#Narnia went on for YEARS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supernovasilence · 1 year

Text

Ok we all talk about the Pevensies' trauma at returning to Earth at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and their trouble readjusting to life there again but think of all the funny/good parts too

They return from the country, and their mom is surprised when all her children hug her at the station. Even Peter, who thinks he's all grown up. Even Edmund, who went away surly and withdrawn. She doesn't know her children haven't seen her in over a decade.

They miss their dear Cair Paravel, but they absolutely do not miss its chamber pots. Indoor plumbing is amazing.

It takes a while to remember how modern technology works, though. How many heart attacks did the siblings give their parents or the professor because they walked into a dark room only to turn on the light and find the children sitting there in the dark. (They were by the window! There was still plenty of light from the sunset! They would have gotten a candle in a minute!) The kids sheepishly remember oh yeah electricity is a thing.

(Edmund has a new electric torch in Prince Caspian. He was so excited to get that torch. Almost more excited than you'd think a kid his age would be, and his parents expect Peter at least to tease him, but the siblings all agree light in your hand at the touch of a switch is terrific.)

Suddenly getting really high grades in some subjects and terrible in others. Their grammar, reading comprehension, spelling, vocab, even penmanship? Amazing. History and geography? They don't remember anything. One time in class Susan forgets Earth is round and wants to die.

Also they can never remember what the date is supposed to be because Narnia uses different months and years. They can estimate time really well by looking at the sun though, and Edmund at least can always tell which way is north etc without thinking about it (again, using the sun)

Okay but how many times did they go to pick something up or reach something and realize they are so much shorter and less muscled than they expect? It's a common sight to see Peter climbing on counters to reach a top cabinet, grumbling about how he's High King this is demeaning. (No he never takes the extra five seconds to grab a stool. He will climb that shelf.)

Peter and Susan being delighted because they are no longer almost thirty. (In a few years Edmund and Lucy will tease them about being old and their parents will not understand.)

Lucy doesn't have to deal with periods anymore for a few years yet. Susan might not either. Heck yeah

Lucy loves to climb into her siblings' laps and be cuddled. In Narnia she eventually she grew too big, but now she is small and snuggleable again. Peter is her favorite, and if she's upset, he'll tickle her and tell bad jokes until she's smiling again, but really she loves cuddling with all her family. She grew up without her parents; how many times did she just want to crawl into her mom's lap and her mom was a world away? Imagine the first time she realizes she can now. Or, imagine one day, a cold and grey sort of day, when the rain is pattering against the windows, and it sounds like the rain on the windows of the Professor's house, that first day they went exploring. It sounds like the day they played hide and seek. It sounds so like the rain on the windows of Cair Paravel, that if Lucy closes her eyes she can imagine she's back there, having tea and chatting with Mr. Tumnus before the fireplace of her room, and soon the rain will stop, and they will go out on the balcony and wave to the naiads and the dryads and the mermaids, who have come out to enjoy the rain and visit one other on the banks of the Great River winding past Cair Paravel down to the sea.

But if Lucy looks out the window, all she'll see is the rain over London, so it's not only a cold and grey sort of day, it's a lonely sort of day too.

Susan and Edmund are playing chess in the living room (and they must have studied with Professor Kirke, thinks their mother, because they certainly weren't that good when they left). Lucy goes over to Edmund, and oh dear, thinks their mother, now he's going to call her a baby and be horrible to her, but instead he picks her up and puts her on his lap without even taking his eyes off the chessboard; it's simply a matter of course.

"Doesn't the rain sound familiar?" says Lucy in a solemn, wistful way.

Their mother doesn't know what that means, but her siblings must, because Susan says, "Yes, Lu, it does,” and Edmund gives her a little hug with his free arm as she tucks herself under his chin to watch the chess match.

(Five minutes later there is a crash from the next room as Peter falls off a counter. Their mother does not understand the words he must have picked up from the Professor, but he's grounded for them anyway. His siblings have no respect for their High King, because they refuse to stop laughing.)

#the chronicles of narnia #narnia headcanons #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #helen pevensie #the pevensies #okay this did end up a little bittersweet at the end but I tried #let's all just focus on the high king falling off counters alright #and yes the siblings all picked up narnian swear words and i refuse to believe otherwise #i'm also suddenly wondering how much language drift there is in narnia #when the pevensies return in prince caspian are all the swear words/exclamations they learned outdated?#are they using the narnian equivalent of oh horsefeathers?#nova actually posts stuff #long post //#the higher the queuer #post lww pevensies #soft post lww headcanons

18K notes · View notes

stainedstardom · 1 year

Note

omg just imagine clingy!chad. reader is mindy’s childhood bff and chad’s gf and chad would be all pouty because reader went to his house to hang out with mindy instead of him🤣

clingy!chad is so cute omg

STAY WITH ME

chad meeks martin x reader

you and mindy have been best friends your whole life, you two have done everything together and that made you two inseparable but where she went? her brother went, what she did? chad did and who she hung out with? chad hung out with.

over time you got used to the boy and he told you he liked you when you were 16. you're both 18 now and have been dating for two years. mindy liked that he made you happy and you made him happy.

today mindy invited you to the house and of course you agreed, you had no school work. you were bored and going over there meant no boredom. you knocked on the door

"NO CHAD DON'T" you heard mindy yell before he opened the door. he wrapped his arms around you and held you closely as he lifted you in the air.

