you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.
without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.
your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.
your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.
your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?
your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.
your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.
who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?
• This was the first C.S Lewis book that I finished. And I feel as though I have been introduced to the most marvellous man. His writing style suited me perfectly, I loved the vivid imagery, and how wonderfully smooth his storytelling is. That is to say, his writing does not sound like writing at all, despite the heavy use of symbolism and details. It felt most like someone telling me an exciting story in person(remember Neil Gaiman talking about C.S Lewis’s masterful use of parentheses to this end?). It has been a while since I found myself reading most of the book aloud just so that I could feel the dialogues roll off my tongue :)
• And being completely honest, I cried reading this book. And being even more honest, it was probably because of where I stand in terms of my Christian faith right now (which also means it might have, probably would have been a 4/5 if I had read it on another day).
“But please, please - won’t you - can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?”
Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
“My son, my son,” said Aslan. “I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another. […] ”
This is the part that broke me. And the imagery is great. Jesus Christ who feels our pain even more deeply than we do, he who cries bigger, brighter tears for our troubles than we could ever, the saviour who calls us daughter & son and understands that grief is great - even better than we do.
• How beautifully written.
• For me, it has become one of the novels that have become fiercely convincing that indeed, words are so very powerful and influential. Experiencing how deeply and closely these stories can come to my heart… the devices have the potential to truly alter a life.
• 5/5 - an intensely powerful book in my “Read” shelf… Must read other books by C.S Lewis in the near future.
So I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I’ve been working at this for a long time. It’s based off a request, I kind of took creative reins here so I’m sorry @ requestee, I hope you like it! Let me know if anyone wants this idea for the other siblings. (The * is because I found a tumblr post including that quote, but I couldn’t find the original creator)
Request: “I’ve wondered what it would be like if the kids had families in Narnia. When they were kings and queens and were old enough to have families of their own or at least significant others. Would you be ok with writing an imagine or scenario on that? Edmund or Peter would do if you can only do one (I used to have a crush on both of them growing up lol)”
Any true Narnian knows of the Golden age, the years of peace and prosperity that hailed from the reign of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve: High King Peter, the Magnificent; King Edmund, the Just; Queen Susan, the Gentle; and Queen Lucy, the Valiant.
Stories and legends passed down among generations, whispered through the thick woods during the Telmarines reign, words of hope, and tales of greatness. Many focus upon these stories themselves, rather than think of the individuals that lived it, and for good reason too. For anyone knows, gaze too strongly upon greatness and you will find despair.
“A king is not a ruler. He is, first and foremost, a protector. There are legends of King Peter’s wrath.”* “Ah, dear one, let us not trouble your father any longer,” you had smiled lovingly at your son before turning to look up at him. Your son’s fingers wrapped strongly around yours as he tottled warily; walking a new frontier for him to discover. You bent over, holding him up carefully and making sure he wouldn’t fall. “He’s been at it all day!” You laughed, immediately bringing a wider grin on Peter’s face. Your laugh, oh Aslan, how he loved your laugh. It made your face light up, your nose would crinkle, and it sounded like a dryad. “Love, You should know you two never trouble me. Besides, I ought to start referring to you as three shan’t I?” Peter stood, rushing over to swing his son up into his arms and pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Mmh, probably,” you placed a hand upon your growing stomach and tickled your son’s arm lightly. “I’ll be due in a few weeks, and then we’ll have another one keeping us up at night,” your eyes twinkled mischievously. “All worth it, my Queen,” Peter’s chest rumbled with laughter as he glanced out the castle window. The sun shone on the sea, and laughter and music could be heard from the courtyard. His gaze dropped down to you- you who were so expertly tucked under his arm, your eyes alight with life and joy and love, the hand placed lovingly on your belly, to your son, who was perched on his hip like always, who’s lips bubbled with childlike laughter and livelihood, and he knew. “All worth it.” Peter blinked frantically, it was another dream, always the same. He tried to grapple with sleep, make it pull him back in, for only a moment longer, only one more second of your smile, one more second of your son’s cheek upon his shoulder, one more second… But you were gone, out of reach, out of hold, just like every time he woke from slumber.
He knew the train was going to crash, he felt the air grow heavy as it had before battle, as if mourning the losses it was about to witness. He wasn’t scared, though he knew, in theory, he should have been. In this world’s view he was only 22, his whole life ahead of him, everything to gain… He glanced into his brother’s eyes. They held the same knowledge his possessed. There were far greater things they had left behind, and maybe, just maybe, this journey wouldn’t be so bad. Edmund held out his hand, a comforting gesture, and Peter gratefully took it.
