#thoughts on calormen

[rohirric-hunter]

*props up table on its side between me and wrathful ghost of C.S. Lewis* So the Telmarines and Calormenes must speak a different language from the Narnians and Archenlanders, right? Like, the Narnians and Archenlanders most likely speak English, or something very similar to it, as all the humans are descended from the British Frank and Helen and Aslan probably would have given the talking animals the same language as their king and queen. But the Telmarines and presumably the Calormenes are descended from humans who made their way into the world of Narnia by accident, and most likely didn't speak English, so they would have their own languages descended from whatever languages their ancestors spoke.

(Actually, I don't know if the text ever establishes that the Calormenes are human. They could be something else; Narnia and Charn both have denizens that seem to be nearly indistinguishable from humans while not being humans, and there are thousands of pools in the Wood Between the Worlds. But for the sake of this argument let's assume they're human. Actually for the sake of this argument if they're not human they're even less likely to speak English. So it doesn't matter.)

Like, yeah, I know that Canonically they all speak English because C.S. Lewis thought this sort of question was a stupid thing to consider while inventing a fantasy world, but I follow a different school of thought and I think it's fun to consider the lingual barriers. Most characters we meet are some sort of royalty or nobility, but consider Shasta learning really odd English from Bree and Hwin, who haven't spoken it in years, and Aravis, who learned it as an elective in school and only knows a really stilted, formal version laced with cultural misunderstandings. His tutors try to train it out of him, to no avail, and when he becomes king he's always saying idioms he translated literally from Calormene and he has just the weirdest pronunciations of some things.

The four Pevensies learn Calormene and possibly Telmarine because they have to be able to speak to the other world powers and never quite forget it -- like their other skills that they learned in Narnia it fades somewhat the longer they stay in England, but also like their other skills it comes back quickly at need. When Peter goes to study at university his professors are amazed at the speed with which he picks up Arabic, and equally baffled by some odd cultural assumptions and seeming nonsense that he brought to the discussion.

Most Old Narnians speak a fair bit of Telmarine -- if they're of the sort that can pass as human it's useful, but even if they can't evesdropping and spying is an essential part of how they've survived this long -- but in their own hidden communities they never stopped speaking their own language. There are many factors in why they trust the fleeing Prince Caspian, but one of them is the fact that he speaks English -- awkward, rudimentary, unpracticed English, but English nonetheless. Someone taught him the language of Old Narnia, and he speaks to them in their own tongue, respectfully, like no Telmarine any of them have ever heard.

IDK. I just think it would be coo-- *Wrathful ghost of C.S. Lewis knocks the table over onto my head and I fall unconscious immediately*

[im-a-wonderling]

White Moves First, Part 9 ~ Edmund Pevensie

I had to take a quick break from studying for my Microbiology exam to put the final touches on this and post it. Hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: unhealthy paternal relationship

Word count: 5k

White Moves First masterlist | Main masterlist

The next morning arrived too soon. I blinked at the bright sun shining in my face. Why had Rona forgotten to draw the drapes last night?

I pressed my face further into my pillow, searching with my hand for a blanket to pull over my head. My exploring hands, however, didn’t find a blanket to serve as a haven from the blinding sun, but brushed something soft and warm. Groggy, I cracked open my left eye to see a blurry face. With a blink or two, my view cleared enough for me to realize it was Edmund.

Both eyes were wide open now as I stared dumbly at the face of my best friend. 

Oh. 

Wedding.

Edmund lay on his stomach, his head pressed so deep into the pillow, I could only see half of his face. His features looked exactly the same as they did when he was awake, smooth and relaxed. Did Edmund really express himself with his face so little?

My heartrate kicked up, pulling me to sit bolt upright. Edmund was asleep in my bed. Or was I awake in his bed? Technically, we weren't in his bedchamber or mine, so this was just...a bed?

I’d never slept in the same bed as anyone before.

Funny, I would've thought having company while I slept would've affected said sleep somehow, yet...I’d slept much the same as I had every other night. How could such a large change be so seamlessly integrated? 

Huh.

Wide awake now, I slowly rolled onto my side to stand from the bed as silently as possible. Gripping the heavy curtains, I pulled them closed. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that Edmund still slept, and I then made up my mind that he should sleep as long as he could. The last few days had been full of challenge and strife. Rest was paramount. I quickly changed into a light dress that Rona had left in the room for me yesterday morning. 

“Ring the bell for me,” she’d told me as she laid it down, “and I’ll bring you and your husband breakfast.”

But why would we need to take breakfast in the bedchamber? I’d spent my whole life eating breakfast with my family in our private dining room; I saw no reason to stop now. 

After rinsing my face in the wash bowl, I crossed to the bedchamber door and pushed down on the heavy handle. The worn metal let out a horrid, loud creak. Frozen, I listened to the sounds of Edmund shifting in the bed, then breathed out a soft sigh of relief when they stopped. 

Slipping out of the chamber, I walked to the family dining room. 

The corridors were full of servants running this way and that, carrying garments, bowls, buckets, rags, baskets, flowers from the chapel, everything imaginable. Every one of them seemed surprised to see me, their eyes widening and their pace increasing so they passed me sooner. 

I ignored them. The novelty of their princess being a married woman would wear off for them soon. 

Brushing into the room, I saw both Cor and Corin were seated. Slouching horribly, Corin shoved his eggs into his mouth as fast as his fork would allow while Cor was cutting his bacon into neat bites. From the way they behaved, one would think that Cor grew up in the castle while Corin was off in south Calormen. But no, Cor doubled down on the rules to make up for the years spent without manners and Corin disregarded them entirely out of spite. 

They both paused as I started dishing up my plate, looking at me with expressions similar to the servants’.

“Good morning,” I said pointedly. 

“We, er…didn’t expect to see you this early,” Cor said, with a strange twist to his lips.

“I don’t have much time left with my family before we leave for Narnia,” I replied. “I want to enjoy it while I can.” My brothers exchanged a look I could not understand before returning to their food. 

We ate in silence for a few minutes, allowing me to get halfway through my sausage before the door to the dining room swung open. The way my father rubbed his head as he walked gingerly told me that wine was indeed part of his jubilance the day before. 

“Good morning,” I said.

He quirked a brow. “Good morning,” he said slowly. “Is King Edmund joining us?”

I finished chewing my bite of biscuit. “He may. I didn’t wake him before leaving.” My father looked at the twins the same way they’d looked at each other. “What?” I demanded. 

“Nothing, my dear.” My father patted my shoulder before taking his place at the head of the table. “Nothing at all.”

Somehow I doubted that, just as much as I doubted my ability to pry the answers out of them.

The only sounds filling the room were the clinking of cutlery and the soft sounds of chewing. Many a breakfast had been spent this way…so why did the silence bother me so? Why did I so long for my father or one of my brothers to say something? It wasn’t as if this morning was like every other morning we’d ever spent together. I was a married woman now.

“When will you and King Edmund be returning to Narnia?” Cor asked finally. 

I smiled at him. “I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed it yet.”

“I imagine he’ll inform us when he wakes.” My father’s tone was careless, his eyes focused solely on his plate. 

“Well, if–” I began to say, but the opening of the door made me stop. 

“Good morning, all.” Edmund swept inside and took a seat beside me without any hesitation, as if it was natural. As if we’d been doing it all our lives. 

“Good morning, King Edmund!” my father boomed. “I trust you slept well?”

Edmund dished a healthy helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “I did indeed.”

My brothers glanced at each other, Corin with his mouth agape and Cor looking like he’d just swallowed his boiled egg whole. I paused in my chewing to give them a strange look, but upon noticing my attention, they quickly lowered their gaze to their food, their cheeks a deep shade of pink. 

How odd. 

“The banquet went on for hours last night.” My father’s satisfaction rang off his every word. “The nobles and council all send their compliments on a wonderful celebration.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin to hide my frown. King Loon was only addressing Edmund, as if the compliments from those on the guest list was some private victory to be shared between the two of them. 

Edmund inclined his head with an admirable grace. “That is very kind of them. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the special day."

King Loon’s enthusiastic head bobbing was hard to watch. I lowered my gaze to my plate, trying to tune out the rest of the conversation and numb the hurt wrapping around my insides. 

A hand touched my arm, causing me to look up at Edmund. “Did you sleep well?” he asked softly. 

I smiled back at him. “I could not–”

My father laid down his goblet, making a loud clunk that drew all eyes to him. “So.” He leaned forward towards Edmund, bracing his arms on the table. “It's time to discuss Y/N’s coronation.”

Edmund didn’t look away from my father, but his hand, previously resting lightly on my forearm, slid lightly down until it could lace with mine. He squeezed quickly, and I somehow knew that he was waiting for a signal. If I squeezed back, he’d take the lead. 

I looked across the table at my brothers, trying to warn them with my eyes. They in turn glanced at each other, concern on their faces. They didn’t know what the eruption would be, only that it was about to occur. “Father,” I said lightly, “there isn’t going to be a coronation.”

King Loon let out some sort of laugh that sounded uncannily like that of a temperamental mare. “I know you don’t like having all the attention on you, but you have married a king. There’s going to be a coronation at some point, so it might as well be as soon as possible.”

Edmund let go of my hand, his jaw clenching. My hand shot out to rest on his thigh, making him look over at me. I shook my head minutely, begging him to remain silent. This was my choice. It was only fair that I should break the news and receive the brunt of his displeasure. “There isn’t going to be a coronation, Father,” I repeated gently, “because I’m not going to be a queen.”

Cor and Corin exchanged another look, communicating in the way that twins could. “Perhaps we should leave,” Cor suggested as they both stood. 

“Nonsense! You will stay,” my father commanded. Once my twin brothers were reluctantly but silently seated once more, my father turned to me, a smile breaking out on his face once more. “Y/N, you’re in such good spirits from the wedding that you jest!”

The muscle underneath my hand tensed, and I knew I was losing my opening before Edmund jumped in. “I’m not cracking jokes,” I said quickly. “I’m being serious.”

King Loon gave a short laugh. From the way Edmund’s fingers curled into a fist around his fork and the dark expression on his face, he seemed prepared to use the fork to eviscerate my father. “She speaks the truth, Your Majesty.” Even his voice seemed ready to cause damage. Edmund had seen my father’s arrogant stubbornness before; why was it affecting him so much more now?

Finally seeming to realize it wasn’t a practical joke, my father’s figure seemed to swell with indignance, but not at me. King Loon glared at my husband. “I did not let her marry you simply so she could remain what she already was.”

My mouth dropped in utter disbelief, and I wouldn’t have been able to muster a response. Edmund however, glowered with such menace, I could hardly find similarities between his face and the face of the man I'd woken up next to. “And I did not marry her simply so you could have all you wanted!” I stared at Edmund, dumbfounded by the volume of his words.

