#lucy pevensie meta

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

[yoitsmano]

Life after Narnia

The Pevensies return from Narnia a bit discombobulated. They are adults in childish bodies. The war has ended, and they are to return home to their parents but they never forget Professor Kirke. Often visiting him during summers.

Their mother notices it first, how everyone seems to listen to Peter. Not because he is the eldest, but because they respect him. She hears them talking of 'Narnia' and deduces that something happened to them while they were away. But she can't put her finger on what. She has no idea what an 'Aslan' is, but she doesn't question them. She misses her children. They are there in their home, but they aren't. There's always a faraway look in their eye as if they are remembering.

When they eat, no one picks up a fork until Peter starts. It confuses their father. Leaving the table, Peter stands, then Ed. The boys take their sisters' hands and lead them from the table before coming to help with the cleaning. She notices the way they walk. Peter is always first, Susan next to him, then Edmund and Lucy. They walk with regality, Peter and Ed with straight backs as the girls take their arms.

They are out on the town, when their father notices it. The children stopped in front of a jewelry store; something had caught their eye. Without saying anything, Peter opens the door, and his siblings walk through before he does. It is a set of lapel pins they saw first. A Lion. He hears them all say "Aslan" before Peter pulls out his wallet. From that day on, he always notices a Lion somewhere on their person. Peter with a ring, Susan with a necklace, Ed with a pocket watch and Lucy with a bracelet. But all wear their pins when he sends them to school.

Peter often forgets that he is not to speak before his father, but one look from Lucy quells his anger. His father calls him "boy" and it takes everything in him not to correct him. He is High King.

He begins working when he turns fourteen. He tires of asking his father for things only to be dismissed of "silly childish things". All he asked for was a sword. When he saves enough money, he buys his sword, and Susan an archery set. Susan notices the tension between Peter and their father.

Edmund asked for a chess set and his mother obliged. He often plays with Lucy, resulting in a stalemate. The only person to ever have beaten him, was Susan.

Lucy is the one their parents notice the most change in. No longer is she a nine year old, but she talks as if she is older. Using words even they don't know the meaning of. She speaks of this Aslan the most. Their parents realize that "Aslan" is the name of the Lion they brandish when they hear various exclamations of "Aslan's Mane!" or "By the Lion!"

They return to their school, Whitmore Boarding School. Many people notice a change in them. Mostly their teachers. Peter commands respect, Susan is positively regal, Edmund has a silver tongue, and Lucy is more peculiar than strange.

On the first day of term, a professor addresses Peter as "Boy" amongst other professors and in front of his brother and sisters. Peter cannot help himself. He tells him to address him with respect; to call on him as "Sir", and he will receive the same respect in turn. He will never answer to "Boy" again. It takes all his restraint to not say "King".

The Professor never did ask him the question he had called on him for.

It almost infuriates their teachers, but they realize that they aren't arrogant, just way too mature for their ages.

Another problem arises when Lucy refuses to wear the school appointed skirts. She prefers pants, or dresses. Never skirts. The headmaster nearly calls their parents when her siblings storm into his office. Peter demands to know why Lucy is being punished for wearing clothes, and why he did not send for him. The headmaster explains that he is not her father and Peter rebuffs him by explaining that his father has put him in charge of his siblings if any problems arose. He reminds him of the letter sent to him explaining such matters. Edmund pulls out the handbook and explains to the headmaster that the rules do not say that girls are not allowed to wear pants. The headmaster calmly explains that the list of supplies sent to them specified black, tan or grey skirts for girls, and black, tan or grey pants for boys. Edmund then points out that the rules do not forbid girls from wearing pants or boys from wearing skirts or dresses. He then calmly suggests that he drop the matter or Lucy will spend the term walking around school without bottoms, as the rules do not forbid that either. Citing that they were told they had to purchase the uniforms, but the rules do not explicitly say they had to wear them. The headmaster does not know if he is annoyed or impressed at the loopholes Edmund finds. He drops the matter, and it is never addressed again.

All the Pevensie’s take up a sport or two. All of them take up fencing, aside from Susan. She took up archery. Peter and Lucy take up swimming. Edmund joins the debate and chess teams. And Susan and Lucy both excel in ballroom dance. Susan doesn’t even try out for the archery team. She’s just in the courtyard watching the team practice with Ed and criticizes their technique. The captain of the team overhears her and challenges her to do better. She smiles at the boy, saying she does not want to embarrass them. They laugh and vaguely insult her intelligence and Susan just looks at her younger brother and he smirks. He stands and holds out his hand, addressing her as “my Lady”. The team laughs and Susan takes the captain’s bow, gets a feel for the weight, and then requests a full quiver. Ed stands to the side and comments, “You asked for it.” She hits the bullseye on every target. The captain has the audacity to say, “lucky shot” So Susan shrugs. There’s a target that’s moving and she nocks another bow and hits the bullseye without even looking. She then hands the captain back his bow and walks away with Ed. She finds the captain’s pin on her desk the next morning.

The rumor goes around that Peter prefers to be called “Sir”. While he’s sitting in the courtyard with his siblings, a group of older boys walk up to him, one calling him “Sir Peter” in a mocking voice. Peter puts down his book and calmly answers with “yes sir.” He stands to look the boy in the eye, and as the boys spout insults. Susan can see that Peter and Ed are getting angry, so she stands between Peter and the boys, placing her hand on his chest and tells him to walk away. It isn’t until one of the boys pushes Susan away that Peter loses his temper. Edmund catches her before she hits the ground. The biggest boy grabs Peter’s collar and immediately regrets it as his shoulder promptly leaves its socket. The other boys come at him, and he side steps. All four of them are on the ground with various injuries and Peter didn’t throw a single punch. He received detention and attended with pride. No one ever touched Susan again.

