#narnia meta

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Pevensie children are too old for their age.

Their mom notices, at the dinner table. She sees no nagging children, no stupid fights. She sees Lucy eating and speaking with perfect manners, Edmund analysing the economy and war with concerning skill, Susan being gracious but poised, like a diplomat.

Their father sees it in Peters eyes the first time they get into a fight. When he moves to punish Edmund for speaking out of turn, Peter calls him out on it. When his gaze meet his eldest son's, he's leveled by the war he sees behind it, the tensed muscle in his arm, the knuckles white around his knife. He's seen that before, in other soldiers. He doesn't know how to react.

Other children notice, too. Talking to all the Pevensie kids at the same time is like being the only one left out of a secret, and the way they touch and tease each other speaks of a history far deeper than their polite demeneor lets on. And when they walk they fall in line, as if there is a natural hierarchy between them.

The first time anyone picks a fight with Edmund, Peter comes home with a three week suspension and blood around his mouth. He looks more alive than you've seen him in weeks.

When Susan gets back in the pool after Narnia, she wins all the contests. Coaches can't explain how to beat her, because they don't understand how she's doing it, either. She seems to almost disappear when underwater.

Lucy, always gay and golden-haired, starts dancing, and never misses a step. She moves with an elegance that no 10 year old should have, and all the girls want to be friends with her

Edmund soon becomes the best student in his faculty. He always seems to know the right thing to say, and teachers laud his ability to think through complex problems. His mouth does get him in trouble sometimes, but the boy seems uncatchable, always talking his way through the cracks. And if not?

No one actively fears Peter, but everyone is a little scared of him sometimes. He's tall for his age, sure, but there is something else, some other air that seems to give him an authority far beyond what's normal for a teenage boy. He's nice enough, but teachers can't stand it, and bullies learn very quickly that pissing him off means missing teeth and black eyes.

The Pevensies are not quite inhuman, but not fully mortal, either

[queen-lucy-the-valiant]

On my last rewatch of Prince Caspian, I wondered what it would be like to be one of the Narnian’s in the battle planning scene; watching the supposed High King suggest what is essentially a suicide mission. The fight is really between the High King, the myth come to life, and Prince Caspian, the Telmarine prince they’ve accepted as the leader of their rebellion; both plans offer hope, both plans might work, but both plans also seem like a stretch; the most likely outcome is that they all die. But no one is saying that the most likely outcome is death, they’re all just dancing around it. Caspian and Peter are both saying their plan has the highest chance of success, but neither of them are saying that the rebellion might fail, that everyone in the How might die in a few short days.

And there has to be a disconnect here; how many of the Narnians were like Trumpkin when he first met the Pevensies, how many of them assumed these apparent children wouldn’t be able to help them. They accept them, of course they accept them, Caspian himself is a child, if an old one. So you have this apparent child, claiming to be the high king of legend, suggesting an insane plan, and even though he’s sure the plan will work, maybe you can’t get over the fact he’s young, maybe you can’t get over the fact young usually means inexperienced. And during all of this, his youngest sister, supposedly a queen in her own right, is casually sitting on the stone table itself, and maybe this angers you, because no one has dared to touch the stone table, the place where Aslan died and was born again, because to do so would be to disrespect him; but there she sits, silent until she challenges her brother, silent until she voices the thought everyone is thinking but no one dares to say; “That’s what I’m worried about,” she says after the first pledge of ‘or die trying’ has been made, “You’re all acting like there’s only two options. Dying here, or dying there” she says. “I’m not sure you’ve really been listening, Lu,” the high king says, a little patronizingly, a little dismissively; and it occurs to you that maybe he cannot see past the child to the woman she used to be, as you cannot see past the child he appears to the man he used to be. If he cannot, how can you? Maybe you expect her to back down, this is the high king after all, but she has already been brave enough to voice what everyone else didn’t dare. So she doesn't back down; “No, you’re not listening” she says emphatically, “or have you forgotten who really defeated the white witch, Peter,” and she refers to an event a thousand years past, one so wrapped up in legends and myth that maybe the truth really has been forgotten, maybe everyone in the How has also forgotten who really defeated the White Witch. Or maybe you simply do not expect her to call on Alsan, when she appears to be so casually disrespecting him. “I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough” the high king says, and then walks away, ending the argument, after all, they’ve already decided to attack the castle, what’s the point in arguing about it more. 