"hi baby" he said into your neck and you smiled as he pulled away and kissed you. your legs ended up around his waist.

"hi," you said into the kiss before he put you down and looked at you in his sweatshirt. he smirked at you and you laughed before you looked behind him at his sister

"minds," you said and you walked over and you hugged her and she hugged you back with a smile.

"Okay I have narnia set up in my room lets go," she said and she grabbed your arm but chad grabbed your waist from behind and held you closely

"stay with me," he said as he kissed your neck and you turned in his arms as you grabbed his face, and looked into his eyes.

"I will come to find you later, and we can cuddle and watch movies and everything, but right now, I am going to spend time with your sister because I keep ditching her for you," you told him, and you leaned up kissing him again before mindy let you go.

chad watched with a dazed smile on his face before he walked to his room and waited for you. at least you would show up at some point, at least you would stay with him

A/N: he holds my heart i cant.

#chad meeks martin angst #chad meeks martin x you #chad meeks martin x y/n #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin #mason gooding #scream #scream fanfic #scream 6

983 notes · View notes

softguarnere · 4 months

Text

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

#Edmund can have SAD - as a treat #edmund pevensie #narnia imagine #narnia fanfiction #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #my writing

190 notes · View notes

queenlucythevaliant · 2 years

Text

In Narnia, Right was right and courage came with clarity. Beauty abounded and Aslan, even across the sea, never felt so very far away.

That’s how they remembered it in England, at least. Three months gone and the edges were sanded down. Their children’s hearts remembered beauty and clung to victory. If you’re not an idealist when you’re young, there’s something wrong with you.

Peter said, and they all agreed, that their memories of Narnia were like books on a shelf. It was all still there, but filed away. To think of a particular summer dance or ship’s voyage, you had to pull the proper book from its shelf and turn the pages until you found the story you wanted. You could recall the events that way and it would be like any other memory: vivid but imperfect, bathed in old feelings and new, details intact but a fine mist of nostalgia covering the scene.

Their old skills were gone, but what use was swordsmanship in Britain? Most of the time, the Pevensie children scarcely noticed what they had lost. They played in forests and swam in ponds, went to the grocer’s and prepared for school to resume. They were children.

They thought of Narnia often, but it was as one remembers a glorious holiday by the seashore, or the most important novel you’ve ever read. It had changed their lives, but it was past, and memory; a secret language, and daydreams and play-battles out in the Professor’s woods.

Because they were children, the edges of their memories softened, they forgot the things that would have given them nightmares. Right was right in Narnia, after all. They did not remember the sticky, congealing mess of the Witch’s blood that clung to Aslan’s mouth after Beruna, when he had ripped her throat out and devoured her body. They forgot the visceral fear that Rabadash would manage to take Susan to wife by force, and what he would do to her if he did. They forgot the awful chaos of battle, the sickening stench of bellies hewn open and intestines spilling onto the sodden earth. They did not remember living to be twenty, thirty, fifty, sixty, growing old and aching with it, burying friends, and worrying about the succession. The burden of all those years would have broken any children so young.

After they were sent home for the last time, each of the Pevensie children found ways of remembering. Peter joined a fencing league, and soon found that old broadsword techniques would often flutter out of his memory’s pages and into his hands. Susan sketched until she didn’t, until she put away her pad full of fauns and castles and lions in a box of childhood nonsense—but it was many years before that happened. Edmund wrote pages and pages of reminiscences down, trying to externalize the books of his memory. Lucy daydreamed, and she dressed in bright Narnian colors, and sang Narnian songs, and a million other tiny things that scarcely anyone noticed. The Pevensie children found ways to remember. Narnia remained in their minds: a little distant, perhaps, but the ink never faded.

And one day, when he was ready, Edmund was trying to calm his father through the soldier’s panic that followed a car backfiring and he began to remember the feeling of having seen war. The book in his mind opened where the pages had been stuck together, and suddenly he knew how to help.

Lucy began to recall snatches of what it was like to grow old. She looked in on her grandparents more and more. “I know your knee isn’t what it used to be,” she smiled as she went to get the stepstool.

Susan held a classmate tight after a terrible, terrible night and trembled, remembering Rabadash’s hot breath on her face, the way he’d grabbed her forearms with bruising strength and demanded to kiss her. I understand, she whispered. It wasn’t your fault.

Peter, sitting in theology class, remembered the viscera around Aslan’s mouth and began to understand what justice meant.

