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golchaworld · 4 years ago

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Free Me, Free Us | C. SB

➳ pairing: king!soobin x royal aid!reader (fem!reader)

➳ genre: royalty!au, angst, slight fluff

➳ word count: 4.8k

➳ warnings: cursing, mentions of blood/bloodshed, mentions of war, non-graphic depiction of injury, implications of possession/ownership of a person, non-linear narrative, non-explicit sex

➳ summary: Some of the King’s requests are easier to refuse than others. But not falling in love, that is the hardest challenge yet.

➳ A/N: After a while, I’m back! Sorry that it’s been so long; school has really been kicking my ass. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this!

The lacquered wall in front of you is grandiose, opulent, and stained with deep red blood. You sigh upon inspecting it, suspecting that an aid must have stepped out of line. His majesty is rarely cruel enough to act so murderously, but rarely isn’t never.

You huff out a sigh, turning your back on the blood-stained wall. The various maids that scurry around the palace will be sure to take care of the mess. You assume a few have already disposed of the offender's body.

Your heeled slippers clack elegantly along the marble floors as you walk down the large hallways. As you enter into the atrium of the palace, the sound is made dull by the buzz of servants fluttering around. It’s calming, how busy the palace is on a Thursday afternoon. It means that things are getting done. And each thing that gets done is one less thing you have to do yourself.

The golden clock that sits high along the wall of the atrium reads five minutes to four thirty, reminding you that his majesty is soon to be released from his military meeting. He expects for you to greet him at the door, as he always does when he completes his last schedule of the day.

And who are you to refuse the requests of royalty?

It’s exactly four thirty on the dot when the young King is dismissed from the military meeting. The doors are opened for him, as usual, and he exits with his usual gracefulness. The only hint of anger in his demeanor is the way the corner of his lips is crinkled up in annoyance, showcasing the boyish dimple in his left cheek. Even throughout the hints of anger, King Soobin is as breathtaking as ever.

You greet his majesty with a small bow, which the young man just scoffs at before turning and making his way down the hallway. You roll your eyes, instantly knowing that today will be one of those days.

His anger is clear in the way he walks, his quick footsteps and long legs allowing him to speed through the lavish marble hallways. You trail behind him, as expected, trying your hardest to match his pace. It’s difficult, but you manage to trail him into his chambers. The first thing the young King does is place his crown atop its wooden stand. He then turns to you with ice in his eyes.

“We may be under siege soon,” he says softer than you expect. “We’ll have to prepare the troops for battle.”

You nod. “Yes, your majesty.”

The young man sighs, unclipping his purple velvet cape from where it is secured around his shoulders. The minute the offending fabric falls, so do the man’s shoulders. He takes a large hand and rakes it through his ebony tresses, causing the strands to stand up at odd ends. At last, the man sits on his large canopy bed, kicking off his heavy slippers. When he meets your eyes again, his majesty is gone. Only Soobin remains.

“I had to kill a man today.”

“I saw the bloodstains in the East Wing,” you move to sit in an armchair in the corner of the room as you speak, finally relaxing into familiarity. “What did he do?”

“He questioned me. He doubted my ability to protect us from the Kang Kingdom.”

“Soobin,” your tone drips with fondness, with familiarity. “Killing men because they doubt you is unlike you. Normally, you just prove them wrong. Your parents would not condone—“

“My parents are not here!” Soobin snaps. “I am not my father, and he is no longer with us. He didn’t die for my men to question my every move!”

Redness blooms atop Soobin’s cheeks, wetness pooling at the corners of his eyes. You cross the lavish room in an instant, coming to sit beside the young King. Your arm attempts to encase his broad shoulders, brushing against his silk robes. As you pull him closer, you hear Soobin’s soft sniffle. Your heart mourns for him.

“I miss them so much. Surely, my father would know what to do when we are under siege, but I’m lost. How am I supposed to protect the kingdom?”

You place a soft kiss on the crown of Soobin’s head, hoping to placate the man who has started to weep. His broad frame shakes with the force of his sobs. Once again, you mourn, but only momentarily. A young king has no time to mourn. He only has time to protect and rule his people.

“Bin,” you take his round face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You are the King, an amazing king, at that. You are the leader of this kingdom, by God’s grace. There are people out there counting on you. You can do this. The spirits of your mother and father are guiding you every step of the way. They are here with you.”