“It’s not what I want, it’s what she wants,” King Loon protested. 

“And how would you know that?” Edmund dropped his fork onto his plate, making a loud clang that made me jump. “You have not asked her what she wants!”

“That’s not true!”

But Edmund was just getting started. “You did not ask her if she wants to be crowned! You did not ask her if she was willing to marry Prince Rabadash! You did not even ask her if she wanted to marry me, and if she hadn’t already agreed to marry me, I would not have asked you for her hand!”

My brothers glanced at me with a mixture of guilt and horror, and it was then I remembered that they didn’t know I’d known about the potential arrangement with Rabadash. My father, however, had recovered himself and did not look at all abashed. He slammed his hands on the table as he stood, all pretenses of courtesy gone. “You tricked me! Convinced me to marry off my only daughter only to throw away any chance of her becoming a queen!”

“Father!” I said sharply. 

“Stay out of this!” King Loon snapped, without even looking away from Edmund. 

Edmund rose to his feet with a lethal speed I’d never before seen. I was surprised the very foundations of the castle weren't shaking from the pure strength of his fury. “If you must raise your voice with anyone, you will raise it at me.”

The two kings stared at each other, an exhibitionistic stubbornness on one side and a quiet, steely resolve on the other. 

I got to my feet, laying a hand on Edmund’s arm. “King Edmund.” Edmund tore his eyes away from my father, allowing me to see the depths of rage in his eyes. I tried to exude gratitude for his willingness to face my father’s unhappiness. “You needn’t strain yourself. This is a conversation between my father and I.”

For a long moment, the room was still. “What is the meaning of this?” my father asked me, his anger a pale monument beside Edmund’s. He turned his baleful gaze on my husband. “King Edmund, talk some sense into your bride.”

Edmund’s posture straightened, bringing him to his full, towering height. “She is not my bride, she is my wife.” He stepped away from the table, pushing his chair in before fixing my father with an exceedingly stony stare. “We are allies, Your Majesty. You do not command Narnia.”

King Loon went abruptly still, his shoulders finally sagging in the face of Edmund’s anger. He turned towards me for the first time, looking more uncertain than I’d ever seen. “Y/N,” said my father beseechingly, his voice suddenly small, “you should be queen. Surely you see that. You wed a king, that’s…” he gestured loosely, “that’s how these things go. You’re going to advocate to be queen, yes? Because you’re a good daughter.”

“Let me be more clear.” Edmund grasped my hand, so tight it bordered on painful. “I said you do not command Narnia. As of yesterday, Y/N now belongs to Narnia.”

My heart contracted harshly, though at what aspect of that truth, I wasn’t sure.

My father huffed and puffed, clearly trying to cover the hole my husband just poked in his authority. “I…I…you still haven’t received her dowry!” he spluttered. 

“You can keep it,” Edmund replied roughly. Without waiting for my father’s response, he tugged me out of the room. 

Tongue-tied by what just happened, I numbly followed Edmund through the castle, holding up my skirt to keep up with my husband’s furious pace without tripping. I didn’t realize where he was going until he turned the corner leading to my drawing room. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Edmund let go of me. I slowed to a stop as he marched to the windows and braced his hands on the window sill, staring out. 

We stood in silence. 

What was I supposed to do? I’d never seen Edmund like this. Did he want space and silence to calm down? Did he need someone to talk to in order to ease his anger? I’d never talked someone through their anger before. I’d never even been allowed to show it to any degree close to how Edmund was showing it. 

Cautiously, I approached him. He must’ve heard me coming, but his stare didn’t waver. 

“Ed?” 

No response. 

I rested a light hand on Edmund’s shoulder, light enough that he could shake it off. He didn’t. I almost withdrew, my instincts on what was appropriate telling me to pull away. But Edmund and I weren’t merely friends anymore. We were allowed to do whatever felt natural, and in this moment, I wanted to help him more. 

Encouraged, I slid my hand to Edmund’s face, nudging it over to me so that I could see his expression. When I finally did see it, I almost shrunk away from him.

The contortion of his face around his dark eyes was startling. A vein stood out in his forehead, pulsing in a way that felt like his anger had replaced his blood and was now coursing through his system. 

Moving slowly, I stepped closer, using my thumbs to smooth out the wrinkled skin between his eyebrows. “Breathe,” I instructed. Edmund’s inhale caught in his chest multiple times before he had enough air to exhale. As he did, my hands slid gently down the sides of his face, pausing on his jaw. “Again,” I whispered, and he obeyed.

My hands moved to his shoulders, trying to draw the anger out of him with gentle touches. 

Edmund’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, one of his hands leaving the window sill to rest on my waist. “Are you okay?”

Is that what he was angry about?

Cupping his jaw to keep him in place, I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay. You don’t need to be worried.”

His shoulders slouched, the final bit of tension leaving them. Both hands were on my waist now, using me to hold him up instead of the window. 

I bit my lip, the next issue presenting itself. “We need to make things right with my father.”

Edmund twisted, whipping his face out of my hands as both hands left me. “Why?” he spat. “He’s trying to take advantage of you.”

Me? Wasn’t he really trying to take advantage of Edmund?

Not important. 

“We won’t let that happen. We can smooth things over without a coronation.”

“He’s in the wrong,” Edmund grumbled. 

“I know he is, just like I know that you’re trying to protect me. But…you don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know who you are, just like I know who my father is. I don’t expect him to change because of a marriage, and I don’t want you to change because of a marriage.”

“But who I am is someone who will protect you,” Edmund argued. “I made a vow.”

“You won’t be breaking it by making sure that Narnia and Archenland still have good relations.”

Edmund scoffed, his eyes moving to stare out the window again. “Relations,” he muttered under his breath. “As if I care about relations.”

A little chuckle escaped me. “You do care about relations. Maybe not at the moment, but you do.”

His eyes took on a dazed glint. “How are you able to think rationally right now?” he whispered. “How is the anger not eating you up inside?”

“I’m not more rational than you are.” I sighed, brushing my hand against his chin again, and a little knot in my chest eased when he let me. “I simply gave up on him a long time ago.”

Edmund pursed his lips. “I want us to leave for Narnia today.”

I hesitated. 

I’d known we would leave eventually, but that eventuality seemed much farther away before the wedding. As much as I’d longed for Narnia, I’d never left this castle, nor known any other home than the one I’d been born in. 

But if this disastrous fallout with my father told us anything, it was that it was time for change. Time for my best friend and I to call the same place home.

“Alright, we can leave today.” I started for the door, already thinking of where to look for Rona to pack my things when something tugged on my hand. I looked down to see Edmund’s fingers interlacing with mine. Gently, he pulled me back to my spot beside him, not saying anything until I looked up at his face.

I could still see the residual anger in the worried skin between his eyebrows, but his eyes were remorseful. “I’m not trying to make a deal. Regardless of when we leave for Narnia…if you want me to apologize, I will.”

I felt as though my heart had fallen through the floor, only to spread wings and flutter off towards the sun. “How did I end up with a husband as good as you?” I murmured. 

Edmund’s mouth spread into a small smirk. “You said yes.”

That I had, in almost the exact spot in which we were standing. He’d poured his heart out to me, all the while his pleading eyes tugged at every part of me, stealing away any possible resistance. He had no idea how tightly my heart squeezed in my chest when he first said the words: ‘marry me’. Not the slightest idea that all my protests hadn’t been for my sake, but for his. 

How many sacrifices had he made for me since then? And what had I ever done to deserve such loyalty? 

“Edmund?” I said quietly. 

“Yeah?” came the immediate response. 

“I’ll go smooth things over with my father.” I squeezed his hand. “While I do that, you can make the arrangements for us to go home.”

“Home.” Edmund’s eyes sparkled. It seemed he liked the sound of that as much as I did. 

-

Edmund had far more success than I. 

I went to my father’s study, the library, the gardens, and the throne room before one of the stewards said my father had retreated to his bedchamber. When I knocked upon the closed door and entreated my father to open it so that we might talk, I received no response. I paced back and forth for what felt likes ages before I lost patience and tried the handle.

It was locked.

My father did not want to speak to me. 

Feeling down, I went to find Edmund, a task that proved much easier. 

Somehow, he’d almost finished working with Rona to pack all of my things, directing her away from the things which would be supplied to me upon reaching Cair Paravel. I stood awkwardly in my bedchamber as Edmund and Rona flitted back and forth. 

Rona left the room to grab a set of combs that she’d been polishing for me, and Edmund pulled a dress from my wardrobe and began folding it himself.

Cheeks burning, I whisked forward and plucked it from his hands. “You shouldn’t be doing that,” I muttered, quickly folding it and stashing it in one of my trunks. Edmund’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. “You have so many more important things to do than help me pack.”

At that, Edmund’s face stretched into a grin, and he laughed. My flush deepened as I closed the trunk, and I knew Edmund noticed it. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” he told me, still chuckling. 

“No?” I arched a brow. “Because it feels like you are.”

That seemed to sober him. “I’m sorry.” He reached for me, sliding his arms around my back to pull his reluctant wife into a hug. “But when are you going to learn that my most important things involve helping you however I can?” 

I let out a humph on principle, even though his response made my knees soften like butter in the sun. Rona returned, and Edmund respectfully released me before resuming his task with my lady-in-waiting. 

Within an hour, our things were all packed and being loaded onto the carriages and wagons the Narnian monarchs had brought with them. 

Dressed in my favorite riding habit, I walked with Edmund through the Great Hall, glancing around at it as we walked. There was history in this room. The corner I always liked in the wintertime because the meager sunshine would pass through the nearby window. The stairs on which I’d fallen and skinned my knees countless times. I’d never given much thought until now. When was the next time I’d see that window or those stairs?

“The carriages are ready, your majesty,” said one of the Narnian soldiers, a faun who fell into step beside us “We must leave soon if we wish to be back in Narnia before sundown.”

Edmund nodded and thanked him, before leaning closer to me. “Time to say our goodbyes.”

“We ought to wait for my father,” I said.

A flash of the earlier anger settled on Edmund’s face. “If we wait too much longer, we won’t make it before dark.” 

I gave a quick nod before approaching my brothers, who’d been watching the process of packing up the procession with great interest. As I walked closer to them with goodbye on my lips, my eyes started welling up with tears. I’d been separated from them before. Cor lived in Calormen for years, and Corin grew up attending events in Narnia and Calormen. But this time was different, because for the first time, I was the one leaving them behind. 

“You’ll write us, right?” Cor asked. His transition from peasant to prince hadn’t been easy, and he’d needed much help from me in the past few years, which must’ve been why he looked so worried. “And stay out of trouble, won’t you?”

“Of course. On both counts.” 

Corin placed his hands on my shoulders, looking me directly in the eye. “Get in as much trouble as you possibly can.” 

