#narnia characters

[aweelou-sketches]

Redraw of my old drawing of Polly and Digory

🎨 This is the old one twas posted on my old account @noblemaiden-world

[storiesbysb]

Chronicles of Narnia Characters’ Strengths & Weaknesses

Digory Kirke -adventurous, clever, skeptical, sensitive about his mother, hot-tempered, dangerously curious, impulsive

Polly Plummer -wants to be grown up, apprehensive, sensible, responsible

Peter Pevensie-leader, protective instinct, finds purpose in responsibility, can be harsh, hard on himself

Susan Pevensie -nurturing, beautiful, gentle, doubtful, dislikes conflict, needs to be heard/seen as smart, skeptical

Edmund Pevensie -needs recognition/love (receives the ultimate act of love and tries to live up to being worthy of this), wants to be treated like an adult, sarcastic, logical, fair and sees it how it is, strong sense of justice, intelligent (notices details, good at puzzling together mysteries), forgiving, pensive

Lucy Pevensie -trusting, optimistic, loyal, caring/loving, doubts her own competency & worth, values truth, valiant, naive

Prince Cor -lacks confidence, naive, high in openness, reasonable, can be pessimistic, easily discouraged, easily pushed around, gentle, concerned for others, brave

Aravis Tarkheena -self-important, distrusting, independent, smart, brave, confident, can be selfish, disgusted by materialistic overindulgence, great story teller (yes that’s totally a personality strength XD)

Prince Caspian X -caring, imaginative, adventurous, optimistic, idealistic, leader, humble, responsible, naive (not so much in VotDT), seeks greatness, values prestige & legacy

Eustace Scrubb (most of this after being a dragon)-intelligent, holds grudges, brave, concerned for his close friends, humble, seeks meaning

Jill Pole -emotional, impulsive, show-off, adorable, smart, independent, brave, wants to be important/included

King Tirian -dramatic (drama...king? XD), dutiful, values honor, loyal, strong values, values truth, faithful, sense of justice, selfless, idealistic, you can definitely tell he is from Caspian’s bloodline

[jojo-pevensie]

Narnia Characters as Disney Princesses

Peter reminds me of Mulan. He is the protector of his family. He will always put his sibling’s safety above his own. Peter is quick to learn and if he at first doesn’t grasp the concept then he will spend days perfecting it. He is creative and innovative when it comes to battle plans and he tries to take in all the possibilities and outcomes before making his decisions. But above all, Peter knows what it’s like to want to protect the people he loves and he will take on a little dishonor if it means he keeps them safe.

Susan is quite similar to Belle. She is the quick witted warrior of her family. She never fails to surprise others with her extensive knowledge of Narnia and they never expect this high queen to be deadly with words as well as weapons. Susan personifies the expression: doesn’t judge a book by its cover. She is kind and graceful and always tries to keep an open mind when going into a new situation. She would willingly give her life for that of her family and although she is not always sure about her actions, she is confident in who she is. She doesn’t let the past of others affect her future opinions of them.

Edmund is like Merida. He is the fierce firecracker of his family. He has always been blunt and sarcastic which makes him the perfect judge but sometimes harms royal’s opinions of him. He isn’t perfect and he knows this but he hates when others make assumptions about him solely based on his title or who he is supposed to be. Edmund wants to carve his own path in life and he will not let his past mistakes ruin anymore of his future. He cares deeply for his family and, even though they fight sometimes, he will always be there to protect and love them in the end.

Lucy has a personality like that of Anna. She is the sunshine for her family. She is kind and can be harsh but she only acts out of love for her family and her people. She draws others in with her sweet and funny personality and can always bring a smile to others in dark times. Lucy doesn’t let the opinions of others hurt her, and she gives her all into everything because that’s all she’s ever known. She is quick to forgive her family because she knows the love they hold but once an enemy crosses her then she is a terrifying warrior to oppose. She has the love and support of her people which makes her a great queen and also one of the most powerful.

