I have been meaning to edit this a little, seeing as it was my first attempt at Narnia fanfiction, but because it is Narnia Day, I was inspired to share it as is. Huge thanks to Sydni for the encouragement to keep writing these, as well as the BEAUTIFUL photo edit for Always Winter that accompanies this post.
Winters in Narnia always thrilled Lucy. While England faded from her mind, and with it, the wardrobe, her body never forgot the first time she saw that wonderland blanketed in snow, and though she could never think of an answer as to why, she always felt more sure of magic when she was watching the first snowfall out her window at Cair Paravel. Her siblings would oftentimes laugh at her when she shivered, not for the chill in the air, but for the sparkling, promising magic that surrounded her because of it. She didn’t mind their laughter, though. Images played at the frayed edges of her memory: a light that wasn’t sunlight, and Mr. Tumnus with his old umbrella, and Father Christmas himself offering her a gift. With those memories came colder ones: the White Witch, her wolves, and Narnians turned to stone. Yet the good always overpowered the bad. Each time it snowed, she found Narnia anew, and each time she found Narnia, she found the queen within herself.
Winters chilled Edmund for quite a different reason. Though the beastly boy back in England was as forgotten as the rest of it, he remembered quite clearly his traitorous beginning in Narnia. He was haunted by the cold; the memories of the White Witch, tall, and beautiful, and proud, sitting next to him on a sleigh, sugary sweets and hot drinks he couldn’t erase the taste of, and the feeling of frozen stone beneath his fingers. Lucy’s excitement never made sense to him, though he kindly joined her in her explorations. In winter he saw death. He saw evil back in throne, and he saw himself as a cowardly, disloyal child. He didn’t mind when the snow first began falling, and he didn’t mind his view from Cair Paravel, but Edmund did his best never to enter the snowy woods on his own, lest he see himself falling at the Witch’s feet the way he once did.
Peter could never make up his mind one way or another if winter was his friend or his foe. He had been to the cold north, before, to deal with the giants, and he had lost his brother in a snowstorm many years before, and sometimes the cold, grey sky dumped these memories along with the snow. Yet other times the snow sparked memories of Lucy’s confident smile, a cozy meal at the Beavers’, and drawing his sword from Father Christmas. So Peter decided to enjoy the winter when he could. He’d celebrate with feasts and dances, or join Lucy in a snowball fight, (even once Susan began telling them they were too old for such childish games.) Then when the cold made Peter feel frozen with fear and regret, he’d spend his time at home, next to a roaring fire which promised him that they would have spring again. After all, Peter always felt more like a king during the spring.
Susan enjoyed the winter landscape in Narnia as long as she was indoors. She did not like trudging through the snow in her long dresses, and she did not like when her siblings came traipsing through the door soaking wet from adventures on ice that wasn’t fully frozen yet. She did not like the way the cold stiffened her fingers and made it hard to shoot her bow, and she didn’t like the lack of foreign guests during the winter months. But Susan didn’t hate winter. She liked it quite a bit when the Beavers’ invited her and her siblings for dinner at their home, (even though it didn’t compare to the beautiful castle she lived in now,) where they would talk about their first time in Narnia. She liked when Peter decided to hold feasts and balls with their closest friends, (even though dignitaries and royal visitors rarely wanted to travel to Narnia during the winter.) Most of all Susan loved when her siblings stayed home, and they wrapped themselves in warm blankets, and laid beside the fire and fell asleep on the floor. In the end, winter made her feel more like a child. More like anything was possible. More like magic. More like she was home.