I laughed, pulling them both into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m going to miss you guys.” The twins held me just as tightly as I did them, and it seemed none of us wanted to be the first to let go. 

“Now, now, don’t make a scene,” said my father’s voice. 

Reluctantly, we separated, my brothers stepping away to allow my father forward. 

He was clearly still upset from the conversation at breakfast, I could see it in his face. But I was reservedly glad he’d come to see us off. Leaving at all was strange, but leaving without saying goodbye would’ve been far worse.

“Thank you,” I said softly, hoping my softness would soften him. I didn’t dare give him a hug, so I curtsied. A sign of respect, a gesture of my allegiance to the king of Archenland before all who watched. But the words I spoke were quiet because they weren’t performative. “I love you.” 

My father nodded. Say it back, I silently pleaded. I’m leaving. Please tell me you love me. King Loon opened his mouth, and my hopes rose. “I will see you in a few months.”

My hopes fell like doves stricken from the sky, and the winces on my brothers’ faces did not stop the free fall.

He could never love me in the way daughters ought to be loved by their fathers, if he even loved me at all. Something inside of him was so broken, so warped that he couldn’t give me what I needed from him. 

But I didn’t need him anymore. I folded my hands in front of me, staring into my father’s eyes. I will never curtsey to him again, I promised myself. “I left Mother’s crown in my bedchamber,” I told him. “It means more to you than to me.”

And with that, I turned to rejoin my husband. 

My father would most certainly retake my mother’s crown, holding onto what was quite possibly the last remnants of love in him. 

If I were ever to die, would Edmund break in the same way my father had broken? Would he shut himself off from those who loved him best, hiding behind locked doors? Sinking deeper into titles and formalities and pretension, all of which isolated him? 

I hoped not.

Edmund inclined his head to my father and brothers before leading me to two horses in the middle of the procession. 

One I recognized: my grey mare. The other must’ve been Edmund’s, a stallion of a deep reddish-brown with a white star on his forehead.  

“Your stallion is beautiful,” I said. 

The horse lifted his head and stared directly at me. “Thank you, your highness.”

My mouth fell open, and Edmund started chuckling at my gawking. “Y/N, this is Philip. Philip, Y/N.”

“You’re Philip?” I asked. “Oh, Edmund’s told me all about you!” Particularly their adventures that more often than not ended with Philip saving Edmund’s life. Of course, Edmund hadn’t mentioned that Philip was a horse. “I didn’t know you were staying with us.”

Philip tossed his head. “I wish I could’ve attended the nuptials, but I’m afraid your father declared the chapel for people only.” 

“What?” I blurted. He hadn’t mentioned that, let alone asked. Edmund’s face soured. He already knew this, I realized. I knew how hard it was not to have his older brother at his wedding, but my father hadn’t even allowed one of Edmund’s dear friends to attend? How was it possible that Edmund’s sacrifice for me kept growing?

Conflicted, I hadn’t even noticed Edmund had guided me to my mare until one of the Archenland soldiers stepped forward with the customary step to allow me to get up on horseback. But before the soldier could even set the step down, Edmund’s hands found my hips. “Jump,” he said.

I jumped. 

With the added momentum, Edmund easily got me up into the saddle. “It’s handy having a husband,” I said, smiling down at him as he guided my foot into the stirrup. 

Edmund grinned. “Well, I could hardly trust anyone else to take such good care of you.”

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head as Edmund checked that my other foot was securely in its position. He got onto Philip with a fluid ease that made me flush and avert my eyes.

“Forward!” the faun from earlier called, and slowly the whole procession stirred into motion. I glanced around, trying to locate where all my possessions were, but all I could see was how large the procession seemed. It hadn’t felt so grand when I’d watched Edmund arrive. I counted nearly a hundred Narnians, none of which I had seen in the castle.

Where had my father told them to stay? I dearly hoped he hadn’t condemned them all to stay in the stables; there was no way they could all fit. 

I turned to wave at my brothers, but we were far enough away from the castle that I noticed a figure on the topmost balcony, watching us depart. Proximity wasn’t needed; even if I couldn’t see the face, only one person at the castle would wear robes of such outrageous orange.

My lips curved up in a smile.

Checkmate, I silently told Prince Rabadash. 

But when my eyes lowered to see my brothers, standing right where I’d left them, my chest ached in a way it never did during victory. As if feeling the ache as well, my brothers lifted their hands, waving me off into my new life.

I sat forward again, brushing away a quick tear, my heart heavy. “At least I don’t have to say goodbye to you,” I whispered to my lady’s maid, who was riding behind me.

Rona smiled. “No, you don’t, your highness.” 

“Nor you,” I said, turning to look at Edmund, feeling suddenly shy.

“Never again,” Edmund said back, his hand leaving the reins to lace through mine.

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list:

@thesecretlifeofpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen @cassini-among-the-stars @uncontainedsmiles @mastermasterlist1p1 @goldfishinpainttubes @silverowl102 @daisyslife @ajwild220

[supernovasilence]

As we start getting more information on the new Narnia adaptation, I see people worrying it won't stay true to C. S. Lewis's vision. Now, as a white British man writing in the 1950s, if Lewis imagined POC characters in his books, it was as

*checks notes*

nobles and royals, leaders and officers, heroes and legends, friends and love interests and protagonists.

Caspian X is a main character in Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and the title character of Prince Caspian. He begins the story as a prince, and ends it taking his rightful place as "lawful King under [Peter] in Narnia both by [Peter's] gift and by the laws of the Telmarines" (Prince Caspian, chapter 13: The High King in Command). Caspian leads a war, overthrows a tyrant, and sails on a journey across the Eastern Ocean to save the lords who had been tricked into being lost at sea because they would have supported Caspian. Brave and loyal, he earns not one, but two, epithets through his actions: "Caspian the Seafarer" (The Silver Chair, chapter 12: The Queen of Underland"; the title is also used several times in The Last Battle) and "Caspian the Navigator" (The Silver Chair, chapter 16: The Healing of Harms").

He is also a Telmarine. The Great Lion himself explains what this means.

"You, Sir Caspian," said Aslan, "might have known that you could be no true King of Narnia unless, like the Kings of old, you were a son of Adam and came from the world of Adam's sons. And so you are. Many years ago in that world, in a deep sea of that world which is called the South Sea, a shipload of pirates were driven by storm on an island. And there they did as pirates would: killed the natives and took the native women for wives, and made palm wine, and drank and were drunk, and lay in the shade of the palm trees, and woke up and quarrelled, and sometimes killed one another. And in one of these frays six were put to flight by the rest and fled with their women into the centre of the island and up a mountain, and went, as they thought, into a cave to hide. But it was one of the magical places of that world, one of the chinks or chasms between that world and this. There were many chinks or chasms between worlds in old times, but they have grown rarer. This was one of the last: I do not say the last. And so they fell, or rose, or blundered, or dropped right through, and found themselves in this world, in the Land of Telmar which was then unpeopled." (Prince Caspian, chapter 15: Aslan Makes a Door in the Air)

Nowadays, we would say Caspian is Polynesian.

The Silver Chair features "the King's son of Narnia, Rilian, the only child of Caspian, Tenth of that name" (The Silver Chair, chapter 12: The Queen of Underland"). One of the protagonists of The Last Battle is Tirian, whose "great-grandfather's great-grandfather" was Rilian. Like Caspian, they are heroes and kings, and Telmarines of Polynesian descent. Caspian and Rilian had such golden reigns that Tirian remembers them, and specifics of their stories, hundreds of years later (The Last Battle, chapter 9: What Happened That Night).

Calormen is a large kingdom to the south of Narnia. While its origins are never given, both the text and the original illustrations (by Pauline Baynes, with input and approval from Lewis), clearly show it is based on the Middle East; its citizens are described as dark-skinned. Tarkheena is a Calormene title, the feminine version of Tarkaan, meaning "great lord", while Tisroc is the Calormene equivalent of king or emperor (The Horse and His Boy, chapter 1, How Shasta Set Out On His Travels).

One of the protagonists of The Horse and His Boy is "Aravis Tarkheena ... the only daughter of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Rishti Tarkaan, the son of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. [Her] father is lord of the province of Calavar and is one who has the right of standing on his feet in his shoes before the face of the Tisroc himself (may he live for ever)" (The Horse and His Boy, chapter 3: At the Gates of Tashbaan). In the book, Aravis is brave, quick-thinking, and independent, with a strong character arc based around pride and generosity without ever losing her fierce spirit; afterwards, she marries another protagonist, Prince Cor, "and after King Lune's death they made a good King and Queen of Archenland and Ram the Great, the most famous of all the kings of Archenland, was their son" (The Horse and His Boy, chapter 15: Rabadash the Ridiculous).

Lasaraleen Tarkheena plays a supporting role in The Horse and His Boy. Aravis's friend, she is earnest, friendly, and loyal, risking herself to help Aravis even when she can't see the appeal in Aravis's chosen life. (The Horse and His Boy, chapter 7: Aravis in Tashbaan; chapter 9: Across the Desert)

Emeth is a minor character in The Last Battle. A Calormene officer, he is brave, pious, and honorable; he is also courteous, well-spoken, and learned, quoting "the poets" (The Last Battle, chapter 10: Who Will Go Into the Stable; chapter 14: Night Falls on Narnia; chapter 15: Further Up and Further In).

As for other characters, there is very little in the books indicating they are of one ethnicity or another. Cor is explicitly stated to be "white and fair", because he has to be; it is a plot point (The Horse and His Boy, chapter 1: How Shasta Set Out on His Travels). Jadis is repeatedly described as very pale as a way to indicate how strange and otherworldly she looks (The Magician's Nephew, chapter 13: An Unexpected Meeting; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, chapter 3: Edmund and the Wardrobe). Many characters have minimal or no physical description. Lewis's writing style leaves a great deal to imagination; a clear image of all the characters simply cannot be formed from textual evidence alone.

What can be said is that a truly book-accurate adaptation of Narnia, as envisioned by C. S. Lewis, will have a diverse cast.