The professors are surprised when the Pevensies join the student council and the school seems to run better than it has in its history. Edmund works mostly behind the scenes, but people usually come to him or Susan with their problems. They think Peter is scary, but Ed reminds them that they voted him in as the head of the council. He tells them to actually talk to him, he’s not as stoic as he seems.

The adults notice that the Pevensies do not dress as children usually do during their off hours. Instead of t-shirts and shorts and hoodies, the boys are always in slacks and a pressed shirt, sometimes with a tie. Susan enjoys sun dresses and flowy skirts and blouses. Lucy is always wearing boots and pants with a loose shirt. She is not like any of the other girls they’ve taught.

They have all grown taller in the three years they’ve attended the school after the war. With Peter now seventeen, standing at six foot three. Susan is fifteen and almost as tall as Ed at five foot eight. Edmund has always been tall and skinny for his age, but now at fourteen, he stands at five foot ten. Lucy is the one who has grown most noticeably, at thirteen she stands at five foot six.

Peter writes to his father, asking for money for when they go to the shops on the weekends. He receives a reply, saying he ought not ask for silly things. He learns that he can open an account at the local bank. He never asks his father for anything ever again. Even after he left school, anything his siblings wanted, he provided for them.

Lucy asked Peter why he refuses to write to their father. Peter looks at her and, in all seriousness, he replies “he treats me like a boy”. She then goes to Susan, and she tells her that she suspects their father is jealous that someone taught Peter and Edmund to be better men before he could.

During a weekend outing, the school chaperones notice Edmund and Lucy sitting at a table playing chess. He watches as Susan and Peter are perusing the shops. But instead of buying games and toys and candies, they are in a bookstore. Peter comes out carrying Susan’s books and they join Ed and Lucy at the table. Susan cracks open a book and Peter lights his pipe. They don’t know where he got it, but no one dares take it from him. When Lucy and Ed came to yet another stalemate, Susan put her book away and took Lucy to a dress shop. Peter put away his pipe and followed. Ed just reset the chess board. They are indeed more grown up than they seem.

A few girls pluck up the courage to ask Peter to be their date to the ball, but he tells them that he is already spoken for. No one is surprised when it is Susan on his arm at the dance. Yet, no one expects it when Lucy and Edmund join the two on the dance floor and dance the waltz as if they’ve been doing it for far longer than they’ve been alive. They are surprised, however, when Peter and Edmund extend their hands to their teachers to dance the cotillion. They are accepted.

Many professors have gotten used to Peter watching the courtyard during class. But no one could have prepared themselves for Peter suddenly standing and letting out what sounded like a growl before speeding out of the classroom. Many people knew the look in his eye and followed him to the courtyard where Lucy was. There was a new student in Lucy’s year. He hadn’t learned the rules of the school, or proper etiquette for that matter. Lucy had started to be more like Susan. Gentler. Lucy opted not to fight when she could avoid it. Sometimes she couldn’t avoid it. This boy had tried to touch her inappropriately and got punched in the stomach. But he was bigger than Lucy and had backed her against a tree. He didn’t get much further as he was pulled off her and a fist met his face. But this one was bigger. Stronger. He was then pulled by his collar and lifted against the wall by the absolute beast of a man he had never seen before. No one had seen him before. All he heard was “Peter” before he was dropped. His knees gave out and he looked up from the ground to see Peter standing before him, chest heaving. “Apologize.” Came the low growl. There was a small, slender hand on his chest. He supposed that was all that was keeping him from probably dying. He thanked every god he could think of. He was then heaved from the ground by his blazer and made to look Lucy in the face. This hand was different, but the fury was the same. “I believe there is something you need to say.” Came Edmunds voice.

“I’m sorry.” He said, terrified. Lucy just looked back and said, “I supposed you will learn to keep your hands to yourself.” Before Edmund let him go. Peter was still growling. He got off too easy in his book. None of the teachers said anything, noticing how the one hand from Susan kept Peter at bay, they kept that information in their proverbial back pockets. That boy never touched anyone again.

For fear of the beast that was the Pevensie siblings.

[jessmalia]

Don't know if this take is controversial or not, but I think Edmund is genuinely the best person of the siblings and I think that him making the biggest mistake so young is the main if not sole reason why.

Because his misdeed was so big (in consequences not intent) he went through all that turmoil and learned all those lessons, that the majority of people have spread out over their entire lives, all at once. He deals with all his flaws right away, while his siblings, who are viewed as good and well behaved people from a young age, have their flaws slowly start to show themselves and cause problems as they get older, leaving them unprepared for how to handle them.

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Peter Pevensie

I binged read and watched the Narnia books and films, and idk what possessed me but I wrote. so. Let's go. Please check out the other parts for the other siblings!

.

Peter’s skin itches.

He heaves even breaths through his nose as he leans back to avoid the sloppy punch Easton throws at him, and stops himself from going for the throat for the third time in half as many seconds.

This is the fourth fight he has gotten himself dragged into since term began on Monday. It is Wednesday today, and Peter’s blood pounds in his ears, through his limbs and his flexing fingers as he holds back; doesn’t hit hard, doesn’t go for the liver or the heart or the head, does not give into the bloodlust that whispers siren songs of battle and blood-covered blades in his ears. He stops himself, clenching his fists and dodging the abysmal hits from the three boys that surround him, and refuses to lift a hand against these insolent children.