In this moment, Lucy is the only one thinking about Aslan, because everyone else agrees with Peter, they have waited for Aslan long enough, centuries of waiting while the Telmarines hunted them to near extinction, and now the kings and queens of old are here, surely sent in Aslan’s sted; they’ve decided it is time to act and the high king has offered a plan, something they can do, rather than continue to sit around and wait. He’s the high king, he’s so confident the plan will work, and it’s the only plan they have, so of course they do it, (and it seems like it might’ve worked if caspian understood that you can free people from the dungeons and execute miraz after you’ve managed to take the castle, but that’s not what this is about). 

I don’t know, it just seems like this moment would be really strange to see as a bystander; the Pevensies haven’t even been there that long, maybe a couple of days, so even if everyone accepted them as the kings and queens of old, they still don’t really know them, let alone understand them; it’s doubtful that the Pevensies they know from the stories are anything like the real Pevensies that stand before them. They’ve suddenly been confronted with kings and queens of legend who appear in the bodies of children, who look like young ones but behave like old ones, who saw the history of a thousand years ago, who are the history of a thousand years ago. Even if they believed the Pevensies are the kings and queens of old, maybe they’re finding it hard to stop discounting them as children; and then they see the high king himself do it, in the same breath as dismissing Aslan. In this moment they see that the high king is just like them; he to is avoiding the inevitability of death, dancing around it with grand plans and heroic deeds, and he fully believes they will work, after all, he’s never lost a battle before; but he’s avoiding it all the same, casting off Aslan as the rest of them seem to be doing; not intentionally, of course not, but they’ve waited, and waited, and he hasn’t come, so they will follow the high king who acts in Aslan’s name. And maybe in this moment they begin to stop discounting Lucy, as the youngest of the kings and queens, because she has not lost her faith in Aslan, while so many of them have, she is willing to wait for him as the rest of them are not.

I feel like we don’t talk about the point of view of the caspian era narnians enough; we talk about how strange it would be for the Pevensies, to come home and have home be unrecognizable, but we don’t talk about how desperate the caspian era narnian’s must have been to accept that four humans were their kings and queens of old, even with the cave paintings; we see more detailed in Cornelius's office, but how many of the narnian’s would have had access to that art? They put their lives in the hands of the Pevensies, on the faith that they are who they claim to be, on the faith that these children have more experiences than anyone else, and maybe it’s during this scene that the faith begins to become belief. Then they fail and everything falls apart again before they pull it together one last time, but that’s not my point. My point is, how desperate would you have to be to believe four strangers are the heroes out of your myths come to save you; how hard would it be for you to believe it, truly believe it, instead of just following along, hoping they succeed because everyone else has failed you.

this is very disjointed, so I hope you actually made it to the end and I thank you if you did, hope you enjoyed my random mutterings.

[narnianskys]

The skills of a King or Queen

They had to rebuild a kingdom. In the aftermath of the war with the white witch the newly crowned Pevensies had a daunting task. Narnia was in shambles after the 100 year winter. With the help of many older Narnians they learn skills and helped their people. 

Peter learned the crafts. He was taught wood carving from the fawns and black smiting from the dwarves'. He worked with his hands to create things. To mold tools and weapons to help and defend his people. He would often forge swords for his allies as a sign of trust and comradery. 