[jojo-pevensie]

Narnia gave them Courage

Hope when you take that jump You don’t fear the fall

Hope when the water rises You build a wall

Hope when the crowd screams out It’s screaming your name

Hope if everybody runs You choose to stay

Hope that you fall in love And it hurts so bad

The only way you can know You give it all you have

And I hope that you don’t suffer But take the pain

Hope when the moment comes you’ll: say I did it all

I Lived by One Republic

[little-narnian-notes]

Walk Through Ghosts

Request: If it’s not a bother could I please have a one shot where the reader is engaged to Edmund and how she reacts when the *cough* tragic train scene happens? Lolol I hope it’s not too much I just haven’t seen any stories with this particular situation.

Okay. So. According to the books/what I’ve found online, Lucy and Edmund spent the summer of 1942 with Eustace and his family. And as far as I can tell, the train scene happened in 1949 or so. I kind of combined both the movie timeline and book timeline at various points based on what I felt the oneshot needed, so let’s just say that Lucy and Edmund stayed with Eustace in 1944, and died in 1947. BECAUSE WHY NOT.

Also, I kept trying to start a oneshot with the two of them engaged, but it was kind of hard for me to do that with no backstory/all monologuing about the past before I got to the request, so I decided the request might be better fulfilled/more angst-ridden if I wrote about what happened before the train scene and taking the reader through that as well.

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

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Your eye color: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler3() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt3").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/E/C', document.getElementById("inputTxt3").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Your hair color: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler4() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt4").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/H/C', document.getElementById("inputTxt4").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

---

You and Edmund had met when you were sixteen, and he was seventeen. It was by complete accident. During the war, you’d been relocated to a small family in Cambridge. Just when it seemed like things were going to become even worse, you’d met him. Lucky for you, your older sister, Stella, had been able to stay with the same family as you. Stella had started tutoring a girl two years younger then you named Lucy.

It had never really occurred to you to ask how the tutoring was going until you had to run to the Scrubbs’ household to drop off a textbook Stella had forgotten

(You were breathless, trying to make it there as quickly as possible. But you were still trying to not draw attention to yourself, like your running would make you a bomb-target.

And when you’d gotten there, after you’d knocked, after a boy you didn’t know opened the door: “Hi, I’m Y/N; just needed to drop this off for Stella’s tutoring session with Lucy. I’ve got the right house, yeah?”

He coughed, said, “Yeah. I’m Edmund. Her older brother. I’ll just drop it off there in the living room. I’m sure Estelle will be grateful.”

Estelle.

Nobody called Stella by her full, actual name besides your parents.

Estelle.

So he wasn’t interested in her at all. Edmund didn’t say your sister’s name like she was more precious and pure then starlight.

You smiled, said bye, and turned, hips swaying minutely before you forced yourself to stop that. So you could get interested in him. Stella had never mentioned that the older Pevensies were an attractive lot. If Lucy really had two other older siblings, what were they like?)

It wasn’t long before Edmund asked you out. Of course, it’d taken him a month, but, still.

(“Hey, again,” Edmund said.

You shrugged. “We meet again, Pevensie.” This time, Edmund was at your home, on your doorstep. “Come in, it’s cold out.” Stella had fallen into the slightly unlucky role of having to babysit Lucy before and after their tutoring session. The three of you went to the same boarding school - Stella would be graduating this year. Lucy was one of the new lots. You still had a year or so until your A-levels. “They’re done with geography and maths. I could make you a tea to go or something, if you want.” Edmund was the one who always came to collect Lucy, when she was here for tutoring.

“Thanks. That sounds nice.” Edmund followed you to the kitchen.

It’d been a month since you’d met him, and you hadn’t really had any long conversations with him. It was too hard to think of how you could become better acquainted when your lives and worlds didn’t connect, never overlapped, besides the tutoring that bound your sisters for a finite amount of time.  

As you made the tea, Edmund spoke casually. “If it’s not too much trouble for you, Y/N, I was wondering if you’d want to go to Roasted Bean sometime? I heard they have a nice apple danish.”

Apple danishes were your favorite snack. Your movements didn’t slow or stop, but they nearly did, and you wanted to scream, you were so excited. You’d developed a horribly big attraction towards Edmund. “I’d like that,” you replied, and yes, you got infinitely more warm and tingly.)