The terrible parts came back in flashes as the children grew into young men and women. Memories of Narnia expanded to fit their older selves, old horrors and heartaches now many years past. Little by little, the Pevensie children grew back into themselves.

Two Lucys existed, one long past and one in the mirror. Two Edmunds, two Susans, two Peters. The present Lucy did not miss the woman she had grown to be in Narnia, except in rare instances. She had what she needed from her old self. She still had so much growing left to do.

#my prose response to Maria's question that i just answered #comnination headcanon and textual 'this is how Narnia memories work'#Leah stories #once there were four children #narnia #pontifications and creations

2K notes · View notes

mykinkyyandere · 1 year

Note

Idea / Request for Edmund Pevise where he sided with Janus (who is like actually working WITH him and won’t betray him) being in love with a darling who is on the side of his siblings

The White Hope

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! King Edmund Pevensie! X f!Reader

Summary: Fifteen years had passed since the siblings found Narnia, but Jadis's reign continues. No, it is not Jadis's anymore. The reign of Edmund, The White King. And he takes a special, twisted interest in you.

Warnings: Yandere, dark, kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, possession, depression, trauma, past abuse, minor deaths, dub-con touches, implied future non-con, implied emotional abuse, implied future violence, enjoying/taking pleasure from emotional suffer/crying/power, grown-up characters, sorry if i missed anything

The White Witch's reign was not over. It had been fifteen years since the siblings came to Narnia. Everyone believed that the prophecy would come true, but one of the brothers had a coldness in his heart. Edmund became more angry, more distant and more withdrawn towards his siblings over time. It was not known who was to blame for this, but he thought that everyone had a share, including himself. There was also a share of his parents, whom he could no longer remember. He saw everyone as guilty, himself too.

The prophecy necessitated that all the siblings had to be together. But Edmund had chosen his own path once. At first he regretted it and wanted to return to them, but the White Witch had prevented him from leaving with her manipulations. He used Edmund and treated him like a slave. He was not a king, but a poor prisoner. But little did she know Edmund would one day rule her.

A king was always a king.

There was always a flame in Edmund's heart. It had grown over the years just to spite the freezing cold which became stronger every passing day. This flame wanted power, wanted revenge, and justice. Of course, his concept of justice was quite dubious. But he felt that he had the power to get what he wanted. As he got older, he became a strong man. Whatever the White Witch did to keep him naive and defenseless, it didn't work. The prophecy may not have come true, but it certainly gave birth to a darker prophecy.

No one knows how it had happened, but after ten years the White Witch had let him rule. She considered Edmund as her king and gived him all her authority. Though, she can't give him the right that he already had all along. The White Witch realized that she would never be able to rule completely, because this wasn't her destiny. She was not a daughter of Eve. But Edmund made her see the truth. The human siblings couldn't destroy her because Edmund wasn't with them. The White Witch couldn't destroy them because she wasn't the real ruler.

As Edmund sat quietly on his throne she thanked him with trembling admiration in her cruel heart. After all those years of cruelty, the King could have punished her if he wanted, but he didn't. He was also grateful to the Witch. Without her and her cruelty, he would not have become the person he was today. But he didn't share this with her.

He remembered the first time he sat on this throne as a child. The Witch had thrown him into her dungeon. And there she was now, kneeling before him, for five years.

Peter and his sisters had lost hope. They felt their chances of defeating the White Witch became impossible with Edmund's accession to the throne. He had declared himself the White King. It was wrong, it was dark. Something went wrong, but no one could figure out why. What would happen if there was no prophecy? The Great King Peter, who had no choice but to prepare for the unknown, worked nonstop. Five years. For exactly five years, he had been trying to end the cruel rule of his younger brother, whom he once believed to be grumpy but deep down inside well-intentioned. He didn't want to believe he was a bad person. He and Lucy were convinced that Edmund was a victim of a skilled manipulator. But Susan argued that he chose this path. He had had countless opportunities to return to them over the course of ten years, but he didn't take any step. Lucy was the only one who believed that Edmund was still a good person when he took the throne. But even she had started to think this was now a childish hope. Peter had finally realized his little brother had left them a long time ago.

And you, you were a dreamer trying to add ridiculous excitement to your ordinary life. You'd never been able to leave this spirit inside of you behind. They wanted to kill this side of you and cast you out for your whole life, but you never stopped dreaming. You wanted to explore a wardrobe in one of these hide-and-seek games you'd been playing with yourself. "I want to hide in this wonderful wardrobe and have the coats wrap me up!" Ha! You were a strange girl. There was probably a reason why this peculiarity of yours was accepted by Narnia. Because you found yourself in the snow.

The hospitable beavers who were talking had hurriedly invited you to their home. You were so scared when they told you that this wonderful world was not so wonderful anymore. You wanted to go back home, wished you'd give up your ridiculous games. But everything had a reason and a price. It couldn't be brought back.