He is a King.

He is a boy stuck in a schoolyard brawl he did not start.

Peter’s skin itches.

He wants to claw it off— he imagines that this is what snakes must feel when their body gets much too big for their scales, and they have to go through the painful process of shedding their outer layer and come out stronger and larger. He suppresses a grim twist of his lips as he kicks out— harmlessly, wrestling against the lust that sings a song of death in his ears— at that idiot Michael’s knee to send him sprawling to the ground with a yelp, and thinks that what he went through was rather the opposite, really. He grew up, and then was forced into a body too unfamiliar, too awkward, too inexperienced. Too young.

He was a King.

He is a boy stuck in a body too unscarred to be a King’s.

Kenneth lunges forward to try and grab him around the waist. Peter easily steps out of the way, the part of him that is a seasoned warrior clawing to the forefront of his mind simply to scoff at the graceless flailing of limbs that these children call fighting. Lucy could do better.

Lucy did do better, twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years ago.

The timelines blur together, in his mind; he can no longer tell whether he is in England or Narnia. He is wearing his school uniform and he is wearing his royal garments, he is walking the halls of Westbrook County Boarding School and he is walking the halls of Cair Paravel. He holds the blunted school practice broadsword in his hand and he holds the razor-sharp Rhindon in his calloused hands, he is a boy and he is a King.

“Fight back,” Easton snarls, dark brown hair falling out of its previously carefully styled place, and Peter thinks of how he has seen scarier Mice dig their teeth into the throats of Minotaurs and suck them dry of blood. He blinks, and the image of him sinking his own teeth into Easton’s throat flashes across his mind’s eye. He blinks again, and he’s back on this makeshift battleground where the mice are gone and his sword is gone and he is in clothes too uncomfortable and the skin is stretched taut over a body that is not really his—

“Fight back, Pevensie, you coward!”

High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, Protector of the People, wants to grab him by the throat and shatter his jaw into a thousand pieces for that grave insult upon his character. Instead, he laughs in his face and sticks out his tongue, like a small child.

He is nineteen, and he is thirty-three. He is not a child, in either world.

Sometimes, he wishes he was. Sometimes, he wishes he was thirteen and in his mother’s home, he wishes he had never left for Professor Diggory’s mansion.

Most times, however, he wishes for something he has almost given up hope for, something he was forced to give up five and a half years ago. He wishes, oh so dearly, for a faithful sword made of mithril in his hand and a heavy crown woven out of golden flowers on his head. He wishes for one last chance to step out of this world that was once his but no longer is, and into a world where he was once High King Peter the Magnificent, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, First of the Beloved Four, Protector of the Narnian People.

Easton yells as he lumbers forward, and Peter, too embroiled in old memories of running his fingers through the unicorn Ethrys’ snow-white mane while galloping through grassy fields, does not see the punch coming until it is too late. The loud smack of knuckles against flesh echoes through the school courtyard, and the impact of the heavy fist on his cheek is like an electric shock to his senses.

For a second, he blinks dazedly. And then his brain registers it properly. The pain flares, and with it so does blinding hot bloodlust.

‘Fine,’ he thinks as he lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Easton’s forearm in a death grip, a high-pitched whistle echoing in his ears and red creeping into the edges of his vision as it zeroes in on the many weaknesses in the three boys’ defenses. ‘You want a fight? You’ll get one.’

It takes him four seconds to get the three imbeciles on their backs, one howling in pain from a dislocated shoulder, the other because of a broken nose and the third from a bruised kidney. His fingers flex around the hilt of a sword that he no longer owns, and he reminds himself that he is not allowed to kill, not in this world where he is not a King and does not lead wars.

He stares down at Easton, the image of a blood covered sword and a slain warrior at his feet flashing behind his eyelids when he blinks. He opens his eyes and the boy stares back, hand clutching his shoulder and face becoming paler and paler the longer Peter holds his terrified brown gaze.

“Don’t bother me again,” he says flatly to the three of them, and turns away, ignoring the teachers that are hurrying across the lawn with yells of his name tumbling from their lips. He lifts his gaze and locks it with Edmund’s for a second, brilliant blue meeting identical brilliant blue, before both of them turn away. One royal brother melts into the crowd of students without a whisper, and the other stalks off towards the dorms with blood on his ever-bruised knuckles and memories of a different world singing through the veins of a body that is too young for the mind it contains.

He is a King, celebrated and honoured for his services to a hallowed land.

He is a mere boy sitting on the roof of the boarding school, fingers flexing around the hilt of a sword that no longer belongs to him, nothing more than a memory he cannot let go of: a memory he refuses to let go of even after five and a half years.

[queen-lucy-the-valiant]

On my last rewatch of Prince Caspian, I wondered what it would be like to be one of the Narnian’s in the battle planning scene; watching the supposed High King suggest what is essentially a suicide mission. The fight is really between the High King, the myth come to life, and Prince Caspian, the Telmarine prince they’ve accepted as the leader of their rebellion; both plans offer hope, both plans might work, but both plans also seem like a stretch; the most likely outcome is that they all die. But no one is saying that the most likely outcome is death, they’re all just dancing around it. Caspian and Peter are both saying their plan has the highest chance of success, but neither of them are saying that the rebellion might fail, that everyone in the How might die in a few short days.

