#narnia crossover

[thereapersson]

Me who only thinks of batshit insane crossovers that make no sense.

One of them is a Narnia and Transformers crossover, where basically Optimus, Elita, Arcee, and Hotrod take the places of the Pevensies and become the kings and queens of Narnia.

I don’t know how, but I will make it a story some day.

I can see Optimus and Aslan bonding hard fr

[roseburning]

So the Pevensie siblings from the Chronicles of Narnia are the founders of Hogwarts, we all know that by now.

But I never see anyone talking about the fact that:

Just a year after Lucy first entered the wardrobe, Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets.

1941 and 1942.

Tom Riddle could have met his most cherished ancestor, Edmund Pevensie (a.k.a Salazar Slytherin) as a muggle in a subway, while still just an orphan in Wool's, just a few months before the London Blitz and none of them would have known it.

They coexisted.

[liliesandparchment]

The Girl Across the Street

(HPxNarnia HermionexEdmund One-shot)

Edmund Pevensie had been a bully at school. Peter always held him back but that didn't stop him from pulling weird little Hermione Granger's hair. She would put her nose up in the air and behave like she was better than everyone, just like Peter. So he loved to bully her. Over time though, even though they lived in the same area of London, they would see less and less of each other.

The summer that Edmund and his siblings returned from the Professors house, he was a changed boy. Time spent in Narnia had given him a different way of looking at things, a different path in life. He had a clear goal for the kind of person to become, and it was very much like King Edmund, The Just.

Time spent in Narnia had also made him of a rather curious nature. No wonder, that summer, when they finally returned to their house in London, he noticed every small and curious thing. One such thing was the little window of Hermione Granger's room directly across his. It was the most wonderous and intriguing thing ever.

The reason behind this interest was that one day, he’d seen a white snowy owl enter her room in the middle of the night. He was bursting with curiosity and wanted to share it with the others, this source of mystery, but was almost sure that Peter would ban his looking out the window at all.

But his curiosity kept him watching, though he dared not breathe a word to anyone, while his pride and honor somehow managed to curb his boyish urge of climbing onto that window's wall and get inside that room. The owls kept on coming repeatedly, always during the night and Edmund was appalled at how no one else had noticed them before. They always came during the night, so it was no unusual sight to catch him sitting beside the window with a book, either reading or looking outside silently (or so they thought). No one ever got suspicious about this, since in the later years of the Golden Age at Narnia, King Edmund was known to be the most calm, clever and patient of them all.

It was on one such night that he noticed more movement in the room than usual. The bushy haired girl seemed to be in a hurry and she seemed to be throwing things around a lot, for a lot of objects were flying about. At last, she closed the curtains. This got Edmund suddenly alert and more interested than ever - she never closed the curtains, even while sleeping. What did this mean?

As he looked more closely, the front door opened and she heaved out a trunk, then started waiting for something. Was she planning on running away? But then, why was she waiting?

Edmund looked around his room furtively - only Lucy was present there, involved in a book, Peter and Susan were absent. As he looked back down in the street, a single cab was driving down the road and she was hailing it.

On a sudden impulse, he jumped up. "Lu, come on. I've got some work." He quickly grabbed two jackets for them, and dragged her downstairs as fast as possible, while Lucy hissed protests in the dark. "What is this about, Ed? Where are we going?"

Sooooo… Reposted this little baby from ff to Ao3. Go show some love if this is your kinda stuff! I am unhealthy about this concept. Also tell me what you thought!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60908290/chapters/155585407

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[theofaluvsviolet]

Edmund Pevensie & Princess Cirilla

Narnia X Witcher crossover

[mystic-writings]

slipping through my fingers | peter pevensie

PAIRING — peter pevensie x fem!peters!reader

SUMMARY — you fell into narnia mere months before your brothers death. when returning to the life you forgot so long ago, everything seems to have changed

WARNINGS — angst, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, not really peter x reader centric, julie and the phantoms crossover

WORD COUNT — 4,392

NOTE — this idea has has a whole chokehold on me for so long

masterlist | navigation

Growing up, no one ever tells you how fast things can change. Accidents happen, people leave, you get a promotion. Things change so quickly and in so many different ways that it feels surreal when it happens to you.

