bathing water. You didn’t even here the bath door open, but you immediately recognized the soft but strong hands that massaged your shoulders. “Good morning.”, you mumbled and slightly turned your head. “How come I have to get up incredibly early and do work while you can stay in bed all day and enjoy a very nice bath?” He asked and kissed you on the cheek. You just shrugged and then said: “If it bothers you so much, you could of course always join me.” “Ah, you know, I would love to, but I can’t. Sooooo much to do.” Peter explained. “You’re the High King. Send Edmund.” Peter’s loud laughter could sure be heard in the whole castle. “He’s so just. It would be no problem.” you added and smiled innocently at him. Peter flicked some water into your face. “They might call him the Just but sometimes I’m worried he’ll start a war with his remarks.” You rolled your eyes but still had to smile. “Trust me, he is intelligent enough to end it in the same second. So, please, join me.” You pouted your lips and put on your most begging face. “I can’t, my love. The King and Queen of Karlormen and their son will visit us in just a few hours. You didn’t forget, did you.” He asked and gave you a kiss. A stretched “No!”, went over your lips. “Of course not.” You obviously did. Peter left the bath and you hurried to be finished. Your maids entered and one, Claire, started to dry your hair with a soft cloth. You chose a red dress that had a golden lion stitched over your heart. You always wore red and gold when Peter had male, unmarried visitors. It was supposed to symbolize your connection to Peter and so far it always kept men from courting you. You spent the rest of your morning and noon with reading and stitching. But after a while you started to get bored threw on a riding coat and went to the stables. It sure would still take some time until the King, Queen and Prince of Karlormen would arrive. You spent some time outside just riding wherever the path took you.

After a while you turned around. Your maids were waiting for you in front of the stables. Milly ran up to you and said completely out of breath: “Quick, the King… and the Queen and the … Prince have al…. already arrived. You gave her your horses reins and ran inside. You threw your coat into the kitchen and made a mental remark to get it back later. You stormed towards the throne room and stopped quickly before. You took a few seconds to catch your breath and fix your hair. You checked your dress for dirt. After you decided you were bearable to a King’s eye, you entered the room. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy sat on there thrones. Susan rolled her eyes while Edmund and Lucy only giggled. The King and his son turned around to look at you while the queen was nowhere to be seen. “And you are?”, asked the older man. His hair was grey, partly white, his eyes were cold and he had a harsh face. “Forgive me, milord. I’m Lady y/n.”, you explained and curtsied. He gave you a rude look and said in an almost mocking tone: “You’re forgiven.” You had to control yourself to not role your eyes. “Tell me, King Edmund….” the King began and then loudly cleared his throat. His son, who hadn’t stopped staring at you, turned back around. Your eyes went to Peter who was watching you as well. Forgive me. You formed with your lips. You’re forgiven. He whispered back with a cheeky smile. Then he turned his attention to the King. Due to your relationship, you were invited to dinner with the Kings, Queens and the Prince. Susan entered with you and Lucy came running around the corner. You sat down next to her. The prince, Luther, whose name you finally had found out, sat on the other side of the table across from you next to the            Queen, Helena, who you saw for the first time. She was beautiful, no question. She seemed incredibly young -a lot younger than the King- for her hair had not even a tiny bit of grey in it. The dinner was just filled with political talk which was not that interesting to you. You cared more about morals than politic. But you could feel the eyes of Luther on you. He did not look away once, not even when he was answering a question. “Now, High King Peter. Our two countries lie so close to each other but still we do not have some sort of alliance. That saddens me.”, the King stated. Everybody looked at Peter who just nodded. “Well, my advisors said that the best way to strengthen an alliance would not be a handshake or gold.” The King continued. “Enlighten me, King Helgrus.” Peter answered. “Well,” he began again and made a dramatic pause. You already had an idea what he would say next. “My advisors told me that a marriage would make a strong bond. Don’t you think?” His tone was almost hateful. “Dear friend, I fear my sisters are not ready to be married just yet.”, Pete replied. His voice was a little shaky but calm. He was obviously trying not to upset the King. The Queen made a barely audible sound for which she earned a not kind look of her husband. “Oh, that my friend, wouldn’t be a problem. My wife and I married when she was a lot younger that usual brides as well. But I did not think of one of your sisters, even though they’re both pretty. No, I was rather thinking of your friend over there.” He said and pointed at you with his knife. One could tell that he knew that you two weren’t just friends. “King Helgrus, I’m sor…”, you started. “Woman, I didn’t ask to speak.” Peter’s jaw clenched as he looked from the other king to me. “Well, there we have another problem: Lady y/n is already promised to be married.” Peter explained. “Is that so? And to whom, might I ask.” King Helgrus continued. His grey eyebrows were raised and only deepened the wrinkles on his forehead. “To me.”, Pete answered. The rest of the evening was rather cool and strategic talk. Queen Helena did not once say something, but it didn’t surprise you, not with that husband. A small celebration was planned after the dinner. Violin music and the scent of champagne filled the air. You stood with Peter, talking quietly. “Thank you, for not marrying me off.” you whispered. King Helgrus might have been drunk but his wife was there as well. “You really thought I was just going to agree?”, Peter wanted to know, his face surprised. “Well no, but King Helgrus talked about strategy and… alliances. I just thought you wouldn’t want to risk anything.” You said under your breath. “I sure wouldn’t like to risk your freedom and your…” he turned around and checked whether the Queen was listening. “your life…” he continued. “I would ne-“  but he didn’t get to finish because Prince Luther came up to the two of you. “High King Peter.” He greeted and then turned to you. “Lady y/n.” I curtsied while Prince Luther nodded. “Would you like to dance with me? If your…. fiancé allows it.” He asked you and then looked to Peter. He seemed tense but nodded. “Yes, of course.” I then answered. Peter’s look burned in my neck as we walked away and started to dance. “Your fiancé doesn’t seem to happy that we’re dancing.” Luther stated. “Well, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Lie. “Hm… I would like to express my… happiness for the two of you. When’s the date of the wedding?” Your face got warm. “Um, so far, we had planned for late spring.” You answered vaguely. “Now, that doesn’t really sound like a plan to me.” The prince looked at you, waiting for an answer. “Well, um, we haven’t been engaged for a long time.” His hand wandered on your back and left warm handprints on you. “If we were to be married, it would happen next month.” This was so random to you that you didn’t even know what to answer. So you just stayed quiet. “Let’s take a walk outside.” This was even more random. You had almost blurted out a loud “why?” But you didn’t want to seem rude. “Um, fine.” He put let go of your one hand but kept his hand on your back. You looked over your shoulder and made eye contact with Peter. Are you okay? He formed with his lips. I guess. You shrugged.

 You walked a bit in front of him just to get rid of his hand on your back. He was humming a melody and looking around. He started to talk about the benefits of a marriage to him but after a while you just interrupted him. “Prince Luther, I’m flattered, honestly. But I’m promised to P… High King Peter.” He growled quietly and you took a few steps back. He walked towards you and held your wrists. “You cannot wear such a dress and expect me to not be enchanted by you. I want you. I.”, he shouted. You tried to walk back to the party, but he did not let go of your wrists. “Please, let me go.” You asked. He pulled you closer to him and whispered in your ear: “Stop talking, woman.” A few tears rolled over your cheek. “Please, let go.” You tried to pull your wrists out of his grip but he was a lot stronger than you. He leaned forwards, trying to kiss you, but you turned your head. “Please.” He let go of your wrists but only to force you on the ground and kiss you. You thought you were lost and that it was going to happen. You tried to shout and scream but he covered your mouth with his sweaty hand. Nobody would hear your muffled cries. When you tried to get up, your dress tore in the back and almost exposed your body. You tried to cover yourself while attempting to get away. Loud shouting interrupted Luther. And those shouts belonged to Peter and guards. Peter came running to you. He hit Luther so hard in the face that the prince fell over and stayed put. Then Pete crouched down to you and gave you his coat, yelling at the guards to look the hell away. Peter put his arms around you and you let your tears stream into his shirt. You woke up alone. The bed next to you was cold. You looked through the room to find out what woke you. Eliza stood at the door and came up to you. “Good morning, milady.” She said softly. “Oh, Aslan. You’re freezing, milady. I’ll prepare a hot bath.” Before leaving, she put a blanket around you. “Eliza?” You whispered. “Yes?” “Thank you.” While lying in your bathtub you could look at the outcome of last night. Your wrists were blue and green and you had multiple bruises on your legs and your back. The skin under your eyes felt puffed from crying. You felt so stupid for walking away with Luther. Just the memory made you shiver even though the water was hot. You pulled your legs towards you and rested your head on your knees. The bathroom door was opened just like yesterday morning. And just like yesterday morning Peter entered. But this time he took of his clothing and joined you in the bathtub. He sat behind you. You leaned against his chest and felt safer immediately. “He’s gone. He and his father.” Peter said. “Good. He better stay gone.” You whispered and closed your eyes. “Wake up next to me tomorrow.” You said. Peter took a deep breath and said: “I will. I promise.”

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[ag-celestina-gorillaz]

Daisies and Daffodolls Day 17: Book Series

Sorry I've been MIA a lot. I've been busy doing sewing stuff (next photo challenge I'll prepare a few weeks in advance). But anyways, I took a pic of Celestina in what would be her meet outfit. Celestina's story is different in many ways than other AG characters. For one thing, she's my Gorillaz OC as well, so her story involves some Gorillaz lore as well, and her story starts at age 11 in middle school in 2016 and goes to at least 2020 when she's 15. Basic outline, Celestina is a cheerful creative girl living in Orbitz Ohio. She was raised by her mom Sharon and her stepmom Mia, (they got married in 2015 when gay marriage became legal in the US), and her dad is Stuart "2-D" Pot, the lead singer of the British band Gorillaz. In her story, Celestina faces many changes, such as her Mom starting a new paramedic job, her dad returning to England to reunite with the rest of Gorillaz to record Humanz, as well as starting her first year in middle school. I'm actually planning to write a whole book, maybe more, about Celestina, and post the chapters here on tumblr. I think I'll go ahead and post the first chapter here as a preview, but I'll post the full story later, maybe with illustrations.

Summary - It's the year 2016, and Celestina is starting her first year of middle school.  While she's excited for a fresh start of the new year, she's also nervous.  School uniforms, more classes, more teachers, and new classmates.  Unfortunately, the school year starts out on a sour note, she barely shares any classes with her best friend, and in homeroom class, she gets paired up with Lucy Phillips, a cold, aloof, yet mysterious, new girl from Britain.  Meanwhile, things aren't easier at home either, her dad ends up returning to the UK to reunite with his fellow band members to record their next album, and her mom begins work at her new paramedic job.  But when Celestina begins to get close with Lucy, the new girl's iciness starts to melt, and they both learn they have more in common than they thought.  