Soobin sniffles again, eyes still wet with unshed tears.

“I’m here with you, Bin. Don’t ever forget that.”

. . .

At seven years old you are forced into your finest dress and shoes. Your mother fusses over your unruly hair, attempting to make it fit for royalty.

After a long carriage ride spent looking out the window, you are grabbed by the hand, pulled into the throne room of the royal palace and placed in front of a chubby cheeked boy. Your mother nudges your shoulder uncharacteristically hard, serving as a reminder of your manners.

“I am Y/N of the outer ring. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The young boy smiles in return, dimples indenting his chubby, tanned cheeks. “I am Prince Soobin of the royal family. It is a pleasure to rule over you.”

You vaguely remember the fear that trembles your parents’ voices as they speak to the couple that are sat in their respective thrones. Soobin just looks at you, wide-eyed and friendly as the adults talk, as if used to this sort of formal gathering. His cheeks are captivating, overly round in a way that you have never seen before. You suspect that he comes from a family that has access to lots of rice. Your family has never been afforded that luxury.

Your father falls to his knees very suddenly, voice wavering as he speaks.

“Our daughter is all we have to give you, Your Majesty. We pledge her to thee. She may serve you and the kingdom however you may see fit. However, please spare her life. This is our debt to repay, not hers.”

There is sudden applause from the man sitting in the throne, the woman next to him sitting stoic as ever. She, too, has plump cheeks. You salivate at the thought of plentiful rice.

“Your daughter will serve Prince Soobin from this day forward. She is his property now, and will act however he see fit. Is that clear?”

Both of your parents nod profusely, now both kneeling.

“Oh thank you, Your Majesty,” your mother blubbers. “Thank you for sparing our daughter’s life.”

There is only a chorus of tears and yelling as your parents are removed from the throne room, calling out various goodbyes and declarations of love. Tears are staining your hollow cheeks now, although you didn’t know why at the time. The chubby cheeked boy reaches out to wipe away a fallen tear on your face.

“Soobin-ah!” The woman in the throne booms. “Go bathe, now. We do not touch the commoners.”

. . .

The Choi Kingdom is held together by a few core principles: balance, honor, and integrity. Without those three principles, it is believed that the spirits above would no longer protect the people of the kingdom. You believe that the kingdom has long lost those principles, and that the spirits have since packed their bags.

The outer ring of the kingdom is plagued with poverty, disease, and crime, its lack of proximity to the palace making it a low priority in the distribution of food and resources. What they are rich in, however, is manpower. With the way Soobin enters the throne room on a Thursday afternoon, you suspect you’ll need a lot of it.

“Have there been any updates, Your Majesty?” Your voice is calm and soft, as if trying to refrain from scaring the young King.

Soobin sighs, relaxing into the plush feathers that compose the cushions of his throne. “Yeonjun thinks that an attack will be planned for the next new moon, so the Kangs can be fully bathed in darkness.”

“And what does that mean for the kingdom?”

Soobin throws his head back in exasperation, making the precious metals of his crown clang as they come in contact with the marble floors behind the throne. “It means we have twenty one days to recruit more men and train. A trip to the outer circle may be in order.”

You nod once. “I’ll make arrangements to send Yeonjun off at sunrise.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“And why not, Your Majesty?”

“Because I will attend in his place.”

Your heart sinks instantly. Never in your lifetime had a king visited the outer ring of the kingdom, and you never imagined that you would live to see the day one did. The act was unthinkable, and yet, by the determined look on the young King’s face, you knew he was serious about attending.

“Your Majesty,” you begin. “I mean this with all due respect, but a king cannot simply go to the outer circle. Yeonjun’s job as a military advisor is to--”

Soobin slams a hand against the armrest of his throne, the resulting boom echoing around the otherwise empty throne room. “Yesterday I killed a man who doubted me. And now you are daring to do the same?”

It’s well known that Soobin’s threat is an empty one. As his longest-standing aid, you know deep down that you would be one of the last to be excused from his assistance. That knowledge, however, does little to ease the fear rising in the pit of your stomach. Soobin, a natural born leader, was notably stubborn, and always followed through on his remarks.

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” You avert your eyes from his intimidating gaze begrudgingly.

Soobin tips his chin up, as he often does when he gets what he wants. He has won this battle, and he knows it. However, the reason why he considers this a battle worth fighting is still lost on you.

