#lww

[western-woods]

I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia? No, not for a long time… But the hope that you've brought, your majesties, have finally started to weaken the Witch's power.

[fishfingersandscarves]

scene from the lion the witch and the wardrobe inspired by the west end cast

[awillowdryad]

'"That, O Man," said Aslan, "is Cair Paravel of the four thrones, in one of which you must sit as King. I show it to you because you are the first-born and you will be High King over all the rest."'

Okay so I painted this awhile ago and I did cheat a little in this scene because I didn't want to paint the Narnian camp and all those itty bitty tents! I also added the outline of Cair Paravel on the horizon.

Painted with watercolours! :)

[fairmerthefarmer]

My take/designs on the pevensies! (They’re definitely heavily inspired by their looks in the movies.)

Beginning of the lion, the witch and the wardrobe

End of golden age-ish

I’d call this a WIP but it’s not really, mostly once we get into designing clothes in fantasy settings I feel very out of my depth, but I wanna practice more. I’m the most happy with Lucy’s but that’s also cause I most heavily referenced with hers.

Im mostly still just figuring out the clothes design for when they’re in narnia. I want brighter/more jewel toned and warmth to contrast with the more muted London clothes. And for the clothing design I want embroidery, but other than that I have no idea how I would make the designs of the narnian style in this era cohesive.

I also have vague main colours for each of them, lucy green, secondary red, edmund blue secondary brown, Susan purple secondary blue, Peter red secondary purple, and all of them use gold as well.

[applesandpavenders]

[lucy-pevensies]

I am a princess on the way to my throne.

[strawberryghostss]

I am amazed that greta gerwig is taking on the narnia films but even more amazed that netflix remembered they owned the rights to narnia in the first place

[narniansteel]

Susan loved Narnia so much that she chose to forget it, because that hurt less.

[lasaraleen]

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again.

Stranger danger wasn’t as prevalent in the 40’s. The Pevensie kids were already entrusted to a complete random stranger at the start of the story, meaning that they’re already dependent on the fact that strangers can be good and kind and take care of them. Lucy was not a complete idiot for going to tea with a stranger, and Edmund was not a complete idiot for playing it safe and not running away from a literal queen.

[blcodyhell]

Mark Wells as Edmund Pevensie requested by anonymous. THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE, dir. Andrew Adamson

[robinsunrest]

Susan: I require assistance.

Peter, running on two crackers and four hours of sleep: I’m here to help!

[western-woods]

[theenchantress36]

I'm so obsessed with the first five seconds of the Coronation music. The way the music curls and echoes. How it lowers in pitch and stretches. Like the hoot of an owl. Like Mr. Tumnus' flute. This piece screams the magical wonder of the series. Love it.

[awillowdryad]

I've always been dying to know what it was that Aslan said to Edmund in this conversation. Guess it's one of those things we'll just never know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway I did this a little while ago but have been thinking of painting it again with brighter colours... maybe... then again I probably won't be bothered to. We'll see.

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Lucy Pevensie

Have feral Lucy, as a treat. The other parts for the other siblings are up on my blog if you wish to read it.

.

The boy reaches out with a lewd grin, and Lucy’s blood burns. She turns around, grips the boy’s arm and moves.

A second later, he is on his knees at her feet, her fisting a hand in his hair and twisting his arm behind his back. Her lips pull back into a wolf-like snarl as Howard lets out a yell, and she twists his arm harder with fingers smaller than she is used to having, vindictive pleasure coiling in her gut when his breath hitches with an even louder sob.

“YOU WILL NOT,” she roars with all her might, ignoring the way her voice is not as loud and commanding as it used to be, ignoring the shocked gasps and astonished stares of the rest of the students of the school, “TOUCH ME WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!”

The other boy— James, she remembers the teachers calling him— comes at her with his fist raised and a yell on his lips, but she kicks him in the back of his knee, hard enough that she feels something crack under her Mary Jane shoe. He lets out a pained scream and crumples like a can of soda would under her foot, and her snarl turns into a too wide grin, just on the wrong side of feral; it is a move Peter had taught her twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years.

She never bothered to separate her home world from this one.

Her blood rushes through her veins like fire, and she pulls on Howard’s hair till his neck is bared, and her eyes zero in on the beating pulse under his jaw. She can almost feel the way the crimson life flows through his body, the way it would flow over his skin if she had her dagger. She would drag the blade over his flesh in a vicious, vengeful slice for the slight upon her person— he dares touch her?

He dares feel entitled to her presence? To her affections? To her body?

She is Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia. She is the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, the Fourth of the Beloved Four, Lover of the People. She is greater and more powerful than he could ever hope to be, and he dares commit the crime of touching her?

She bares her teeth at the thought and twists his arm till she feels his shoulder pop out of place. Her canines elongate and dig into her lower lips even as her blood boils and bubbles, clamouring for punishment to be given and for vengeance to be taken in the form of his lifeblood.

He dared to touch you, Narnia whispers in her ear, tempting her with the fantasy of letting his blood colour her hands crimson. Punish him for his grave mistake, my Queen. Make him pay for this transgression.

There was a time when she would have killed him within seconds for having the audacity of trying to slap her behind. She would have made an example of him for the world to see— she might be young, but she is neither foolish nor meek, and she refuses to be disrespected in such an appalling fashion. If not her, then her siblings surely would have rendered him nothing more than a stain on the ground for daring to try and dishonour the youngest of the Rulers of Narnia.

She breathes in. Blinks. An image of her fingers curling around the golden hilts of her daggers, of burying them in the enemies’ guts and letting herself bathe in the spray of their blood, flashes across her vision. She breathes out, and blinks again. She is in the middle of the school courtyard, fingers wrapping tight around Howard’s forearm and twisted into his short and coarse golden locks.