Celestina's Family and Friends

Celestina Damon - An excitable 11 year old girl starting her first year of middle school in the year 2016.  

Sharon Damon - Celestina's mother, a practical, but cheerful, lady.  She starts working a new job as a paramedic.  

Mia Lucci - Sharon's wife and Celestina's stepmother, a funny and kind woman, she's always there when Celestina needs advice.  She runs and works at The Leaning Tower of Pizza pizzeria with her twin sister Gina.  

Stuart "2-D" Pot - Celestina's father, and lead singer of the British band Gorillaz.  He isn't quite wired like other people, but in his own 2-D way, he's very deep, and he's also got a big heart.  Despite the troubles that come with being a long distance parent, he loves Celestina immensely and tries to be in her life as much as possible.  

Kailey Green - Celestina's next door neighbor and best friend since childhood.  A smart and sweet girl, if a little awkward.  A self proclaimed theater nerd.  Often gives Celestina the nickname "Lessie".

Lucy Phillips - A new girl in Celestina's homeroom, who's family arrived from Britain.  She seems mysterious and comes off as cool and guarded, but in reality, she's a little shy, and becomes much kinder and sweeter once you get to know her.  

Chapter 1

New Year, New School, New Hope

The alarm clock on the bedside table chirped on and on as Celestina Damon slept in, nestled in her soft, pastel colored, blankets.  She was dreaming a wonderful dream; Celestina, rocking a sparkly, purple, galaxy print dress, was singing in front of a sold out crowd on her first performance.  Fans in the crowd were holding handmade signs and cheering her name.  Here she is posing for pictures with fans!  There she is signing autographs!  She finishes her last song of the show, wishing the audience a good night.  The crowd erupted into a thunderous roar of applause, fans shouting her name "Celestina!  Celestina!  Celestina! -"

"CELESTINA!!! WAKE UP!!!"  

That did it!  At the sound of her mom's voice, the young girl jolted up from her bed with a start. "Gah!" she exclaimed.  Her wavy blue hair was messy and needed brushing, and she was no longer clad in galaxy print, but rather, blue and white pajamas with panda bears printed all over.  Celestina ground the sleep out of her eyes and smashed the "stop" button on her alarm. 

"Okay, I'm awake Mom!" said Celestina, slightly irritated.  Her mom chuckled.

"Hey, if I let you have your way, you'd be asleep until lunchtime." laughed Mom.  "I told you not to stay up too late."

"I didn't stay up late!" Celestina protested, "I'm just, not used to waking up this early."  She was kinda right.  Today was the first day of the new school year, after three months of staying up and sleeping in later than usual, it can be hard to get back on a schedule.  

"Fair enough," said Mom, "but I can't always be around to make you wake up, especially now, you understand?"  Celestina nodded.  What her mom had meant was that she just got hired to work as a paramedic at a new ambulance company, which meant that some days she had to go in early.  Unfortunately, it also means that she would come home later after working many hours, some nights possibly after when Celestina was supposed to go to bed.  Luckily, today was only her orientation, which wouldn't start for a few hours, so her Mom could drop her off on her first day of school, but she was still dressed in her work uniform, black boots, navy blue pants with lots of pockets, and a wine red shirt with the ambulance's logo embolized on the left breast, and her curly blonde hair was tied up in a long ponytail.  

Speaking of uniforms.  Not only was Celestina starting her first day of school, but it's the first day of a new school, specifically, middle school.  Okay, so technically this school is a combo middle and high school, so not only does she have to deal with the 7th and 8th graders, but also all the high schoolers as well.  And all the students have to wear uniforms.  Actually, the uniform itself wasn't that bad, it was pretty cute, the top was a rich shade of purple with a white collar and ribbon, and a white pleated skirt that fell below the knees, had a "sailor suit" sorta look to it, kinda like what an anime character would wear.  All the same, Celestina couldn't understand why she just couldn't just wear her regular clothes to school, you know, like everyone did in elementary school.  Sigh, another change to have to get used to.  Mom caught Celestina eyeing her uniform.  

"Well get dressed, hon." said Mom, "And come downstairs for breakfast.  I think Mia made some chocolate chip pancakes!"  Mmm, just the thought of those pancakes made Celestina's mouth water.  

"Okay, you win." laughed Celestina, giving her mom a hug.  "I'll be down in a few."  After Mom had left the room, Celestina got dressed, brushed and pulled her long wavy blue hair into a ponytail, using a hairband with two pink poofballs on it.  Before she left to go downstairs, she looked toward the corner of her room, and saw Scratchy, her fluffy gray bunny, stirring around in her cage.  

"Hey there Scratchy!" she cooed, giving the bunny little pats.  She then slipped a little chew treat for her to play with.  "Be good while I'm at school, okay?" 

The young girl grabbed her backpack, filled to the brim with school supplies, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.  The aroma of chocolate chip pancakes and maple syrup filled the room.  Mom had seated herself at the kitchen table, eating her small stack of pancakes, and Mia, Celestina's stepmom, was busy flipping the pancakes at the stove.  Her mother, Sharon, and Mia have only been married for less than a year, but Mia has lived with Celestina and her Mom her whole life.  They probably would have married sooner had it been allowed before last year!  Mia is a pretty lady, tall, tan skin, and shiny dark brown hair, and she's a great cook.  Her and her sister Gina (Aunt Gina to Celestina), run a pizza place called Leaning Tower of Pizza.  

"Pancakes, comin' up!" shouted Mia to Celestina.  Mia still spoke with a New York accent, despite the fact that she's been living in Ohio for at least 15 years.  She served the girl her pancakes before sliding her own onto a plate.  Celestina took her breakfast to the table and poured on the sweet maple syrup.  She cut a piece and took a bite, mmmm, was so good.  Her smile fell slightly looking around the room.  She couldn't get used to the empty space at the table.  

"What's wrong?" asked Mia, noticing Celestina's frown, "Don't you like chocolate pancakes?"

"I LOVE them!" exclaimed Celestina. "I just wish Dad was here to have some."  Mia and Susan exchanged a look of understanding. 

"You miss him don't you." said Mia.  Celestina nodded. 

"Yup!" said Celestina.  It was actually more than that.  She paused a bit, trying to think of how to put it into words, "I mean, I dunno, I guess I'm also a bit worried, you know, about him leaving again."  Celestina's eyes looked down at her pancakes.  Talking about stuff like that always made her uneasy.  

Celestina's dad, her whole family life in general really, was, well, unusual to say the least.  For one thing, her parents weren't married when her mom had her, in fact, they split up shortly before Sharon found out she was pregnant.  Whatever, no biggie, there are lots of kids whose parents are like that, people who have children before they got married, or had kids and didn't stay together.  However, it was even more complicated in Celestina's case, because her mom is American and her dad is British, meaning it's harder for her to see her dad on a regular basis because he lives so far away.  Also, her dad is famous.  Celestina's father is none other than Stuart Pot, better known as 2-D, the lead singer of Gorillaz.  Yes, that 2-D!  It's been awhile since the band did any songs together though, the last album, Plastic Beach, was released when Celestina was 5, but a couple years before that, something else happened, and that's what worried Celestina.  For a short while after Celestina was born, 2-D would often call the house to say hi, sometimes even visit.  But after a visit that Dad made sometime when she was 3, he had gone on a trip somewhere, and suddenly vanished.  Her mom tried to keep calm around her when she asked where Dad was, but even as a kid, Celestina could kinda tell that her Mom was worried about him.  The sudden release of a new Gorillaz album didn't help either.  At one point, her Mom told her stories that 2-D and Murdoc Niccals, the band's foul mouthed, green skinned, bassist, were taken by pirates and trapped on an island called Plastic Beach, an island in the middle of the ocean made of garbage and spray painted pink.  Looking back, Celestina wasn't sure if this all really happened or if this was something Mom was making up, but she knew something happened that made her dad unable to contact her for awhile.  Shortly before Celestina was 8, her dad had called her on the phone for the first time in years.  

"Celestina, is that you?" said 2-D in his thick Londoner accent, "You sound so big!  How old are you now?"

"I'm gonna be 8, Dad!" answered Celestina proudly, "I'm a big kid!" 

"8!?  Wow!  You really grew up!" exclaimed 2-D, Celestina could hear the tears caught in his throat. "I've missed you so much!" 

After a brief vacation, or "holiday" as her dad called it, in Guadalupe, he visited Celestina and the family for the first time in a while, right in time for her 8th birthday.  And since then, he had been able to keep in better contact, and came to visit Celestina in person more often these last few years, as if to make up for missing out for those last 5 years.  She even got to fly with him to England one time and met her grandparents, David and Rachel Pot, for the first time at the amusement park that Grandpop had owned.  This year, 2-D stayed in the guest room for a few months, he was able to keep Celestina company during the summer while Sharon was taking paramedic classes, and Mia was working at Leaning Tower.  2-D had been helping Celestina with her budding interest in music, teaching her how to play her new blue Melodica, a small keyboard with a flute-like pipe in it.  When they weren't practicing, the father daughter duo would watch scary zombie movies, or listen to some older Gorillaz songs on Celestina's old CD player.  On June 23rd, the whole family, and a few of Celestina's friends from school, celebrated her 11th birthday with a bonfire cookout in the backyard.  It was a wonderful summer.

But all this fun and excitement of summer had to come to an end.  It was now time for school, and just as well, Dad left to go back to England, rather suddenly at that.  Somehow, one of his old band mates, Noodle, the guitarist and the only girl in the band, (and Celestina's favorite band member, next to Dad of course), ended up getting back in contact with him.  Apparently, the band was getting back together to make a new album called Humanz, which would be released sometime next year.  Like always, Celestina was sad to see him leave, but she was also worried too, maybe because a part of her is scared he would go missing again.  

Sharon put a comforting hand on Celestina's shoulder.  "It'll be okay," she reassured her daughter, "He said he's gonna text us when he arrives to meet the others.  Plus, he said you can visit him during spring break."  

"I know," nodded Celestina.  She finishes up her pancakes, thinking about everything going on.  Mom's starting a new job, Dad's going back to England, I'm starting a new year in a new school, and we have to wear uniforms!  So far so good, she thought sarcastically.  She rinsed her dirty plate in the sink and slipped on her black flats to meet Mom out in the car.

"Are we taking Kailey today?" asked Mom.  Kailey Green is Celestina's best friend and next door neighbor.  

"No, Mrs. Green wanted to take her this morning," answered Celestina, "but she's picking both of us up after school."

"Okay, good," said Mom, "let's get going, you don't wanna be late," she checks her watch "and neither do I!" she laughed.  Celestina gave Mia a hug goodbye.