Renewed. Peter glanced down and released his brother’s hand. His brother- Edmund. He once again appeared as he had during their reign, his crown upon his dark head and his features mature. To his left stood his sister, Lucy, once again mature, her red hair falling in waves down her gown. His parents, Eustace, Jill, the professor as he had only seen in pictures- they were in Narnia, and before them stood the great lion Aslan. He felt the familiar weight of his crown on his head, and Peter Pevensie truly smiled. Not only that, but he laughed, a light boyish like laugh. He had been so angry. Anger, what a silly emotion that was. There was no need for anger in Aslan’s country. He ran and embraced the lion, and oh how comforting was his fur. He felt like the boy he had once been; many years ago, he felt like the King that had sat at Cair Paravel’s throne, and when the gates opened, he felt the flutter in his heart that he had lost so long ago. You, oh how magnificent you were. It was as if he breathed a breathe of fresh air, and his heart lept with joy. Beside you, a young boy held your hand firmly, and in your arms was a beautiful toddler, a young girl. The rest of His family, you were reunited. He simply ran towards you, no words needed exchanging as he pulled you in his arms, the young boy wrapped around his legs, and the young girl clutching his two pointer fingers. He was back, and he was home. He glanced at Aslan, the great lion had grown, and he nodded once. High King Peter, the magnificent, was home.
“not all men” you’re right, peter pevensie, high king of narnia, the magnificent, emperor of the lone islands, lord of cair paravel, knight of the most noble order of the lion, sir peter wolf’s-bane, would never do this
So kids stop losing teeth around the age of 12, which means that LUCY AND EDMUND LITERALLY LOST TEETH IN NARNIA!! Anyways thought I’d just pop in and say that : D
imagine Mr Tumnus’ confusion when Lucy lost and tooth and proudly showed it to Peter he didn’t even understand handshakes, so this would be even more strange to him headcannon that Centuars don’t loose teeth like humans so even THEY are confused
Narnia Preferences: Seeing their S/O in Armor for the first time
It’s been awhile since I watched the Movies so I’m really sorry for any inconsistencies or mischaracterization here. But I did promise awhile back that I wanted to write for Narnia, so here ya go! Format is heavily inspired by @randominagines incredible Narnia Headcanons, so please go check their work out if you like this. They’re a big influence on me! I also tried to keep this gender neutral!
While normally a surprisingly confident romantic, seeing her s/o in shining armor actually manages to fluster her. You were known for being a kind and generous soul, much like your girlfriend, but perhaps a bit more bold and sharp-minded. Seeing you clad in armor, ready to defend her, made her heart swell with pride. In a sort of “That’s my partner” way, haha. It gives her comfort everytime you wear it, both because she knows you’re well-protected, and because you’re wearing her flag. It makes her so happy to see you wearing Narnia Clothing, as it reminds her of the connection between you two.
Edmund Pevensie
It makes him very shy around you, especially at first. The Pevensies met you during their travels, and immediately you swore to help and protect them. He was initially taken aback by you, startled by your strength and your beauty. You were one of the handsomest people he’d ever met, and though he wouldn’t be caught dead telling his siblings that, everyone could see his heart eyes. And with those pale cheeks, it’s not like he could hide it anyways haha. His siblings teased him a LOT. But still, seeing you in gambeson and plate made him very proud to call you his own.
Susan Pevensie
You were a knight from a distant land who had sworn to protect the Pevensies, essentially becoming their personal guard. But it was Susan who you were closest to. The second you walked in to swear your loyalty, she already had eyes for you. A beautiful person clad in dazzling armor? Beautiful. You and Susan are such a formidable force on the battlefield, with her providing range with her bow while you strike enemies down with your sword. Then you give each other a kiss and move on. She feels a sense of pride seeing you in the armor of her kingdom.
Peter Pevensie
He finds it hot, honestly. You and Peter met on the battlefield, and despite fighting on the same side, were engaged in a sort of rivalry. Granted, everyone could see the cheeky heart eyes between you two… except for either of you of course. Classic enemies to lovers. Seeing you in armor for the first time legitimately took his breath away. He often teases you about how he’s king so it’s hisflag you’re wearing, which never fails to earn him a swift punch in the arm. But still, Peter loves seeing you in armor, and it never fails to make him fall in love a little bit more.
Caspian
Caspian was surprisingly flustered when first meeting you. You were good friends with the Pevensies, and had met him during that fateful encounter when he fought with Peter. He looked over to see the most dazzling person he’d ever witnessed, clad in plate and fine gambeson. Peter may or may not have chuckled at the blush on Capian’s cheeks after seeing you. He was shy around you at first, mostly because he didn’t want to embarrass himself, but you have a way of drawing him out of his shell. And when you finally get to talking, your energies mix well. That doesn’t stop him from being rendered speechless every time he sees you in armor though. Everytime is like the first time with Caspian.
Mr Tumnus
Oh this poor lad gets so flustered. It makes him a little nervous seeing you with a sword and clad in armor, but he knows that if anything it means you’re safer. Plus he secretly finds it very attractive, but he’s too shy to admit it at first. He remarks how the Gambeson must keep you very warm in Narnia’s cold weather, which earns a laugh from you, only making him more flustered. A pretty person in plate armor, vowing to defend his home? How could he resist?