After that, the two of you were as inseparable as you could manage. By the time the school year came to a close, another summer had fallen onto England. The bombings were still going on, of course, it being 1944. One had fallen onto a house two doors down from the one you were staying in on your birthday, during an air raid.

Later on, when a man parachuted down with supplies, Mrs. Stoll, yours and Stella’s caretaker, sent you out with hurried, sharp hands to get as much of the parachute as possible. The material could be used for a variety of things.

You felt badly about this looking back, but at the time, everything going on felt like background noise to the love story called your life that was blooming across each page in bright ink. Nearly day Edmund surprised you. Usually it was just flowers, or a sweet little letter. You kept the flowers in a vase in your room, the letters hidden in a box underneath your bed.

At boarding school, you’d made a few friends - Alice, Poppy, Christine, Eve, and Jessica. Sometimes they came around for tea. Sometimes you went to their house and you’d stay up late dancing around in no lyons to songs that came on the radio. Jessica liked singers like Ella Fitzgerald, Jimmy Dorsey, Dinah Shore, and Bing Crosby.

You didn’t care what was on as long it was upbeat and fast-paced.

It was hard to remember that Poppy liked shopping and going to the zoo, that Alice liked cucumber and cream sandwiches and didn’t like sewing. It was hard to remember that Christine had never had a boyfriend and she got up each morning to pluck at flower petals before cleaning. That Eve spent near all her time reading and studying so that she could be the very best student at boarding school - when she wasn’t being studious, she was accepting invitations (written back in forgery) sent to her father so she could go to dance with high powered men.

It was hard to remember all that because you were so wrapped up in Edmund.

(“Come on, Y/N,” Alice practically moaned over the phone. “My mum’s driving me mad! I must get out of this house sooner or later. And you’ve spent the entire week totally secluded with Stella, Lucy, and Edmund.”

You noticed she didn’t bother pointing out that Jessica was the only one who still saw you semi-regularly. Jess was the one friend you had that didn’t make you want to keel over and die. “I’m sorry, Alice,” you replied, trying to sound sincere. “I mean it. Let’s do something tomorrow, alright? We can go to the cinema, or feed the ducks in the park. Maybe Christine and Eve can come too, if they’ve got the time and pocket money to spare.”

“Alright,” Alice sighed. She sounded a bit more placated, and you sighed silently, relieved

The next day was boring; you feed the ducks and Alice stood some feet away, twirling her lacy parasol. She was dressed to the nines in fine clothing, looking like a pretty doll that had become human. Her pale blond hair was curled and fluffed just so so that it framed her face and spilled down her back.

You looked up at her and asked, amused, “Are you going to feed them, Alice? Or do you just like coming here so you can watch them be vicious bastards to me?”

Alice winced and you remembered that she didn’t like vulgar language. Sometimes it was easy to forget; you’d grown up in a rough neighborhood. “I like coming to the ponds. You like feeding the ducks. Remember, Y/N? I think it’s a very scenic place to come and chat with friends.”

It was hard to forget that she was a very particular, fussy friend at times, usually picky and quiet. But her disposition was something you could usually deal with.

“Come on,” you said, throwing the rest of the bread into the pond for the ducks to fight over. “Let’s go walk, then. You can tell me more about Emilia.” Alice’s aunt Emilia tended to stir up drama in her family.)

You made an effort to see your friends more, and sometimes went to the cinema on a double-date with Jessica and her beau, Octavian. Everybody called him Ian as a nickname. Christine probably would have come as well, but her fiancé, Mark, was fighting in the war.

Things seemed to go relatively well between the two of you, up until a particular summer day in late July. Before July 27th, the two of you had spent evenings sitting out on a porch, quietly talking. Or you’d take a walk, usually unchaperoned, and play guessing games surrounding what the lives of passerby’s might be like. You’d play chess together a lot, or comb through newspapers together. The two of you liked the crossword puzzles; you’d do half while Edmund skimmed the news, then you’d switch so he could finish and you’d become more up to date news-wise. There were days when you’d go to a bookstore and pick out one surprise book for each other, or try to cook something.