She is not in Narnia.

She fell out of that wardrobe with her siblings five and a half years ago— she is fourteen and her blood still burns her insides at the reminder that she is not twenty-seven years old. It still scorches the inner lining of her blood vessels at the reminder of not being in her home country, of not being with Mr Tumnus and the fauns, of not running through the forests with her daggers at her sides and her network of espionage agents at her beck and call.

She breathes through her nose and lets go of his arm only to reach for his neck and grip tightly, feeling a sick sense of gratification when she feels his breath hitch fearfully under her palm, and feels the pumping of his blood through his jugular against the tips of her fingers. She tugs harder on his hair, and revels in the whine that echoes in his throat as she straightens up and rakes a narrow-eyed glare over the gawking students.

“Hear ye!” she calls, lips curling into a vindictive smirk when people stiffen their spines at the fury in the little teenage girl voice that is not hers, that has not been hers for decades. It rings with the royal Narnian accent that neither she nor her siblings ever managed to lose, and she lets the accent get stronger, she lets the lilt of the Narnian magic carry her voice over the courtyard.

“Consider the following as both a warning and a threat,” she announces, and her voice echoes strangely through the air, like she has a microphone held in front of her, “henceforth, any unwanted contact with my person will be met with the most violent of retaliations. Either it will be me, or my eldest brother Peter who does it, but know that blood will be drawn.”

The mention of Peter has most of the boys quailing and looking away, shoulders curling inwards and cheeks flushing at the reminder that Lucy has an absolute beast of an older brother— over six feet and built like a bull, with wide shoulders and a face permanently set in a grim expression. Peter’s fencing skills are legendary, and he is infamous for hitting till bone breaks. It makes Lucy smile a vicious little smile; her royal brother is terrifying, and she is proud to be Queen next to him and their other siblings.

It also makes her blood beat an outraged tune against her pulse points— she is no less terrifying than her oldest brother, and it is high time that people learnt to respect her for her strength and status. She is Queen just as much as her brothers are Kings and her sister is Queen, and she deserves to have her titles acknowledged. If they refuse to do so, then she will force them to their knees and make them do it.

She finds Peter easily when she looks for him; he is sitting in a tree with Susan and Edmund, hidden from the rest of the world, their trademark Pevensie blue eyes all gleaming wildly with pride and encouragement. Edmund grins sharply and whispers something at her, and she hears the lilting Narnian in his voice even though he is too far away for any normal human to be able to hear him.

Ruen’hi vraeka, he has always called her fondly, much to her eternal amusement. Blood-covered dragon.

“LUCY ANNE PEVENSIE!”

She breathes in and out through her nose, and turns calmly towards the advancing form mistress, clenching her jaw at the anger etched into the wrinkles of the old woman.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS, YOUNG LADY?

She resigns herself to the one month of detentions, but her blood burns.

Her blood is like fire as it pounds in her ears, outrage bubbling in her gut and showing in the flash of her blue-eyed glare as it pans from the yelling form mistress to the rest of the students and then finally on the two boys at her feet. They still haven’t stood up, in too much pain to do anything more than groan in pain and wipe their tears and snotty noses on their sleeves.

They should be falling at my feet, she thinks savagely. They should be on their knees begging for forgiveness, for mercy. In fact, the school faculty themselves should also be at her feet, begging for forgiveness for the audacity of raising their voices at her and her siblings.

How dare they deem themselves capable of handing out punishment to a King or Queen of Narnia? To all four Kings and Queens of Narnia? Who are they to try and punish her, Queen Lucy the Valiant? Who are they to deem themselves appropriate authority to discipline the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, Fourth of the Beloved Four?

Lucy’s blood burns, but she lets herself be dragged to the headmaster’s office, taking one last glance at her siblings. The sight of their gazes fixed on the two injured boys makes her mouth stretch into a feral smile even as she bristles indignantly at the form mistress’ grip on the shoulder of the body that has not been hers since she first stepped into that wardrobe.

Narnia hums in her ears, a sweet siren song of bloody retribution.

That night, when she sleeps, she dreams of gripping the two idiot boys by their hair and ripping their throats out with her teeth.

[applesandpavenders]

Things that made the battle scene in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe still the best battle scene I’ve ever seen:

Epic scenery

The MUSIC

The moment the music stopped and you just hear bodies colliding and shouts and the clatter of weapons. So chilling

How Peter’s battle strategies clearly reflect his experiences and values; he uses the griffin’s to essentially bomb the witch’s army and keeps Edmund safe out of range on the cliff. He uses the air space over the enemy as an important battle field which is often forgotten in fantasy battles (but was such a big deal in blitzed London)

The variety of of creatures in each army. The film uses this as a moment to world build on who lives in Narnia and establish what they value by who’s side they’re on

It emphasises how each unique creature is built different and how that effects the battle. A good example is how the tiny guy with the sword takes down the rhino (it’s a split second scene where the rhino looks like he trips but he was actually attacked)

There a unicorn, like, come on

Again, the silence that comes when the music stops just before the two armies collide. Exquisite

It’s not an overly gory battle, and it’s not made to look super grey or gritty, but it doesn’t glorify it either. It’s made to look epic but also terrible - there’s broad daylight and colour in each shot but the music adds weight to the deaths that happen

Just a huge amount of fantasy creatures that don’t look like robots. Those fauns look genuinely nervous

The way Peter consults the other leaders like the griffin and Oreius. He respects them

Peter’s glance over his shoulder to Edmund for reassurance

The way Edmund gives him a nod. SO cool.

It demonstrates how they’re both kings and although Peter is leading the army Edmund is also playing a vital role in the battle