They have taken you to the High King Peter. A daughter of Eve who came in Narnia fifteen years later must had had something to do with this war.

You had arrived after a trip full of delicious jams. A king and two queens who tried to defend their people and their land, but were betrayed by their brother Edmund. The dead flame of hope in their hearts began to burn again with your arrival. They were supposed to hide you from the White King. But Peter knew deep down that they were too late for that.

Edmund had heard of your arrival. He knew about a lot of things thanks to the White Witch. She protected him against all diseases and made him immortal. She gave him all the powers she could give. She turned Edmund, who was a king by birth, into an invincible king.

"Witch, give me your wand." Edmund said, without taking his eyes off the faun, who was trembling with fear. His eyes were on the ground, he did not dare to look at the White King. No one could, not even the White Witch.

Jadis bowed her head and held out both hands to present her wand. Edmund stood up, taking his time, and went down with slow steps. There was something in his eyes. Far from the old Edmund. He took the wand that Jadis held out. He spun it in his hand and hit the ground. The sound echoed powerfully on the soulless walls. The poor faun almost fainted on the spot.

He titled his head and said in a half-whisper, "Lost?"

"P-p-please h-h-"

Edmund turned the wand in a way that contrasted with his still form and pressed it against the faun's back. "Lost?"

"W-wait! Beavers! I believe t-they took her to... t-them."

If he had looked into Edmund's eyes before he turned to stone, he could have seen how "insane" he was. Out of his mind, empty, dark.

He gave the wand back to Jadis. He didn't speak. He didn't need to talk. The Witch could understand what was going through his mind. She could figure out what he wanted. There was an almost wordless but deep relationship between them. He thought the only person who understood him was the White Witch. After all, she raised him in some way.

He rested his hands behind his back and walked away in silence. Jadis knew what she had to do.

"How much time do we have?" you said when Peter gave you a dagger.

"Enough to get you out of here."

"I'm not running away."

Peter took a deep breath and looked out from the huge castle windows. Snow. There was snow everywhere. Could he end the freezing winter? It's been a month since they found you, but there hasn't been a single improvement. It was as if everything was getting worse. The winter was harsher, Narnia was more dangerous. A wild wind that signaled that the White King was looking for you and would find you eventually. But why didn't he come earlier? Why didn't he start a war to capture you earlier? It was as though the trees listened to everything and told him that the right time had come. Now that you were Peter's only hope, he couldn't lose you either. But there was more. One month was enough for him to realize that there was more. Maybe... one day, he thought.

He looked at you, holding your hands. "You're not running away. You're just hiding."

"It's the same thing!"

"You are a hope that has come to Narnia after a decade. It is my duty to protect you. And I have the final word."

There was a brief silence. "I see. Narnia needs me, so no harm should come to me."

You weren't looking at him anymore. Your eyes wandered over the ground and then over the beautiful, eerie snow. He thought how beautiful you looked. But sad. "Yes, Narnia needs you and I have to make sure that you are safe."

You turned your offended face to him. He put your one hand on his heart and the other hand on his face. You were so full of life and pure. Since the first time he saw you, his sisters have noticed that there was something changed in him. And it was their fun to make fun of it. But they were so happy for him. It was the first time they had seen their older brother so full of love in fifteen years of cruelty. He definitely became attached to you in a short time and had no intention of leaving you. He didn't know the extent of his attachment to you, all he knew was that his heart ached when he didn't see you even for a second. "But Narnia is not the only reason."

You felt your face got warm. To be honest, you've been waiting for this moment. He was a charming person. Brave, patient, caring, leader... Your mouth fell open while your eyes widened. Maybe... one day, you thought.

"He's here! We're too late!" Lucy shouted from the outside.

"You were wrong. Enough to confess." You said, smiling.

He caressed your hands and smiled. "Still enough."

Edmund; the oppressor, the ruthless, the fierce White King. Even if their High King was Peter, they were afraid of him. They couldn't ignore him or disrespect him by saying, "you're not our king." It was known that he made collections of them.

He had not seen his siblings for fifteen years. While he was a prisoner of the White Witch, he had a chance to escape and go back to them, but he didn't. He was afraid to change his mind. But on what? At that time, he didn't have the wish of becoming a king in his mind. There was a boy who just wanted to go home. A boy who missed his mother and hid from the war. But he could not ignore the growing darkness in his heart. He loved and embraced this darkness. He was afraid of losing this mysterious self he had if he returned to his siblings.

Was he nervous? Was he angry? Was he excited? He didn't know. His mind was pensive as he approached the sheltered castle. Was he happy to see them? He wasn't sure about that. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to feel something. Instead there was no life in his cruel heart.

He was sitting alone in his sleigh. He looked straight ahead. Neither to the right nor to the left. He had a white fur and cloak that could easily disappear among the snow. It did not belong to any living thing. It was a big, magical fur that his witch created especially for him. Every single garment and every single precious jewel of his was white. It was not just any ordinary white color. It was magical and ominous, cursed like snow. On his head was a crown of ice similar to that of the White Witch. But it was much larger and disproportionate. A crown that was almost as sharp as a knife and reflected his unstable inner world. The only thing that made him look distinctive in white was his natural hair and longing eyes.