"Have a good day at school, rockstar." said Mia lovingly.  "I'm coming home from Leaning Tower about an hour after you get home from school, okay girlie."

"'Kay 'kay, I got it." smiled Celestina.  She gives Mia a fist bump, complete with a little explosion sound effect.  

"You have a good day at school," then she turns to Mom "And good luck with orientation Sharon."  Mom gives Mia a loving kiss on the cheek.  

"Bye honey," said Mom grabbing her keys.  "I should be home by dinner tonight."  Celestina and her mother wave goodbye to Mia before getting in the car.  As Sharon drove on to the school, Celestina sat in her seat nervously, her breakfast doing flip flops in her stomach.  

"Are you doing okay back there?" asked Sharon, looking at her daughter in the rearview mirror.

"I dunno," she answered.  "Honestly, I'm pretty nervous.  Middle school sounds kinda scary.  All these classes, new teachers, ugh, no recess, school uniforms," she grimaced.  She had so many thoughts, so many "what-if's", that they started coming out one after another.  "What if I don't like my teachers?  What if me and Kailey don't have any classes together?  What if all the classes are too hard?  What if I get bullied by the older kids?  What if -" 

"Celestina!" said Mom suddenly, "sweetie, sweetie, it's alright." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I know this isn't something you want to hear, but I kinda know how you feel.  I was nervous starting middle school when I was your age.  And, if I'll be fully honest, I can relate to how you're feeling right now.  I'm a bit nervous starting this new job."

Celestina looked up in surprise, "You are?" she wondered.  "But you said you were excited."  Mom gave Celestina a loving smile.

"And I am," answered Sharon, "But I have so many mixed feelings.  I'm worried I won't be good enough, I'm worried the boss could be a jerk, or that I won't like my co-workers.  So many things can go wrong.  But," she paused before continuing, "There are also good things I'm looking forward to as well.  I'll be able to use the skills I worked hard learning in all these classes, I'll be able to help people, I'll be bringing home a little more money, which means we will be able to go out more often." she said with a smile.  "It's normal to be scared and nervous, it's okay in fact.  But you also have so many good things to look forward to.  Yes you have more classes, but you get to have more classes you enjoy, like music and art.  And even if you don't have any classes with Kailey, you'll always be able to see her because we're neighbors.  If you're having a problem, whether it's classes, mean kids, or even a mean teacher, you can always come to me or Mia.  I just want you to know, even if the bad things do happen, there are also a lot of good thing to come, I want you to remember that."  Celestina thought over what her mom had said.  She did have a few good points.

"I did hear that the music department puts on a school musical every year," said Celestina, feeling a bit more hopeful, "And there's all these fun clubs".  Sharon's eyes lit up.  

"See, there you go!" said Mom. 

"It just seems like so many things are changing at the same time." Celestina admitted, "it just feels so fast, I feel like I can barely take a breath."  

"I know, it sucks, it really does." said Sharon in an understanding tone.  "The funny thing is, is that the only thing that never changes, is that everything changes."

"That's so confusing to think about!" said Celestina laughing.  

"Ah, but that's the truth," said Sharon with a chuckle.  "But you know what else will never change?"

"No what?" asked Celestina.

"I'll always love you," Mom answered warmly, "The same goes for Mia, and for your dad, we will never stop loving you.  You are our child, and nothing will ever change that."  

"Aw mom, I love you too!" she exclaimed.  At that moment, Celestina's cell phone chirped with a new message.  Oops, better silence it before class, she thought, making a mental note.  But seeing who the message was from made her smile.  

"Ooh I got a text from Dad!" shouted Celestina in excitement.  The text read "i made it to studio 13 in london.  about to start recording for the new album.  I miss you already, but i'm happy to be home again.  russ, noodle and murdoc say hi.  say hi to your mum for me.  love you little panda bear."  Celestina smiled at the mention of the special nickname her dad gave her.  Attached with the message was a picture.  It was a group photo of the whole band in what looked like the inside of a recording studio.  Celestina had yet to meet the other band members in person, but she knew who they were from the music videos and interview clips on YouTube, and from a few stories from her dad.  There was Murdoc Niccals, the band's bassist, and probably the biggest troublemaker of the band.  He has an odd scrunched up nose, and green skin and black hair, sorta made Celestina think of the Gangreen Gang from The PowerPuff Girls.  Then there was Russel Hobbs, the drummer, a heavyset black man from New York, with bright white eyes lacking pupils, a result of being possessed by a demon when he was young.  He seemed to be the voice of reason in the band, and when he speaks in interviews, he has a gentle voice.  Then there was Noodle, the guitarist, and the only girl in the band.  Celestina almost didn't recognize her at first, she's so used to seeing her in the music videos back when she was a kid or a young teen, and now she's a beautiful grown up woman!  Noodle was not much older than Celestina is now when the band released their first album, and according to her dad, when they were first looking for a guitarist, Noodle traveled from Japan all the way to England, in a FedEx delivery crate, and gave such an epic explosive guitar solo, that the band ended up giving her the part on the spot.  Celestina likes to imagine that if they were the same age, she and Noodle would be great friends.  And in the middle of the pic was her dad, 2-D himself.  He's tall and wiry, the tallest of all the band members in fact, he has spikey blue hair, and due to two separate car accidents (which were Murdoc's fault), he lost his front tooth, and his eyes were injured, they now look like blank black circles.  Murdoc gave him the nickname 2-D because his black eyes made it look like he had "two dents'' in his head.  Surprisingly, her dad liked that nickname, at this point, the only people who really call him Stu anymore would be Nana and Grandpop, as well as Sharon and Mia.  People would often describe her dad as, well, not very bright, sometimes saying he's thick and calling him names like "space cadet", but Celestina doesn't like any comments like that.  To Celestina, her dad has his own 2-D way of thinking, and his creativity with making music is where he shines the best, and he's got a kind heart.  In the attached picture, all four band mates were smiling (even Murdoc), and that made Celestina happy, seeing her dad and his old friends all back together.  

"That's great!" said Mom, "What does the message say?" 

"Dad said he got to England safely, he's excited to work on songs again, and that he loves and misses me, plus he sent a pic of him and the rest of the band." said Celestina.  "Oh yeah, Dad says hi, and so does Russ, Noodle, and Murdoc."

"Aw that's awesome!" replied Mom, "See, I figured he would make it there okay.  How do the other three look?"

"Murdoc is as green as ever," Celestina replied with a laugh, "Russel pretty much looks the same, but Noodle looks so different!  She's a grown up lady!"

"Yup, I believe it," said mom with a chuckle.  "Oh man, I haven't seen her since you were a baby, she was still a teenager then.  Grown up so fast, both of you." she said with a sigh.  "It's good they seem to be doing well." She paused, thinking, "I got an idea.  We're almost there, why don't we take a few back-to-school pictures of you when we get there, and you can text them back to your dad?"

"Ooh I'd love that!" said a delighted Celestina.  She was quiet for a bit before continuing.  "Hey, I know I was sad before with Dad leaving, but, well, it's also really cool that the whole band is back together and they'll make more songs again."

"I know, I can't wait to hear them," agreed Mom, "but like I said earlier, it's okay to feel sad about missing him.  Just don't forget that there are also a lot of good things to look forward to."

"I understand," answered Celestina.  Mom had just pulled up to the school.  There it was, Orbitz Public School.  Mom was lining up to park at the entrance where the middle school classes were.  While Celestina had seen the school many times when going on errands with her mom's around town, today the building somehow seemed larger and more intimidating.  Her breath slowed down and her hands grew sweaty the closer they got to the entrance.  Mom had found a parking spot and Celestina nervously left the car, carrying her backpack.  

"This place is way bigger than South Lincoln," remarked Celestina, referring to her elementary school.  Sharon gave Celestina's hand a comforting squeeze.

"I know it's scary," said Mom. "But you got this."  Even though Celestina was still nervous, she somehow felt a bit better with her Mom hyping her up.  

"I got this!" repeated Celestina.

"You're the star of your own stage," encouraged Sharon, "You knock 'em dead!"

"I'll knock 'em dead!" repeated Celestina, feeling pumped.  "Oh yeah, let's get that picture taken to send to Dad" she remembered.  Celestina and Sharon walked around to find a spot with good lighting in the courtyard. 

"Ooh, we can take one here," said Celestina, handing the phone to her mom.  She struck an adorable Sailor Moon style peace sign pose in her new uniform with the school in view in the back.  After the picture got taken, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"Huh," said Celestina, before turning around to see her best friend, "Oh hey there Kailey!"

"Hi Lessie!" greeted Kailey, using the nickname she used for Celestina since they were little.  Kailey was wearing the same purple and white school uniform that Celestina was wearing.  She kept her short brown hair in her natural curls, and her red square glasses framed her blue eyes.  The giggly girls greeted each other with a hug, before realizing that both their moms were standing by with their phones.  

"Smile you two," said Mrs. Green.  Both girls smiled for the camera with their arms around each other.  

"Perfect!" exclaimed Sharon before handing Celestina her phone back.  Celestina then quickly sent both the pics to her dad with a special message.

"So glad you made it home safely Dad.  Mom and Mia say hi back.  Today is me and Kailey's first day of school.  Can't wait to see you again, and maybe meet the rest of the band (even Murdoc lol).  Have fun recording.  Love you lots!  We got this!"

Shortly after she sent it, her dad replied with another quick "I love you", and Kailey got Celestina's attention.

"C'mon Lessie," said Kailey, "We still need to get our schedules."

"Oh my, that's right!" exclaimed Celestina.  "We gotta get going!"  

The girls gave their Moms a quick hug and said goodbye, and headed into the school.  Celestina still felt a bit nervous, but she felt a lot better than this morning.  She headed inside the front doors of the school with Kailey, walking through the purple and white crowd of students, feeling determined to take on the day no matter what happens.  

"Celestina, you're on!" 