Maybe that was because nothing in your life ever really changed. Your parents had been fighting on and off ever since you could remember, your brother and his friends were always by your side, and you were always really smart. Nothing ever changed. Not until you decided to take a shortcut.

That was all it was, really. A simple shortcut. A walk through the woods to avoid the busy sidewalks of your neighborhood. You didn’t think you were too deep into the patch of forest, and one of the kids that lived on your street said that he took that trail all the time coming home.

Normally you would’ve walked home with your brother, but you were held back for an hour due to your new tutoring position. It got you volunteer hours and you had good enough grades to help people out, so you didn’t see the harm in studying with ninth graders for an hour or two every week.

The February chill settled in your bones, the occasional wind shaking the barren trees. Your view of the outside world was blocked by branches and pine, so you could only assume that you were still close to the houses in the area as you walked along.

It may have been a bad idea to wear a leather jacket and fishnets to school, especially now since you were so cold, but you didn’t care. You liked your outfit. You’d sewn the plaid skirt yourself out of one of the flannels that your brother outgrew, and even if the pleats were difficult, you managed.

As you walked, boots crunching against the ground, you spotted something. A small clearing, just off the trail. The pull in your chest made your feet wander, through the grouping of skinny trees and into the clearing. There were still trees scattered around, though not as tightly grouped together as before.

Somehow, it felt like the sun that had been hiding behind the clouds all day had finally come out, its light directing you to the middle of the clearing. Two trees stood, covered in moss and fallen pine needles. Their branches, however, twisted together, forming a pointed arch.

You smiled, curious as to what happened to make them grow like that. Inching closer, you reached out to touch the bark. The pull in your chest grew, telling you to walk through it. It clouded your mind, like the only thing that made sense to you was that you needed to walk through that arch.

And so, you did.

And everything changed.

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you first walked through the archway. Maybe you were just expecting nothing to happen, that you would walk through and nothing would change and you could get home in time to go to your brother’s band practice.

Instead, a wonderful feeling washed over you, and you felt incredible. Well, you felt incredible until your face came into contact with someone’s chest. You stumbled, breathless from the contact, when a pair of arms wrapped around your torso and caught you.

The boy in front of you looked you up and down as you caught your balance, his eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “Who are you?”

“I could ask the same about you,” you said. You looked him up and down, noting his accent and expensive dress. There was no mistaking the crown he so casually wore on his head. “Did I stumble into some sort of costume party? Or did I somehow teleport to Buckingham Palace?”

“I’m sorry?” He asked. “Ma’am, are you okay? You’re in Cair Paravel.”

“What the hell is a ‘Cair Paravel?’ And who are you?”

The boy’s lips tugged into a smile, somewhere between coy and understanding. “I’m High King Peter, the Magnificent.” You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. He coughed, readjusting his stance. “I’m Peter. Peter Pevensie.”

His words no longer carried the royal air, and he now spoke just as he was - an awkward 17-year-old.

You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face. “Well, then, Peter Pevensie, High King, could you tell me exactly what happened to me? I was just trying to get home from school and I ended up, well, here.”

Peter’s brows furrowed, like he knew something you didn’t. And it didn’t look like it was something good. The boy motioned to the corridor behind you and lightly rested his hand at the small of your back, walking you through the intricately designed halls of what must be his castle.

When he finally came to a stop, it was at a dark oak door, held together with metal near the top and bottom. It all felt too medieval to you, but when he opened the door, things got weirder. A boy, not much younger than Peter, two girls, one very obviously older than the other, and a centaur were gathered around a table, poring over a map.

The older of the girls looked up, annoyance clear in her features. “Peter, there you are! We’ve been waiting for you for-” she stopped when she finally saw you, standing to Peter’s left.

You couldn’t help but hold your hand up in a half-assed wave, a tight smile on your lips. You prayed they saw it as polite and not uncomfortable.