And there has to be a disconnect here; how many of the Narnians were like Trumpkin when he first met the Pevensies, how many of them assumed these apparent children wouldn’t be able to help them. They accept them, of course they accept them, Caspian himself is a child, if an old one. So you have this apparent child, claiming to be the high king of legend, suggesting an insane plan, and even though he’s sure the plan will work, maybe you can’t get over the fact he’s young, maybe you can’t get over the fact young usually means inexperienced. And during all of this, his youngest sister, supposedly a queen in her own right, is casually sitting on the stone table itself, and maybe this angers you, because no one has dared to touch the stone table, the place where Aslan died and was born again, because to do so would be to disrespect him; but there she sits, silent until she challenges her brother, silent until she voices the thought everyone is thinking but no one dares to say; “That’s what I’m worried about,” she says after the first pledge of ‘or die trying’ has been made, “You’re all acting like there’s only two options. Dying here, or dying there” she says. “I’m not sure you’ve really been listening, Lu,” the high king says, a little patronizingly, a little dismissively; and it occurs to you that maybe he cannot see past the child to the woman she used to be, as you cannot see past the child he appears to the man he used to be. If he cannot, how can you? Maybe you expect her to back down, this is the high king after all, but she has already been brave enough to voice what everyone else didn’t dare. So she doesn't back down; “No, you’re not listening” she says emphatically, “or have you forgotten who really defeated the white witch, Peter,” and she refers to an event a thousand years past, one so wrapped up in legends and myth that maybe the truth really has been forgotten, maybe everyone in the How has also forgotten who really defeated the White Witch. Or maybe you simply do not expect her to call on Alsan, when she appears to be so casually disrespecting him. “I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough” the high king says, and then walks away, ending the argument, after all, they’ve already decided to attack the castle, what’s the point in arguing about it more. 

In this moment, Lucy is the only one thinking about Aslan, because everyone else agrees with Peter, they have waited for Aslan long enough, centuries of waiting while the Telmarines hunted them to near extinction, and now the kings and queens of old are here, surely sent in Aslan’s sted; they’ve decided it is time to act and the high king has offered a plan, something they can do, rather than continue to sit around and wait. He’s the high king, he’s so confident the plan will work, and it’s the only plan they have, so of course they do it, (and it seems like it might’ve worked if caspian understood that you can free people from the dungeons and execute miraz after you’ve managed to take the castle, but that’s not what this is about). 

I don’t know, it just seems like this moment would be really strange to see as a bystander; the Pevensies haven’t even been there that long, maybe a couple of days, so even if everyone accepted them as the kings and queens of old, they still don’t really know them, let alone understand them; it’s doubtful that the Pevensies they know from the stories are anything like the real Pevensies that stand before them. They’ve suddenly been confronted with kings and queens of legend who appear in the bodies of children, who look like young ones but behave like old ones, who saw the history of a thousand years ago, who are the history of a thousand years ago. Even if they believed the Pevensies are the kings and queens of old, maybe they’re finding it hard to stop discounting them as children; and then they see the high king himself do it, in the same breath as dismissing Aslan. In this moment they see that the high king is just like them; he to is avoiding the inevitability of death, dancing around it with grand plans and heroic deeds, and he fully believes they will work, after all, he’s never lost a battle before; but he’s avoiding it all the same, casting off Aslan as the rest of them seem to be doing; not intentionally, of course not, but they’ve waited, and waited, and he hasn’t come, so they will follow the high king who acts in Aslan’s name. And maybe in this moment they begin to stop discounting Lucy, as the youngest of the kings and queens, because she has not lost her faith in Aslan, while so many of them have, she is willing to wait for him as the rest of them are not.

I feel like we don’t talk about the point of view of the caspian era narnians enough; we talk about how strange it would be for the Pevensies, to come home and have home be unrecognizable, but we don’t talk about how desperate the caspian era narnian’s must have been to accept that four humans were their kings and queens of old, even with the cave paintings; we see more detailed in Cornelius's office, but how many of the narnian’s would have had access to that art? They put their lives in the hands of the Pevensies, on the faith that they are who they claim to be, on the faith that these children have more experiences than anyone else, and maybe it’s during this scene that the faith begins to become belief. Then they fail and everything falls apart again before they pull it together one last time, but that’s not my point. My point is, how desperate would you have to be to believe four strangers are the heroes out of your myths come to save you; how hard would it be for you to believe it, truly believe it, instead of just following along, hoping they succeed because everyone else has failed you.

this is very disjointed, so I hope you actually made it to the end and I thank you if you did, hope you enjoyed my random mutterings.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know I find it incredibly ironic that in my Chronicles of Narnia fic series, an interesting inversion in fate (and character development) finds the most rebellious among the most devoted to restoring Aslan’s kingdom, while the most faithful fell the furthest. Edmund turns back at the tree and becomes a king of Narnia alongside Caspian, helping guide it into a new golden age and earning the title of the Once and Future King, while Lucy literally becomes an eldritch goddess and is implied to have straight up killed Aslan at some point. Edmund gets his redemption arc and then some, becoming one of the greatest kings in Narnian history, securing the legacy of Aslan, while Lucy, the most faithful, falls further than even Lucifer and ends up usurping God himself, not because she desires power, but because she sees the way that Aslan uses it as unjust.

And yet...both of them are doing this for the same reason. To be a champion of the downtrodden. To correct injustice. To secure themselves and their own kingdoms so that it can never be stolen from them again.

Gotta love some foils/parallels!

[rainintheevening]

Return

Hard floor under knees

Shock in wood meeting skin and bone

And a warm rush like water

Smell of mothballs and old wood and the beef broth from dinner

Squinting in a different light

Mother is a quick thought, echoing of old forgotten joy

Mum

Dad

How could they have forgotten?