Jadis was on another sleigh next to him. She was also dressed in white and had a sharp crown of ice on her head, but smaller than before. She had taken off her crown when Edmund became king, but he had let her keep it on condition that she would make it much more smaller, like a little insignificant accessory. She put the reason down to his generosity, but the main reason was that the White Witch, whom he knew and was used to, had that crown. He couldn't quite get rid of his past. His heart and mind had been damaged. It was hard to let go of the people and things he was used to. He had chosen to lose his family. At least now he could choose not to lose some things.

"The new hope of Narnia" he said, smiling vaguely.

Susan took Peter's hand. They were little, they were children. Now they had all become young adults. Young kings and queens. No one said anything, but what they were feeling and what was going through their minds was the same. After all those years... What was going to happen?

And here he was. The White King and his White Witch. Their big sleigh stopped side by side. There were only two of them. There was no army in sight. It was a frightening display of force. It meant that their younger brother had became so powerful that even the High King Peter the Magnificent could not afford to stand against him. To come without an army was to despise him. Since it was certain that he did not come there with the intention of peace, this was an insult.

Susan took her hand from Peter's and waited with one hand on her arrow. She was ready to stop Edmund, and maybe to stop him forever. As if she could. Peter couldn't foresee what he wanted to do, so he waited. His army was on standby for his order. An army against two "person". Peter knew that it would take more than a whole army for two person with these powers.

"Where is Lucy?" Edmund's voice wavered like a song in the maddening silence. The wind somehow perfectly conveyed to them his voice, which was impossible to hear at a distance. There was no need to shout, there was no need to get closer. There was no need for unnecessary family reunions. And they had no way of inviting him to their walls anyway. He was too unreliable for that.

"She preferred not to see you. Her heart is broken, you know. Because of you." he said it a little loudly, but there was no need for it. Edmund had sharp ears now, he heard Peter with ease.

"You betrayed us." Susan said. She thought her heart wouldn't soften when she saw him, but she couldn't take her eyes off his brother, who had become a young man, even for a moment. The cold air dried her tears quickly. She missed his little brother very much.

"I- I..." Edmund murmured. He frowned, looked confused but he wasn't really. He smiled slightly. "...really want to see Lucy."

"As I said earlier, she doesn't want to see you. What is the reason you come here after all those years?" Peter said, this time more quietly but confidently.

Edmund stared at the beautiful castle. His smile was more visible. "White... It's nice to see your warm home dressed in white. And do you like it, my brother? Do you like my beautiful cold gift? Does it fill my absence in your warm home?"

His calm and soft voice filled the ears of both of them. Something was wrong. There was an odd feeling inside them. They looked at each other for a moment.

"You could have filled your absence yourself." Peter said. "Why are you here?"

"To become a family again." He let out a small laugh.

"Stop it! Don't play with us!" Peter shouted.

Edmund took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the cold filled his lungs. Becoming a family again? Even his joke felt impossible. It felt like a bitter taste on his tongue. It sounded like a forbidden sentence. Becoming a family again? Even the thought of it was unbearable.

"Why these stupid questions that you already know the answers?" He let out a deep breath, making it sound like he was extremely bored.

Peter took out his sword. "Answer me!"

Edmund slowly opened his arms and showed around. His thin and long fingers were rather pale, but strong. "I came to find a new... hope."

Peter gulped. There was no trace of goodness on his brother's face. He seemed more full of evil than the White Witch. He wore a mask looking like compassionate, but he was cruel behind it. "There's no hope left for you."

Edmund raised his head and stared into the blinding whiteness. 'It's too late for me, isn't it, brother?' he thought.

"Tell Lucy that I really would like to see her. And tell her that... it wasn't her fault." He said. The smile on Edmund's face didn't go away. It wasn't an empty, numb smile, it was a smile of victory. "It was yours."

As their sleigh returned in the direction from which they had come, Peter put back his sword and looked at Susan. He didn't know what to think, he was confused about what to do. When did his little brother turn into such a dark and deceptive person?

"What did he mean?" Susan asked anxiously.

"I don't know."

Cold, icy, soulless. It's like these walls wanted to kill your soul. It's as if these chains have chained you to your terrible fate. The wait was painful, but was it sweeter than what was going to happen to you? The sculptures of poor Narnians with whom you shared the dungeon had agreed you.

The unnatural cold has forced you to sleep. You didn't know how long it had been when you woke up, but it had been long enough for your body to hurt from the hard ground.

"Oh, no!" You shivered when you heard the Witch's shout. She said the king wanted to stay alone. "Get out!"

The sweet comfort of painful waiting had come to an end at last.