Susan quickly took to the art of the hunt. Her skilled marksman ship added her well as she became an expert tracker. She learned trapping and enjoyed the solitude and peace the chase would provide. it was said she was so nimble of foot that even if she walked right behind you, not even the crunch of a leave would catch your attention. 

Edmond had a rudimentary knowledge of cooking from his mother both nothing comprehensive. He set his sights on learning the Narnian dishes that his people loved to dearly. As he did he learned to butcher and create serval herbal remedies. He excelled and it became quite the honor to have the young King hand craft meals for visitors in Care Parevel.

Lucy spent her time out doors in the gardens and fields. She loved to learn about each crop and tended to them with her hands and her heart. It wasn't uncommon for visitors when bowing to the young ruler to see her dust covered skirts and the dirt embedded in her nails. 

They worked together, forging a brighter future for their people. Nothing was easy after the war but in time Narnia thrived.

[staliaqueen]

I’m very lucky that Edmund is so beloved in this fandom, but there are still some antis out there and even the people who love him don’t understand him sometimes. The thing that gets me the most is people pointing out lww!Edmund’s selfishness like it’s a flaw, because it’s not. Selflessness isn’t always a virtue. He’s literally a 10 year old boy who’s never had anything of his own — he deserves to be selfish. That was never his crime. The problem was that his desire for something great of his own led to him ignoring red flag’s and putting blind trust in Jadis.

[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.

[elrondsscribe]

sorry i’m having some narnia thoughts idk

because ok. most tepid take of the year: narnia isn’t a “world” in the way that, for example, middle-earth is a world. it’s more like an ad hoc playground with different pieces that keep getting added to it.

and like. the “character journeys,” as we’d call them now, are pretty thin by our current standards? like, the shit that the kids go thru just on-page (not even counting the implied backdrop of WW2 and post WW2 England) is pretty traumatic if u think about it for a second, but it doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on them. like, you as the reader can logically guess that it’s there, but there’s almost nothing in the text that actually demonstrates that emotionally.

and none of this is a dig, btw, but i think jack lewis just wasn’t the kind of author who, like, thought about what he was writing all that much?? which is an energy i respect, honestly, because who would throw bacchus & maenads, santa claus, and werewolves all into the same story if they Thought About It?

anyway all of that is just to say: i don’t wanna invalidate ppl who get emotional catharsis out of Wrestling With The Problem Of Susan, or What It Says About Jack Lewis. i guess i’m just saying that i don’t think he Thought About It when he decided to pull something on her that is objectively Super Fucking Traumatic.

because this is the same world in which a kid can come within an inch of being fucking murdered by a witch and can still sleep at night afterwards. this is a same world where two teenage boys can end up in a life threatening battle with no real preparation and then just kinda shake it off later. this is the same world where two teenage girls can watch a person they know get ritualistically murdered and be completely devastated by it … and then there’s never a peep about nightmares afterward. (i mean for crying out loud, lucy encounters the actual knife that killed aslan and her reaction is basically “oh look, a relic from that thing i was present for!”)

this is a world where a kid can grow up under fairly extreme emotional neglect, not to mention having to run for his life because the people who were supposed to be his guardians intended to kill him, not to mention finding out that those “guardians” are the reason he’s an orphan … and then he just kinda rolls into adulthood like it’s all well n good.

like okay. yeah susan got the worst of it, but it does kinda fit with the way lewis treats these characters generally. like what do you mean these characters would be Super Mega Affected by things that happen to them??

[totheglisteningeasternsea]

I was rewatching lww today as you do and I got to this part:

“To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan the Gentle.”

And as always an unhinged thought popped up:

If it’s the southern sun, would it like… rise in the south… or maybe set in the south?

Or what other criteria makes this sun southern?

We all know this world is flat and the lamppost is a tree, so really, anything could go

[confessions-of-a-bookworm]

👀👀👀

Tried my best to find that post but no luck, I guess it's just internet debris now :((

Worry not, I'm going to write everything I remember in this post

We start with these two. Parallels aside, they didn't have to line up in either of these scenes, they did. This is what they do. They are a group. And no matter how interesting each of their individual personalities are, their meanings are diminished, if not non-existent, without the others' to contrast them.