England, war and all, like a long lost nurse embracing them

Welcomes them back in the flush of youth and

White-haired, bright-eyed curiosity

A guiding hand to steady where the swords hang no longer

Tracing lines between the older stars of this old home

And questions

Belief behind the spectacles that draws out trust, laughter

Letters race away toward the battered house in Finchley

So much not said, but enough to say what matters

Love, love, miss you, the Professor is a brick, miss you, love

The shirts and skirts and shoes fit well enough

Even wistful memory cannot keep plain food from filling bellies

But minds and hearts are stretched too far to fall back into the same places

Imagination on a holy scale

Some wriggling is required to make it settle in

Knuckles press to wood, questioning, hopeful

But where there was a door there is only a wall

Aches of doubt soothed by voices

Telling what the other eyes have seen

And in that big old house and in those lawns and woods

Some magic lingers

Wood is warmer than stone they remember

[narnianskys]

The skills of a King or Queen

They had to rebuild a kingdom. In the aftermath of the war with the white witch the newly crowned Pevensies had a daunting task. Narnia was in shambles after the 100 year winter. With the help of many older Narnians they learn skills and helped their people. 

Peter learned the crafts. He was taught wood carving from the fawns and black smiting from the dwarves'. He worked with his hands to create things. To mold tools and weapons to help and defend his people. He would often forge swords for his allies as a sign of trust and comradery. 

Susan quickly took to the art of the hunt. Her skilled marksman ship added her well as she became an expert tracker. She learned trapping and enjoyed the solitude and peace the chase would provide. it was said she was so nimble of foot that even if she walked right behind you, not even the crunch of a leave would catch your attention. 

Edmond had a rudimentary knowledge of cooking from his mother both nothing comprehensive. He set his sights on learning the Narnian dishes that his people loved to dearly. As he did he learned to butcher and create serval herbal remedies. He excelled and it became quite the honor to have the young King hand craft meals for visitors in Care Parevel.

Lucy spent her time out doors in the gardens and fields. She loved to learn about each crop and tended to them with her hands and her heart. It wasn't uncommon for visitors when bowing to the young ruler to see her dust covered skirts and the dirt embedded in her nails. 

They worked together, forging a brighter future for their people. Nothing was easy after the war but in time Narnia thrived.

[starr-angelofnarnia]

I think the Fandom generally agrees with the movie approach with all of the angsty feels

I genuinely think the most of the differences between the Pevensies in the books vs. the movies can be explained by one simple fact: the Movie!Pevensies are fully cognizant of and emotionally attached to their experiences in Narnia after returning to England, while the Book!Pevensies have a notable emotional distance to their memories of Narnia

It's an explicit plot point in the books that the longer you stay in one world, the easier it becomes to forget about the other one (or think of it as a dream). Additionally, while the Pevensies do remember what happened and are permanently changed by their experiences in Narnia, they seemingly forget a lot of their Narnian-learnt knowledge and skills. This gets briefly mentioned in Prince Caspian, when Lucy talks about swimming:

When they had drunk from the well and splashed their faces, they all went down the stream again to the shore and stared at the channel which divided them from the mainland. “We’ll have to swim,” said Edmund.

“It would be all right for Su,” said Peter (Susan had won prizes for swimming at school). “But I don’t know about the rest of us.” By “the rest of us” he really meant Edmund, who couldn’t yet do two lengths at the school baths, and Lucy, who could hardly swim at all.

“Anyway,” said Susan, “there may be currents. Father says it’s never wise to bathe in a place you don’t know.”

“But, Peter,” said Lucy, “look here. I know I can’t swim for nuts at home—in England, I mean. But couldn’t we all swim long ago—if it was long ago—when we were Kings and Queens in Narnia? We could ride then too, and do all sorts of things. Don’t you think—”

“Ah, but we were sort of grown-up then,” said Peter. “We reigned for years and years and learned to do things. Aren’t we just back at our proper ages again now?” -PC, Chapter 3

So she learned how to swim while growing up in Narnia, but forgot it again when she returned to her own world and was back at her proper age. But the longer the Pevensies stayed in Narnia, the more those previously-learned skills came back to them:

This was real broad-sword fighting. The great thing is to slash at your enemy’s legs and feet because they are the part that have no armor. And when he slashes at yours you jump with both feet off the ground so that his blow goes under them. This gave the Dwarf an advantage because Edmund, being much taller, had to be always stooping.

I don’t think Edmund would have had a chance if he had fought Trumpkin twenty-four hours earlier. But the air of Narnia had been working upon him ever since they arrived on the island, and all his old battles came back to him, and his arms and fingers remembered their old skill. He was King Edmund once more. -PC, Chapter 8

The same general principle appears to apply to their memories and the emotions attached to them (which I think is one of the main reasons why Book!Susan is so easily able to dismiss Narnia as a "silly children's game" when she gets older). Narnia's magic protects visitors from feeling the pain and suffering associated with being de-aged/losing their home/etc when they leave Narnia by forcing a mental and emotional distance from their experiences, and they're only able to re-forge those connections once they return.

By contrast, the Movie!Pevensies are acutely and painfully aware of what they've lost by returning to England, and it dramatically alters the equation for everyone involved.

It turns the level-headed, loving, tired Books!Peter into the angst-ridden, hotheaded Movie!Peter who's constantly trying to prove himself. It turns Susan's story inside out, because it gives her entirely different reasons and motivations for possibly wanting to forget about Narnia and dismiss it as a "silly game." It gives Edmund a narrative reason to retain the massive character growth he'd experienced in LWW, act as the steadying rock in the siblings' lives, and feel like he has something to prove in VDT without Peter around.