The White King, tall and unnaturally pale-skinned, stood in front of your cell. You wondered if there was any trace left of that old brother Lucy told you about. You wondered how much he had changed. Lucy thought that why Edmund lied to Peter about seeing Narnia when they were a child was only because he was a bully. If she had known that Narnia would become what it was today, she would never have told her siblings about her secret world.

You looked desperately into his eyes. Imploringly. You never stopped looking into those firm eyes of his for a moment.

"The new hope of Narnia." He said. "Why do you look so hopeless?"

"I- I'm not h..." The longer you looked at him, the more hypnotized you felt. You shook your head and kept your eyes on the ground. There was something about him that attracted you in a scary way. "Peter will save me."

He tapped his ring rhythmically against the bars. "Peter... Why Peter?"

You didn't answer.

"Oh, I know."

You turned your head.

"Of course I know."

Would you end up like these beavers standing next to you?

"You've had time enough to take a fancy to my charming brother."

You looked at him when he opened the dungeon. His long white cloak and fur were touching the ground. They looked so warm. You wished you had one of them.

"Are you cold?" He asked, already knowing your answer.

You nodded. He released you from the chains and helped you to stand up. You couldn't help but tremble with fear. What was he trying to do?

He wrapped you inside his cloak and made you disappear next to his body. You leaned your head against him and put one hand on his chest. It was warm. So warm, perfect.

He led you out of the dungeon. After he sat on his throne, he placed you on his lap. You were warm and sleepy. You rested your head on his chest. The cloak and fur he wrapped around you made you feel incredibly peaceful.

This, this was not normal.

"Do you know what the best part is?" he talked to himself while you were on that strange line between sleep and wakefulness. "To imagine that my brother is devastated because he failed to protect you."

He rubbed your back. "Sometimes I close my eyes, sometimes I focus on a point. But what I do is the same. To imagine." He smiled, was lost in thought again. "He is now a desperate man whose loved one has been stolen from him. 'The magnificent king of Narnia', who lost hope, found hope and could not protect it."

He pulled you a little towards himself. He held your chin and turned your face to him. You were sleeping. Peaceful, beautiful and vulnerable. You were like the other innocent beauties he destroyed. He had never wanted to see a flower or a sparkle, he had destroyed them all. It shouldn't have been hard to kill you. As Peter had said, there was no longer any hope for him. Edmund had already killed his hope, with his own hands. Why would you be any different?

But you were. He took you to his quarters and put you in his bed, which kept you warm like his cloak. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked your hair softly. "I am cruel." He said. "Oh, my poor little hope. I am a very, very cruel monster."

He smiled and kept caressing your hair for a while. Poor sweet girl. Why did you even come to Narnia? Did you like little games like her sister Lucy? He imagined you in the hide-and-seek game they were playing. You ran laughing and followed Lucy. She wanted to get into Edmund's hiding place, but Edmund got annoyed as usual, telling her to find another place. So you grabbed Lucy's hand and ran to the room where the wardrobe was, saying this way. Yes, it could have been a nice memory.

Whatever the innocent reason, this could not change the fact that you were trapped in the cold kingdom of The White King. You were going to spend every day, hoping, to get away from him, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"I'm afraid I will break your heart and lock you in here." He whispered.

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear. Looked at your beautiful skin. "I will chain you up and never let you go."

He stroked your cheek. "I will make Peter suffer only to see the despair in your eyes." He held his breath when he imagined the tears streaming from your eyes and pleading sobs escaping from your trembling lips. He had really turned into a very twisted person, and he had no complaints about it.

He leaned and rubbed his nose to your skin, inhaling your smell. "I will make him watch how I own you to see the desperation in Peter's eyes." He liked that thought. It was something that thrilled him very much to show Peter his strength and leave him helpless. The idea of seeing his own brother miserable, leaving him no choice but to beg because there is nothing he could do was perfect.

"But don't you scared, my beautiful hope. I wouldn't harm a single hair on your head."

"Lucy?!"

Peter and Susan spent hours searching for their little sister Lucy and you. Their plan was to bring you back when Edmund left. Lucy was supposed to take you to a safe place just for a while.

"I'm here!"

"Lucy!" She was tied to a tree, sitting.

"Are you okay?" Peter rescued her and helped her to stand up. Everyone who was supposed to protect the girls had been killed.

"I'm okay but..." Lucy cried, hugging Peter. "I'm so sorry."

Peter felt bad enough already. For hours, he couldn't even take a sip of water out of concern for Lucy's safety and yours. He found one of his loved ones, but what happened to the other?

He hugged her tighter. And it was all his fault.

He caressed Lucy's hair. "It wasn't your fault." He whispered.

In the weeks and months that followed, Peter didn't stop trying to find you. Narnia had lost hope once again. Peter had once again lost a person he loved. It hurt him even more that his own brother was the one who put him through this pain. But that was just the beginning. Edmund, The White King, now had a wife. The White Hope.