“Who’s this?” The younger girl asked, her words slow and curious as she smiled.

“This is… um, you know what- I never got your name.”

You laughed, smiling at the boy and trying to forget the anxiety building in your stomach. “I’m Y/n. Y/n Peters. And I’d very much like to know how I got here and how I can get back home.”

The other three royals shared a look before the darker-haired boy said, “Orieus, excuse us for a moment?”

With a slight bow, the centaur - you couldn’t believe you were even looking at one, let alone that they were real - left through a door on the left wall. Peter motioned for you to step inside and you did, boots scuffing against the stone floor as he escorted you to an empty chair. The map on the table wasn’t a map of anywhere that looked familiar, and your head began to swim as you read unusual words on it, places you don’t recall existing.

“Y/n?” The eldest girl called, forcing your gaze to snap from the map up to where she sat across from you.

Now that you looked at them, they were all dressed the same, but distinctly different. The girls wore dresses, thin yet elegant, with velvet torsos and front pieces that were dark, where the sleeves and sides of the skirts were a lighter shade. The older girl wore a silver tiara, whereas the younger girl’s was gold, both designed to look like leaves.

The boys both wore crowns, the dark haired boy’s crown was silver, whereas Peter’s was gold. Peter wore a light blue velvet overshirt, whereas his counterpart’s shirt was darker.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“I can try,” you shrugged. Everyone was dressed so differently than you, and you wanted your special skirt to magically grow to reach the floor. “I was walking home, in the woods behind my neighborhood. It was later than normal, and I never walk home in the woods. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I ever will again. But I found this clearing and there were these two trees, and their branches formed some sort of arch, or something - anyway, I walked through it, and now I’m here, which is weird because I didn’t think anything would actually happen.”

Again, the four shared a look, and you knew something was wrong.

“Well, Y/n,” the older girl said. “I’m Susan. Susan Pevensie. You’ve met my brother, Peter. This is our younger brother, Edmund,” she pointed to the dark haired boy, who nodded at you, “and this is our younger sister, Lucy.” Lucy waved excitedly, a bright smile on her face.

“Nice to meet you guys,” you told them. “But does anyone know when I can go home? My brother’s gonna start to worry if I don’t get back soon. Especially because I always go to band practice with him and I never miss his band practice.”

“What’s band practice?” Asked Lucy.

Edmund sent her a short glare. “Lu, that’s not the point right now.” He scolded, though he did look a little curious.

“What’s important,” Susan stressed, bringing your attention back to her, “is that… you can’t go back.”

You felt the color drain from your face. “What?”

“You can’t go back.” Susan repeated. “The same thing that’s happened to you, it happened to us, too. We’ve been here for four years, and we haven’t found a way back yet, either.”

“Your Highness,” Luisa called. “Your Highness, it’s your husband.”

Turning away from the view that never failed to captivate you, you found Luisa, your maid, standing in the doorway. Politely, you smiled as you asked, “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing bad, Your Highness,” she assured, “he just wanted to talk to you about something. He didn’t say what.”

Nodding, you began following her through the courtyard. “Of course. As long as it doesn’t take too long, he knows I have places to be.” Luisa turned, heading down the south entrance of the courtyard, while you continued into the west entrance.

Every step echoed through the empty halls, your heels growing uncomfortable under your dress. Even after eleven years, you were never quite used to the way your clothes felt. When you first arrived, your dresses were thinner and comfortable, but after you married Peter, the skirts grew in volume, the colors got more rich, and there were more silks and velvets woven into your wardrobe.

As you passed through the archway that led into the western wing, there was a split second when cold washed over you. A shiver traveled down your spine, making you close your eyes to embrace it. But when you opened them, you were no longer in the castle.

Turning around, you expected to see the perfect spring weather shining through the glass roof of the courtyard. Instead, you were faced with a warped archway made of tree branches. The memories came flooding back, as if you’d never even left the place you used to call home.

