Jan 2, 2025
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005, dir. Andrew Adamson)
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THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005, dir. Andrew Adamson)
TILDA SWINTON AS THE WHITE WITCH JADIS
People hide their truest nature. I understood that; I even applauded it.
Cut The Threads Of Fate
Birthed wrong by the standards of every world, they were Aslan’s Scourge and Sword, his children-gods called to free the throne by slaughtering the Witch.
They were the Pevensies, born of Frank and Helen.
They were War.
They were Pestilence.
They were Famine.
And they were Death.
Peter, golden-haired and ocean-eyed, with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind.
Peter, who taught himself blade-work by the age of five with butter knives.
Peter, who ran an underground fighting ring for the neighborhood children.
Peter, who was always at the center of every schoolyard fight, despite never throwing a punch himself.
Peter, who, when questioned about the aforementioned schoolyard scraps, would always smile a bit too sharp and laugh for a bit too long and then say the same things over and over, that it wasn’t him, that he had simply spoken, and that they had simply complied.
Peter, who learned he liked the taste of blood as he licked his sword clean, a headless human corpse slumped beneath his boots.
Peter, who was crowned in gold and blood.
Peter, who was Magnificent.
Peter, who was War.
Lucy, slight and light-footed, slipping between the shadows easily and unnoticeable.
Lucy, who only ate what she could find herself in an English forest when she was a child, lips stained from green leaves and black gnarled roots and poisonous berries as red as the lipstick her sister would someday wear.
Lucy, who sent a girl home with an illness that would not heal, that would never heal, when she’d insulted her sister — why doesn’t she talk, she a retard or something? — simply tilting her head to the side and asking the other student why it mattered, when the news came back that the girl had died.
Lucy, who slipped her hand into the embrace of the goat-man with a parasol and simply knew how deep the Witch’s corruption spread.
Lucy, who received a cordial from Father Christmas to balance out the death she’d been able to give since birth.
Lucy, who could take an arrow from her quiver, run her fingers down it, string it, and shoot it — the minions of the White Witch drowning in their own blood, skin falling off of bones, bones splintering into shards, cancerous growths bursting and twisting out of their bodies, rotting from the inside out, growing from the outside in, dying by the thousands.
Lucy, who was crowned in ashes and copper.
Lucy, who was Valiant.
Lucy who was Pestilence.
Edmund, pale as snow, eyes like dark hollows carved into his face, hair a tangle of brown soil and rotting red leaves.
Edmund, always just out of the frame in photographs, always just out of the corner of eyes.
Edmund, who only gained color in mirrors and looking glasses and the fear-widened pupils of others.
Edmund, who was nothing but collection of bones and a gaping mouth with pointed teeth and cracked, bloody lips — when adam’s flesh and adam’s bone — and a Hunger that never went away, but was sometimes filled with his mother’s blisteringly-hot vegetable soup and his siblings understanding of their shared Otherness and his father’s words of kindness and love and gentle affections.
Edmund, who stumbled into an another world with sneer and then stumbled out of it after a war and a decade-and-five years of peace with the blood of the sun running through his veins in place of his own and winter split into his bones instead of the marrow.
Edmund, who felt full only once the Witch’s magic settled in his stomach like frostbitten-stones, spelled so he drew blood from his wrists with his teeth and called it hot chocolate, drew snow and ice from the ground and called it Turkish delight.
Edmund, who sunk into a Witch’s embrace to distract her just long enough for his brother to run them both through.
Edmund, who was crowned in dew and platinum.
Edmund, who was Just.
Edmund, who was Famine.
The stone is broken here, cracked and shattered and splintered, the paper records burnt or molded or swallowed by the sea, the ending of the ballad of the god-children is simply: lost.
Only a fragment remains, passing from mouth to mouth and drifting on the grief-soaked southern winds.
Only a sentence remains.
The only words, in memory and not, to ever be spoken by the god of death, the god of mourning, the god of silence.
Take me with them
If they ever was an answer, it is unknowable.
Queen Jadis's heir, king Edmund Pevensie
What if Pevensie siblings couldn't save their brother...
I made a character inspo page for her. Even though she is just basically Sailor Uranus dressed up as Lady Oscar
image disc. below the cut + I put the Land of Chronicles on the twst map
The Crown Jewels of Narnia: Jadis & Caspian
The Disney Crown Jewels Exhibit is in Texas. This extravigant event is featured at the Arlington Museum of Art. For this series of articles, the Narnian Crown Jewels will be presented. First are Queen Jadis and Prince Caspian. Source: FictionLover007 on Reddit.
For the second article on The Crown Jewels of Peter and Susan, go here.
For the third article on The Crown Jewels of Edmund and Lucy, go here.
Dark Male! Queen Jadis 'The White Witch' x Reader
The moment you found yourself in Narnia, you felt scared, yet at the same time mesmerized by your new surroundings.
You thought you were all alone in this place until you met him.
King Jadis.
A very handsome man, even though having a cold expression painted on his face, you couldn't help but trust him.
Placing his fur coat around your cold body and showing you kindness was enough to make you feel allured by Jadis.
Yet, there's a voice deep down that screamed for you to run away, that this king has no good intention towards you.
But, it was already too late for you to back away.
At first, he kept his act up until you two got married, then his true face showed.
You realize by the time that Jadis who told you that he is the king of Narnia is a vile and cruel warlock and Aslan is the opposite of what Jadis described him to be.
There was no chance of escaping for you, and you are left all day in the palace, treated more like a doll then a human being by your own husband.
However, when you try to escape and get caught, you finally let out all of your emotions.
"What do you expect me to do, sit around all day and look pretty to you while you kill others? We can't even have children together!"
Jadis only focused on the last sentence, thinking that you wanted to have children.
That's when Edmund comes into the equation.
"She would love you as a son, and you will be a prince befitting to be the son of mine and my wife, Edmund"
When Jadis brought the ten-year-old boy to you, as expected you cheer at the sight of him, especially since Edmund is from the same world as you.
Jadis thought that this would fix the crack in his relationship with you.
But instead, it turns out Edmund and his siblings will be the ones to save you from him.