[queenlucythevaliant]

My tags:

narnia: Anything involving The Chronicles of Narnia

     Book tags:

     reading fairy tales again: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

     aslan you’re bigger: Prince Caspian

     into light: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

     night under narnia: The Silver Chair

     narnia and the north! hurrah!: The Horse and His Boy

     founded in song: The Magician’s Nephew

     chapter one: The Last Battle

     Character tags:

     high king over all the rest: Peter Pevensie

     tender hearted big sis: Susan Pevensie

     the traitor who mended: Edmund Pevensie

     dear darling heart-daughter of aslan: Lucy Pevensie

     the king’s man: Eustace Scrubb

     dying of thirst: Jill Pole

     the most unfortunate boy: Shasta/Cor

     true as steel: Aravis 

     the magician’s nephew no longer: Digory Kirke

     game if you are: Polly Plummer

     Other:

     long and happy was their reign: Golden Age

     once there were four children: The four Pevensies together

     a narnian look about them: The Friends of Narnia as a unit

     the narnian air: Things that remind me of Narnia’s world

     no such thing as starch or flannel or elastic: clothes that look Narnian    

     jack: C.S. Lewis himself

     leah’s artbreeder narnia project 2k22: project I did depicting Narnia characters using Artbreeder 

     till we have faces: What it says on the tin

tolkien legendarium: The works of J.R.R. Tolkien

     there and back again: The Hobbit

     i will not say the day is done: The Lord of the Rings 

     aurë entuluva!: The Silmarillion

     in our madness: The Fëanorians

     the sundering doom: The Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth

     tollers: J.R.R. Tolkien himself

     leah’s silm artbreeder project 2k22: Project I did depicting First Age characters using Arbreeder, ultimately culminating in the lineage of Elrond

only Thou art holy: Catch all for matters of Christian faith

     bible humans: the real people of Scripture

     theodicy: the problem of suffering

     the unquenchable fire: Christian history. Protestantism. Generations of the faithful. More of a vibe than anything else.

     sunday school kid: Christian culture

     Jesus laughed: Christian humor

     glory to God in the highest: angels that evoke God’s glory

     all truth is God’s truth: Intersection of science and faith

literature makes us more human: literature, books, reading, esp. the classics

     a beautiful wild creature with its leg in a trap gnawing it off to be free: tragedy and its importance

     to tote the weary load: Gone with the Wind

     unquiet souls: the Bronte sisters

     russia where are you flying to?: Russian lit, culture, etc. 

     the sparrow: The Sparrow, by Mary Doria Russell

     it’s hard to be the bard: Shakespeare

     leah in attolia: reading the Queen’s Thief series

     intertextuality: What it says on the tin

     a stranger comes to town: Catch-all for storytelling, fairytales, and myth

Beautiful things:

     image-bearers: Humans at their best, doing what we were made to do

     how can i keep from singing: music

     took up God’s house to meet him: churches, cathedrals, and cathedral-builders

     the light! the light!: beautiful light

     to touch the face of God: space, space travel, airplanes, often with a spiritual component

     no one will ever walk the earth so close to you: my sister, siblings in general

     be strong and courageous: be brave

     america is great because america is good: America at its best

Other miscellanea: 

endless forms most beautiful: Science and the natural world, especially biology

     dinosaurs make me happy: all sorts of awesome dino buddies

fossils! dun dun dun: fossils more generally

     in my soul i’m a lady knight: girls with swords 

     i enjoy being a girl: femininity and womanhood

     unto us a child is born: All things Christmas!

     He is risen yippee!: All things Easter

     bear flag republic: California 

     chronic illness is hilarious: all things chronic-illness related, funny and dark and both and so forth

     inklings challenge 2k22: posts related to my involvement in the 2022 Inklings Challenge 

     tay tay: Taylor Swift music

     leah learns calligraphy: My calligraphy work

Organizational: 

     pontifications and creations: Original posts

          Leah stories: My prose writing

          Leah poetry: My poetry

          Leah edits: Edits I’ve made

     ask me hard questions: Asks, tag games, and similar

[padfootagain]

The King And You (XI)

Part 11: What To Do Now?

 Here comes the next chapter for my Caspian fic. After the last chapter, I felt like I had to update this story again, because we left our lovebirds… hmm hmm, well, you know where we left them, and it was cute af!!

I hope you like this new chapter. This is a bit… emotional, so get ready! Took a bit of inspiration from the Korean show Crash Landing on you for the end of this chapter.

Word Count: 4358

It had been hours, and Caspian could still not believe it.

He stared at the ceiling in his room, his eyes barely discerning any detail in the dark. The lamppost outside shed a yellowish light in the room, piercing through the white curtains, that made almost no effect on chasing the dark away.

You had kissed him.

Or… perhaps he had kissed you? He wasn't sure who it was who actually made the first step, it had no real importance, he reckoned. All that mattered was that… the two of you had kissed.

He played for what seemed to be the thousandth time the scene in his head. The lights on the rooftop, the music, how you danced together… he smiled at the thought of how clumsy you were at first.

But then he saw your joined hands again, and how the lights played in your eyes and…

And then the kiss…

By Aslan's name, he didn't know that something so wonderful could exist.

What was to happen now though?

You had barely ended the kiss, had just a few seconds to stare at each other, before a pair of drunk men would burst out of the building and onto the rooftop. You had gone home soon after, and none of you had dared raise the question that was on your tongues.

What to do now?

He closed his eyes, tighter and tighter as the thoughts formed in his mind.

He had to go. What now? He thought the question as if there were several answers possible. But there weren't. There was only one thing to do, because no matter how he felt, no matter how you felt, he was King. A vow he had taken and would never break. He repeated the pledge in his silence, his lips moving to let out no sound.

He would do anything for his people, sacrifice whatever needed to be sacrificed.

He had to go back to Narnia and leave you behind.

When he opened his eyes again, there were tiny white spots dancing before him.

What to do now?

Now, he had to let you go, before things could get worse.

 ----------------------------------------

 One last day.

That was what he had decided. He would spend one last day with you, and never see you again. He couldn't take the risk of hurting you by letting you imagine that he could stay. He knew, despite your interest for his stories, that deep down, you still didn't fully believe that Narnia was real. How could you see then that when he would cross the door back to his realm, it would be to never return.

Before, he thought he would take every moment he could with you. Cherish them to live the rest of his life. But things had changed with that kiss, and he couldn't take the risk to have you feeling for him the kind of feelings he had for you.

It wouldn't be fair of him to let you fall like he had fallen. You didn't know how this would end. But he did. He couldn't take the risk.

He would have less memories to carry with him back home, but it was okay. He had kissed you once, that was the best memory he would ever remember.

He spent the rest of the night deciding how to tell you about this. Maybe you would tell him it was a mistake, and he wouldn't have to go through it all, and a part of him longed for this to happen. You had been drinking a little, and even if he didn't believe you were drunk, maybe it was enough to blur your judgement. You would apologize. Tell him it was a mistake and it would be better if you just forgot what had happened, and remained friends. Would he take the risk to see you again then? No, or at least not the way he did now. Only with Agatha. He had but a few days left to spend in New York, so it didn't really matter anyway… or at least, that was the thought he was trying to fool himself at believing into.

His thoughts went on throughout morning too, and Agatha obviously noticed his strange behaviour. He was too quiet, too distant, too sad. After a couple of hours, she couldn't help but ask.

"Caspian, what's wrong with you this morning?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Now, after all that we are doing together, I reckon you can at least tell me the truth. You owe me that much."

He opened his mouth to try to argue his way out of the conversation, but he couldn't. She was right. He owed it to her.

He heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, you are right."

"I know I'm right, now, tell me everything."

She sat beside him on the couch, with a cup of warm tea in her hand, eager to hear what could possibly be such an issue in the King's life now.

Caspian took a deep breath, but didn't know how to tell her what had happened between you and him.

"You… you must promise me to not tell anyone," he asked Agatha, who gave him her word without a hesitation.

After another quiet moment, Caspian finally gathered his courage.

"I… Last night, Y/N and I went to her friend's birthday party and… something… happened…"

Agatha's eyes narrowed, but a smile was already creeping up her lips.

"Something? What do you mean? Between… you and Y/N?"

Caspian struggled to swallow, but nodded.

Agatha let out an excited cry.

"What happened? Tell me everything."

But before Caspian's puzzled expression, she calmed down.

"It is not a good thing, Agatha," Caspian clarified. "We are leaving for London in a few days, and if everything goes as planned, I will never come back to this world. We… we can never be together. This kiss was a mistake. It has to be. Because I can't stay here. Sooner or later, I'll have to leave, and there is nothing I can do about it. The doorways are not easy to find, and too much of a risk anyway. I will not come back. I… it's better if we simply… accept it and do not try to… make it more difficult than what it needs to be."

Agatha slowly nodded.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I… I'm going to tell her that this was a mistake, and that we should part now."

"So… you're going to break the poor thing's heart."

"On the contrary, I am protecting her."

"Protecting her? Really?"

"Of course. Before she might… feel… before she starts caring for me."

Agatha shook her head this time.

"My dear… after all the time she has spent with you, and everything she has done for you, don't you think that she cares already?"

"But as a friend, not as… more."

"You should talk about it with her."

"That's what I am planning on doing."

"I mean talk with her, not announce her your decision."

"But Agatha, there is no other solution. Nothing to discuss, really. I have to leave, and we will never see each other again."

"Have you thought about her possibly wanting to leave?"

But Caspian shook his head frantically, and a colder expression settled on his features.

"Her life is here. She cannot leave. Just like my life is in Narnia, and I cannot stay."

"Are you leaving because your life is there, or because you have people depending on you there?"

"Both."

He seemed to believe in his answer, and so she chose to change her argument.

"You cannot take a decision in her stead."

"I am taking my end of the decision."

"But for the wrong reason. Maybe, even though you will leave, she would prefer to spend as much time with you as she can. Have you thought about that?"

Caspian didn't answer.

"Of course, you have. Are you sure who you are doing this for? Is it to protect her, or yourself?"

"Both of us, I guess. It'll be easier when I leave."

"The easy path is rarely the right one. You're probably right, it might give both of you less pain to part if you choose to stop everything now. But what about the happiness you would have found by embracing every single moment you could get? What about these memories you will get to hold onto? Take it from an old lady, who has her fair share of regrets. All the moments I would change, if I could, wouldn't be about money, about choosing another path. It would be to spend more time with the people I can't see anymore. These are my regrets. Not seizing the occasion to love them more. To spend more time with the people who made me happy. And you will find out that, after a while, when you lose someone you love dearly, you remember the good times more than the pain, and these make it all worthwhile. Always."

The King took a moment to weight Agatha's words. He looked in his heart to see if she was right. He thought about the Pevensies. About all the friends he had lost along the years.

First, he remembered their faces, and their laughs.

Then, he remembered the good moments. The Pevensies bickering. Edmund beating him at chess. Peter and him talking about Narnia. Susan showing off her skills at archery. Lucy running on the beach and laughing. Eustace's stupid talks with Reepicheep…

Indeed, he had to go much, much deeper to see the bad times. And if he felt sad at the thought that he would not see them again, he found out that he wouldn't have done anything differently. His memories were worth the pain of missing them.

Maybe Agatha was right…

"It's not only your choice to make. She has her say in this too. And you can't decide for her. You don't know how she feels. Or has she told you?"

Caspian shook his head.