The breath was stripped from your lungs in an instant. Gone were the sunny days in the royal garden, the constant smell of sea salt wafting gently into your chambers. No more silk and velvet dresses, balls, or diplomatic missions. No Peter, no Susan, no Edmund, no Lucy. Everything you had was gone, replaced with the life you had completely forgotten about.

Looking down, you realized that the outfit you were wearing when you first left, the one you’d tucked away in the very back of your wardrobe in Cair Paravel, was back. The pleated skirt made of your brother’s flannel, combat boots with fishnets, and the Sunset Curve shirt and leather jacket have all - somehow - followed you back.

When you finally recovered from the shock, you found your way back to the forest path to wander back home. You remembered hearing Lucy recount what she could remember about when she first found the wardrobe, and how no time at all had passed. You hoped that was the case for you, too, but you could only be sure by finding your way back to your house.

The crunch of the leaves beneath your feet was the only comfort that could currently calm the anxiety in your chest. Not knowing how much time passed in this world was eating at you, killing you softly.

It was only when you reached the beachfront that you realized how screwed you were. Instead of homes, empty space and stores occupied the neighborhood you once lived in. The smell of sea salt comforted you, as did the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. It was the only constant in both worlds, and you were glad that at least you had something to hold on to.

Although the sea was comforting, it did nothing to stop the flood of heartbreak when you realized that your home had been replaced by a bike shop, your parents and brother nowhere to be found. Trying to hold it together, you moved on, walking from the bike shop that stood where your childhood used to be.

You didn’t stop walking until you found the place on the beach where you used to spend all your time with your friends. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky and water an array of beautiful colors. You sat on the sand, crossing your legs and taking off your backpack, finding your Walkman resting on the bottom.

The device was loaded with a mixtape Alex had made you, composed of however many songs he could fit on it that you both loved to sing along to. As you listened to the songs, watching the few people that were left on the beach, you couldn’t stop your mind from wondering what they were doing. Most people carried devices that were thinner and taller than your Walkman, with bright screens. Some held them up to their ears, so you assumed they were using phones, but you were confused as to how compact they had become - and exactly how much time had passed for you to reach a time where phones fit in your pocket.

You were interrupted from your mixtape not long after the sky began to truly darken. A girl had tapped you on the shoulder, a curious but worried look on her face as she stood behind you. It was only when you paused the device and slipped the headphones around your neck that you realized that there was no one on the beach anymore.

“Can I help you?” You asked, tucking your Walkman back in your bag.

“Sorry if I interrupted you, but I just-” she scratched the back of her neck, “I noticed that you were still here and everyone else went home and I just thought- maybe you needed someone to talk to or something,”

You couldn’t help the shock on your face. “It’s funny that you say that, you know.” You smiled, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I, uh- a lot happened to me today, you know? I mean, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, or-or what to do, really.” Why were you telling a stranger this? “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear this.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The girl assured you. “I’m Julie, by the way. Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a shelter nearby or something.” You said. “There’s gotta be one close by, right?”

You watched Julie’s mouth pull into a frown. “You could come stay with my family for the night.” You tried to protest. After all, you’d only just met this girl, and she was already offering so much. “No, no, don’t worry. Let me call my dad and ask him, I’m sure he’ll say yes. He’s sort of done it before, so…”

With a guilty heart, you watched Julie pull out her phone and call her dad. Even though you only heard one side of the conversation, the joy in Julie’s tone and elation on her face as she hung up with her father told you everything you needed to know. You had a place to stay for the night.

“He said you could stay as long as you’d like.” She smiled, though it was abruptly replaced by furrowed brows as she said, “Oh, my God, I totally forgot. What’s your name?”

You laughed. She reminded you of Reggie. “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.”

The girl smiled and told you that she liked your name, before pulling you by the wrist and dragging you all the way to her house. You quite liked the way it was decorated - at least, on the outside - full of shrubbery and plants. Before bringing you into the actual home, Julie led you into the backyard, where an all too familiar garage rested in the back. You supposed the new plants in the front had transformed the house so much that you hadn’t connected the dots.