Later that night, when the King retires to his chambers, you trail him inside as usual. You take your normal perch in the armchair in the corner, even going as far to toe off your heeled slippers. Soobin chuckles as the wooden heels meet the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

“Long day?”

Although you know the King’s words are sarcastic, you choose to answer truthfully. “It always is when I’m looking after you.”

“I never said you had to. We’ve had this conversation ages ago.”

“We have,” you agree, cocking an eyebrow. “So I do not know what purpose that bringing it up now will serve.”

Soobin lets his cotton undershirt fall to the ground, exposing an expanse of smooth, pale skin. No matter how many times you are graced with the sight of the man’s body, you find yourself stunned every time. Everything about him is utter perfection, regal in its nature.

“Maybe you should take the day off while I’m gone.”

You scoff, relaxing further into the armchair. “If you think I’m not to accompany you to the outer circle, you must be delusional. I’ll call the medicine man in the morning.”

Soobin chuckles as he steps out of his pants, leaving him in only his undergarments. His legs seem to stretch on for miles until they converge on strong hips. There is a scar on the back of his left knee from a childhood accident. You wonder if your kiss could heal the mark. A birthmark lay on his right thigh; you imagine temptation takes the same shape.

“If you think I’ll allow your accompaniment to the outer circle, then you must be the one who needs the medicine man.”

“Your father pledged me to you,” you object. “That means that I must protect--”

Soobin turns to you, shrugging on his night dressings. “What it means is that you must do what I say. As far as I remember, you are mine.” You curse the shiver that crawls up your spine at the word. “So if I order you to take the day off tomorrow, then you must do so.”

“But Bin--”

“I am requesting to sleep now. You will return to my bedside approximately one hour after sunrise, understood? You are dismissed.”

“Soobin…” Soobin whispers one final goodnight before blowing out the candle at his bedside, swathing the room in darkness.

. . .

Soobin refuses to touch you until he is ten years old. Every attempt before that age resulted in a scolding and a long bath, so at some point he was forced to stop trying. He treated you as if you were a shadow, something intangible, but ever present.

It’s a warm day in May when his hand gently grazes the bare skin of your forearms. His fingers are soft and smooth, not a trace of a callous or scar, much unlike your own fingers. Your hands are worn down from three years of housework and making sure that Soobin’s hands remain pristine.

The boy looks into your eyes as he touches, showing that his actions are purposeful, defiant.

“Your Highness, you should not be touching a commoner,” you mumble, cheeks aflame.

Soobin smiles until his dimples indent his round cheeks. “Your skin is a lot smoother than I thought it would be.”

You shake your head, an attempt to deny the prince’s compliment.

“We are friends, aren’t we, Y/N?”

Once again, you shake your head in disagreement. “No, Your Highness. You are a prince, and I am merely your servant.”

“But if you are my servant, then you have to do what I say, correct?”

“That is correct, Your Highness.”

“Then, be my friend. That is an order. Let me hug you. That is also an order. And, when it is just the two of us,” Soobin grins. “You must call me by my first name, Soobin.”

“But, Your Highness—“

“That is an order.”

. . .

At seventeen years of age, Soobin presses his lips to yours for the first time. There are tears drying on his cheeks, his black robe crinkled from the earlier funeral procession. He has just lost his only family in this world, and yet he looks to you for comfort.

The kiss is merely an act of frustration, the young prince (who would be crowned king in three days) having no other outlet to express his desperation. Soobin needs comfort, needs affection, and this is the way he seeks it.

When he pulls away from the lip lock, he stares down at the hands he has kept in his lap the entire time. They shake relentlessly. When he finally makes eye contact with you again, you melt, finding yourself getting lost in the oceans that swim in his eyes. Never in your life had you been so jealous of tears.

“Your Highness, it is illegal for a commoner to have relations with royalty. I am undeserving of your affection.”

Soobin sniffles. “When I am King, that will be the first law I repeal.”

. . .

You pace the marble floors of the palace’s front foyer relentlessly, heeled slippers mindlessly clicking against the flooring. Even on a supposed day off, you find it impossible to occupy your mind with anything other than thoughts of the King. The rest of the palace keeps moving, yet you remain stagnant in your thoughts of Soobin.