"Then ask her. Ask her what she wants. Tell her the risks. Tell her how it will end. And if she still wants to stay by your side until you have to leave, then you have no rights to dismiss her."

"What if I don't want to have her by my side until this is over?"

But Agatha gave her a look that showed him that she was not to be fooled.

"We both know that it is not what your heart longs for. You wouldn’t be sitting on this couch looking so miserable if it were."

Agatha got up to put her teacup in the kitchen, and Caspian focused on the outside world instead. It was raining, and the water clung to the windowsill.

But Caspian shook his head. No, it wasn't the wisest thing to do. He had… he had to protect you, whatever the cost. He would not let you get heartbroken because of him. He would not let you ache the way he did. He would not let you suffer the way he knew he would when he would leave.

No, he had to stop it all. And he had to do it today.

He would spend one afternoon with you, and then it would be time for him to wake up from the sweet dream he had made for the two of you.

 -------------------------------------------------------------

 You went to Central Park again, and simply walked through the park. The weather was cold but sunny, blue sky above orange leaves and bare branches replacing the clouds of the morning. There were so many skeleton leaves all around that some of the ponds seemed to have disappeared altogether, hidden under the dead foliage.

Children were feeding ducks a few meters away, you were walking in silence down the main path, the rain from the morning having turned the grass into muddy grounds.

You had tried to delay the inevitable question for as long as you could, but knew you needed to bring it up now. Caspian hadn't mentioned your kiss either, maybe he was waiting for you just like you were waiting for him. But there was something different about him too. Something… that made him look sad.

A part of you wanted to wait to see if he would eventually bring it up, but you decided that the game had lasted long enough.

"Caspian?"

He turned to you, humming to let you know that he was paying attention to your words.

"About last night…"

You studied his reaction, but you couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"About… what happened on the rooftop…" you went on. "I… I reckon we should talk about it."

Caspian slowly nodded, his steps slowing down without him noticing.

"Of course. I… I do think we should talk about it as well."

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. He was acting strangely cautious and cold. But maybe it was simply because he wasn't sure of what you were about to say. A simple defence mechanism?

"I… what do you think we should do about it?"

He had to say it. He had spent the night and most of his morning thinking about what he had to say, and it was the right thing to do.

"I think we should forget about it."

Caspian's voice was firm and certain, a perfect opposite to the way his heart was breaking behind the protection of his ribcage, words reaching the beating organ like flights of arrows breaking through an armour.

He noticed the way you clenched your jaw, how your head bent a little more towards the ground.

"Okay," was all you could muster the strength to breath out.

"I am but a passing dream, Y/N. Soon, I'll be gone. It's better to remain friends. Don't you agree?"

You nodded.

"Wise words," you replied in a bitter tone.

"Last night was… surreal," Caspian went on, feeling the need to fill up any silence that could settle between the two of you. Silence would let his pain scream way too loudly for him to handle, so he chased it away instead. "The music, and the dance… we got carried away by the scenery. And… you were intoxicated…"

"I had one drink, I wasn't even tipsy," you replied with some outrage in your tone, looking up at him again. "Besides, if I remember well, you were kissing me just as much as I was kissing you!"

"That… is not what I meant…"

"What do you mean, then?"

"Simply that… last night was… a particular atmosphere. And that on other circumstances, things would have been different, and this kiss wouldn't have happened. Do you deny that? That you would have never wanted to kiss me in any other circumstances?"

"I don't deny that last night was… a moment. Doesn't mean that I didn't know what I was doing."

"Y/N… You wouldn't have acted this way under any other circumstances."

"What about you?"

He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you say that if I had not been… shaken by my surroundings last night, I would have never wanted to kiss you. But what about you? Would you ever want me to kiss me without the dancing and the music and the lights from last night? Or are you talking about yourself not wanting me? Because I reckon that you talk a lot about how I feel and how I would act when, last time I checked, you had no access to my thoughts at all. So? What about you?"

If he were to be honest, he would have answered that the scenery had simply given the push to actually take the first step. He would have told you that he was dreaming about you every night. He would have told you that he wished he could kiss you now. He would have told you that he had stayed awake at night imagining what your lips would feel like against his.

But if he said these words he meant, it would make things more difficult. And he knew what he had to do. It was easier to lie. Easier to pretend that last night was nothing when it meant everything. He had promised you to tell you the truth once, and it was not one of his habits to break a vow, but this time, he would have to make an exception.

Because he couldn't let you hurt the way he was getting shattered now.

"It's just a dream, Y/N. It was a mistake. We are just friends, nothing more. And if yesterday was a moment… then that is all it was. A moment. And the moment passed. Reality is thriving again, and in reality, this kiss was a mistake we ought to make only once."

He fell silent. He felt exhausted. He knew that the second he would be alone, he would fall to his knees and cry all the tears his body could form. But he wasn't alone for now, you were standing there, motionless by his side, staring at him, and he had to keep his mask on for now.

And he did.

He looked calm and cold and distant, and it was hurting you so much…

Because after the previous night, there was no doubt left in your mind.

You were in love with him.

You always had been. And maybe that was why you couldn't stay away for long despite all the warning signs. Maybe that was why he made you happier than you had ever been. Maybe that was why your world was brighter now that he was in it.

But clearly, he didn't feel the same, and if you had thought before that your heart had been broken, it seemed that he was proving you wrong.

You wanted to fight back. Say something mean. Something that would hurt. Or perhaps you could agree. Hide that you were in pain. Hide that he was breaking your heart. Instead, you could nod and tell him that he was right, that this kiss didn't mean anything to you either anyway, that you didn't care, that you ought to move on indeed. You would be just friends, and that would be all. You didn't care. Would never care for him that way.

But there were lies too big to pass your throat, and this one was, without a doubt, the biggest lie you had ever wished to speak. And you couldn't say it.

Instead, tears blurred Caspian's features stinging and sour, and you looked away to hide them.

You tried to speak, but couldn't. You managed to force your head to move into a nod, and that was about all that you could muster for now. You wanted to run away, so you started to walk again.

And Caspian didn't understand.

Because of course, he saw that you were starting to cry. And he couldn't understand, because you weren't supposed to be crying. Maybe you would be a little disappointed? Even that reaction, he wasn't expecting. No, it was all going wrong. Why were you leaving now?

He didn't mean to hurt you. He never did. He was protecting you, that was what he was doing… right?

He thought again of Agatha's words, and maybe… maybe she was right…

"Y/N!"

But you didn't stop, you kept on walking, going faster even.

"Y/N, wait!"

He ran after you, taking your arm in a gentle and yet firm hold to force you to turn to him.

When he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

He was hurting you. You were crying because of him… That was not what he wanted.

"I… don't cry," he let out in a trembling voice, all piece of armour or masquerade broken, and when you looked up to look into his dark brown eyes, you could see nothing but worry and pain in these irises you adored. "Don't cry, please. I'm sorry. Don't be sad. I… I don't want you to be sad, I'm sorry."

You shook your head. You wanted to be strong, and stubborn, and proud, and you wanted to get a clever remark out. But you were crying already, revealing your heart on a silver platter, so what was the point in playing it tough when you were one the verge of breaking altogether?

"It's okay. I just… I guess I just hoped for you to feel… a certain way, and you don't. But that's okay. I can't force you to feel like that."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay."

"No, no it's not okay. Please, I'm begging you, stop crying."

His large, calloused hands came to gently cup your face, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. His touch was so soothing, you soon calmed down.

"I'll be fine, Caspian."

But he wasn't blind. It was written all over your features that you would not be fine. The damage was already done. He had made you suffer, and he hated himself for that.

Agatha's words came ringing in his ears once more, and maybe she was right. Maybe you cared about him already. He couldn't imagine that you loved him the way he loved you, but maybe you cared enough to be hurt by him all the same. Perhaps Agatha was right, and it wasn't fair of him to not give you the chance to choose what you wanted to do next.

If he could, he would seize all the moments he had the chance to share with you. And maybe you would want to do the same, after all.

That wasn't fair to lie then, was it? Besides, you were crying again, eyes reddened and puffy already, and by Aslan's name, Caspian had never hated himself as much as he did now, for being the cause behind your tears.

"I lied."

He struggled to swallow while your eyes were suddenly full of hope. He didn't notice that his eyes too were filling up with tears before he felt them wetting his eyelashes.

"I… I'm sorry," he went on, voice unsure and low. "But… I'll be leaving soon, and I thought… I thought you didn't mean it, and then it would have been so much easier to just act like it had never happened. I didn't want you to care about me the way I care about you. Because it… it hurts then to know that I'm going to leave. It hurts to know that this won't last, and I thought… I thought I could save you from that pain, and I… I'm sorry. Please, don't cry. Don't cry. I can't see you cry. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you so badly…"

His voice broke, and he let out a shaky sigh, trying to muster the strength to go on. But speaking his heart was so hard. He felt so fragile now. As if he were handing you his soul and heart… but then, that was exactly what he was doing.

"I'm sorry. I… I wish there would be another way, but there isn't. I have to leave. And I didn't want you to miss me the way that I'm going to miss you. I wanted you to forget all about me as soon as I would be out of your life. I don’t want you to think about me. I don't want you to miss me. I… I want you to be able to do what I won't be capable of. I want you to live without me and be happy. When I… I won't be able to do that now. It's too late for me. I won't forget you. I will never forget you. And when I think about what happiness means, it is your name I will speak. I… I shouldn't have said all that… I'm sorry… I'm sorry, please, don't cry. Don't cry…"

Before he could let out another sound, you were leaning to press your lips to his. And he was surprised, and it took him a few seconds to kiss you back, but he did. He let his fingers slide to rest in your hair, and you held on his long black coat like it was a safe line.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and resting your forehead against his, your voice was hoarse as you spoke again.

"I think it's too late for me too, to be fair. And what if… what if I really don't want to forget you? What if I don't want to forget anything about you?"

He let out a shaky breath, and closed his eyes tighter to stop himself from crying.

"I have to leave. This can't work."

"But for now, you're here. Can't it be enough for now?"

"I don't want you to be hurt because of me."

"I'm going to England with you."

He finally moved his head back to look at you.

"What?"

"I'm going with you," you repeated. "Agatha has already bought the tickets and planned everything for me to come as well. I'll go with you there."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. For now, I want to be with you, and that's enough for me. What do you want?"

He didn't answer, hesitating.

What he wanted more than anything, he knew he could never keep…

"Forget about Narnia for a second. Because you're not in Narnia right now. Just… what do you want, now? Because I want to go to London with you. I know what I want. I understand what you're saying. I understand you're going to leave. And I want to help, I want to stay with you, for as long as you'll be here. What about you? Don't you want me to stay with you?"