“There’s some guys I want you to meet.” Julie told you as she led you through the gates. “I’m in a band with them, and they’re… a little weird, if I’m being honest. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.”

She let go of your wrist and pulled the garage doors open, revealing a completely transformed - and void of people - studio. It was so different from what you were used to, but you were glad that the couch you spent so much time sitting on was still there.

Despite the room being empty, Julie spoke out into the air. “Guys, this is-”

Somehow, three teenage boys appeared a few feet from you, cutting Julie’s sentence short. The boy in the middle, an all too familiar figure, breathed out a simple word. “Y/n.”

Tears fought their way to your waterline, as they did Reggie’s. He looked the same as he did when you saw him after school, supposedly such a long time ago. Letting your bag slip to the floor, you looked between the three boys that meant so much to you, not missing the fact that a certain someone wasn’t there with them.

Without a second thought, though, you stepped forward, nearly crashing into your brother’s body. Your arms went under his, gripping at his leather jacket as his arms twisted around your shoulders. Feeling the leather of his jacket against your cheek was a comfort you haven’t had for eleven years, and it was one that you sorely missed. Neither of you stopped the tears that streamed from your eyes, happy to have each other back.

After you had similar reunions with both Alex and Luke, Julie spoke up. “How do you guys know each other?”

“She’s Reggie’s little sister,” Alex said, “the one he wouldn’t talk about, remember? The sticker on his bass?”

Julie nodded, seeming to understand. Your lips broke into a smile, thinking back to the honeybee sticker you’d put on Reggie’s bass one summer. Even though he was mad at you for it, he refused to take it off, and instead got a guitar strap to match it.

Reggie guided you back to the couch, already knowing how many questions you would have. The first one you blurted out, though, was, “What year is it? I mean, mom and dad’s house is gone, and people have phones that fit in their pockets, and- how are you guys here? Where’s Bobby?”

“Calm down,” Reggie started. “For starters, it’s 2021.”

Your eyes widened, shock freezing your body. “2021? Then how are you guys-? You should be in your forties!”

The boys shared a look, Alex coming to sit on your left, Luke sitting on the arm of the couch next to Reggie. “We died, Y/n,” Alex started.

“Almost 26 years ago.” Luke continued. “We were about to play at the Orpheum, and we ate bad hotdogs, and we just-” he looked down at his hands for a moment. “Julie brought us back a few months ago. A lot’s happened since then.”

“And Bobby? Is he-” you took a deep breath. “Did Bobby die too?”

“No.” Reggie told you. “He didn’t come out with us. He’s famous now, he has a daughter and a helicopter and a really big house.”

You nodded, watching Julie come sit on the chair beside Luke, who rested his hand on her shoulder. “If that was 25 years ago, then how did I end up here? I mean, I spent eleven years in Narnia and I came back 25 years after I left, but it’s like I never did.”

“What the hell is a Narnia?”

“It’s- hard to explain, really,” you told Alex, before turning to Reggie. “If I only came back just now, then what did mom and dad do? What happened to me?”

Reggie tensed. “They reported you missing the second I got home and you weren’t with me. It broke mom and dad, you know. Worse than before. It only took the police four months to declare you dead. They stopped looking for you, and because you just disappeared, they had nothing to go on, so they thought that saying you were dead was what was best.” He exhaled a shaky breath, and you took his hand to assure him that you were still here. “A month later, we died. I don’t think they could cope with it, y’know? Losing both of their kids so fast.”

More tears built along your waterline, but you had no time to focus on them when Luke asked, “You said you were in a place called ‘Narnia?’ Where even is that?”

“It’s- not here, exactly.” You started. “I was taking this shortcut home through the woods that some of the other kids in our neighborhood took. I wanted to make it back so I could get to your band practice, and I felt this sort of… I dunno, a pull? Like something was calling out to me. And I found this clearing, with these trees, and they were all twisted and it looked like an archway, so I went through it. I didn’t think it would do anything, but the next thing I knew… I was in a castle and I bumped into this guy and it all just-”

“Take a breath, N/n,” Reggie told you, rubbing his hand across your back. “You’re okay.”