#dark edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie #yandere edmund pevensie #king edmund the just #just king of narnia #king edmund pevensie #the white witch #yandere edmund pevensie x reader #dark edmund pevensie x reader #dark narnia #yandere narnia #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #x naive reader #x kidnapped reader #narnia #the white hope

903 notes · View notes

nexusnyx · 1 year

Note

This is for your sleepover. I am just being a menace knowing what this prompt could cause. I am requesting a fic. Work at all your leisure.

So it is a request for a Dark! King Caspian. Prompts

"i thought i could trust you." "and whose fault is that?"

their breath hitching whenever the other gets a little closer

Maybe if you would like some background

Reader was Caspian's friend that has helped him even after everyone has told them he was a lost cause. But Reader is in love and keeping it from him. But that's just a suggestion you work your own magic.

Okay, we spoke about this and I told you what people have no clue about, but Prince Caspian was my first fictional boyfriend. My first man. I haven't written him in ages and this might genuinely tingle parts of my brain that were long forgotten, but I can't wait. Here we go, Ellie. — main masterlist | 🏷️: Dark!King Caspian, life-long best friends, friends to enemies to lovers to 'friends', pining, mentions of smut, unresolved sexual tension; [WC: 1.4k]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ˗ˏˋ꒰ i was never there ꒱

Peace among the Telmarine Kingdoms came at high prices that one but he, the King, was ready to speak for or own up to. It came at the cost of what sometimes felt like his soul if he still believed in those.

Most of the time, you stood by his side as Caspian chose whatever he must.

As his Counselor, you knew what no one else in the world did.

As his friend, you saw what even Caspian himself tried to hide. And as his lover... well—that part was long gone. But you remembered it. What it was like, having the pieces of him that reminded you of the Caspian that once was. Having the pieces of the King, who reminded you of who you kept falling for. Being trapped by.

Caspian won you back by saying Narnia would collapse without you.

Back then, a couple of years ago, he went into the woods in search of you after the fallout you two had and whispered the words you longed to hear for a long time. "I can't do this without you. Come back to me. You know it's different with us—you know... it's us."

“I’ll come back under one condition.”

“Anything.” The way Caspian uttered words changed after he became King. After power dripped off his shoulders as if his cloaks and clothes carried magic unknown by everyone else.

“It’ll be different. I’m not—your Consort.” The way you spit out the word carried your shame, the memories, and his taste. “Don’t turn me into one. Not again.”

Instead of nodding along, Caspian took his time before answering. He looked around your tent, looked you up and down as if searching for the answer in your body — as he had many times before — and then, after tense seconds of silence, he nodded, solemn. “I won’t.”

You knew the roundtable were still in talks to marry him to Ramandu’s daughter. Two years of absence and that was yet to change.

Caspian’s stubbornness was as iconic as his sword.

But if he would marry her—and he would, for there was no doubt about the best choice for Narnia’s King, then you would stay clear of his chambers.

“You’ll advise me. Go back to your place by my side.” He spoke in absolutes, and it made you remember that now, you had to look straight into his eyes when he spoke, and not the curve of his lips. Not the dark feathers surrounding his neck, or the secrets he hid in the corner of his mouth.

“So it is.”

It lasted months.

Months of Caspian showing you how much he had changed — so much power, how could one being carry so much power within them — and yet, how much he was still the same. The sudden bursts of playfulness when the two of you were alone in the private gardens of the castle. The knowing looks and entire conversations he was able to carry with you over people’s heads in balls, meetings, encounters. All of that, and the sizzling, almost-alive energy that you two generated when you got too close.

That went nowhere.

“Where did you go?” He asked you in rose garden once. You two had practiced the shortsword together long enough to be dripping in sweat, so you sat under a willow tree and watched as Caspian laid his body by your feet, resting his head on his hand. “None of my soldiers could find you for too long.”

“Narnia is a big place,” you answered. Being difficult with him was a pastime you never grew out of.

Caspian rolled his eyes. “I’m happy your time away in mysterious place never robbed you of your difficultness.”

“How could it? I was born with it.”

Caspian smiled. One of those rare and gorgeous smiles. “I said that when I was a teenager. Will you ever let it go?”

“Never.” That memory was etched into you. Tattooed on the walls of your brain, along with the first kiss of his lips on yours that followed those words.

The air sizzled slightly, and you knew the topic etched too close to dangerous waters.

“And you—did you learn anything about battling with more than one weapon or are we done here?”

It was good enough of a distraction.

The battlefield became your only escapade. The only place you two could be near each other, close, touching, and the hitches on your breath or soft gasps that escaped your lips could be passed by something else other than it was.

A storm, brewing in the distance.

He’d promised you that he’d keep his distance. Caspian promised to respect your wished, but Caspian lied before.

A few days after that, and he brings you back to where you were before running away.

Harvest festivals were a time of drunkenness, stupidity, accidents.