Coming to the topic of body language, have you noticed how they stand in their lines?

Their positions always have a meaning. In the ruins of Cair Paravel, they stand in the positions of their respective thrones.

Entering Aslan's How, they let Caspian lead the way. Out of the four of them, Peter's in the lead, Lucy and Susan are in the middle although not exactly in sync, and Edmund brings up the rear. When Caspian stops, the Pevensies' gait changes- they are royal again- Peter and Susan start and are followed by Lucy and Edmund.

Contrast this with when they are entering Cair Paravel. Edmund leads, torch in hand. Peter let's the girls follow and is at the end. Doesn't it seem they have an unspoken system for every situation they are in? With a distinction between when they're just siblings and when they're Kings and Queens? Notice how there's no "Susan, you're on my foot!" or "stop shoving!" here.

The last one is interesting because their pairing within the line changes. Uptil now, it's usually Peter-Lucy and Susan-Edmund or Peter-Edmund and Susan-Lucy. This Peter-Susan and Edmund-Lucy pairing is a rarity. The older ones are being barred from Narnia, while the younger ones are told they have more to learn. This changes their usual balance.

Now, let's talk about their 'roles', spoken or unspoken, how they let things be done by the ones who are 'supposed' to do them.

Edmund is the first to enter the ruins of Cair Paravel, and he's the first at this gate, yet he doesn not open it. Susan is second and is followed by Peter. Peter is the one to open the gate and he does it only once Lucy is joined them. High King Peter takes charge here.

At the stone table, note that Lucy and Susan are in the middle. The boys stand at a respectful distance while the girls approach the table, symbolic of their significance years ago when it cracked. Although Susan was there too and shed just as many tears, Lucy- Aslan's darling daughter- is the one to touch it.

Let's go back to the endings of the adventures. In lww, notice how Lucy and Peter are leaning towards each other, notice how Edmund and Susan are a little to the side, notice there's a wider gap between Susan and Lucy. (I will never shut up about the Pevensies' relationships with each other, especially the difference between Peter-Lucy and Susan-Edmund but one post at a time). When they leave Narnia, they do it together and they do not look back.

In pc, they leave one by one, only when prompted to do so. Notice how this time Susan and Peter are huddled together.

Leaving Narnia in Votdt is interesting. For the first time the Pevensies (even though there are only two of them) are not side by side. I see this as symbolic to their growth. In the end, Peter and Susan- the ones who usually disagreed on everything- found a way to stick together, whereas Edmund and Lucy-who have a hard time believing in their own individuality- finally believe they are not in the shadows and grow into their unique, individual selves.

Finally, we talk about the Pevensies' line when they're missing a person. I've been thinking a lot about this ever since @puddleglumms sent me this ask.

In the first one, Edmund is right in front of them. Even though their line is incomplete, they are still a group. Notice how close Peter, Susan and Lucy are standing. Contrast it with the second picture. Edmund is in danger, he could be dead for all they know, at least two of them blame themselves for losing him. Notice the distance between them now.

This brings us to the last part. Three of them line up with no hint of a fourth. This is a specially tailored nightmare for Lucy where she is no longer a part of the group but it is creepy for us to see this too. It just seems so wrong.

Imagining them lining up once they're dead and realising they're missing one is heartbreaking. Do you think they'd stand as close as they used to? Do you think Edmund will see Lucy and Peter close to each other and miss his companion? Do you think Lucy will be jarred by the absence of the only other female in their group? Do you think Peter will be horrified to know he's the only older one here?

There are so many more instances I can include in this but then the post would be wayyyyy longer. This covers most of what I wanted to say.