You looked up from your hands, eyes darting between the four people before landing on your brother. “I’m not okay, Reg. I had a life, I built a life with someone. I grew up, I got married. I wore expensive dresses and made decisions about a whole country every day. What am I supposed to do now?” The confusion on everyone’s faces made you sigh. “Narnia is a country. It’s not a country here, obviously. Everything there’s medieval there. Royalty, candle-lit rooms, courts and big wooden ships and all that. Reg, I learned how to ride a horse.”

“Really?” The awe that carried his words was adorable, and one of the many things you missed about your brother. You smiled, but the nagging at the back of your mind was killing you.

“Yeah, I did.” No one missed the sadness dripping from your words as you bit your lip, looking back at your hands as you picked at your fingers. Despite the utter joy that you felt at the fact that you were finally with your brother again, the waves of sorrow were stronger. You couldn’t fight the sobs that started to shake your body as the dam broke.

All three boys rushed to attempt to comfort you, but it was Alex who asked what was wrong, and gave you the opportunity to finally say what had been nagging at the back of your mind. “You know how I told you I got married?”

“What about it?” Luke questioned, brows furrowed.

“My husband’s name was Peter. He was the first person that I met when I got there, and he was the most understanding. Him and his siblings were the ones ruling, but it was sort of odd. All of them were Kings and Queens, not Princes and Princesses like it is in Britain.”

Alex shrugged. “Well, the British Royal Family is messed up, anyway.”

You laughed. “That’s true. But he was the oldest, so he was what they called a ‘High King’. He had two sisters and a brother, and all of them are truly amazing people.” You told them. “They helped me through a lot. But after a while, my memories of here started fading, and their memories of home did, too. I remembered I had a brother and that I went to school, but I barely remembered anything past that. And I got back here and I remembered everything again.” Reggie’s eyes cast down, and you squeezed his hand. “Believe it or not, there’s more.”

“Seriously?” Luke chimed.

“I was there for like, eleven years, Luke. Of course there’s more.” You said, a temporary smile painting itself onto your face. When your mind wandered back to what you wanted to say, your shoulders sagged. “Peter and I have been married for five or so years now. And about four months ago…” you sucked in a large breath, bowing your head and fighting tears. “About four months ago, we had a son.”

A collective gasp rang through the room. Looking up, you picked at your fingers. “We named him Reginald, but I always called him ‘Reg’ or ‘Reggie’. I was adamant that he had that name, but I never knew exactly why I did it until I came back. And now,” you paused, swallowing a sob, “now I’m here and he’s there. He doesn’t have a mother anymore.”

You allowed yourself to break further, to rest your arms on your knees and press the heels of your palms into your eyes. Everything you had slipped away in mere seconds, and you didn’t know how to get back.

Arms held you close, a hand rubbed along your back in an attempt to comfort you. None of it worked, but you were grateful that your family was able to hold you as you cried, mourned for the life you didn’t mean to leave behind. For the son who’d never remember his mother, for the husband who’d never know what became of his wife. For the country that would never know where their matriarch went.

The life you had led was torn from you too quickly, like someone pulling a rug from under your feet. The uncertainty of being able to go back - or even coming back exactly when you left, as if nothing happened - stuttered your breaths. There was no going back, no matter how desperate you were.

Everything you built was gone in the blink of an eye, and you were left in ruins.

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee @ajaklovebot @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @sunny-reys @third-broparcelicito

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taglist form is in my navigation!

[mildredmost]

Frank Maddox meets crossover character of your choice!

(pretend the timelines work for this one! We can workshop it *handwaves*)

Frank Maddox/Edmund Pevensie and a magical apple tree.

Frank had always thought the apple tree in their garden was rather jolly - it had grown so quickly from an apple that had fallen from their neighbour's garden, and now looked positively ancient even though it was only a few years old. He felt he could believe in fairy-tales again sitting there, listening to the boughs creak though there seemed no wind to stir them. One year it seemed to die entirely; it seemed frozen stiff and didn't bud that spring. Mother would wonder now and again if they should cut it down because it seemed unsafe - especially after their neighbour's tree blew down one stormy winter - but they neither of them could give up the sweet little apples that came in the autumn.