[zannolin]

lucy talks to rabadash before aslan judges him.

she never knew him well—she's never been very interested in any of her sister's suitors, not unless she's certain she'll need to step in, and he seemed reasonable enough, if smug and rather small in personality when he visited cair paravel. she didn't understand why susan wanted to go to calormen, but she'd never stop her sister from something that might make her happy, and edmund was going with her, so it's not like anything could go wrong. and anyway, someone needed to stay at cair paravel while peter went to the north. lucy would rather have gone with peter, but she'd also rather susan not be alone in the south. susan's alone all too often while the rest of them venture out across narnia. it's only fair she gets to spread her own wings a little.

they never thought anything could go wrong, no matter what the reputation of the tisroc. but then suddenly the splendour hyaline is spotted at the mouth of the harbor, and the raven is bringing her news both joyous and grievous in turn of her siblings' northern flight, and now there's a stag come to tell her that rabadash and a company two hundred strong have come to lay siege to anvard. lucy has an idea what he's crawled out of calormen for, and it's nothing to do with archenland. judging by the sick look on her sister's pale face, susan can guess well enough herself.

it's that look that has lucy mounting up beside edmund and riding out to anvard at double time. there is very little she wouldn't do for her family, and the lion help anyone who is the cause of her sister's distress. in the end, it's probably better it was edmund who fought rabadash in battle, because lucy's not so sure she'd have spared him.

the morning before he is to be judged, she escorts herself to the chambers where he is confined, a knife in each hand, and locks the door behind her. he is unbound, but the look in her eye keeps him seated in the chair where she finds him.

"i should like you to know," she tells him, not bothering with proper greetings—he does not deserve them, after all—as she leans against the arm of the chair opposite his, "that your cowardly plan would never have succeeded, even without the warning."

rabadash sneers at her, and not for the first time, lucy wonders how he ever conducted himself to be anything more than the ass that he is.

"narnia's high king is a fool and a craven," he scoffs. "he never would have attacked the great land of calormen and my father, the tisroc, may he live forever, over something so trifling as a mere sister."

this is not his first mistake, but he is lucky that it isn't his last. lucy's face goes very still and very stern, and rabadash glimpses for one terrifying moment why the narnians all call her valiant. why she is named for the sea, the harsh and changeable mistress, and the flowers that grow back first after wildfires.

"i wasn't actually talking about peter," she says, her voice chillingly light, all pretense and formality dropped, "though if you think he wouldn't have marched on tashbaan to save our sister, you're a much bigger fool than i thought."

her tone makes it perfectly clear just how much of him she thought, and it certainly wasn't very highly at all.

she strides forward to stand before him, which would be a very foolish thing to do in a company of an unbound and dangerous prisoner if that prisoner were braver than rabadash and lucy were anyone else, and leans down to meet his eye. she's not very tall, queen lucy, and yet to him she seems like a giant—terrible and beautiful in an entirely different way than her sister. she's so close he can see a long white scar on her neck, can smell horse and leather and chainmail and clean sweat, can see how her hair is bound back for convenience and not beauty, and her hands are rough and capable.

he is aware, suddenly, that he is afraid. that perhaps he has been since she entered the room.

"know this, son of tashbaan," says queen lucy the valiant, and the smile on her lips does not at all match her eyes. "if you had laid even the tip of one finger on my sister, the queen, i would have skinned you alive."

she leans back just enough for him to breathe, and he gasps with it.

"and do you know what?" she asks cheerfully.

he doesn't want to know. she tells him anyway.

"i really don't think peter would have stopped me."

[balrogballs]

Omg I just saw you were part of the Narnia fandom and Ms Balls, thou art a woman of impeccable taste. Gun to your head, Lewis or Tolkien?

Hahaha no no, I wasn’t part of the fandom in a traditional sense aka I wasn’t on here, I just wrote a couple of fics for it in my mid teens because I really enjoy the books!

Also re your question, the choice would have been harder if Lewis stopped just before Horse and His Boy + The Last Battle lol. I absolutely adore all the other Narnia stories, and I read them at a way younger age than Tolkien so it would have been an easy choice…

… but till now I can remember the day 10 year old me finished reading the Calormen/Tash/Tashbaan storylines and the very slow unravelling of complete disgust in me — a non-religious child with Muslim and Jewish parents — at how these books, which had such depth even in their simplistic prose, did such a deliberately horrid, revolting, and frankly lazy portrayal of “the Muslim country” and “their demon god” that as much as I loved Narnia and still enjoy the other books, the memory of that first read means I’m frankly never going to put them in my faves list.

Like it’s not that I was an oversensitive child or even solely because of the mixed faith family thing, I was not even a very observant reader re diversity stuff, I was ten. Tolkien may have been a man of his time and there are tons of biases and stereotypes in LOTR but Calormen was just. Fucking mindblowing.

Like to me it went way, way past the general Genteel Orientalism of Tolkien and pals, and it was completely unnecessary — the rest of the narrative had a relatively simplistic style as its a kids book yet an empathetic set of morals, but the Calormen bits were so viciously visceral that little me was just like oh. Oh my god you specifically hate them, don’t you? Like you hate these people don’t you and then realising I was, technically, these people 🥲

Sorry about the extended answer lmao you can see I have a lot of thoughts but yeah, I’d pick Tolkien no matter how foundational Narnia was for me, not even because I hate it or whatever, it just makes me SAD!

[wingedflight]

Please tell me about Tirian is clearly evil!

Similar to my imposter!Rilian hypothesis, textual evidence supports the idea that Tirian is at the least very incompetent but also quite possibly downright evil. How did he not notice the Telmarines sneaking into the country? (This could be excused as a relaxed immigration policy, which... actually, good for Tirian on that count.) But more damningly, how did he not notice the felling of the dryads??

Aslan shows him to Eustace and Jill as a vision-ghost... as someone to save? Or as a WARNING?

And then they show up and Tirian IMMEDIATELY takes them AWAY from Stable Hill, running them around in circles without getting close to Cair Paravel (which is the first real target of the Telmarine invasion force, and which they do not even TRY to go retake before the invaders have settled in and shored up defences). He keeps them focused on this whole Tashlan nonsense to distract them from the Actual Factual Invasion.

I therefore posit that Tirian had already made a deal with the Tisroc, sold out Narnia under the condition that he'd be put back in charge as a governor of the new Calormen province of Narnia once it was under Calormene control, and then went into crisis mode when Aslan sent two kids to clean things up.

I haven't written much, but an excerpt from what I do have:

It was terribly frustrating. Ever since their rescue of the king that morning, he had not let Eustace and Jill alone together for even a moment. Always, he was at Eustace’s shoulder or offering to lend Jill a hand, and always with that irritating laugh that came across as vaguely condescending.  At last, the king shifted. The fire by this time was little more than embers, making it difficult to follow his shadowed figure as it crossed to the other bunk. The low light did not help the king, either; there was a dull clatter as his foot caught against a crate, and the man sank onto his bunk with a muffled string of oaths.  But even as the king’s foot had struck that crate, Jill had moved. She did not go far, simply rolled swiftly to press up against Eustace’s back so her mouth hovered just above his ear. “Rotten in Denmark,” she breathed, and Eustace felt himself relax at the reassurance that he was not the only one who thought the situation was foul. He did not answer her in words, for the king’s mutterings had ended, but simply reached behind his back until he found Jill’s hand. He squeezed it briefly in acknowledgement and then let his hand fall limp again.  No more needed to be said, not at this precise moment. This was not the first time they had been in unsettling situations together. Eustace would continue to watch, Jill to listen, until they better understood what they had landed in the middle of. And then, they would do what they somehow always managed: they’d untangle themselves from the web and put an end to the whole mess. 

[novelmonger]

Narnia for those Fandom questions!

-Rain

The character I least understand

Maybe Uncle Andrew? Not just because I can't relate to his motivations, but I also always scratch my head at how he could possibly think his plans would play out the way he wanted them to....

Interactions I enjoyed the most

Is it cheating to say every interaction with one of the kids and Aslan? ^^' Because those are the most relatable moments, and they're so relevant to our own interactions with God.

The character who scares me the most

Hmm...I think the Queen of Underland. I find her creepier than the White Witch, mostly because she "seems fairer and feels fouler," if you will. And the whole thing where she almost succeeds in convincing Jill and Eustace that there is nothing but her dark world is truly terrifying (which makes Puddleglum's triumph all the more satisfying!).

The character who is mostly like me

Oh, I feel like we've talked about this before, and I think what I ended up deciding was Jill. She's a very normal sort of girl, struggles to remember the things that are most important to hold in mind, ends up causing a lot of her own problems. And I do sort of identify myself with Susan, because I'm in the same position as her among my siblings, but her trajectory in life is very different from mine.

Hottest looking character

If we're talking about movie versions, that would have to be Ben Barnes as Prince Caspian. In my imagination, though, Prince Rilian is very handsome indeed. (He's...okay in the BBC version, but too much beard. And his helmet/mask thingy looked stupid.)

One thing I dislike about my fave character

This question is unanswerable because Aslan is perfect.

I'm actually not sure who my favorite (non-Aslan) character is; it tends to change from time to time ^^' But actually, one of my favorites is Eustace, and...there are quite a lot of things to dislike about him XD He does get better over time, but at the beginning, he's insufferable!

One thing I like about my hated character

Also not sure about who my most-hated character is. Maybe Rishda from The Last Battle? But I honestly can't think of a single thing I like about him :/ Uhhhh...I like Calormen? Calormen is a cool country, and I wish we saw more of it.

A quote or scene that haunts me

That scene where Polly and Digory go to Charn, and the world is empty with a dying red sun, and all the people are frozen in time...that freaked me out as a kid, and is still pretty creepy to me. Especially the thought of the dim light of a dying sun, for some reason.

A death that left me indifferent

This might sound weird, but Prince Caspian in The Silver Chair. Sure, it's sad to say goodbye to a friend, but he was old, and he left Narnia in good hands. So I never felt all that sad about it.

A character I wish died but didn’t

I honestly can't think of a single one. All the deaths, and all the people who get spared from death, feel appropriate and right.