The people of the outer ring have been raised to despise the royals, always blaming the palace for a lack of food and resources. Whenever someone gets sick in the outer circle, it is said that only the royals can save them, and every single time, they don’t. It’s only natural for a divide to form between the idealistic royals and the real royals.

In theory, the royals look after their entire kingdom. In practice, they leave the outer circle to rot.

Your stomach swims with a mixture of frustration and anxiety. Soobin is not built to see the tragedies of the outer circle. The people there will only hate him more, lashing out as he arrives on his pristine white stallion, decked out in precious gems and jewels. He is the biggest target for robbery or injury, even with his knights accompanying him.

If only he had let you attend with him, or better yet, in his place, then all of your worries would evaporate into thin air. But stubborn as he was, the King was a smart one. He left you by your lonesome for a reason, you conclude. But for what reason?

The sun is beginning to cast a hazy glow over the hilltops when you hear the steady thump of horseshoes approaching the palace. It must be the royal army returning from their recruitment. It must be Soobin. Finally.

There are faint voices that accompany the sounds of the horses. They sound like warnings, like requests...like screams for help.

Soobin needs your help.

You leave your heeled slippers stationed on the marbled floors of the foyers as you burst through the palace doors, running straight towards the sounds of the incoming horses. They begin as little black dots on the hilltops, but as you approach, you can see the familiar armor and kingdom insignias.

The white stallion eventually comes into view. Soobin is not on it.

A slew of vivid colors flash in front of your eyes. There is the golden sunlight reflecting off of the slick coats of the horses as they speed down the hill. There is the lush green grasses and the purple of the royal insignias as they wave in the wind. And then there’s the red that stains the pristine white fur of Soobin’s horse. Your heart drops to your feet.

You are frozen in place, letting the horses approach you. They all race past you, thundering towards the palace. You catch a glimpse of the King on the back of another stallion, clutching his lower abdomen. His hands are stained red.

As quickly as he comes into view, you lose sight of him. All of the horses seem to continue to pass you, except for one. You find yourself looking up at the familiar man atop a sleek black stallion. Emotion swims in his eyes.

“He has been hit with an arrow,” Yeonjun explains. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”

At those words, you find yourself turning on your heels, running as fast as you can towards the palace. The rough earth stings your bare feet, and the hem of your skirt bites at your ankles, but you can’t find it within yourself to pay the sensations any mind.

Soobin needs you.

. . .

The whole castle is abuzz with news that the new King refuses to be wed. Before his parents passed, they explicitly expressed that they wanted their son to be married as soon as possible. Even on their deathbed, they commanded that Prince Soobin be wed.

But the King simply said no. He said that he was King now, and that any orders that his parents had before they passed were now void.

Soobin sits tall and mighty in his throne, face stoic and void of emotion. Even as his aids buzz around him with pleas to marry, he refuses to budge. It is only when you come into view that he decides to speak.

“I won’t do it, Y/N.”

You sigh, taking a hand to your forehead in exasperation. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Being King is not about what you want to do, it’s about what you must do. This is something you must do!”

“And why is that?” Soobin cocks a defiant eyebrow.

“Because it is what your parents want.”

“My parents are dead now,” Soobin scoffs. “They can’t want anything.”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, beginning to pace the sturdy floors of the throne room. Soobin has always been notably stubborn. As a child, it was cute, the way he stuck to his word and always saw things through. At the age of eighteen, however, it’s not nearly as charming.

With the absence of other aids, you try a different approach.

“Bin, be honest. Why don’t you want to marry?”

Soobin’s gaze is suddenly turned to the windows, the ceiling, anywhere but your own. “I want to marry for love, not for duty.”

“We can find someone who you will learn to—,”

“I do not wish to learn to love. I already love another.”

Already.

The word rings in your ears. How has the young King defied the rights of passage? Has he already courted another? Is there a mistress that you know nothing of? Where has he found the time to love? To love already?

“You...you have already found love?”

Soobin nods, still avoiding your eyes. “I have been in love for a long while now, yes.”

“Is she royal?”

At this, Soobin finally returns your gaze. “She is not.”

“Then it cannot be,” you mutter.

“I never once thought it could.”

. . .

You’re sat by the King’s side as he wakes. It must be the wee hours of the morning, no later than three hours past midnight. The rest of the palace is silent, still. The only light in the room comes from the candle you have lit at the King’s bedside.