He had Michelet open in his lap when the apple fell on it, narrowly missing Frank's nose. He laughed and picked it up, holding it to his face and breathing in its fragrance. The sweetness made him feel alive in a strange way; he wanted to run and jump or...

His mind danced over the other things he wanted.

Instead, he ate the apple. And then closing his eyes against the low autumn sun, he let his mind wander.

He often thought, while sitting here, of a boy-king. Or rather a king who began as a boy and grew to a man. He'd thought he was remembering a legend at first, but he'd never found it in a book. He should write it down really: the boy, the betrayal, the redemption, the coronation, but he couldn't ever quite pin down the story in the way he could pin down a butterfly.

He drifted. With the taste of the apple still fresh in his mouth he felt he almost walked alongside King Edmund as he strolled in his own Palace orchard. The King was alone - he was often alone.

"You're older than last time," Frank said to himself.

"And so are you," King Edmund replied, making Frank start. He was looking directly at Frank, and was so close that Frank could see the freckles on his nose. "Where hast been? I wish I knew when you'd likely appear."

"At Cambridge," Frank said, stupidly.

The King looked curious for a moment, as though straining to hear far away music.

"I know it, I think," he said after a moment. "But I do not remember."

He reached for Frank's hand, and Frank let him take it. It felt entirely real - warm and strong.

"Truly thou art almost here this time," Edmund said. "But not fully."

Frank didn't speak. Edmund put his other hand against Frank's cheek.

"Thou are for me, I think," he said. "But not yet. Thou art tied to another."

Frank blinked, his eyelashes brushing against the edge of the King's finger.

"Coming untied rather jolly quickly," he said softly.

"Jolly good," Edmund said, sounding almost like an English schoolboy. He looked surprised at himself for saying it too, and began to laugh.

Frank laughed too, and was still smiling when he opened his eyes again under his own apple tree.

[eidetictelekinetic]

New Magicians Fic!

Read the first chapter here!

Read the companion fic! (It’s probably best to start here if you haven’t already...)

[in-tua-deep]

Hey, hope you don't mind me asking, I don't want to pressure you, but I was wondering about your narnia au, love your writing, and hope your having a good time

narnia au is something that I ever so occasionally add to whenever I’m in a sentimental and wistful mood - which I have been watching an unreasonable amount of call the midwife lately lmao

so here’s a snippet - 

--- “We all have ghosts, Five.”

“Klaus can literally see ghosts. I think if Dad was hanging around, the whole house and half the city would know about it by now.”

Susan gives him a disappointed look that makes him look away, out the window. “You know that isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“If anyone has a monopoly on ghosts, it’s my brother.”

Susan sighs, reaching up to cup Five’s cheek in her hand. Her skin is soft, it doesn’t feel like tissue paper against his cheek but it feels delicate, fragile. He can feel the way her fingers shake ever so slightly, stabilizing against his jawbone. “Oh, love. We don’t choose the ghosts that haunt us, and how we live with them until we can put them to rest.”

“My ghosts are my own fault. I was the one that killed people. I was the one who said that my siblings were more important than anyone else, than anyone else’s siblings.”

Susan taps her fingers against his cheek, “Oh? You killed your father? You hadn’t told me that one yet. Good, bastard deserved it.”

It’s enough to draw a startled laugh from his throat, “No! I mean, maybe I should’ve, but Dad died thanks to his own stupidity not mine, thank you. That’s one thing I won’t take the blame for.”

Susan hums, leaning back and taking her hand from his cheek to reach down and grasp his hands between them again.

Fire hesitates, looking down at their entwined hands so that he doesn’t have to look at Susan in the eye. “Sometimes I wake up and I forget, just for a minute. I wake up thinking that I have to get up, because Dad hated us being late for breakfast. He’d give us a swat with a ruler for every minute we were tardy. Allison always teased me about being late even though I could jump, but he was always twice as mad when I did that.”