My ship that never sailed

I was always a little disappointed that Bree and Hwin didn't end up together :P

[raging-violets]

The Night Witch Chapter 34 || FFN  • AO3

"Are you sure?" Susan demanded. Edmund turned to her with a roll of his eyes. "No, I'm making it all up for my own enjoyment." At that, Susan folded her arms, making Edmund do the same. Peter and Lucy merely shared smiles. Not that they didn't believe Edmund, but the few times that his sarcasm wasn't directed their way, the Pevensie siblings did find humor in it. As it was, the conversation needed a bit of lightening anyway. If what Edmund was saying was true…things were even more dire than they'd originally thought. "Yes, Su, I'm serious. There's more than enough evidence that we're being watched. And probably for a lot longer than we thought we've been." He gestured vaguely with his arm in the direction of the forest and village surrounding the Telmarine castle. "You couldn't have possibly believed that Archenland would have let us escape without some sort of a response." Susan shook her head. As diplomatic as ever she said, "We don't know for sure they're going to retaliate." But even the words rang hollow with her. No, they couldn't know for sure. But they'd been through enough battles, enough wars to know if there was a moment of power, a moment of weakness that could be snuffed out, people would take advantage. It was enough to have returned to Narnia and seen how much had changed, but another to readily admit their oldest ally had become their enemy. Edmund made a sound of impatience. All the evidence was staring them in the face. They arrived at Anvard, weren't welcome with the open arms they expected, the Calormens knew where they were so that Peter would be attacked when he went to Cair Paravel, the heavy stillness around Telmar., vegetation picked clean, branches broken, prints that weren't made from animals seen around the perimeter. It didn't take much for anyone to figure out that there was something coming. They'd said as much, all agreed on it before they had left Anvard. Now Susan was changing her mind? "You always were considered the more diplomatic one," He mused before nodding, making her smile with the thinly veiled compliment. It usually took a lot more prodding and a begrudging scowl for Edmund to say anything nice of his siblings let alone the ease it came of his fellow kings and queens. "Su, we know they're going to do something." "But we don't know that it's coming from King Nain and Queen Aria! Or that they're working with the Calormens specifically," Susan pointed out. She slowly lowered herself to the seat behind her. "If we decide to go in and accuse…what will that mean about our own reputation?" It was then Lucy decided to speak up. She simply watched as the two more outspoken of the kings and queens hashed things out. It was they way they'd always worked, Peter was the one that gave the final decision, but Edmund and Susan, the Just and the Gentle, were the ones who had the most power, the most sway when it came to their political leanings and conversations. "Our reputation is that we care about our people." She paused, waiting for the words to sink in. "And not just of our people, but of everyone in Narnia, this world, who is facing injustice." "It's a good reputation to have," Susan agreed. "But you do have to agree with some of the detractors…that sometimes we ought to leave things alone to those that are in the conflict." Susan shook her head. "It's the same that has been said of the war back home." "With the war back home, we had to run out of our house in the middle of the night amongst an air raid!" Edmund snapped, eyes flashing. "Or did you forget what brought us to the countryside and to Narnia in the first place?" "Maybe that was meant to happen," Lucy mused quietly.

Tag List: @darknightfrombeyond @farfallasunicas @foxesandmagic   @witchofinterest @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon

[noratilney]

For the Fanfic Writer Wrapped 2024!! ^_^ #1, 2, 6, 8, 12, 23, 26, 27, 39, 40 annddd 41! Enjoy.

(I'm giving you a lot, because this one's more a celebratory game than generic asks lol)

Thank you so much, Day! 💙

1. What fic did you work on the most this year?

I'm not entirely sure; I unfortunately did not spend as much time as I'd like dedicated to fic writing; but I think it's probably either the Vaella au, my Glee ficlet, or my untitled Tortall fic.

2. Did you have any fic writing goals? Did you meet them?

I didn't set any resolution-type goals this year. The only thing I wanted to try and get done was one fic update before Christmas which I have not yet done although I guess there's still time. Realistically, I would still be happy if I managed one before the end of the year.

6. Do you have a favourite fic you wrote?

Like a favorite fic ever? Uhh, I think this one, Lies and Precious Things. It comes in at a little under 600 words and I think it packs a lot of emotion into that while not drowning in exposition. Idk, I just like it.

8. Favourite line of dialogue this year?

From the Glee ficlet:

“I’m Puck.” Noah says. “It’s on account of my last name.” And from then on he is Puck everywhere to everyone but Mom and Sadie and the Garcia Sandovals and the occasional stickler teacher.

Moreso for the way I found to explain how Puck ended up being called that instead of his first name than the literal dialogue itself.

12. Did you receive any advice that resonated to you this year?

It wasn't given to me specifically but it's a piece of advice the author Maggie Stiefvater shared that had been given to her about managing how much you can do on a given day.

23. Were there any ideas you wanted to work on this year but you didn’t?

Absolutely yeah! So many. I get ideas in excess of both my time and ability to sit down and work on them. Particularly, I would say I would have liked to have gotten to work on some of my Bonnie Bennett-centric fic ideas. There's always next year.

26. Do you have a goal for next year? If so, what is it?

I think I want to try tracking how many words I'm writing! I'm hoping to either surprise myself with how much I'm writing or motivate myself to write more.

27. What are your hopes and/or desires for yourself and for other fic writers in the next year?

Other than well wishes for other fic writers, hoping you feel really inspired and have tons of time to write, I don't really feel like it's my place to dictate what other people do with their time? I mean yes there are totally fics by others I would love to see continue but 🤷🏻‍♀️.

I hope I'm really productive next year! Basic, I know.

39. What fics or authors would you recommend for others to discover and read in the next year?

Oh, that's a great question. I have scattered fic recommendations across this blog and my main and this year, I've begun attempting to do not every Friday but consistently a #fic back friday fic recommendation. I think I would like to try for next year to manage at least one fic recommendation a month (not necessarily an older fic), which I think is quite doable and would finish the year out with 12.

Of course it depends on what one looks for in a fic and what fandoms but I love pretty much everything devilinthedetails and deweydecibelsystem have written across various fandoms; nasimwrites is great for thoughtful and worldbuilding Narnia work, especially centered around Aravis/Calormen; I love rain-sleet-snow's Tortall twelfth night au series; peterbeale also writes across a number of fandoms, I especially like their Teen Wolf and TVDU works; and PanBoleyn is great for ASoIaF and The Magicians.

40. What advice would you have for people who might want to try writing or sharing their writing next year?

For writing&sharing fic for the first time, I think you have to be really passionate about both the fandom and the fic you're writing. I've never been good at outlining myself but that's probably useful.

I think you also need to be ready to not get any reception to your fic. I know that sucks to hear and I do think there's an audience for every fic out there but that doesn't mean it'll happen right away.

Don't forget to proofread/spellcheck and tell people you wrote a fic! Include a link!

41. Any regrets?

Hmmm, this is not unique to this year or fic writing but I do have a bad habit of coming across a resource or advice or something of that sort, saying to myself oh that sounds like a good advice, and then essentially filing it away and not doing anything with it.

I'm not sure if there's writing advice out there that works for me but since I'm not writing as much as I would like, I feel it'd be worthwhile to try some out.

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 9

This is also a part of the series, "The Battle and Beyond" found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208933

This can be read as a standalone. Just know that Aunt May is unwell.

#9- Overdramatic Patient/Caretaker

“”...tell us your story. And don’t hurry it—I’m feeling comfortable now.”

“”Aravis immediately began, sitting quite still and using a rather different tone and style from her usual one. For Calormen, story-telling (whether the stories are true or mad eup) is a thing you are taught, just as English boys and girls are taught essay-writing. The difference is that people want to hear the stories, whereas I never heard of anyone who wanted to read the essays.””

Peter tucked his finger between the pages and flipped back to the front pages of the book. “1954? Huh. I guess torturing students with meaningless essay writing is a timeless tradition, after all.”

“Oh, hush you, my little nerd—you know you love school, meaningless essays and all.” May gave his arm a weak nudge. “There’s no point in denying it.”

And there really wasn’t. The battle and the snap that had brought him and half a universe back from nothing had been only three weeks ago, but that didn’t stop the State of New York and its Department of Education from getting the kids back to school and out of the streets so the work of putting the world back together could really get started. Peter had never been more grateful for some semblance of normal.

“In fact,” Aunt May interrupted his thought, “I’m pretty sure you mentioned having some sort of presentation that you and Ned had to have ready for tomorrow? Or is it the next day?” Sometimes she was a little foggy on the details, but it was fine. “Gosh, Peter, should you be down here at all? How much of it do you have left? Or are you and Ned planning to wax nostalgic and pull an all-nighter—‘cuz if you are, be sure to let Tony know, okay?” She grasped his hand. “You know how he gets these days when things pop up.”

Peter, in fact, did know exactly how Tony got—panicking whenever Morgan sneezed, asking if Peter wanted an x-ray that time he’d stubbed his toe— all sorts of over the top, but coming from a place of concern that Peter was grateful for.

“It’ll be fine,” Peter promised, “He knows Ned’s coming, but I’ll remind Tony about the plan when I get back to the penthouse so he’s prepared for it.”

“Perfect. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the warning.” May smiled as she laughed.

“Hey,” Peter almost took offence. “Ned is getting waaaay better at containing the fanboying so be nice!”

Adopting an air of faux-offence, May replied, “I’m always nice, Mr. Parker, and you know that Ned is like my bonus kid so hush.” She giggled again, “Now, seriously, do you have the time for this or should I be all responsible and send you off to get things sorted?”

Peter smiled softly at May, relaxed as she reclined on her med-bay bed. “I’ve always got time for you. I promise. So, where were we?” Peter re-opened the book to where they’d left off, “Chapter three, ‘At the Gates of Tashbaan.’ “"My name," said the girl at once, "is Aravis Tarkheena and I am the only daughter of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Rishti Tarkaan, the son of Kidrash Tarkaan, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. My father is lord...”                                                              

/-/-/

Peter couldn’t help but bounce in excitement as he entered the elevator and it began its descent to ground level. Yes, he’d seen Ned since they’d come back. Yes, they still had plenty of classes together at school. And yes, they were texting anytime Peter wasn’t up in the med bay visiting with Aunt May or figuring out his place at Tony and Pepper’s place, or how to approach Morgan who was about as high energy as Tony MUST have been when he was a kid. But this—there was always something different when they worked on a project together. None of the other stuff mattered— be it Flash’s renewed bullying or Peter missing the subway and being late for first period, or that the comforter on his bed didn’t feel right and made it hard to fall asleep, or today, the fact that Aunt May was still the med bay dealing with yet another complication because of her stupid kidney.   

“Peter.” FRIDAY’s voice brought him out of his distraction, “We’ve reached the lobby. Would you like to exit the elevator car or would you prefer to return to the penthouse?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Peter flustered as he stepped out of the private elevator. “Let me go grab Ned and we’ll be right back, okay?”

“Of course, Peter. I’ll hold for you and Mr. Leeds.” The AI responded, giving Peter the permission he needed to bolt out of the private corridor and into the main lobby.

“Ned!” Peter shouted out as he caught sight of his best friend gaping, once again, at the impressive displays of both architecture and Stark Industries’ newest innovations. “Come on!”

Ned startled out of his stupor and rushed over to Peter, stopping only to share their elaborate handshake in greeting before Peter dragged him over to the elevator to head upstairs. “Dude. This is not the last time you’ll be here. You’ve got to show a little chill!" Peter teased as they entered the car.

“But, Peter? Did you see the display? Imagine what Mr. Stark could do on a global level if nanotechnology were released to the world? It would mean cleaner air! It would mean—“

“It would mean everything, which is why Tony is already working with King T’Challa and Princess Shuri in Wakanda to figure out the logistics of increasing nanobot production and how best to distribute it.” Yeah, Peter had to admit that watching Tony, T’Challa, and Shuri collaborate was a site to behold. In fact, it made him think of how he and Ned worked. “They’re gonna change the world, man, and it’s so cool to be able to watch it happen.”

The elevator reached their floor, door opening to reveal the living room just beyond the entryway.