[keendaanmaa]

Narnia meta question: if Jadis claims herself as Empress of the Lone Islands does that mean the islands got the 100 years of always winter but never Christmas too? Discuss

[the-nettle-knight]

I think it actually makes sense for Narnia to be traditionally ruled by humans. From what we see Narnia has a split between Talking Animals and the mythical creatures such as Fauns, Dwarves, Centaurs and Dryads. The Talking Animals seem to live a little longer than normal animals - rats live a maximum of two years and Repicheep is older than that but probably not significantly longer. Mr Tumnus is older than the 100 year's winter and still seems relatively young and the Dryads live as long as their trees. It would make sense for there to be monarchs (as much as a monarchy makes any sense) who have a lifespan in between the two major populations to try and balance out the cultural differences that would come with the differences in age spans

[the-best-bibliophile]

The aging backwards of Narnia always gets me. Like could you imagine? An entire life you have lived, over ten years in another world of magic and myth, and then you come back and you’re eleven again. I can’t imagine what an awful feeling that must be; feeling too large and awful for your own skin. Containing memories and experiences that everyone tells you are imaginary, but you just know were real. Can you imagine?? I’d feel like I was going insane.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Some more headcanons when the Pevensies come back to England:

-All of them have a strange lisp from living in Narnia for so long. When they are together, they will often speak Narnian, and when asked about the origins of the strange language no one else understands, all they give you is a mysyerious smile.

-It is absolutely impossible to get a rise out of Susan. When taunted, ridiculed or tested by other girls who envy her confidence, all she will do is smile and offer some words of advice. She has dealt with threats far more serious and deadly than high school British kids, and she finds their little power plays nothing but funny Soon, it becomes an unwritten rule not to mess with her. She'll smile back and kill you with kindness.

-Edmund and Peter spend the first few weeks learning how to walk without a sword at their side. All their adult lives, they've worn one, and they still compensate for the weight slightly. Especially Peter, commander of the armies, feels extremely naked without his blade.

-Lucy has the hardest time getting used to England again. The girls her age are mean and stupid, and she finds it hard not to call them out on it. Her intelligence is often mistaken for arrogance. She throws herself into dancing, the one thing Narnia has given her that is of use in the normal world.

-Edmund is completely changed, overnight it seems. Where he was first a nagging, annoying brat, he now seems a beacon of calmness and wit, able to solve any problem. The bond with his brother Peter is so strong the two seem to be able to read each others minds. This is especially true during fencing class, where they are the two best students by a distance. They move so in sync some people wonder if they are twins

-The first time the Pevensies ride horses together again the rest of class gasps audibly. They all seem to grow taller in the sadle, and they communicate with their horses in a way that seems impossible.

-Peter never gets used to the disrespect other kids show him, and will respond to every insult with a blow. He doesn't get over what they have lost , and writes story after story about the most beautiful imaginary world he calls Narnia. His teachers, from English to theology to history, all agree that he should be a writer. But the fighting only gets worse. Soon, kids have to gang up on him to even be able to touch him. And when Edmund decides to help, it's basically a wrap. He is far smarter than he lets on, and his back is always so straight it seems like he is 3 inches taller than his classmates. Bullies learn to avoid him, and he is fiercly loyal to his friends, even if that gets him in trouble.

-There is a rumour that the Pevensies are royals or at least nobles . No one knows from where, but the war could have changed things. Either way, they are everyone's favorite gossip subject.

[radiantsouth]

peter and caspian stepping onto the threshold of adulthood the moment they step into a wardrobe

[narnianskys]

To the Glistening Eastern Sea i give you Queen Lucy, The Valiant.

Here is my playlist inspired by Lucy's life. Each song has a meaning here are a few of the most important ones.

1 Seven by Sleeping At Least. Lucy's is an adventures spirt, just like the seventh enneagram personality type. She doesn't sit still and is always ready to go racing off.

3 Savage Daughter by Sarah Hester Ross. This song appears on both Susan and Lucy's playlists. They are not perfect lady's of the court. the two queens are wild and full of more fight then their bodies can hold.