His stirring is soft at first, plush bottom lip just faintly quivering. His rounded nose twitches once, twice, before the King finally takes in a deep breath. As he exhales, his eyes slowly open.

He’s quite obviously disoriented at first, dark eyes scanning the room sluggishly. His blinks are lethargic and long as he takes in his scenery. When his eyes land on you, his brows furrow in confusion.

“The outer circle…?”

You chuckle, placing a hand on his majesty’s shoulder. “The outer circle can wait, Bin. For now, just rest.”

The next time Soobin stirs, the sun is up, approaching its highest point in the sky. His black locks are splayed messily across his forehead, slightly damp with the prior day’s sweat. His eyes flutter open slowly, his dark lashes casting gentle shadows atop his rounded cheeks.

You smile fondly as the King releases a soft groan, reaching forward to brush his hair away from his face. It’s rare to see Soobin so mellow, so soft as he returns to the real world from dreamland. When his eyes meet yours, confusion crosses his handsome face.

“What happened?” He asks, voice gruff from lack of use.

“You got shot with an arrow.”

Soobin rushes to sit up, only to be stopped by a pang of pain in his lower abdomen. He looks down to his robe-covered torso, rushing to untie the red silk strings holding it together. It gives way to expose a pristine pale chest and stomach, the latter wrapped in red stained bandages.

You force yourself to look away from the King’s nakedness, both out of respect and pain. You’ve never had to witness Soobin with such an injury, even after years of servitude. To think that someone would want to harm the precious King is blasphemous, yet you understand. If you lived in the outer circle, you too would blame the royals for your misfortune.

As Soobin eyes his own injury, he releases a soft groan.

“Was this the doings of the Kang Clan?”

You shake your head softly. “Yeonjun said it was the work of a struggling commoner. He was executed on the spot.”

Soobin simply looks confused. “Why did he wish to hurt me?”

“Because you are royal.”

. . .

The possible attack from the Kang Kingdom has anxiety filling the air of the palace. The entire royal army is on edge, anticipating their attack on the new moon. With an injured King, the palace is more secure than usual. Several guards surround the King’s chambers throughout the entirety of the night.

They are under strict instruction that the only ones allowed in the King’s chambers are the King himself, and, of course, you.

“Prince Taehyun will use this as a perfect opportunity to show off his strength before he takes the crown,” Soobin chuckles bitterly. “Always a show-off, that one.”

“So be it. Our military is more than ready.”

Soobin scoffs. “Yeonjun claims they lack preparedness.”

“So be it.”

“How can you be so calm when the kingdom may soon be under attack?”

The fire in Soobin’s eyes is reminiscent of his late father’s. They both had the same passion for their people, stopping at nothing to keep the kingdom safe and secure. Soobin would rather die than let his people die at the hands of another.

Like this, with a jaw set in stone and a protective hand placed over his bandaged wound, Soobin is most attractive. Like this, Soobin is a king. Like this, Soobin is a man you love, a man you wish to serve, in more ways than one. Like this, Soobin is your entirety, a whole world that you cannot fathom letting go of.

“As long as you are safe, Your Majesty, I have no worries.” You attempt to keep your voice as gentle and steady as possible, fighting the urge to let emotion thicken your words. “The kingdom can rebuild, but not without a king to lead them.”

Soobin scoffs. “What kind of king am I to be sitting under the utmost protection while my men must fight for me?”

“A smart one.”

“I feel like a selfish one,” Soobin mutters, a pout taking hold on his face.

With his rounded cheeks and his jutting bottom lip, Soobin is reduced back to a mere prince, looking much like the child you were introduced to all those years ago.

It’s encapsulating, the way Soobin’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. In one moment, he is the strongest, most stubborn man on earth, practically oozing determination and overzealous machismo. In the next moment, however, he is soft and insecure, reduced to childishness.

“Bin,” you warn. “We can’t risk you getting hurt again. This isn’t a selfish move, it’s a generous one.”

“It’s cowardly and selfish,” he responds, still sporting his pout. “My kingdom may soon be at war, and instead of preparing with them, I’m laying upon silk sheets doing nothing.”

“Do you know how selfish you sound right now?”

Soobin’s eyes narrow. “Do you know how irrational you sound right now?”