And while I think Lucy remains the least changed between the books and movies, there are several added dimensions to her fully remembering her first fifteen years in Narnia that really start to peek their heads out by the time we get to VDT (particularly her desire to feel grown up and desired by the men around her; if she's truly feeling her age, I think there's an additional nuance to that plot that goes beyond the vanity and "she wants to be like Susan" dimensions from the book).

Do I think this accounts for all of the characterization differences? No. But I think it's a massively understated difference that doesn't get talked about enough as being a major driver of how differently the Pevensies act and react to things in the later books vs. how they act and react in the movies.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

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

Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

[rthstewart]

So is John Pevensie still an antagonist in Stone Gryphon? (Am I asking this because I love Helen and Mrs. Godwin? Yes. I am also asking because I love a furiously protective person and John seemed like that in the snippets from his perspective)

@becauseforoncethisisme asked:

So is John Pevensie still an antagonist in Stone Gryphon? (Am I asking this because I love Helen and Mrs. Godwin? Yes. I am also asking because I love a furiously protective person and John seemed like that in the snippets from his perspective)

First, thanks so much for reading and reaching out about the first chapters of Heart and Crow Make The Peace.

Ware below for LONG meta/history/ruth stewart blather

For many years, the first and last look readers had of John Pevensie was a scene in the posted Apostolic Way.  It’s a disastrous dinner at the Rainbow Room in New York City, where Col. Walker-Smythe has brought Edmund to America to work as his aide and batman.  John is, as presented in the story, a writer and editor, recruited by the SOE, to work on the generation of pro-British propaganda.  He is a serial philanderer, is bitterly disappointed that it is Edmund, rather than Peter, who has come to America, and the dinner is excruciatingly painful as John’s memories of his children are several years old and certainly pre-Narnia, leaving Edmund to, once again, be far kinder than his father deserves and Walker-Smythe is furious.  It’s made worse by numerous women who have obviously enjoyed John’s attentions in the past stopping by the table to say hello.  

Meanwhile, Helen Pevensie is back in London, and true to what was more common in 1943 than it was in 2020, has been in a sexual relationship with Mrs. Beatrice Goodwin, the widow next door.  

I was probably too successful in the scene as John can come across as a craven and cruel person. Readers’ sympathies (and mine) have always tilted to Helen.

With the reposted story, I slightly tweaked the previous version of the Rainbow Room scene and have introduced in text that a part of John’s issue is untreated PTSD. So, is this signaling a change of heart for me in John's role? and what about Mrs. Goodwin and Helen?

John's untreated illness is an explanation, in part, but not a justification to be sure.

I’ve always intended for Helen and Beatrice to go their separate ways.  As broad-minded as the Four are, it's different when your parents are involved and I’m finding it hard to push myself to writing that as a resolution or where it’s all just one big happy polyamory.  From discussions with readers, I could see Beatrice moving to a small market town for economy, meeting another widow with young children and you know, there are only 2 bedrooms in the cottage, so of course….   Post-war England was filled with these kinds of relationships of economy and convenience and, presumably, potential romance amongst widows.

As a writer, I also want John and Helen to both put some work in and try to rebuild their relationship.  This is something millions of people had to do post-War and I’m interested in how and whether couples can overcome infidelity.  I’m not sure I could, personally (I’ve been married for over 30 years!) and I’m interested in developing it.  TSG itself presents numerous different takes on bonding and infidelity which, while true to the time period, is also intended as a contrast to Edmund and Lucy’s  own sense of loss for their partners.  Something I’ve not decided is whether Morgan and Aidan, respectively, went on to have their own relationships some period of time later.  

There’s another reason for introducing John’s PTSD.  TSG was originally supposed to be a two-fer, Peter-centric story.  I was going to do a time-skip after the conclusion of Ox 1942 and jump to post war, with Peter starting an affair with Mary, dropping out of uni, finally finding his path, and then everyone dying, with Susan left behind (I had this about half-written, even). I never, EVER wanted to touch the 1940s UK educational systems or Peter’s potential service in the military as I deemed bothway beyond my storytelling skill.

[TQSiT was never in the cards – that’s the fault of an early reader, Miniver on ff dot net long since gone, who asked, Well, given these adventures for Peter, and Lucy and Edmund off on the Dawn Treader, surely Susan is up to something exciting in America, which coincided with me reading a WaPo review Connant’s The Irregulars.  Oops.]

So to avoid having to write Peter in the service, from the very beginning, back in Ox 1942, I wrote that Peter’s parents are opposed to his service and he’s willing to go along with it because he thinks he’s an insubordination risk.  I never explained why they are opposed which is really not especially consistent with the patriotism of the time.  

So, in the story I’ve picked up again 12 years later, John’s trauma at Dunkirk as now part of the reason for that opposition.  He goes to War to protect his family and early on is deeply traumatized by the failures to evacuate soldiers on the beaches; he hears the screams of men and ships going down in his dreams.  In his own protective misguided way, he wants to protect his family from that horror. And when he finds out that Aslan plucked his children out of England and turned them into warriors, he is going to be PISSED.  

 Oops.

Thanks so much   @becauseforoncethisisme!!

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Edmund Pevensie

He's arguably my favourite character right alongside Caspian the Tenth. Let's hope I did his character justice. The other parts for the pevensies are up on my blog.

.