7 Touch The Sky by Julie Fowlis. She is so restless. Lucy needs to see the world. Laugh with the people around her as she lives her life to the fullest.

8 Teir Abhaile Riu by Celtic Woman. they say when Lucy came back to England she danced in a way no one could understand but that always worked with the music. She would have danced hill the sun rose when the court musicians played this song.

9 There Beneath by The Oh Hellos. The deep appreciation and love that Lucy has for Narnia in rivaled by no one. She treasures each blade of grass and each leaf on the tree.

[staliaqueen]

Okay I just started rewatching The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and it’s really reaffirming how well the train station scene establishes the characters — specifically Edmund, Peter and Susan. 

They’re all upset about leaving, and Edmund’s natural way of expressing this is through complaints. Immediately, Peter jumps to scold him. Then his mum tells him to listen to Peter and tries to kiss his temple, but Edmund evades it. It seems so cold at first, but it makes sense, because Edmund reacting this way to his mother’s affection is about so much more than him being grumpy and mean. Edmund feels overshadowed by his siblings, and his biggest conflict is with Peter. He just expressed not wanting to leave London and missing their dad in his own language and Peter scolded him for it, like he always does. Now, his mother hears this, but instead of defending Edmund, she sides with Peter, telling him that he needs to listen to his brother. No matter Helen’s intentions with this line, to Edmund, it reads as her affirming that his place is second to Peter. She’s saying what he thinks of himself, and what he thinks everyone else thinks of him, too: that Edmund belongs in the shadows behind Peter. That Peter is right and Edmund is wrong. So he treats his mother coldly, because in his eyes, that’s how she just treated him. He probably regrets it soon after. 

Then she hugs Peter, and tells him to look after the others. The responsibility of taking care of the entire family falls on his shoulders. He promises that he will, and every choice he makes from there on is grounded in the fact that he thinks it’s the best way to take care of his siblings. Helen turns to Susan, and tells her to be a big girl, influencing Susan to try and act as adult as possible. During the entirety of the movie, Susan is basically playing a game of “What Would an Adult Do?”, which puts her in conflict with Peter when they disagree on the best course of action. 

It’s kind of sad how everything the older siblings do to keep the family together is exactly what’s tearing them apart. 

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Peter Pevensie

I binged read and watched the Narnia books and films, and idk what possessed me but I wrote. so. Let's go. Please check out the other parts for the other siblings!

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Peter’s skin itches.

He heaves even breaths through his nose as he leans back to avoid the sloppy punch Easton throws at him, and stops himself from going for the throat for the third time in half as many seconds.

This is the fourth fight he has gotten himself dragged into since term began on Monday. It is Wednesday today, and Peter’s blood pounds in his ears, through his limbs and his flexing fingers as he holds back; doesn’t hit hard, doesn’t go for the liver or the heart or the head, does not give into the bloodlust that whispers siren songs of battle and blood-covered blades in his ears. He stops himself, clenching his fists and dodging the abysmal hits from the three boys that surround him, and refuses to lift a hand against these insolent children.

He is a King.

He is a boy stuck in a schoolyard brawl he did not start.

Peter’s skin itches.

He wants to claw it off— he imagines that this is what snakes must feel when their body gets much too big for their scales, and they have to go through the painful process of shedding their outer layer and come out stronger and larger. He suppresses a grim twist of his lips as he kicks out— harmlessly, wrestling against the lust that sings a song of death in his ears— at that idiot Michael’s knee to send him sprawling to the ground with a yelp, and thinks that what he went through was rather the opposite, really. He grew up, and then was forced into a body too unfamiliar, too awkward, too inexperienced. Too young.

He was a King.

He is a boy stuck in a body too unscarred to be a King’s.