And as he looked into your eyes, he knew then, that Agatha was right.

It was your life, your heart, your choice. And maybe it would just make things worth to lie now. So, he didn't.

Instead, he pressed his lips to yours again, and you remained there, under falling red leaves, for an awfully long time that seemed too short still.

*****************************************

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[exolovek]

Beuty

Read on ao3

Lucy Pevensie was 8 and did not care if she was pretty or if boys would turn to look at her. She cared that she was sent far away, that she could not play in the silent mansion, and that her older siblings wouldn't listen to her when she told them of the world inside the wardrobe. Then she only cared about another war she had to fight and the way the frozen land warmed at her touch.

In Narnia, she cared not for her looks or her dresses. She had destitute and hopeless subjects to care for. There were treaties to be signed, land to be plotted, fighting to avoid, and wars to win. If boys looked at her, she didn't notice, after all, she was Queen and she had much better things to worry about. Even if there hadn’t been, her looks were the least important thing about her. Winning her hand meant winning the Valiant, the Lion’s Favorite, the Lady of Cair Paravel, and the Eastern Sea. It meant winning her intelligence, her cunning and kindness, her beauty was not even a point of consideration. At 23, she cared not if her dresses accentuated her figure, if her hair was shiny or if her lips were red. At 23, her beauty did not equate her worth. 

She spent a year in a country that saw a child instead of a woman. She wore clothes that were smaller, softer, and rougher at the same time. There was no crown adorning her long- now short- hair. She was 9, and at 9 she was considered adorable, her cheeks were pinched, the way she spoke mocked, for it was too grand and purple prosed for a 9-year-old girl who was yet to have her menarche. She did not care. But others did:

Brush your hair, dear.

Blue ain't your color, dear.

You are not wearing makeup, dear.

That is your second serving of pie, dear.

Be more like your sister, dear.

Men do not like a lady that engages in talks about death, hunger and war, dear

She missed her land. She was thirsty for the tears of her enemies and hungry for the blood of her prey. But instead, she was giving bland food and overstepped tea.

At 9 and 24, Narnia welcomed her back. Their child Queen whose clothes were dirtied, her hair muddied and her lips always tainted with blood. She had subjects to save, trees to wake and a Lion to find. When her people looked at her they saw fierce determination, unwavering faith, sharp teeth, and tougher skin. Once more, they did not care for her looks and her behavior. She shone so brightly that looking at her was like looking at the sun.

She was forced to return to her Grey World. This time people looked at her. Ten was too young to have leery eyes on her still developing breast. Coming back to London for a second time hurt in a way she couldn't explain. If- When- Narnia opened her doors once more, Peter and Susan wouldn’t be returning home with her. She is afraid that her land will bar her entrance next. Peter understands in a way his siblings don’t, but he is still angry and sad in equal measure. Susan is shocked, scared, sad, and feels betrayed until the only thing she feels is denial. Narnia wasn’t real, it was just a game and it’s time to grow up, Lucy.   

She is 10 and 25. And she is explained by a nun about the blood that will pool in her underwear and she is told that it's dirty and it should be kept secret. It makes her want to scream. There is nothing dirty about her body. But they tell her over and over and over again until she starts to believe them. And then the comments start:

It’s such a shame that she will never be as pretty as her sister.

She is going to grow old and become a spinster.

Don’t you think you have eaten enough?

Oh, her eyes are too big, her nose too small. She is clumsy, arrogant, selfish, queer, and far too curious for her own good. 

She is 10 and 25, and for the first time in her long life she thinks to herself: maybe it’s true. Maybe I am ugly. It’s a cold day, like one she has never experienced before. In Narnia, they didn’t care. In Narnia she was Queen. Here she is just an ugly ten-year-old girl that will never be loved. Because here, her beauty equates to her worth. 

She isn’t in Narnia anymore.

She starts to curb her sharp edges, she takes great care in brushing her hair, in applying makeup, and in choosing the correct clothes for her body. She speaks softly, she bites her tongue so that she won’t speak out of turn, she goes to sleep hungry and still it's not enough for the eyes of the others. She is still ugly. 

Edmund always shakes his head when he sees Lucy refusing her favorite pastries. When Lucy refused to play in the mud or to engage in talk about strategies and casualties. By summer she is thin, her face is pale, her hair shiny and her voice never rises above a whisper. But when she laughs, her laugh echoes long after she quiets.

Then her room floods and she breathes Narnian air once more. And for a moment she thinks: the sea-salt will ruin my hair, the sun will burn my skin and the rich food of Narnia will make my child waistline bigger. Those thoughts are forgotten when a small wave dunks her in the sea once more and the fact that she is in Narnia (Home! her heart whispers) again settles in. But there is nothing that can shake the shame she feels about that moment of complete and utter rage. 

She is glad to see old friends, to wear Caspian’s worn clothes, to sheath her danger and to borrow Susan’s bow. She smiles and feels at home. If her teeth are sharper or her skin rougher, she does not notice.

When she dines with her friends they look at her and there are questions in their eyes when she covers her mouth as she laughs. She requests a bath, a brush, and a mirror and they incredulously ask her why she needs such frivolities. She has no words to explain to them how vanity is desirable in the human world. How does one explain that while Susan, both in Narnia and in London, was praised for her beauty and kind soul, Lucy was chastised for not being her equal in that regard? She can’t find words to express the impotence she feels in a land that does not love her as she is. A land that demands that she starve herself so that she might fit the box that had been arranged for her. How can she explain that what Narnia- her land, her people- loved about her is the reason she is despised and unlovable? In the Grey World, her determination was considered stubbornness, her bravery, stupidity, and her faith, naivety. 

How does she tell them that she is just 10, about to be 11, and that her body is dirty?

When the opportunity arises, she is tempted to take it. Why should she, the Queen of Narnia, deny herself what is her due? She has already served Narnia, has already ruled, and saved it, she deserves the small comfort of knowing with complete certainty that she will be beautiful. But once again, there are more pressing matters and what she wants is of no importance. 

There is a mirror on her chambers, a vanity table that holds oils and perfumes, and a brush that is passed through her hair every night and day. There is also an oil painting of four familiar figures hanging above the bed. When she asks Caspian whose image is depicted in the painting, she is met with incredulous eyes. It’s you and your siblings, Your Majesty, the last year of your reign. She stares at it for hours after the King takes his leave.

She had forgotten how broad Peter’s shoulders used to be, how beautiful Susan’s eyes were, how cunning Edmund looked, and how tall she used to be. She stares at her face and comes to the conclusion that no, her eyes are not too big and her nose isn’t too small. 

Her body used to be plump and healthy, her hair hadn’t been brushed but it fell past her waist in a cascade that caught the light of the sun, appearing to be a million shades of gold. Her eyes maintained the same blue hue, but the artist had captured the wild look on her eyes that she remembers seeing in the mirror the first time she returned from Narnia. She has breasts on the picture, her skin is sun-kissed and the dress hides what she knows to be strong legs shaped by years of riding and fighting alongside her siblings. She is stuck on the way her hands looked adorned by rings and how her crown had laid upon her head. Most of all she can’t stop staring at the scars that used to litter her skin. She had forgotten about them and she misses them. She is hit with a yearning she can’t verbalize. The tears that come then are not a surprise. They had been gathering behind her eyes since the first time she heard someone discuss her looks. 

She is 10 and 25, almost 11 and 26, and she is told that Narnia has taught her everything she needs to know. She doubts it but does not question it. Aslan has never been wrong before and she only had to doubt him once to know that she should never do so again. 

This time going back is harder. She remembers now, with painful clarity, who she used to be. She knows she will never be that person again. The door to Narnia has been closed and the key has been lost. She understands now, how the pain of being banished from her home had turned Susan into a shadow of who she used to be. She mourns and cries and when they tell her your eyes are bloodshot and swollen again, dear, she does not care. 

At 13 and 28, the war has ended, her breasts have started developing, her waist is smaller than her hips and the boys try to look up her skirt. When she knees them between their legs they crumble in pain and call her bitch. She doesn't care. She eats what she wants, she runs and climbs and dirties her clothes until the nuns look at her with disapproval. She gets letters from her parents begging her to behave and she still does not care. Peter and Edmund understand, they also struggle with feelings that are too big for their bodies. 

She is 15 and 30 when she kisses an English boy for the first time. She does not care for the inexperienced tongue that licks into her mouth. She remembers the kisses she shared with the nymphs and fauns in Narnia. She then turns around and kisses another boy and then another one. She flirts and smiles and when she laughs, her laugh still lingers long after she quiets.

She will never set foot on Narnia again, but the Lion was right. She remembers the lessons she learned when the land still bent to her will. Lucy Pevensie is powerful, intelligent, and strong. She is a masterpiece depicted in cavern walls and tapestries, her story is told in songs and poems and her memory is kept in the hearts of the people she left behind. She is still Queen Lucy, The Valiant and she will never doubt herself again. It doesn’t matter that people still look at her and see a girl outshined by her sister. She has learned to ignore the comments of the people who believe they know better than her. 

Sometimes, alone in her dark room, she lets the hurt and anger out. She knows her beauty does not matter, that the way her clothes fit and her makeup adorns her face are just minuscule details. That someday people will see her true worth, but in the meantime, she allows herself these little secret tears. Because yes, she is beautiful but not like Susan. And no Lion or crown that has no power in the Grey World can ever erase the hurt that blooms from knowing that for many, she won’t ever be good enough. But she remembers the woman depicted in a painting, and it comforts her. Maybe the wild look will never return to her eyes, maybe the scars have banished and her har will never shine with a million shades of gold but when she turns 23 she will be beautiful in a way no one else can be. They will finally look at her and see everything that she really is. Maybe one day she will share her story with her lover, maybe she will command the respect she once did. Maybe she will grow old, happy, and secure in the knowledge that she is truly beautiful. 

She dies at 17.

[skandarismyturkishdelight]

I Despise You (Part 7) - Edmund x Reader

Warnings: making out and kinda sad/soft

Characters: Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie and (Y/N)

Setting: The Golden Age, Narnia

Blurb (???i think???): (requested by @alwaysinnarnia)The reader is a Swordswoman/Knight of Doorn and visits Narnia, soon getting off on the wrong hand with King Edmund. She stays in Narnia and they train together, and they become friends and maybe something more…

Tag List: @aisforaltamoda @sanya-gryff @wantingtobekorra @sweetpeasturtleneck @suruhcha @foreverfangirling123 @fosterthe-peter @expellimarvelous @fandoms-allovertheplace @irreplaceable-ecstasy @fiftyshadesofnarnia @heyohheyitsgabi @nimaiwe @thellamaisinthehouse @hopebaker @a-studying-narnian-demigod @margot-black @fangirled-101 @aisforaltamoda (sorry if I missed anyone!! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the tag list! ❤️)

*

“Checkmate.” Edmund smiled widely as he knocked off (Y/N)’s King.