Somehow you two never ran out of ideas. Half the time Lucy was involved in the activities, and the only reason you ever resented her presence was because you couldn’t kiss Edmund. You and Edmund both held the belief that the most public affection that should be displayed should be handholding. So it was hard to resist the impulse to kiss him less chastely, to let him touch you in places you’d never even touched yourself in equal parts thrill and fear.

Then, July 27th happened. Edmund was busy during the day, helping Lucy to run errands and pick up groceries for their aunt and uncle. He’d said he’d come by later to help you find some required texts for your upcoming classes that year at school… and then he never came.

It wasn’t the fact that he’d essentially forgotten about your plans, it was that certain things were made tense afterwards.

(“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” Stella asked. She’d looked up from her sewing project for the fifth time that afternoon.

You sighed and shrugged, frustrated. “I just don’t understand where Edmund is!” you burst out. “It’s not like him to keep me waiting. He said he’d meet me here at four o’clock and it’s been an hour, Stella.” It was safe to say that sometimes you had a temper, especially on days like today when everything seemed to be going absolutely wrong.

“Then go by Alberta’s house, Y/N,” Stella replied in exasperation. “The pacing is unbecoming.” She didn’t bother adding that your somewhat bratty behavior was as well.

“I will, then, in that case,” you grumped. You grabbed your small purse, put your house-key into it, and then stalked out. Walking to Alberta and Harold Scrubbs’ house took about twenty-five minutes. By the time you got there, you were a bit less annoyed, though you hadn’t quite let go of your confusion and general irritableness.

You knocked on the door and were let in by Alberta, who said they were all upstairs. Once you were up there, you knocked on Lucy’s bedroom door. She opened it, looking a bit hyped up and unfocused.

“I - oh! Y/N! Hi. What are you doing here?” asked Lucy.

You had to stop yourself from pursing your lips. It’s not Lucy I’m angry at, you reminded yourself. “Is Edmund here?” you asked her.

“Yes, of course,” Lucy told you, stepping back. She rubbed at her face a bit.

You walked into the room, looked at him - and Eustace, who was also in the room and seemed radically different from how he usually was, though you couldn’t say why. “Ed. We were supposed to meet up an hour ago. If you didn’t want to meet up, you could have just called. I had to cancel a lot of other plans.”

Edmund frowned. “What time is it? I didn’t forget about - ah.”

“About helping me find some required texts. For school,” you reminded him. You didn’t understand why he was having trouble remembering. It had been only that morning that you two made plans to meet up later.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry. I really am. I just - I just got caught up in some other things, okay? We’ve been, just.” Edmund seemed to be struggling with what to say or how to say it. He exchanged a look with his sister and cousin.

Eustace looked at you mildly. “Ed and Lucy have been helping me understand my atrocious behavior. I think I had an amazingly huge breakthrough. I’m sorry I’ve been so absolutely horrid. And awful,” he said calmly, if a bit breathless.

You sighed, irritated again. “Thanks, Eustace. Apology accepted.” You turned to face Edmund. “Just - you know what? Fine. I’ll just head back home.” You felt like there were two conversations happening then at the same time. There was one the three of them were having, and the one you were actually participating in.)

You and Edmund had a bit of a rough patch after that day. You didn’t know how Edmund and Lucy had gotten Eustace to have a 180-degree personality change, but apparently they had. None of them would explain how exactly it’d happened, or why.

There were a lot of instances when your boyfriend wasn’t talkative. He’d just stare off, lost in his own world, even when he was with you. You heard snippets of conversations between him and Lucy about someone named Caspian, about some ship they’d sailed on called the Dawn Treader and tipping over the edge of the world.

You had no idea what they were talking about, because you knew them well, and could confirm that you’d never heard them talk about Caspian. It made you wonder why they were hiding it from you, why Eustace’s change seemed so permanent, whether Edmund was really Edmund or not. The one question that remained was whether Peter or Susan knew their two younger siblings talked about.