Ned slapped his hand over his mouth before lifting it off to speak quickly to Peter. “Peter. My best friend for ever. My ride or die. I beg of you now, in this moment, that I will be so chill in, like, one minute. You just—you have to give me this. Please. Can I just have this?!”

Wary of what exactly it was he was agreeing to, Peter gave a tentative nod of agreement before Ned absolutely let loose. “Oh, my gosh, Peter! I’m am in THE penthouse of super genius Anthony Stark, also known as Iron Man!” He spread his arms wide as he spun around to take in the gloriousness that was this moment, reminding Peter that he’d have to watch ‘The Sound of Music’ with May sometime soon.

Ned stumbled only a little as he came out of his spin, taking his backpack off and dropping it on the floor as he caught sight of the coat rack off in the corner. “Peter.” Ned’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head as he turned to Peter and begged. “Please, please, please may I touch the coat of super genius Anthony Stark, also known as Iron Man? My hands aren’t sweaty or anything!”

“Ned!” Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop it!”

“I still have, like, twenty seconds! C’mon! Don’t make this weird!”

“Too late, Ned,” Peter replied but gestured toward the coat. “But fine. One finger, five seconds, and then you have to be better at pretending to be normal for the rest of your life.”

Ned glared.

“Fine!” Peter threw his hands up in defeat, “The rest of this visit!”

“Deal!” Ned agreed excitedly and turned back toward coat rack, and tangling himself in the straps of the backpack on the floor in front of him in the process.

Peter should have been more aware. He should have anticipated, been watching, done a better job at keeping everyone Ned safe, but no. In a blink, Ned was crashing to the floor in a jumble of limbs and—Peter’s stomach lurched—something was very, very wrong with one of Ned’s hands.

“TONY!” Peter called out as he rushed to Ned’s side, “TONY!” Peter was edging on hysteria.

A flurry of footsteps came into the entryway and before Peter knew it, Tony was kneeling beside Ned, still twisted on the floor but trying to untangle himself in his shock. “Hey, Ted, buddy. How’s it goin’?” Tony asked gently as he stilled the boy, putting into practice some serious first-aider skills as he cautiously turned the boy to his back and assessed the situation.

“I’m okay—just fell, Mr. Stark, sir. I promise I wasn’t being weird.”

Tony looked over to Peter, crooking an eyebrow in question.

Peter stood there pale, not responding at all.

“Good to know,” Tony finally settled on replying with. “FRIDAY? Have we got anything to worry about other than the obvious here?”

A pause, and then FRIDAY responded. “Other than some soft tissue damage, the only injury requiring medical intervention will be the suspected fracture to Mr. Leeds’s right wrist. It is safe to move Mr. Leeds, Boss, and I have notified the med bay staff that you are en route.”

“Thanks, FRI.” Tony replied as his gaze settled on the boy still lying dazed on the floor. “What do you say, Fred? Wanna take a tour of the med bay seeing as you’re here anyways?” He inquired and gave a mischievous wink. There was no point in making the whole experience into a ‘thing.’

Ned, being Ned, lit up, even as the pain in his wrist flared as he stood. “I think that would be great, sir.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Um... can we call my mom, too, please?”

Tony’s face softened, “That went without saying. Now let’s get moving, shall we? The sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner you guys can get back to wreaking havoc.”

“Sounds good, sir,” Ned smiled weakly as he pressed his arm protectively to his chest and started the shuffle towards the elevator with Tony’s arm wrapped around him in support.

“Pete?” Tony called back over his shoulder as he noticed Peter not with them. “Are you coming?”

Peter blinked out of his haze and jumped to it, “Yes! Sorry, uh, sorry! I’m coming.” Peter rushed forward, entered the elevator, and started making a mental list of all the ways he could make this better.

/-/-/

When all was said and done, Ned had a type I Smith fracture with four to eight weeks stuck in a cast with another four to eight weeks stuck in a brace—with physio, to boot.

Mrs. Leeds had been so amazing, Peter thought to himself. She had every reason to be mad at Peter for not being enough, but nope. She’s allowed Ned to have the fracture reduced in the med bay (and Peter knew they were pros at that kind of stuff!) and spent the evening switching between visiting with May and then Ned once he started coming out of the sedation.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when both Mrs. Leeds and May shooed him out of the med bay just after midnight. Tony had arranged for something a little more comfortable than a cot to be brought into Ned’s room so Mrs. Leeds could keep her own eye on her son.

Peter would just need to figure out other ways to help.

/-/-/

It was a week before Peter and Ned were able to get together again.

“Let me get that for you!” Peter rushed forward to grab the door to the comic book store Ned had been preparing to open with his good hand.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Ned said confusedly as he entered the store. “Uh, thanks, Peter?”

Peter completely missed the way Ned questioned his actions, which was fine. Absolutely fine—just like Peter. “No problem, Ned, oh! Here!” Peter rushed forward and made a grab for the free comics sitting in the stand by the door before Ned could even notice them. “I’ll carry these for you while you browse. Were you still looking for that new Batman series? Well, I mean—“ Ugh. It wasn’t new. Peter knew that. Ned knew that. Stupid snap. “You know what I mean.”

Ned smiled, “Yeah, I’ve got a whole bunch on order and they’ve started coming in. They’re holding what they’ve got behind the counter for me so we’ll grab them once we check out.”

“Perfect!” Peter exclaimed, overly excited. “I know you were excited about them coming out before...”

Ned smiled wider. “I was, and I can’t wait to get enough in order to start reading them, for now though...” Ned got a crazy glint in his eye, “Let’s check out all the new series we missed!”

Peter agreed in a heartbeat, then stood by his best friend’s side ooh-ing and ahh-ing as Ned discovered a couple of new DC series to delve into, being sure to hold each one as he shopped.

“Let me get that for you!” Peter practically yanked the bag from the young cashier’s hand before Ned could even touch it. “I don’t want you doing anything to hurt yourself.”

Ned chuckled. “It’s a little late for that,” Ned lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers to draw attention to his injury.

—And Peter’s failure.  

“Besides, I’m being encouraged to use my fingers as much as is comfortable. It’ll help with my mobility later on, the doctor says.” Ned shrugged. “And I���m guessing she knows what she’s talking about so...”

“I get it,” Peter conceded, not that it changed Peter’s plan. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help a brother out, right?” Peter held the door open as Ned walked through.

“Right, I guess.” Ned paused as they hit the sidewalk. “Hey, wanna grab lunch at that little 50s diner I overheard Flash telling Brad Davis about last week?”

“Sure!” Peter turned towards where he knew the restaurant was located. “Not that I’m trusting Flash’s opinion on anything, but it really takes effort to mess up a plate of fries, am I right?” Peter rolled his eyes, conveying his scepticism.

“Amen to that.”

“Amen.”

The diner was only a fifteen minute walk from the comic book store; thank goodness Ned seemed to be doing alright so Peter allowed himself to take a bit of a breath. Seeing the full booths through the window amped his anxiety again, but luck was smiling down on them and they were lucky enough to get the last free booth in the place.

“Wow!” Ned looked around the diner wide-eyed before focusing on the menu before him. “I don’t normally like to say that Flash is right about anything, but this place is awesome!”

Peter had to agree, even as his head bopped to ‘Rock Around the Clock’ coming from the authentic looking jukebox on the far wall. “I know! And look at that plate over there!” He pointed to a poodle-skirted server navigating the crowd while balancing the biggest, juiciest looking burger Peter had ever seen on a tray. “I know exactly what I’m ordering!” He took in the decor and overall atmosphere. “I’ll definitely have to bring—“ Peter intended to say May but remembered before he could embarrass himself, “Tony,” he corrected. “He’d think this was a hoot!”

“AND something like that might actually fill you up!” Ned replied then glanced down at the Iron Man signature on his cast. “Just please let me come when you bring him back! I promise I got all of the hero-worshippy stuff out of the way, especially now that he’s seen me puke.”

Yeah, Ned hadn’t done well with coming out of the anaesthesia.

“Welcome to Rockin’ Robin’s.” Their server had arrived, high ponytail and all. “What can I get for you today?”

After ordering more food than they probably should have, and thanking the server for their hastily delivered sodas, the two boys sat back and simply basked in the campiness of the whole place. The jukebox had switched to ‘Lollipop,’ to ‘Earth Angel,’ then a string of consecutive Elvis songs. The jukebox had switched to ‘Sha-Boom’ just as their server arrived with their food, placing their plates down in front of each boy, checked that all was well, and then disappeared to help other customers, all while bobbing along to the song.

“This smells so good,” Peter moaned as he picked up his burger with two hands and prepared a plan of attack.

“I know,” Ned groaned as he looked at his own burger... and one functional hand (and some fingers). “Wish me luck.”

Peter dropped his burger like it was on fire. “Hang on! Let me help!” Peter practically leapt out of his seat and shoved Ned over to sit next to him instead. “I’ve got it! Let me take care of you!”

“Dude,” Ned laughed nervously, “I’m good. I’ve can feed myself.”

“I know you can,” Peter replied, loudly enough that the people around them were starting to notice them, “but why bother when I’m here to help?!” Peter grabbed the cutlery that had been placed by Ned’s plate and started sawing off a piece of burger—or tried to. “What are best friends for?”

Ned couldn’t hold back the look of horror on his face, “Peter! What are you doing?”

Peter ignored Ned’s obvious upset as he grappled with hiding his own. “I’m helping! I don’t know what we were thinking coming here. I should have thought this through and done something easier for you to manage.” He mashed what he’d managed to onto the fork and offered it up to Ned. “Open up.”

Ned shook his head in protest as he pulled the fork out of Peter’s hand. “Dude! What’s going on? I said I could feed myself!”

“I know what you said,” Peter reached across the table get his own cutlery to get back to work. “I’m saying that I can take care of you, so just let me!”

“Peter,” Ned backed up a little. “You’re being weird.”

“No, I’m being helpful!”

“No, Peter. You are being weird with a big, ol’ capital ‘W.’” Ned was concerned. “And have been since I decided to be an idiot and break my wrist! What’s going on?”

“Geez!” Peter slammed the knife and fork down onto the table, causing everything on it to clatter loudly enough that everyone in the restaurant stopped to stare, not that Peter noticed. “Nothing is going on, okay?!”

The restaurant fell silent, save for the deep baritone of Johnny Cash coming from the jukebox.

Peter’s cheeks flushed as he realized he’d made a scene.

Maybe something was going on, after all?

“Oh,” he whispered then reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “I think I need to—“ Peter grabbed a couple of twenties (thanks to Tony) and threw them on the table. “I’ve got lunch today, but I have to—“ Peter stood up from the booth. “I’m gonna go and—“ Peter’s eyes welled with tears as he looked at Ned, torn. “Are you okay to get home on your own? I was gonna—“ Peter’s voice cracked and he swallowed before trying again, “I was gonna get us a cab so you didn’t have to—“

Ned just nodded, trying to figure out what to say, but before he could say a word, Peter nodded back, bolted for the diner door, and disappeared down the street.