Kenneth lunges forward to try and grab him around the waist. Peter easily steps out of the way, the part of him that is a seasoned warrior clawing to the forefront of his mind simply to scoff at the graceless flailing of limbs that these children call fighting. Lucy could do better.

Lucy did do better, twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years ago.

The timelines blur together, in his mind; he can no longer tell whether he is in England or Narnia. He is wearing his school uniform and he is wearing his royal garments, he is walking the halls of Westbrook County Boarding School and he is walking the halls of Cair Paravel. He holds the blunted school practice broadsword in his hand and he holds the razor-sharp Rhindon in his calloused hands, he is a boy and he is a King.

“Fight back,” Easton snarls, dark brown hair falling out of its previously carefully styled place, and Peter thinks of how he has seen scarier Mice dig their teeth into the throats of Minotaurs and suck them dry of blood. He blinks, and the image of him sinking his own teeth into Easton’s throat flashes across his mind’s eye. He blinks again, and he’s back on this makeshift battleground where the mice are gone and his sword is gone and he is in clothes too uncomfortable and the skin is stretched taut over a body that is not really his—

“Fight back, Pevensie, you coward!”

High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, Protector of the People, wants to grab him by the throat and shatter his jaw into a thousand pieces for that grave insult upon his character. Instead, he laughs in his face and sticks out his tongue, like a small child.

He is nineteen, and he is thirty-three. He is not a child, in either world.

Sometimes, he wishes he was. Sometimes, he wishes he was thirteen and in his mother’s home, he wishes he had never left for Professor Diggory’s mansion.

Most times, however, he wishes for something he has almost given up hope for, something he was forced to give up five and a half years ago. He wishes, oh so dearly, for a faithful sword made of mithril in his hand and a heavy crown woven out of golden flowers on his head. He wishes for one last chance to step out of this world that was once his but no longer is, and into a world where he was once High King Peter the Magnificent, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands, the Lionheart Warrior King, First of the Beloved Four, Protector of the Narnian People.

Easton yells as he lumbers forward, and Peter, too embroiled in old memories of running his fingers through the unicorn Ethrys’ snow-white mane while galloping through grassy fields, does not see the punch coming until it is too late. The loud smack of knuckles against flesh echoes through the school courtyard, and the impact of the heavy fist on his cheek is like an electric shock to his senses.

For a second, he blinks dazedly. And then his brain registers it properly. The pain flares, and with it so does blinding hot bloodlust.

‘Fine,’ he thinks as he lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Easton’s forearm in a death grip, a high-pitched whistle echoing in his ears and red creeping into the edges of his vision as it zeroes in on the many weaknesses in the three boys’ defenses. ‘You want a fight? You’ll get one.’

It takes him four seconds to get the three imbeciles on their backs, one howling in pain from a dislocated shoulder, the other because of a broken nose and the third from a bruised kidney. His fingers flex around the hilt of a sword that he no longer owns, and he reminds himself that he is not allowed to kill, not in this world where he is not a King and does not lead wars.

He stares down at Easton, the image of a blood covered sword and a slain warrior at his feet flashing behind his eyelids when he blinks. He opens his eyes and the boy stares back, hand clutching his shoulder and face becoming paler and paler the longer Peter holds his terrified brown gaze.

“Don’t bother me again,” he says flatly to the three of them, and turns away, ignoring the teachers that are hurrying across the lawn with yells of his name tumbling from their lips. He lifts his gaze and locks it with Edmund’s for a second, brilliant blue meeting identical brilliant blue, before both of them turn away. One royal brother melts into the crowd of students without a whisper, and the other stalks off towards the dorms with blood on his ever-bruised knuckles and memories of a different world singing through the veins of a body that is too young for the mind it contains.

He is a King, celebrated and honoured for his services to a hallowed land.

He is a mere boy sitting on the roof of the boarding school, fingers flexing around the hilt of a sword that no longer belongs to him, nothing more than a memory he cannot let go of: a memory he refuses to let go of even after five and a half years.