Edmund stalks into the debate hall with his notes in his hands, and the room falls into a hush.

The students cease their muttering, their eyes tracking the lanky, too-thin boy as he walks with far too much grace for someone who is fifteen-almost-sixteen years old and has yet to get his final growth spurt.

His limbs are too long for his blazer-adorned torso and he is not yet old enough to put on muscle, and still he moves with thrice as much control and precision as the royalty of the country.

Edmund remembers the months After.

He remembers stumbling and falling and breaking bone because he was a twenty-nine year old man in the body of a ten year old child, falling till he got sick of it and asked Susan to help him learn how to walk again, remembers tear-soaked cheeks and trembling callous-less hands and bitten-off screams after being woken up by a nightmare in the middle of the night, feeling too thin, too short, too young, too weak, too cold Peter, please, it’s too cold, help me—

Never again, he had told himself.

He feels their stares settle over his strange unscarred skin like a layer of cold gel, and he ignores them in favour of holding his head high and walking towards the desk with his name tag on it. He relaxes into the seat as much as he can, back straight and shoulders pulled back and breathing even, and then moves his gaze to meet the eyes of everyone that is looking at him.

Most students hurriedly look away, flushes staining their cheeks bright red out of the embarrassment of getting caught staring so blatantly. A select few stare back, holding his gaze for a couple of seconds before they, too, lower their eyes and turn back to their conversation.

It both does and does not feel like the Royal Court that he once presided over.

There too, conversations used to stop when he entered the Throne Room. There, too, people used to follow him with their eyes as he moved towards his throne beside Peter’s. There, too, he used to keep his back straight and roll his shoulders back and breathe evenly to prepare himself for the approaching war of words that he was certain he would win.

He lounges in his seat like he’s lounging in his throne, and watches the faculty walk into the room and take their seats. He does not bother to stand up like the rest of the students do, and ignores the disapproving looks Professor Jasmine throws at him for his supposed insolence.

What do they know of debates, he thinks with a hidden sneer.

He was the one that sat with bloodthirsty Kings and Warlords, manipulative Queens and Bandit Chiefs, and aided his older sister in hammering out treaties and ceasefires and surrenders from their enemies’ lips without having to lift a sword. He wrote the laws for his world and presided over the Supreme Court of Justice of his kingdom, solved internal disputes and planned war strategies and invented new tactics for external conflicts. He was renowned for his excellence with double swords and double-edged words alike, in Narnia.

In Narnia, he was King Edmund the Just, the Serpent Tongued Diplomat King, Third of the Beloved Four, Representative of the People.

Here in post War England, he is just Edmund Pevensie, with sharp glares and sharper words, as dangerous with his tongue as his older brother was with his fists and his older sister with her smiles.

Unlike Peter who swings between two worlds without control over his thoughts and memories, and Susan who tries (and fails miserably) to not think about their world at all, it is comparatively easy for Edmund to maintain the two different worlds as different experiences. For him, Narnia exists in one part of his mind and England in the other— separated from each other by a solid stone wall that Edmund has built up and strengthened over the five and a half years that have passed since he and the others fell out of that thrice-damned wardrobe, in bodies that were no longer theirs.

And yet, his nail beds itch.

He remembers the feel of digging his nails into flesh, remembers the feel of blood welling up under his fingers as he dug deeper, remembers the feel of being older, taller, stronger, wiser. He remembers being powerful.

Around him, the debate competition begins. He dimly registers the names of the students from the seventeen participating schools as they are introduced, and recognises more than half of them.

He treats debate competitions in schools just as he did political meets back when he used to be King. There are always three things one must know— the topic that you are to speak on, the questions that you may be asked, and the people who will be attending. About the people, you must know their agendas, their strengths and their weaknesses, and how to use that to gain what you desire. As simple, and as difficult, as that.

Here, he recognises twelve out of the seventeen opponents, and feels his lips curve into a small smirk. The participants seated on either side of him lean away from him, and it only makes his smirk grow wider with vindication.

He misses attending and holding Court. He misses the gratification in verbally ripping apart nobles and bloodthirsty warlords alike, he misses the satisfaction he felt while sinking his two swords into flesh on the battlefield in case the peace talks went wrong.

He misses being covered in blood after a victory, misses the annual Royal debate competitions, the mock arguments he had with Susan and the members of the Royal Court of Narnia, the vindictive smugness he felt when he put the fear of the Narnian Royalty in the hearts of warlords seeking to destroy his kingdom with nothing but his words and occasionally his swords.

Here, Edmund has to remind himself that he is arguing with children.

He has to remind himself that the people he is debating with are not warlords and power-hungry rulers out to conquer his kingdom.

He has to remind himself to not turn into the Serpent Tongued Diplomat King, to keep that vicious and twisted part of him safely locked up in the Narnian part of his memories. He has to keep the whole of his true self at bay, because he knows that they will not understand his metaphorical bloodlust when it comes to the art of wordplay.

He knows that they will not understand what it is like, to be an adult in a child’s body forced to play pretend politics where he has no real influence on the country’s government.

However, he thinks as the debate competition commences and a girl in a smart navy blue suit walks onto stage and starts giving her speech, he can allow certain attributes from his Kingly self through into his teenage self. In controlled amounts, he can allow himself a little ruthlessness, a little edge to his words, a little confidence, a little dignity and grace.

He can allow himself to indulge a little, to employ a few of his Kingly attributes into his teenage identity so he can get through secondary school without being given as hard a time as normal teenagers are.