/-/-/

It was late before Peter made his way home; so late that he hoped and prayed with everything inside of him that everyone would be asleep and he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone or anything ever again until morning.

But they didn’t call it Parker Luck for no reason.

“Welcome home, Peter.” FRIDAY announced as Peter entered the elevator. “As requested, I’ve notified Boss and Mrs. Boss of your imminent arrival and they are waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Peter closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. “Any chance we can take me back down to the lobby and just pretend I was never here? Say there was a glitch in your system?”

“I’m sorry, Peter. Boss is eager for you to return to the penthouse and, based on your current physical state and my directive to do my utmost to ensure your physical wellbeing, being in the kitchen is exactly what you need.”

That wasn’t good.

Peter gnawed at his lower lip, trying to come up with some reason plausible enough to explain where he’d been all day. Tony wouldn’t want to hear that he walked around like a zombie, thinking about what a failure he was as a friend. He wouldn’t want to hear that Peter was wishing he was just gone so he could finally break the curse that was his lineage. No Peter meant no chaos, after all.

“Peter?” FRIDAY prompted similarly to only a week ago. “You’ve arrived at the penthouse. Do you need assistance?”

“No. I’m good. Thank you, FRIDAY.” Peter whispered and stepped out into the entry, bracing himself for the interrogation to come.

Peter was so tired.

“Kiddo?” Tony called out quietly from the kitchen.

Morgan was obviously asleep.

Peter dragged himself toward the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s me,” he answered as the kitchen came into view. “I didn’t mean for you to wait up for me...” He looked from Tony to Pepper then back to Tony again. “I’m sorry for being a bother.”

“Pfft. Kid.” Tony seemed to be assessing the boy before him as he responded, “Board meetings are a bother. Politicians are a bother. Those lice outbreak warnings Mo keeps bringing home from daycare are a bother.”

Pepper gave Tony a playful smack across the chest.

“What?! They are!” Tony defended himself.

“Tony! Be serious,” Pepper hissed as she stepped toward Peter and opened up her arms in invitation. “What Tony is trying to say is that we’ve been worried about you, sweetheart.”

Peter was hesitant to take the comfort. After all he’d done and how he’d failed?

Pepper dropped her arms and smiled sadly, “It’s alright, Peter. Ned called us about the diner.”

Peter’s pale cheeks reddened in embarrassment as he dropped his face in his hands. “Please kill me now,” he begged whatever deity would listen.

“Hey, no death jokes, Pete,” Tony came forward and grasped Peter’s shoulders. “It will always be too soon for that, so please...” He pulled Peter to his chest, then wrapped his arms around him. “So there was a little drama today? So what?”

“It was so bad,” he mumbled into his hands. “I needed to—no—I NEEDED to help him and then he didn’t want it and I didn’t even know what to do!”

“Okay?”

“I cut his food, Tony! I was going to feed him! I don’t even—I think I scared him!”

“Hey,” Tony pulled back just enough to see Peter’s face, still tucked and hiding. “Hey, Peter, come on,” Tony shifted to a one armed hug, freeing the other to brush gently against Peter’s cheek. “Ned cares for you so much and is just as worried about you as the rest of us.”

Peter felt his eyes fill again. “This was not a little drama, Tony.”

It was Pepper’s turn to try and lighten the mood, “Okay, but I’d bet you managed to keep all of your clothes on while it happened.”

Peter managed an ugly sounding snort-laugh as his tears fell.

“Pepper!” Tony called out, scandalized. “Such betrayal.”

Pepper shifted to manoeuvre to Peter’s other side to join in the hug. “Maybe, but for now,” her arms tightened around the boy, “we’ll take the distraction.”

“Fine,” Tony grumped, “but tomorrow,” Tony’s arms tightened as well, “no more distractions. We’ve got our favourite spider-kid to take care of.”

“But—I—” It was Peter’s job to take care of them! It was—he had to—why was his brain doing this?!

“No buts. It’s our turn to take care of you, and we’ve put this off long enough.” Pepper whispered soft and May-like. “We’ll figure out the big stuff tomorrow. Okay?”

Peter didn’t know what to think? How to answer? It was almost too much—except that he wasn’t alone, right?

His next exhale shook. “Tomorrow?”

Tony pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “Tomorrow.”

And Peter hoped it would be okay.     

[symphonic-snapdragon]

i have such complicated feelings towards cs lewis!! i love him as a person!! as an author however i have Opinions and Thoughts

hot takes:

- narnia was good until the last battle. making the kids die was a stupid ending

- susan. that’s all. that’s the post. she got done dirty.

- the calormenes are an obscenely racist caricature of middle eastern cultures like. what the fuck why are the arab-coded characters the devil worshippers??

-the space trilogy had great ideas but horrendous execution

- that hideous strength is Bad and my 9th grade self was appalled when i read the words “give up on your dreams. have children instead” in a CSL book

- CSL’s apologetics are way better than his fiction !! mere christianity, the weight of glory essays, the abolition of man!! sooooo good. so much to meditate on. good stuff.

- personally, the screwtape letters, great divorce, and till we have faces >>> narnia

i am a Tolkien Gal through and through so i guess i’m biased by preferring JRRT over CSL *any* day but thanks for reading my Irks Regarding Jack Lewis

[malkaleh]

So this poll is still going (about my current fic ideas basically) but I think the top one is definitely going to win so: have some semi incoherent thoughts about what I call A Persian Jewish Woman (me) Has Feelings About The Horse And His Boy (or Clive Staples It Is On Sight)

The first thing to know is that I both love The Horse And His Boy (and Narnia in general) but also I have so many things to say to CS Lewis and not all of them are compliments. The second thing is that I have been thinking about my version of it lately.

The first thing with this idea is that okay, Calormen is having a White Witch Situation which has to do with Rabardash and his father being an outlier.

There was a rebellion that led to this and is the reason that there are now slaves - a lot to do with power and possibly some funding from some disaffected Northern Nobles as well. (This is actually how Shasta still ends up in Calormen).

Susan marrying Rabardash’s awesome brilliant brother and they bring in a golden age and thus, she stays in Narnia.

Listen, there is a story here about the beauty of Calormen, about the bravery and the traditions and the kindness that I just really really want to see - the tradition of clever women, of bonds between women (Rabardashs Awesome Brothers sisters and mother, Aravis mother having a role in all of this).

The Tisroc and Rabadash being very specifically rooted in a particular kind of entitlement that is not in fact, based in Calormen culture. (Or not alone anyway because I cannot).

Someone give me a decent treatment of Tash as a deity please.

JEWISH STUFF.

The basic idea. Several nobles from both Narnia and Archenland are engaged in Antics - mostly around gaining money for themselves but also trying to destabilise Calormen specifically - they find a willing pasty in the Tisroc before Rabadash’s dad and so, everything is great! Profits! They can send people they want to disappear into slavery!

Except one of those nobles is about to be found out and so he flees and it plays out ala Shasta in the book (actually can someone write me Jewish!Shasta I need it for reasons).

Rabadash still gets obsessed with Susan, they still come to Calormen but she’s falling for his brother actually - it’s the brother who helps get them out, who Aravis and Shasta save.

He and Susan marry.

[one-coming-is-enough]

If I'm remembering my canon right, I thought Aslan was a Universalist? In The Last Battle, one of the Calormen (who worship Tash), is accepted by Aslan despite never having worshipped him, because he worshipped Tash with love and devotion.

"Soon they encounter Emeth; Aslan has accepted his faithful service to Tash because it was offered in good faith and therefore truly done to Aslan, whereas Tash is served only by evil." (Wikipedia quote for better phrasing)

There's another book?!

[thelittlepalmtree]

I reread the chronicles of narnia over break and...wow is it christian. I do actually like the style which I have seen in other books like Coraline and The Tale of Desperaux. It also has that charm that I think we associate with modern fairytales. It seems perfect for your mother to read to you before bed which is exactly how I first experienced the series.

But now, as an adult, it feels so...simple. The sexism is insane. Not only in little jibes about girls not fighting, but also the strong stance against co-ed schools. And of course what happens to Susan is criminal she loses all of her family in one train crash and they literally laugh at her in heaven and basically imply she deserved it for wearing lipstick. Beyond the sexism, there's a strong stance for corporal punishment and having bibles at school. Of course there's the Calormen which on the audiobook all the readers tried very hard to avoid calling "color men" as that is essentially their prime feature. The implication being that these men are not human because if they were, they'd have every right to rule Narnia as much as the other characters, right? Although I suppose you could say the same for Archenland which is essentially the canada of Narnia world.

And let us not gloss over the strange relationship to imperialism. Narnia is not a land of men but it is a land for a man to rule? But of course, only if he is white and a follower of "Aslan" right? And of course, only outsiders are allowed any real part in the story. The only time the actual inhabitants of Narnia try to break away from their lion bases foreign theocracy, they are treated as dumb and stupid.

It's disheartening really that a series I loved so much as a child is one I would be uncomfortable reading to a child today. I don't even dislike the children so much it feel more like they've been taken in by a cult. Which, honestly, they have.

I still like a lot of elements of the series, but I wonder if it didn't actually damage my faith in some way. I have always been a faithless person. I never really believed in Santa Claus or God and so when I realized I didn't have to pretend to believe in them, I felt relieved. Even now, I practice wicca but I see it more as a therapeutic practice than a religious one. And the core tenant of wicca is "take what resonates and leave the rest", meaning I don't have to agree to something I don’t believe. I wonder if living in a home where there was no forgiveness for confessions of petty crimes and no warmth and a real fear of violence whether physical or psychological was so different from the world of Narnia that everything seemed like a fantasy. And the evil witches seemed more sensible. I wonder if CS Lewis could have understood a child like me, who wanted desperately to be like Lucy Pevensie but who grew into someone a bit more like Susan and even a little like Jadis. I just can't forsake my life on earth to care for a fantasy I have no promise of reaching. And was it Aslan that made the children good and kind and honest, or would it be better for them to have always been those things, for no other reason than that all children have that possibility? I wish the story had not gotten so pedantic, that the bad guys were not all invading brown men and powerful women, and non-believers. I wish that the people of the story were actually allowed to grow into people, and that a happy ending for them did not leave a person behind because she refused to be a child forever.

I don't know, obviously I have a lot of thoughts on the series. I think if I met Lewis, he wouldn't have liked me much, sadly. I am glad I reread the series, and it wasn't unenjoyable, it was just a little disappointing.