It made you feel paranoid because you were scared. Sometimes it felt like Edmund was completely out of your league. Despite how much you loved him already, there were times when you saw other girls looking at him, or him making a random joke or reference too subtle for you to understand, but obvious enough that you knew you were missing something. And, yeah, it bothered you a lot. Edmund was a private person, but he told you everything. Or so you’d thought.

Eventually, though, you decided that it just didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let it matter anymore. It wasn’t as if you’d told him everything, either, and besides. There was the war. Something like that was going to affect everything. Hadn’t Edmund and his siblings lived in the countryside before coming to Cambridge? Maybe they were just referencing deeply private things that had happened there.

(It was midnight. Edmund had snuck into your room; your head was nestled into the crook of his neck, and your bodies, still reasonably clothed, were twined together like ivy curling up a brick wall. You’d never really known what it felt like to know a heartbeat could be home until now.

“You know, tomorrow’s going to be our one year anniversary,” Edmund commented offhandedly. His voice was laced with sleep.

You stirred a bit out of your doze. “Really? Didn’t know you were keeping track.” Your tone is teasing, though a lot more tired then his. It’d been a long day for you, full of cleaning and such, and some pent-up energy. It was April 23, 1945. Some people thought the war might end this year. You thought that if it didn’t - or if it did - you’d find a way to marry Edmund. To bind yourselves together, irrevocably.

“Well, I knew we got together in the spring… turns out Lucy was keeping track. Don’t know why. She has a thing about dates.” He shrugged, or tried to. “You know how some people collect bottle caps or marbles? Lu likes writing down important events and their dates. Obsessively.”

You mumbled out a laugh. “I suppose we should do something?”

“I’ll think of something special, Y/N,” Edmund promised you.

He kept his word. The next day he was gone all day. At some point you’d fallen asleep during the night, lulled to darkness by the familiarity of his heartbeat and the murmurings of city noises. It was Saturday, so you dozed until eleven and then spent the day puttering around after going to an art class with Eve.

You put on a light jacket and a summer dress with smart little black shoes at seven, as Edmund had left a note on your desk instructing you that there would be a date night tonight.

He took you to a nice dinner, and you joked around. There was a walk at your favorite park after a small concert composed of his favorite jazz band that you both attended. Eventually the walk led to rose petals, which led to a lit gazebo.

Edmund proposed to you in the middle. You said yes. You were seventeen, your entire life shining on your lips. Edmund was eighteen.)

After the proposal, you both agreed to keep it utterly quiet. Family-wise, only Stella, Lucy, and Eustace knew. They supported your engagement with Edmund a hundred percent. Out of all your friends, you trusted only Jessica to keep quiet about this, and you soon realized you were right. She was the friend who was quiet and trustworthy, someone you wanted in your life in the long-run. Maybe as your only bridesmaid besides Lucy. Stella would be your maid of honor; Eustace would have to fulfill whatever role Edmund wanted.

Surprisingly, Edmund admitted he hadn’t told Susan. You’d met Peter, the eldest Pevensie, and while you weren’t close to him by any means, you were friends, and he was glad that Edmund was happy. Peter had told you once that Edmund was far older then he seemed

(“Ed has an old soul, Y/N. I’d be glad if you always care for him. He’s been through a lot; more then you may ever know.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Peter?” You frowned at him, lowering your Italian soda.

He just sighed, shook his head. “It’s … complicated. And maybe it’s not my place to say. Edmund will tell you in his own time.”).

As far as you knew, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy seemed to love Susan a great deal, but their relationships with her seemed strained. No one would say why, of course, which made it all the more strange and infuriating to you. Whether or not she’d come to the wedding seemed to remain entirely up to her.

Susan was a mysterious figure in your opinion. She was beauty and grace with tragedy written in her skin.

You’d spent the school year trying to keep your grades up, passing notes, participating in a few shenanigans, and placing bets on various bits of school drama. Would Mary become pregnant this year? Or were the rumors of her sleeping around just rumors? Either way, you tried to be her friend (that backfired spectacularly). And would James finally achieve his dream of going on to join the military?