She sat there in shock, open-mouthed at Edmund’s easiness to defeat her.

“But I was so close to winning, that’s not fair,” she complained. “You said you were going easy on me!”

Ed shrugged, and lay down onto (Y/N)’s bed as he stretched his arms. (Y/N) groaned and pushed Edmund to the side.

“Ed. Get up, I want a rematch.”

Edmund sighed, relaxing completely. He had his arms outstretched to her, only to be met with a pair of raised eyebrows. He sat up, his arms still waiting for her.

“(Y/N),” he whined, taking his hand in yours. “One hug.”

She huffed a strand of hair from her loose braid and Ed rolled his eyes.

“Fine-” he started, but as a smile grew on her face he continued, “-after one hug.”

(Y/N) grinned madly as she jumped into his arms and knocked him down, a groan and chuckle escaping the young King as the hug left them chest to chest, legs entangled.

Faces almost touching, and the air between them dancing with a fire that could light a thousand suns, the two knights exchanged smiles.

(Y/N) pressed a soft but sure kiss to his lips, and he responded quickly, wrapping his arms around her.

The night of the feast was something she could never forget. Though she had felt a dull thud in her head the morning after, barely recalling a solid memory, she remembered Edmund. His gentleness and passion, his hands on her skin, the way they had kissed, was unlike anything she had ever felt. She was alive in that moment.

(Y/N) broke the kiss, her nose brushing against Edmund’s. She took a hand to his hair and ruffled the curls, which left him grinning.

“Edmund. I’m hungry.” She smiled as Edmund closed his eyes, his head resting comfortably on her pillow.

“Shh,” he sighed softly. “Let me have this moment. Then we’ll find something to eat.”

She traced a hand over his cheekbones, connecting his freckles in her mind like a cluster of stars. His hand rested on her leg, rubbing it softly from time to time.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, pressing a soft kiss to Edmund’s nose. He opened an eye and gave her a grin that was enough to make her stomach twist and her heart pound faster.

She sat up, dragging Edmund’s hands along as she climbed out of the bed, which was met with a groan of protest from the King. (Y/N) chuckled and pulled him to sit up, which took more effort than she thought it would need.

Edmund rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling as his hands rested in his lap. “Let’s just stay here.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, amused. “All day?”

He met her gaze, a playful glint in his eyes as he snaked an all around her waist to pull her between his legs. “That’s right.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and placed a hand on his chest. “You’re needy.”

Edmund pressed his lips softly to her jaw, tracing pecks down to her earlobe. She couldn’t help but lean her head back slightly and tangle a hand into his soft curls.

“Ed,” she said sternly when he slid his hands to her thighs.

“Shh,” he whispered against her throat. “Kiss me.”

She chuckled softly as he rested his hands underneath her thighs. Pulling back from stretching kisses along her collarbone, he met her halfway in a firm kiss. Matched in the moment when they inhaled deeply, (Y/N) climbed into his lap, her knees capturing either side of him. His hands drifted upwards, past the curves of her thighs and the dip of her back to leave one tangled in her now undone braid, and the other caressing the skin of her back.

(Y/N) heard her voice slipping into a whisper as she said his name against his lips. Her body was scorching with a fire she could not explain as Edmund’s lips began to roam, a fire she wanted to keep burning. She draped her arms around his shoulders as he flipped her onto the bed quickly, kissing her lips again.

(Y/N) thoughts drifted to the letters she needed to answer and the meetings that needed attending in a half hour, but when Edmund nipped the skin of her throat, a moan escaped her lips, and everything was forgotten.

“(Y/N),” Ed spoke quietly into her ear, soothing her into closing her eyes. “I-”

“EDMUND PEVENSIE!”

Both the king and (Y/N) jolted, knocking their foreheads together harshly. The bellow came from outside of the door and seemed to echo through the whole castle.

“Where do I go?” (Y/N) frantically whispered, cleaning up her hair.

“Nowhere, just sit in the armchair, act normal!” He whisper-yelled.

“You don’t think it’ll be suspicious that I’ve been spending all morning with you?!” She whispered furiously. “And what, playing chess?”

Edmund smirked. “Would you much rather do something else?”

She rolled her eyes. “Aside from hitting you?”

“EDMUND, OPEN THIS DOOR!” The person yelled, much closer to the door so that (Y/N) could now tell it was Peter.

(Y/N) pushed Edmund towards the entry and rolled underneath the bed, barely able to squeeze herself in. Her heart was in her throat as the door opened suddenly, and Edmund coughed unceremoniously.

“And you want...?” Edmund began, and (Y/N) saw his shoes moving away from the door. Another pair of leather boots followed and the High King’s voice erupted suddenly, making her gasp stupidly.

“YOU LEFT ELAINE ALONE THE WHOLE NIGHT YESTERDAY!” Peter exclaimed furiously. “DON’T THINK I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT IT IS YOU WERE DOING, AND TRUST ME, IT’S THE LAST TIME IT WILL HAPPEN!”

Uncomfortable silence followed, and (Y/N) swallowed her deep breaths and tried to calm the her heart which was now thrumming violently in her ears.

“I-” Edmund started, and all (Y/N) could think is that she had never heard him speechless.

“Ed,” Peter said cautiously, and in her mind she could already see the bright red blush on the young king’s cheeks. “(Y/N)...she is someone I deeply admire, but I can say that since she’s come here, you’ve become more...”

“Open?”

“Reckless, actually, was the word I was looking for.” Peter said tiredly. “The way you look at her...anybody can see that. You have to be careful. Duty to your country comes first. (Y/N) knows that, I know that, and so should you.”

(Y/N) nibbled at her thumb nervously, waiting for the dark haired King’s reply, only to find that there was none.

Peter continued quietly, “Do you love her?”

Silence.

“Ed-”

“She makes me forget it all,” Edmund said finally. “Everything. Every nightmare I’ve had, she’s there. Every time I’ve almost given up on myself, she’s there. There’s no one like her - not Elaine, not any of the highborn ladies who just want a husband to parade around.”

(Y/N) felt tears stinging her eyes as he said, “She makes me happy.”

Silence followed once more, and (Y/N) rested her forehead against her forearm, closing her eyes.

(Y/N) had never heard him vulnerable. Except for the moments of bliss they spent in each other’s arms, or their conversations about nothing in the middle of the night lurking in the kitchen, when his face was pale and body was trembling slightly.

She hadn’t asked him about what it was; but she could guess they were dreams. Nightmares.

Peter sighed, “Does she know?”

(Y/N) frowned as Edmund said immediately, “No, I can’t-”

“Why not?”

Silence.

“She’ll look at me differently. She’ll hate me. I can’t have that.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

(Y/N)’s heart began to beat faster, the word love sending a shiver down her spine.

Edmund paused before quietly saying, “But she isn’t here to stay.”

It hit her like a harsh slap to the face; she really wasn’t here to stay. She never could - not with her family on the brink of war. It made her feel like she had made an empty promise to Edmund; like she would always be by his side.

Peter seemed to struggle with finding the words as guilt still flooded through (Y/N). “You’re trying to make it work, Ed, I know you are. Even if it doesn’t, you should tell her.”

“That I love her or I’m the monster that everyone still thinks I am? Neither option sounds like I’d get a promising reply.”

(Y/N) felt everything sag inside of her, internally begging for Peter to leave the room so she could hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay.

After a while, Peter responded, “Tell her. You’d rather tell her yourself than her finding out through someone else, right?”

When Ed didn’t reply, Peter sighed and his feet turned away from him. The king shuffled slightly, moving to lean on the door frame as his brother left, closing the door quietly behind him.

(Y/N) took a moment to calm her racing mind and her heart that was settled in her throat as she rolled out from under the bed, smoothing her hair down before standing up.

Edmund was looking interestedly at the ground as (Y/N) wiped her palms along her tunic. She intertwined her fingers together as she approached him, the words stuck in her throat as he looked at her. His eyes were soft, sad; apologetic.

She reached out a hand to touch his freckled cheek, and as she did, he let his fingers brush her waist and pull her to his chest.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting the hand resting on his face drift to the back of his neck, combing his soft hair between her fingers. The silence held them together, an invisible thread that tugged her closer to his chest, that coerced her to let her head rest on his shoulder.

She swallowed quietly. “Are you okay?”

He breathed deeply against her, his heart beating steadily. “I don’t know.”

(Y/N) pulled away from him, both hands resting on his shoulders. She gave Edmund a sympathetic smile, her thoughts drifting to the conversation he had with Peter.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Did you mean it?” She asked softly.

Edmund looked up at her with his dark eyes, a moment of silence that felt like forever passed between them before he placed a hand to her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her mouth softly, (Y/N) sighed at the sheer delicacy of his lips.

He pulled back, his breath fanning across her cheek. “I love you.”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, her heart pounding against her chest. She pulled from his embrace far enough to look at him properly. His gaze sent a wave of warmth to wash over her, her hand drifting across his chest, stopping at where his heart was beating rapidly. She smiled at the thought of her making his heart race.

“I love you, too,” (Y/N) whispered, moving to press her forehead against his, but he pulled back quickly.

The dark-haired king stepped away, leaving (Y/N)’s hands to hover in the air, and suddenly the room turned slightly colder. She looked at him worryingly as he pushed a hand through his mess of hair.

“I’m lying to you,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “About what, Ed?”

He paused, tightening his hand into a fist before opening the door behind him and leaving the room. The sudden moment was baffling, and it took (Y/N) a moment of recollection before she stepped outside to follow him.

Sunlight spilled onto the tiled floor, encasing the castle’s hallways in a warm yellow light. The weather was beautiful outside, and there would’ve been a possibility of (Y/N) and Edmund going for a horse ride if there weren’t any prying eyes.

Edmund was already a couple of steps from her and from the way he walked, it didn’t look as though he were playing a game with her.

“Edmund,” she called out quietly, some steps almost like a skip to get closer to him. “Edmund, wait.”

Her voice must’ve flown past his ears as he sped up and turned right to swiftly move down the marble staircase. (Y/N) huffed as she turned the corner with him, her hand sliding across the glistening ebony rail as she raced down the stairs.

A few moments of chasing the king passed, and she found him passing through the doors of the grand library, the wooden doors carved with intricate details of fauns and dryads, and Aslan encircled by the Kings and Queens of Narnia.

She stepped through the doors, and she noticed how different the library looked in the day; mostly because she spent countless hours in here when night fell and the only lights she had were a candle and the moonlight.

“Edmund?”