[zannolin]

(I can't choose so) thoughts on the Pevensies succession after the White Stag OR thoughts on the Pevensies titles (Magnificent, Gentle, Just, Valiant)

i don't honestlyyyy have very many thoughts about what came after the pevensies directly but i will say what people don't seem to know (i guess maybe because of how the movie framed it) is that there's actually a solid 900 something years between the end of the golden age and the telmarine invasion. they've only been occupying narnia about 300 years by the time of prince caspian which is fascinating to me because it means narnia got by quite well all that time despite the threat that calormen posed. of course. i could go on at length here about 1) the order in which lewis wrote the books meaning calormen as a threat did not even exist at this point and 2) rabadash did end up being a peaceful tisroc (tho aside within my aside about we don't know how long it took his father to die before he took over as tisroc so idk man) but i will not do this. just know that i know too much abotu this. and i could.

i believe there is debate of there being other kings and queens of narnia between the end of the GA and the telmarine invasion, but it's not absolutely clear because lewis references queen swanwhite in tlb and says she was before the hundred year winter but in his timeline he said she came after the GA so some people think there were two and nobody really knows for sure. i find the idea of there being other monarchs fascinating (like who did you choose, how, etc) but there's also something kinda crazy about cair paravel sitting empty again until the telmarine invasion. (the prince caspian video game, while not at all canon, forced me to witness the destruction of cp and the telmarines sacking the throne room and toppling peter's throne and i have been sick about it ever since) the concept of narnia not having another ruler until their beloved kings and queens come back to crown one. caspian x being the first king of narnia, truly, since the golden age. throws up. you understand.

as for titles i'm fond of them. i am so fond. i tend to default to the movie version of aslan bestowing the titles upon them but i'm also so fond of them coming to be known among their people organically by those titles by the end of the golden age in the books. both go so hard you really can't lose with them and i think they all fit so well and i adore them and can do the wildest things with them in my fics (as we all saw in the susan fic. lol) so eye personally adore their titles and have zero intelligent thoughts about them unless i'm writing a fic.

zanna answer one of these asks in a NORMAL WORD COUNT challenge...

thoughts on ???

[missmoondalorian]

Chapter Seven - How It's Always Been

    Ugh. You need a bath yourself. Once he was in his room with the door closed. You took the opportunity of the empty inn to prepare your own bath.

    The warm water felt so amazing. You can't remember the last time you were able to enjoy a bath without having to rush to prepare something for someone. You closed your eyes and let your mind wander. Caspian in the room next door, in the bath... his long wet hair falling over his face... You recalled the image of his lower abdomen peeking under his lifted shirt. Him telling you not to argue... forcing you to obey...

    Would he become more forceful if you behaved more stubbornly? "I might test that" you thought to yourself. See how far you can push him. When he slammed his hand on the table...the passion in his voice...wait. Did you want to see him angry? What is wrong with you?

You opened your eyes, and scolded yourself. He doesn't need you to make his life more difficult.

    But the way his eyes darkened when he spoke about the Calormene... an involuntary shiver ran down your spine. Your hand began to wander up your thigh...

"No." You said quietly to yourself, and moved your hand away. Anyone could be back any minute. 

    You finished up, got dressed, and just for good measure sprayed on some of your mother's perfume. Just a note of lilac. 

You were dumping out the water when Sis came running up.

"There you are." You greeted her.

"Where have you been?"

"Oh Mrs. Genova took me shopping! Look at what she bought me!"

She pulled a pretty blue dress out of her basket. 

"She said it was a 'thank you' gift for helping her run errands."

"Oh wow, she really didn't need to do that..." You felt a bit awkward. It was a very nice gift. 

"I know. I told her that. But she said she didn't have grandkids of her own so she wanted to treat me like one. But we also got you something."

"What?! Why?"

"Because I didn't want you to feel left out. Plus the dress shop said they'd price it down if we bought two, so... here! "

She handed you a package wrapped in twine. You opened it to see a stunning green dress with black and silver lace framing the corset style top. 

"Sis. I... It's beautiful." 

You were at a loss for words. 

"This looks way too expensive though... we have to take it back tomorrow."

"Mrs. Genova said I earned them. She also said you deserved something nice. And I agree. "

    You gave her a huge hug. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine owning a dress this beautiful. You'll have to thank Mrs. Genova profusely next time you see her. 

"Why do you smell so nice?" Sis asked as you guided her back inside.

"As opposed to normally?" You laughed.

"Well yea," she laughed "you normally smell ok, but today you smell REALLY good."

" I used some of mother's perfume after my bath today. "

" Oooohhhh. Whyyyy?" She taunted.

" Because I felt like it. " 

" Yea right. You did it for King Caspian. "

You blushed. 

" What makes you say that? "

"Oh come on. I saw how you guys were acting last night."

" You're imagining things. " 

" Am not. "

" Are too. And since when do you notice things like that anyway? "

" I notice a lot of things. " She responded proudly. " Like Sir Tavros always flicks his ears when he eats something he thinks is really yummy."

You laughed, " really? "

" Mhm. And you put your hands on your hips when you're trying to concentrate. "

" Do I? "

" And Reva from down the street sneezes twice in a row whenever she goes outside for the first time."

"Ok, ok. You proved your point." You laughed. "Wow. Next time I need some spying done I'll ask you. "

" Oh! One more. " 

" Ok, one more. "

" King Caspian looks at you, a lot, when he thinks you're not looking. "

* * *

    Once inside you sent her to hang up your dresses in the bedroom. You couldn't imagine when you would ever wear it but, it'll be nice to look at at least. 

    You realized Caspian had still not come out of his room. You battled with your instinct to check on him. "He probably wants privacy after being surrounded by people for over a year" you tell yourself. But you would also be in a lot of trouble if the King fell and hurt himself...or something worse...on your watch. 

You decided to knock and just check...

"Uhm. Your Majesty? I was just checking to make sure you were alright..." You called through the door.

The latch moved and the door opened.

He stood there, his wet hair dripping water which ran down his bare chest. He wore his pants, loosely laced, but nothing else.

His arm reached up to lean against the top of the doorframe. 

"Oh." You gasped and felt your face turn red. You averted your eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

He smiled down at you. "Not at all."

"You were just... in there quite a while... and I just wanted to see if you needed anything... make sure you didn't drown or...something..." you stammered.

"I'd be a poor sailor if I drowned in a copper tub after being at sea for a year." He chuckled. "I actually dozed off in the bath. There is a scent in this room that is just...very relaxing." He looked back into the room, as if trying to find he smell. "I couldn't help myself."

"Oh, yes," you still couldn't look directly at him, "that's the eucalyptus. It grows everywhere on this part of the island."

"Mmm." He thought aloud, "We must be sure to take some back with us."

"I'll... let you finish getting dressed then?" You're not sure why you asked...as if he would invite you in to watch.

"You're very sweet to check on me, thank you. I will be out shortly." He smiled. You nodded while looking down, and hurriedly walked back down the hall. You heard the door latch closed behind you. 

You barely reached the end of the hall before Sis popped out of your bedroom.

"TOLD YOU." She mocked and folded her arms across her chest. 

"Shut up." You murmured, and went into the kitchen. 

She followed.

"You never check on ME when I take too long in the bath."

"That's because I enjoy my alone time and want you to take forever." You teased while preparing some lunch.

"Orrrrr it's because you liiiike him."

"OR it's because I don't want anything to happen to the KING while he's in our inn."

"When you get married, that'll make me a princess."

"IF I get married, it will be to a man on OUR island who is unassuming and ordinary. Just like everyone else around here."

You sighed. "Here, go set this on the table." You handed her a platter of meats, cheeses, and bread. 

"Why can't you admit he's handsome, and you like him?" She half whined as she took the tray.

"Because, nothing can come of it." You prepared another tray with a pitcher of mead and mugs.

"Soooo there is something to admit then?" She smiled up at you.

"No." You grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. "Go." You gave her a gentle push towards the table. 

You followed with the tray of drinks.

"Ok. ok. So if there WAS something to admit, why could nothing come of it? I thought if two adults liked each other, they could get married."

You sighed again. "I wish is was that simple." You placed the tray on the table. "You have to understand, there are different stations in life, for adults."

She placed hers down as well, and sat on the long bench opposite of you. Then waited silently for you to continue.

"You know there are royals, and nobles, like the King and his Knights, yes?"

She nodded.

"Then there are...lower classes...commoners. That's us. The adults from the upper classes, have to marry other adults from the upper classes. And adults from the lower classes, marry others from their same class. Understand?"

"Kind of...." she scrunched up her face, thinking very hard. "but... why?"

"It's just the rules." You shrugged. "How it's always been."

"That's kind of dumb..." 

You laughed. "Maybe. But it's not really our place to question it. Plus we have waaay more important things to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Well, like I was thinking of baking a pie to go after dinner tonight. But I have no idea what kind of pie the boys would like..."

Her face lit up.

" Blueberry!" 

"And cream?" you smiled.

"Oh YES!" she jumped up. 

"Can I go pick them?!?!"

You laughed again. "Sure."

"Can I ask Reva if she wants to come?"

"Sounds great. Just make sure you start heading back before it starts to get dark." You gave her a knowing look. 

"oookaaayy." she smiled. She ran into the room to get her cloak, and you went into the kitchen to grab a basket. 

    You handed it to her, and stood at the doorway to watch her go down the street and ask her friend to come blueberry picking with her. 

Seeing her able to enjoy a normal childhood made you happier than you thought it would. Things you were afraid she would never get to experience. You owe it all to King Caspian and his men.

"Did I hear something about blueberry pie?" A voice came from behind you, and made you jump.

"SHIT." You placed you hand over your heart. "You SCARED me."

He laughed out loud. "I'm so sorry."

You gave him a little glare. "I have a feeling you did it on purpose."

Still laughing, he shook his head. "Really, I thought you knew I was standing here." 

"Were you there the whole time?"

"Not the whole time, I had just emerged from my quarters about the point where you told Sisni 'you had more important things to worry about'. And of course, when I heard 'pie' I had to come out and investigate."

You giggled softly. "I hoped it would be a surprise." 

"It still will be. May I help with anything around here?" 

You were surprised by the offer.

"Oh... no. Thank you. I've left some lunch out for you and your men. I assumed you would have plans to make. I just need to step out and do some laundry."

"May I join you?"

"To...do laundry???"

"If you'll allow me." He laughed at your confusion. "I want to go out and experience your island for myself, as it is for you in the day to day. See how I can improve things for you all. Plus, I like to keep my hands busy."

"Uhm. Yea...sure? If you really want to?"

"As long as I am not bothering you."

"No, no. The company would be nice I just...didn't think anyone would ever want to do laundry..." you chuckled.

"Only when it is in your company." He smiled.

You blushed. "Well... in that case..." you motioned towards the back of the hall. "Let's grab the baskets."