The school year was a lot more eventful not just because of what was happening inside the academic world, though. You were also trying to discreetly plan a wedding with Edmund’s help. You wanted an outdoor wedding; he wanted one in a church. It was hard to navigate through the compromises, but with the help of your siblings and Eustace, those were being made, along with everything else.

The main problems you were both running into was telling your parents, and finding the funds to pay for the wedding. Edmund said that his parents were in America on a trip; Susan had gone with them. Your parents were back in Newcastle upon Tyne. The Pevensies lived in London, nearly four hours away. If you weren’t married now, it would be hard to maintain a long-distance relationship, especially when you still hadn’t mentioned anything to your parents about dating Edmund (partly because you couldn’t get hold of them, and even if you could, you still wouldn’t tell. In your family, like in most English families, personal business was yours alone until it wasn’t).

You were a seventeen year old girl growing in the midst of a huge world war - things weren’t much better for Edmund, who was a year older then you. He couldn’t get drafted to the war as he had Lucy and Eustace to look after (their aunt and uncle weren’t exactly much help, despite their quiet, fussy ways).

Besides. Part of you was scared. You knew you didn’t want to be with anybody else - Edmund was meant to be your husband, and you his wife, now and always.  And you definitely weren’t getting cold feet. Things weren’t being rushed (on the contrary, the wedding plans were moving excruciatingly slowly, thanks to the war). It was more just that you knew it would be seen as scandalous; people would ask when you were expecting, or if Edmund was forcing you into this in a very roundabout way. You just wished the reactions would be different, but they weren’t going to change your decision to marry him.

(“Do you ever wonder what people will say when we become married?” you asked Edmund one day. His nineteenth birthday was in a few months, and part of you hoped that the two of you would be married by then.

Ed just looked at you, a bit unfocused. He’d obviously been very deeply invested in the book he was reading, which he’d just put down. “No, of course not, Y/N. You’re the person I want to be with.” He didn’t add forever. It was implied.

You shifted on the couch. “I know, but… we still haven’t told our parents. You haven’t asked my father for his blessing.”

“I thought you said that wasn’t important and to screw tradition,” he replied, frowning. “Do you want me to ask him?”

“No! No. It’s - I’ll deal with him, when I go back home,” you said. If I ever make it back home, you thought uneasily. How long could the war last?

Edmund pulled you close. “Then what’s the problem, YN/N?”

You sighed. “Nothing, Edmund. I’m just not looking forward to what people will say.”

He laughed a bit. “We should say we’re having triplets just for their expressions.”

“You’re awful,” you replied, giggling. But the thought of having children with Edmund some day made you tingly. Part of you wondered how soon you’d have little ones running around, and part of you was squirming uncomfortably at the thought.)

Things were starting to come together with the surprising help of Aunt Alberta when the war ended in September of 1945. You were shuffled back home in the first week of October, and Edmund was back in London a few days before you’d left for home. He promised to write you as often as possible, and talked about taking a trip up to see you for New Year’s Eve. He’d suggested that the two of you tell your parents about the engagement then.

(“Maybe it won’t be as much of a big shock as you think,” Stella said one night. “Mum and Father know he’s courting you, and you’d be expected to marry much sooner rather then later.”

Neither of you pointed out the obvious: your parents would be more then a little annoyed, even if they expected you married by twenty.

“If you say so, Stel,” you replied uncertainly. You were both back home, sitting on her bed. “I just hope it goes well. It’s only two months away, you know. December. I’m not even sure what to get anybody for Christmas, or if I should just handmade everything to save up for the wedding.”

“Save your money.” She brushed out her hair. “You’ll need it for your new home and what have you.”

The truth was that you hadn’t even thought about that. Where would you both live once the honeymoon was over?)

The real truth was that you’d never find out. No plans had been finalized about where you’d live because Edmund died in late November. It broke your heart. The train wreck had been a week and a half after his nineteenth birthday. You were the one to confirm that his body was his, and you could barely hold it together. Susan was there, too, to say that yes, that Eustace, and yes, those were her parents, her siblings…

It was sickening to you, in a way, that death was what brought Susan into your life and vice versa. You’d heard so much implied about her, and so little was actually told to you, that you didn’t know what to expect from her. She seemed like an ice princess until she saw the bodies, and then you saw the ice shattered. Only to be reborn in an iron castle.