That is one benefit of having been King— he might not have grown up in this world, but he had grown up before. As uncomfortable it was to grow up again, he knows what to expect this time.

He is better prepared than he was last time.

He leans forward and notes down a question for a statement the girl makes, and he feels the stares of the students on his back again. The vindication rises in his body; he is a force to be reckoned with and his opponents know it, and Edmund revels in the effect he has on them, revels in the way they cannot meet his eyes properly without having to look down. It almost feels like he is King again and they are his enemies— forced to bow to him after being defeated time and again, forced to grudgingly admit that he is superior to them.

The debate progresses, he gives his speech, gets asked questions and answers them as best as he can. He scratches his itching nails over his palms as he listens to the rest of their speeches and asks them questions, and sits back with his dissatisfaction very visible on his face when he does not receive the answers he was hoping for.

In the end, he lifts the trophy up with fingers that despair for the feel of his swords gripped in them, a satisfied gleam in his piercing blue eyes and a badge that proclaims him as the first ranker pinned to the front of his school blazer.

Dozens of eyes follow him as he steps off the stage and strides out of the room, and he lets them settle on his proud shoulders. Lets them turn into the weight he once carried in the form of a silver crown.

Let them see, he thinks viciously. His nails itch, and he wishes to sink them into flesh and rip it apart. He wishes to drench himself in the blood of his enemies.

Let them be witness to merely a fraction of the power I used to possess. Let them understand that I am dangerous, and not to be underestimated. Let them see that I am not a mere child.

He is a boy, arguing politics, modern and ancient war tactics and ethics with professors in his free time, having rumours of being a genius follow him around like obedient dogs at their master’s heels.

He is a King, shackled and hidden in the corner of a mind that belongs to a too-lanky teenage boy halfway through puberty.

He refuses to reach too deep into the memories. He refuses to forget the memories. He refuses to let himself sink into his own mind. He refuses to forget himself, and he refuses to be his entire self.

He cannot. He will not.

[raventreehall]

i feel like all the art/meta that depicts pretty pretty princess adult arya with long hair in a nice dress becoming queen in the north or lady of winterfell is just people confusing her with lucy pevensie

[shrinkthisviolet]

14, 15, and 20 👀👀

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

At the beginning! It’s always subject to change, but usually it’s pretty steady (idk why but I can’t write without a title 😂)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Definitely tags, but summaries are hard too 😭 titles can be sometimes, but not as much

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I love this question!

—Astra’s surname, Kadar, was Lando Calrissian’s original surname in one of the early scripts (glad they changed it tbh, Calrissian suits him better, and it works in this case for Astra). Unfortunately I can’t tell you why that’s significant yet (spoilers!), but it’s intentional, and I promise I’ll explain it when I can 😂

—Morgan’s name comes from her mother’s maiden name! Took inspiration from my headcanon of Jesse Chambers Wells’s mom’s name being Tess Chambers.

—I was originally stuck on James’s surname, but a friend suggested using a hyphenated surname, and “Bennet-Evans” sounded good to me!

—The sword that Bumi uses in the time travel AU? A gift from Izumi, which was initially given by Zuko (Izumi is still very reliant on firebending, so she doesn’t really like using actual weapons. Zuko still holds out hope that she’ll come around one day 😂).

—Sam’s middle name when she first time travels is Lucille, but after the time travel, one of the changes to the timeline involves Daniel making her middle name “Mary/Marie” when she’s born to him after the time travel (haven’t decided which yet 😂 and yeah, he finds out! Eventually…😉)

—I think this is stated in-fic, but the reason I named Lucy that instead of like…Luna or Lily or something is as a reference to Lucy Pevensie! I didn’t realize until later that it’s basically the same name as Luke, so I distinguished their names within the world of Star Wars 😂

(There are probably more, but those are the ones I remember off the top of my head!)

writing ask game!

[idratherdreamofjune]

#fire flowers... fireweed... first plant to grow back after a wildfire.... I've connected the dots (via @swinging-stars-from-satellites)

when you think about it no wonder they called lucy the valiant, and i don't mean because she went to war. i mean because after the wars were over, she was the one on the battlefield, cordial in hand, tending to the dead and dying. she was the one with so many lives in her hands. she was the one having to make the call about who was gravely injured enough to be healed and who would keep suffering. lucy the valiant. lucy of the fire flowers. lucy of the healing hands. the queen who walked among the dying and tried to bring them back to life. how much must that wear on a person? on a little girl?

really, do you think peter's decree not to carry it into battle often was to spare the cordial, or to spare his sister?

[narnianskys]

To the Glistening Eastern Sea i give you Queen Lucy, The Valiant.

Here is my playlist inspired by Lucy's life. Each song has a meaning here are a few of the most important ones.

1 Seven by Sleeping At Least. Lucy's is an adventures spirt, just like the seventh enneagram personality type. She doesn't sit still and is always ready to go racing off.

3 Savage Daughter by Sarah Hester Ross. This song appears on both Susan and Lucy's playlists. They are not perfect lady's of the court. the two queens are wild and full of more fight then their bodies can hold.

7 Touch The Sky by Julie Fowlis. She is so restless. Lucy needs to see the world. Laugh with the people around her as she lives her life to the fullest.

8 Teir Abhaile Riu by Celtic Woman. they say when Lucy came back to England she danced in a way no one could understand but that always worked with the music. She would have danced hill the sun rose when the court musicians played this song.

9 There Beneath by The Oh Hellos. The deep appreciation and love that Lucy has for Narnia in rivaled by no one. She treasures each blade of grass and each leaf on the tree.