You scoff, standing up from your seat in the armchair. There’s a flame lit in your abdomen, causing your entire body to heat up with anger. It fuels you enough to cross the room, stopping once you reach the King’s bedside. You meet Soobin’s eyes with a glare.

“And what would we do if you go out there, your majesty?” Your tone drips with sarcasm. “Would we just watch you as you stumble around in pain and get yourself killed? Who would take care of the people then?”

“The people need a warrior,” Soobin argues.

“The people need a king! The people need you here, alive and well. Soobin, I need you here! You can’t just run around and get yourself killed. What would I do then?”

“Y/N…”

“How could you be so daft? I don’t want you to go out there! I can’t let you go out there. I can’t lose you again, Soobin. I can’t.”

There’s a warm palm against your cheek, a thumb wiping away tears that you did not notice had fallen. Each swipe of the thumb is tender, caressing the slope of your cheekbone tenderly. You breathe slowly, in and out. When you meet Soobin’s gaze, you notice a familiar wetness there.

“You won’t lose me, Y/N. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Soobin deflowers you at age twenty.

It’s heady and intense, the way that all forbidden actions are. Out of wedlock, but very much in love, the two of you throw tradition to the wind.

You sink down on him with great care, trying your hardest to be mindful of Soobin’s wound. Soobin is out of breath, eyes glassy and cheeks flush as he enters you. He’s leant back against his plush feather pillows, black hair splayed out messily.

His warm hands reach out to caress your hips, guiding you as you rock down on him slowly. There’s pleasure in the pain, in the difficulty you have in finding a rhythm, in the awkward tangle of limbs and silk sheets. There’s pleasure in the way Soobin gasps out your name, tells you he’s close.

After the pleasure climaxes, and the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon, the world is still. The attack from the Kang Dynasty never comes.

You are left with your own internal war.

#choi soobin #choi soobin imagines #tomorrow by together #txt #txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #escritos

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finelythreadedsky · 5 years ago

Note

Why is there no Jewish narnia? (As you mentioned in your last post) I have some suspicions, but would love to read your thoughts!

This is a long answer but I wrote a 20 page paper on this so:

It’s essentially because fantasy (mostly high fantasy) as it has developed through the last century is an inherently Christian genre. Works of specifically Jewish speculative fiction tend to be sci-fi, alternate history, or historical fantasy NOT in the vaguely medieval setting common in fantasy. There are Jewish works of fantasy (Maggie Anton’s Rav Hisda’s Daughter, Helene Wecker’s The Golem and the Jinni) and high fantasy (The Princess Bride, Shira Glassman’s Mangoverse), but there is not a fantasy world that is Jewish in the same way that Narnia is Christian (Shira Glassman comes closest, but Jewish theology is not interwoven into her work the same way Christian theology is in Narnia or Middle Earth).

read more for analysis of fantasy’s theological inclusivity, relationship to the past, and tension between nostalgia and modernity!

Modern fantasy as a genre has been largely shaped by Tolkien and Lewis, deeply religious men whose works are infused with their Christianity (arguably also by GRR Martin, who is a former Catholic, but it’s too soon to tell). Fantasy also derives its origins from A Pilgrim’s Progress, a seventeenth century Christian allegory that was incredibly influential for subsequent literature, particularly the idea of a fantasy quest that also prompts a character’s moral/spiritual growth. The quest narrative is inherently Christian in its origins, and its effect of a character’s moral/spiritual development and coming of age is also fairly Christian.

Usually actual Christianity isn’t present in vaguely historical fantasy worlds, but fantasy worlds’ religion/spirituality often vaguely resembles (what the author believed about) Western European pre-Christian pagan practices. Middle Earth in particular very heavily parallels Zoroastrianism and Mithraism. We end up with a world poised on the edge of Christianity, that could easily incorporate a Christ-figure. Essentially because Tolkien and Lewis were really into the myths and cultures of pre-Christian Europe, their own stories reflected an interest in integrating those myths and cultures into their own worldview as legitimate, though incomplete, predecessors to Christianity. Their fantasy pagans are primitive precursors to Christianity, getting a glimpse of divine truth but not yet achieving fulfillment through Jesus. A corresponding ‘pre-Jewish’ fantasy world wouldn’t work or make sense, not only because Judaism pre-dates or is contemporary with most of the mythologies and cultures that interested Tolkien, Lewis, and other writers: Jews don’t have the same theological imperative to reconcile pagan mythologies with their worldview, because that imperative comes out of an understanding of one’s own religion as the only source of truth. Historically Christianity has been very concerned with whether people who were not christian because they lived before Jesus (or before Christianity reached the area they were living in) could still be righteous/saved, but Judaism holds that people who are not Jewish are just fine as they are and so has no need to insist on the partial divine inspiration of non/pre-Jewish peoples as Tolkien and Lewis do for non/pre-Christian peoples.