“It must be a relief to realize you can lie in.” Susan smiles, but Five can’t smile back.

“No. There’s a moment in the morning when I think Dad is still alive, and that’s terrible, but in the same moment I think I’m going to go downstairs and my siblings are going to be standing at attention around the table. I think that I’ll see Klaus trying to kick the back of Ben’s knees without Dad noticing, that I’ll see Vanya hiding a book in her cardigan, I’ll see Luther’s stupid judgemental face even though Allison was late more times than me and she never got his stupid faces. And then I remember all over again, and I lose them all over again.”

Susan looks at him with sad eyes. 

“Is that why you moved to America?” Five asks, shaking his head to try and ignore the stinging between his eyes, “So you wouldn’t get stuck in memories so much?”

“Sometimes.” Susan says slowly, “I won’t say that it wasn’t a factor, that I didn’t think about it. That I don’t think about the English countryside and think of Lucy with mud on her face and Edmund trying to put tadpoles down the back of Peter’s shirt.”

“Klaus put spiders in our beds when he was mad at us. It only ever scared Luther, though. I think Vanya just cried because she thought she squished one by accident.” Five whispers, and Susan graces him with a smile. “I thought about that, in the apocalypse. I ate spiders, sometimes, when I could find them. I always thought of Vanya crying when I did it.”

“Lucy scolded Edmund something fierce over it as well.” Susan shakes her head at the memory, “She was in tears when Edmund pointed out that people ate frogs, but I think they were more angry than anything else. He had a bruise for weeks where she thumped him, yelling about how we didn’t live in France.”

They spend a little while in silence, taking a moment for themselves to remember their respective siblings. 

Susan pats Five’s hands gently, “I was a bit like you, you know, when I came back the first time. Not right away, when we were at the professor’s house, but when we went back home. I hadn’t realized how much I’d forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“About home! I went back up to my room, and there were all the things I’d forgotten. My collection of hair ribbons was still on the dresser. My favorite ones were a royal blue, I’d thought I looked so distinguished with them in. I’d forgotten all about them, until I saw them on that dresser.” Susan pats his hand, looking faintly wistful.

“My room looks the same as well.” Five admits, “Exactly the same. It threw me off, at first. It was all rubble in the apocalypse, I didn’t even think about it until I had to go upstairs to get my uniform. My books were still on the nightstand.”

Susan nods sagely.

“At least, I think it’s exactly the same. I don’t remember, is the problem. If - if my siblings moved stuff around, or took anything away, or - or anything like that, I don’t think I’d know. I think it bothers me, that I don’t remember.” Five shakes his head, “It’s been so many years. There’s so much I might have forgotten, but how will I know I’ve forgotten it?”

Five can’t help the affronted look that settles on his face when Susan just shrugs. His mulish expression must be terribly amusing, because it makes Susan’s eyes twinkle with laughter.

“It’s important to remember the past.” Susan tells him gently, the twinkle never fading, “But I think it’s equally important to forge the future, to make new memories. I left England because it was painful, yes. But I also left because America was new, and brilliant, and exciting. Because I wanted to.”

Susan squeezes his hands gently, he isn’t sure if she can squeeze much harder anyway. Her strength seems to come and go like the tides these days.

“Change isn’t a betrayal of what came before, love. Sometimes change is necessary.” Susan hums, “I threw out those hair ribbons, when I came home. Edmund and Lucy swapped rooms entirely. I learned how to put on makeup - they didn’t have red lipstick in Narnia, I can tell you that. It was different, but different was good. Less painful.”

“Allison’s been talking about painting.” Five offers. “She wants to set up a room for when Claire comes to visit. I can’t imagine her in the mansion though. She always sounds so happy, on the phone. Claire, I mean. So carefree. I don’t think we were ever that carefree.”

“If your home isn’t one you can imagine happiness in, perhaps you should ask yourself how you can change that.”

Five snorts, “Doing away with the wall art would be a start. Daily reminders on exactly where to stab each other with our silverware.”

“How ferocious.”