(Y/N) heard rustling to her left and saw the King hunched over a book he had brought out. She moved closer, and she noticed the book’s incredible thickness.

It was titled A History of Narnia and (Y/N) began to chuckle. All this to look through something she’s already read?

“Ed, I’ve already-”

“The history books are lying to you,” he said quietly, looking ashamed of himself.

The young woman stood by Edmund’s side, flicking through to book aimlessly as she shook her head.

“I don’t get it,” she said delicately. “What are they not telling?”

Edmund pressed his hands against a table and lowered his head, his face hidden by his arms. It scared (Y/N) quite a bit since she never sees him vulnerable, it made her think of the times she caught him in the kitchens, drenched in sweat and looking as weak as ever.

She started towards him before he muttered something she couldn’t hear, but the tone of his voice echoed sorrow.

“Ed, what?” (Y/N) said, her heart in her throat.

“I betrayed my siblings,” he said, lifting up his head to look at her in the eyes. “When we first arrived to Narnia...I was in league with the White Witch.”

Silence flooded the room and (Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, you weren’t. You fought against her, you took a knife to protect your brother from her. You were a hero.”

“Before that,” he said quietly, searching her eyes for something. “Before the battle, before I found my brother and sisters again-”

“You were captured by the White Witch,” (Y/N) said with an edge of anger in her voice. “You were taken to by her and she wanted to have you killed.”

“She never captured me. I went to her, all because I had promised her my family, all for a throne and some Turkish delight.”

(Y/N) rubbed her face in frustration, her heart crawling up to her throat. “What in Aslan’s name are you talking about? The history books say-”

Edmund dragged a hand through his hair before saying angrily, “Are you going to believe the books or me?”

(Y/N) stayed silent for a moment, looking at him with utter disbelief. “You. But it can’t be...I mean...”

“The proof, it’s all there,” said Edmund, pointing beyond the library doors. “It’s in the castle kitchens, when the fauns ignore the requests I give. The meetings, when the visitors dismiss my opinions. It’s with my siblings sometimes, even when they don’t mean it.”

(Y/N) looked helplessly at the dark-haired King, his eyes shimmering.

He continued, his ears tinged red. “The history books don’t say anything about it because my siblings wanted to protect me and the title Aslan gave me, but I’ve always known that I don’t deserve it - deep down I think what he did was out of pity.”

“Every night,” he said lowly, “I dream about it. Lucy dreams about Aslan. Peter and Susan dream about Narnia’s prosperity. And me?”

He scoffed lightly before continuing in a distant tone. “Nightmares. My siblings and Aslan would be slaughtered, and the White Witch would return - and I’d be by her side.”

(Y/N) tried to take it all in; the anger in his voice and the tears welling up in his eyes showed the swordswoman that his fears were far bigger than hers.

“I see her everywhere,” he whispered to her. “When I wake up, when I sleep. Sometimes I hear her voice telling me that everything was my fault and I-”

Edmund stopped abruptly, leaving his face to rest in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath and (Y/N) stepped towards him, her hand reaching to touch his shaking shoulder.

“Ed,” she said calmly, her mind still racing and trying to put all the pieces together. “You can’t possibly...your loyalty is here, it always will be. You can’t blame yourself for anything you did.”

She pulled the king into her arms, one hand resting in his hair, the other rubbing his shoulder, as his face was press against her neck. She felt hot tears leave his eyes and dampen her neck, and she looked to the intricate art of the library’s ceiling to keep her tears from falling.

She felt his chest rise and fall in sudden motions as he wrapped his arms around her, tucking himself further into her embrace.

(Y/N) loved him. She loved his heart, his laugh, his smile, his bravery. She loved the way he held her, the way he said her name.

A wave of heat flooded her chest, set her heart on fire. She kissed the top of his head, and let her tears fall into his hair.

She loved him.

[punchholesinthesky]

I didn't know you could just be a boy

I was listening to a podcast today, about a girl who stood up to her parents at the tender age of four and told them that she was a girl and that she'd chosen a name. I'm in awe of this little girl being so damn sure of herself. I got super emotional listening to it and it got me thinking about my own childhood. It was NPR’s radio ambulante, the episode called “yo nena”.

I knew I was different from a young age but I didnt know how.

I just felt it. And probably cause I visited a lot of doctors and i guess most kids don't do that?

I learned that my brain was different but not the details. I had some vague notion of being adhd. I would not learn it until much later by googling different developmental disorders and learning about being neurodivergent and autistic.

I would later on go on to learn I was queer too, and though I had read the word genderqueer once and thought it fit, I hadn't given it much thought.

I was assigned female at birth, and though I have never liked it, I thought I was stuck with it, that I just had to make the best of it.

I remember wishing to be a boy so many times. Identifiying with male characters, creating ocs and alter-egos, acting the male parts (it was an all-girls school, someone had to), and begging mum to let me cut my hair short, and being so happy when people thought I was a boy.

I never liked traditionally female things, never had a barbie, hated dresses (there's still a photo of a tiny grumpy me being forced into a dress one of my grandmas gave me) and my school uniform was trousers 99% of the time. The other 1% was like official acts, maybe the first and last day of school, stuff like that. I hated it, but at an all-girls catholic school I had much biggers issues that complaining about wearing a skirt a few days out of the year. I remember the gym uniform being a problem. Not sure what the problem was. Something about tights maybe?

I never felt like a girl. But it wasn't something I could properly explain so when I tried to talk about it, with my parents or friends what they usually got out of it was the usual self-steem issues of any girl. Mum tried to help by helping me choose new clothes, telling me how good I looked. And trying to get me to be more feminine, teaching me about 'girly stuff',

But that wasn't it. I understand it better now .

See, it's not that I have self-steem issues about my appearance. I know I'm conventionally good

looking. And if I gave 1/10 of a fuck I can be a very hot girl. I have photos of pasts attempts to prove it. But it never felt right. It never felt like me.

I can put on a bikini and I'm young, thin, fit, I'll look good. But that doesn't mean I'll like what I see in the mirror. I don't feel uncomfortable because I think the person in the mirror looks bad but because I don't know who that is.

I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Bikinis are uncomfortable by design, meant to exploit feminine bodies and for someone who's already uncomfortable having one? A bloody nightmare.

And there's a lot of understand. Why the hell am I being punished for the crime of having a female body by being constantly uncomfortable ? Why are clothes so terrible? Why is so hard to find something basic and decent? Why are bras the worst?? On and on and on. questions I never got the answer to. So much confusion about girl stuff that every other girl i knew seemed capable of navigating.

For a long time I blamed it on me being weird (ie, neurodivergent)

Like, all my friends started caring about boys, parties, romance, alcohol and drugs.

I'd always struggle in school and one year I got literally left behind.

I struggled with depression. I tried hard to fit in and be like them. I tried to be normal, followed their strange rituals. I let my hair grow out, i went on dates with boys, I drank too much and made out with strangers. I got into trouble. I wore a dress to my graduation and invited a boy I'd been talking to.

It was one of the few times I wore a dress voluntarily. Another one was a christmas dinner. And a new year's party. I also wore a skirt to dress up as kate bishop. That's about all I recall. I did buy a dress to cosplay clara oswald but never did it.

I wonder, what if I had told my parents I was a boy and I wanted to be treated like one before? How would they have reacted ?

Laughed it off probably. As they did when I pretended to be a boy for a game as I often did.

I can't imagine them taking it seriously, even now.

I don't know when I found out trans people existed, or who was the first one I heard about.

But I do know I thought it meant you like hated your body or yourself and wanted to be totally different.

And that didnt fit me. I had never hated myself. I hated how the world treated me. I hated arbitrary rules based on gender.

My scout group was mixed-gender, but we were divided in troops and these were single-gender and divided by age.

But we all learned the same things. Whether it was building a fire, tracking, or cooking, we got the same lessons. Sometimes we competed and we slept/bathed separately.

In TECHO it was all mixed-gender. Well, except bathing, but often we'd shared the same bathroom. We slept, cooked, and worked together.

And nobody ever looked down on girls as 'the weaker sex'

That was cool.

My actual education was the opposite. Academically, it is better for a school to be all-girls, at least for girls. But socially, not so much.

As a teenager, I hadn't quite forgotten how much I wanted to be a boy as a kid, but idk I thought I had left it behind me. That what I craved was freedom, independence, the benefits of being a boy, not actually being one.

Later I would discover terms like 'internalized misogyny' and think that was the problem. Cause I liked Lucy and Arya, not Susan and Sansa.

Yet here I stand, years later. Having done a lot  of work. Recognising the value of Susan and Sansa. Appreciating Peggy Carter, in a gay and feminist way, and still not wanting to be a girl.

It just doesn't fit me. It's not a rejection.

I'm a feminist. I think women are great.

I understand there are many ways to be one.

That I don't have to be feminine to be one.

And yet, it just doesn't feel right.

After I learned of what 'gender dysphoria' was I though, 'oh I can't be trans I don't have that'

And then, I learned about 'gender euphoria'

And that finally opened my eyes

Trying to be a girl always felt like an ill-fitting costume, no matter how hard I tried. Like I was playing a part and didn't know my lines.

I remember cutting my hair short, like kstew, and going WOW upon seeing my reflection.. I looked more like myself than I had in ages.

I bought different clothes. Boy's clothes. I'm too small for men's clothes but I can fit just fine in clothes meant for 12 years old boys.

I cut my hair, put on new clothes, bought tight sport bras, and when I looked in the mirror, I wasn't sure who the person staring back was but I really liked how he looked.

My parents, for ages, tried to get me to 'dress nicer' to 'act like a lady' and so on. I cared enough to shower and put on clean clothes. I bought a lot of nerdy shirts which I at least liked. Did some experiments. Occasionally I'd make an effort but otherwise I was pretty basic. Loose-fitting jeans and hoodies.

Family kept gifting me nicer girly things I'd wear once and often ignored later.

It wasn't till I gave myself permission to truly dress how I wanted, and yes to shop in the boy's/men's section that I started to actually care about how I looked and putting more effort in.

I never thought I could be a boy, because I didn't know that was a thing you could do.

if I had been like that little girl and said 'i'm a boy' I think they'd havebeen at a total loss.

would they have asked my shrink? What would he have said?? It felt as though they were always on my case to be more lady-like but I know that's unfair. They were generally pretty okay with me being a tomboy, at least until puberty. And even then it was never that huge a thing. More of a constant annoying issue. There were many more pressing ones.

It's 2019, and I bet most parents would still be at a loss. There's not exactly a lot of rep or info.

I'm a lot happier with how I look now, but I still haven't found the right words to explain myself to my parents. I know I have to eventually, I want to stop hiding, to be visible, to change my name.