Likewise there isn’t really a Jewish need to create moral/theological allegories, which is the basis of modern fantasy, from A Pilgrim’s Progress to that bit we all hate with Susan being no longer a queen of Narnia, because Judaism is not concerned with spreading and teaching its values in the same way that Christianity is. Fantasy tends to come out of a Christian perspective on a cosmic battle between good and evil that is also a battle over the individual soul of the protagonist. Will God or the devil, good or evil triumph over Middle Earth or Narnia? Will moral purity and a sense of what is truly valuable defeat the appeal of the present at hand for Dorothy Gale and Bilbo Baggins? The duality of good and evil and pitting them against each other in a battle for an individual soul is a Christian thing. The idea that the fate of the entire world can rest on a single soul? Also a Christian thing.

Tolkien/Lewis style fantasy is infused with an inherently Christian relationship to the past (i.e., return to a prior golden age). Fairly obviously, Jews have a more complicated relationship with medieval and pre-modern Europe, which is the groundwork of a lot of fantasy. The sort of pastoral nostalgia on which fantasy is built doesn’t really work for Jews, who tend not to be so eager to imagine themselves in the past in that way. Hence the preponderance of Jewish sci-fi, which imagines a better future from authors who see the present as better than the past and hope for a future even better than the present. The ability to romanticize the past is a privilege, and it is not one Jews have historically had very often. And fantasy, aside from looking to the historical past for its setting, often takes place in a world that is aware that it has lost its golden age and is attempting to restore it. Middle Earth and Narnia have seen better days but have ‘fallen’ from that temporal Eden through corruption, requiring characters who can vanquish the evil and restore the glorious golden age. Implicit in this is a very Christian perspective of the biblical fall from paradise as an unequivocally bad thing that humans should seek to reverse, as well as the implications of a second coming of Jesus in the restoration of a golden age. Fantasy rests on the assumptions that the past is an authority and something to be restored, historically as well as in-universe, and that the modern age is inferior to its predecessors. Neither of those assumptions work with the experiences of Jews. It’s a Christian idea of the circularity and cyclicality of time and history, where I think a linear perspective is more appropriate to Judaism. And the cyclicality prevents any progress toward modernity— the Narnia books cover two and a half millennia, but the world is stagnant in the Middle Ages the entire time. Jews have a vested interest in progress and modernity that has no place in such fantasy.

(A side note that neo-pagan/anti-Christian fantasy literature from the 60s, 70s, and early 80s is a really interesting contrast to the absence of Jewish fantasy worlds. More than a few authors turned to the same pre-Christian traditions as Tolkien and lewis, but depicted them as wholly un-Christian and explicitly in conflict with Christianity or proto-Christian traditions.)

In doing my research for this I came across A Canticle for Leibowitz, which has the premise that the world is destroyed in a nuclear war but you know what survives and flourishes? The Catholic Church. It consists of three parts, separated by 600 years each, centering monks in the order of St. Leibowitz, an engineer at the end of the world who committed himself to preserving knowledge as it was being destroyed. Question that never got answered: WHY did this 20th century Jewish guy convert to Catholicism and become a priest???? Anyway, the book is Very Catholic. It plays into the Christian cyclicality of history BIG time, which means it hits an interesting place between sci-fi and historical fiction/fantasy, since its 26th century resembles the early middle ages, its 32nd century looks like the Renaissance, its 36th century seems like what someone might have projected for the 22nd century, and all throughout the characters think of the 20th century like we have approached classical antiquity for the past 1500 years. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy it, though there were a few cool bits that dealt with the wandering Jew motif. Not surprisingly, if the premise of your book is that it’s about post-apocalyptic monks, I’m not really into it.

#the princess bride is jewish fiction FIGHT ME #mine #ameliapondthechristmasqueen #also i LOVE the jewish response of non-medieval vaguely historical fantasy!#ask

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