Susan was closed off. If she was a mess, she hid it well, up until you came to visit the first time.

(“You don’t understand,” Susan said, hiccuping. She wiped her face. “After… there was a time when we all went to boarding school together. Before I went to America and Lucy and Edmund went to stay in Cambridge. After that - things happened there, but after that, Y/N, things were never quite the same.”

You looked at her. “What do you mean? What happened that drove you apart?”

She laughed, then, hysterical. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. God, that was what the professor told us - Professor Kirke, when I was fifteen. I had to see it myself, and even now I wonder if any of that could have been real. You have no idea the damage it does to you, having so many good accomplishments taken away from you and being forced back into the middle of a war you didn’t ask for and you’re helpless to stop.”

“You’re not making any sense, Susan,” you told her, frustration and concern lacing your voice as you squeezed her hand.)

It felt like you were only present when you were around Susan, and even then, it was hard. The funeral had been awful. You almost didn’t go. Susan was going, though, so you decided to go for her, though you’d never find a damn bit of closure there.

Neither did she, of course, but you both silently agreed to never mention that.

In December, you went up to stay with her for some of the holidays, and your parents didn’t object. They were already concerned about your behavior - sometimes you refused food for a week, too emotionally sick to eat. Most of the time you moved robotically through things. Your parents were worried but emotionally distant. They’d grown up in an entirely different time, and so when faced with this loss, you couldn’t verbalize what you were feeling. You knew you were a mess, and you’d never felt more isolated then you did just then.

Nobody knew you’d lost not just Edmund, your fiancé, but you’d also lost all your friends except for Eve, due to the train wreck. Eve wasn’t much better off then you were, so you never spoke to her. You barely spoke to anybody except Susan and Stella.

It was hard to breathe, to eat, to focus.

Everything you’d started planning for, the future you were forming your life around, was gone. You had no idea how to cope, but being with Susan made things marginally better. You vowed to yourself that you would never re-marry. The thought of being with anybody else made you sick. Nobody had been there for you the way Edmund had, so how could anybody else be better for you, as your mother suggested?

You spent a lot of time sending letters to Susan, thick piles that were sent off to Liverpool, where she lived now. She replied with responses as long as yours, and you spent the next three years trying to see her in person as often as you both could. Sometimes it wasn’t even the fact that you missed her. It was just that Susan bore some of the same genetics as Edmund had; she had the same last name. She’d grown up with him.

Susan could shallowly fill a hole inside you that death had dug.

Sometimes she told you stories about Edmund, Peter, and Lucy during your visits. Sometimes you talked about everything but her family during others. When the latter happened during visits, it felt like every sentence you both spoke had a hidden meaning relating back to Susan’s siblings. You spent hours later trying to decode everything only to end up wondering if you were slightly mad, or just obsessively grieving.

—

Years passed. It wasn’t until 1953 that anything happened to you. Susan was remarried to a nice American man named Tom, a business man who travelled a lot. You painted for a living and worked in a teashop. Susan was content to be an activist, to split her time between politics and housework.

She invited you over one day to watch the coronation of Elizabeth the Second. It was mildly interesting to you, but Susan grumbled halfway through, “Mine was better.”

“Yours was better? You were never crowned Queen, Susan.” You looked at her in confusion.



“Not in here. In Narnia,” she said wistfully. She looked back at you. “There’s stories about Edmund and us that I never told you about, Y/N…”

[little-narnian-notes]

Requests

Hey, all. New to having a blog dedicated to writing fanfiction-y stuff. Feel free to message me requests for reader/Narnia character (or actor/actress) or you/Narnia character (or actor/actress), headcannons, imagines, drabbles, oneshots, etc. Like, I mean it. I’ll write whatever y’all want. The only things off limits are self-harm, suicide, and eating disorders/disordered eating for me.