As his Counselor and one of his first Knights, it meant hours of boring work—being one of the few sober people in a castle full of drunks and high folks was not only tiresome, it was annoying.

When he comes to you offering a glass of — you check with your nose, humming along — absinthe, and his pipe, you think, at least this. At least a little bit of peace.

You two talk for a while. Hushed tones, poised faces. People pass by and greet, sometimes stopping to try and participate, but as always, they feel left out after a while. Nothing and no one can quite keep your pace—you and Caspian developed your own rhythm years ago, and that only worsened with the years.

When he asks to go up to the meeting room, it’s past the peak of night. It must be only a few hours before sunrise, and you think—’the guards can finish this’. So you go up.

Conversation about the trip to Poppy Fields is so good that you almost miss it.

His eyes on you, heavy and meaningful. The long sips he takes of his glass, and how his voice lowers.

When you do register, it’s because of proximity. You’re standing in front of his bookshelf, checking the new addition titles he acquired in your absence, and then, his presence covers your back like a dark cloud.

You shiver, breath hitching once again. Caspian’s close. Too close for a conversation, and the silence that comes with it makes it known for the both of you.

This proximity’s dangerous, and it makes a knot climb up your throat.

He’d promised.

Frozen, you stand there in silence, your words forgotten and the topic of the conversation unknown to you, carried away by the wind. All you can feel is how his chest is only a couple of inches away. He removed his cloak, leaving only his white blousy tucked in his pants, and know what he looks like without taking a glance back.

“You promised me.” It comes out as a sad, choked whisper.

He knows you’re too weak to ever want to push him away. “I did.” He sounds surprised. Not at breaking his promise, but that he did one in the first place. Caspian’s hands find your waist, and they might as well be balls of fire for the way they burn through your clothes, warming the skin under. “I tried.”

He had. Both of you had, you knew.

"I thought I could trust you." To try harder. To keep your promise.

Caspian chuckles at that, dark and low. His face inches closer, his lips ghosting over your ear in that way he knows makes you weak— "And whose fault is that?" With those words, he pulls your body flushed against his, and then brings his lips to your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses that goes from under your ear to the column of your throat.

Caspian lied before, but never to you.

But then again, if you thought about it, he had promised long ago that he would never hide what he really feels for you. He promised that first.

You spin around in his arms when Caspian’s teeth sink against you, and bury your moan in his mouth, surrending entirely to the ocean of him and everything you missed. You’re shaking, hands trembling and chest panting, but so is he.

Neither of you will make past the table this first time, but this table had seen your naked body before, and it had seen its King falling apart by your hands.

This was your fault. And his. And you two were guilty, willingly, together. Over and over again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ* . join my Fireplace celebration. * | send me mail 💌

#caspian x peter #prince caspian x you #prince caspian smut #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian imagine #prince caspian x y/n #prince caspian x f!reader #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fluff #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes fic #usernexusnyx #nyx10fireplace.ೃ࿐#ben barnes x f!reader #ben barnes fanfic

413 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I think this might be one of my favourite headcanons that I’ve written, especially for Narnia...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ “Free-spirited, artistic, and somewhat aloof,” Aslan had named the three words that described you. Lucy wanted to know what the new seamstress was like, since you would be around them a lot.

⭑ The young queen was puzzled by these words, not because she didn’t understand their meaning, but because their old seamstress was just that ... old.

⭑ “Doesn’t seem like she’d make a very good seamstress then,” Susan retorted. Shuffling papers together.

⭑ Aslan gave a short chuckle and strode out of the council chamber, Lucy on his heels.

⭑ “Just give her a chance,” he stated to no one in particular.

⭑ And they had. The Pevensie siblings had their reservations, since they had grown accustomed to their old seamstress of many years, but they were open to you.

⭑ You put Susan’s teeth on edge for the first few weeks. Her constant worries were met with your smiles and nods.

⭑ But you never left their clothes too late, or too loose or too tight.

⭑ You were a brilliant seamstress - one that could create beautiful clothes from nothing but a curtain and some rope.

⭑ Peter liked you -

⭑ So did Lucy

⭑ They both admired your creative and out-of-the-box nature. Which was saying something because you did grow up in a land with dwarfs and talking animals.

⭑ And because the Pevensie’s were the only humans in Narnia, your lineage was confusing.

⭑ “So, you’re not a human woman...” Lucy had said one sunny afternoon. “But you’re not a faun or dwarf and you definitely don’t have a tail..” You both laughed at that

⭑ “No, not that I’ve noticed,” you replied heartily

⭑ It was difficult to explain, but you were part fairy. A fae-human hybrid that could enter people’s dreams, stop aging and with great effort - fly. (Click here if you want to know more, I had no idea how many creatures actually lived in Narnia...)

⭑ Edmund was ... wary of you. His actions with the White Witch still clouded his mind and his guilt felt heavy.

⭑ But you didn’t hold it against him.

⭑ No one can be all good, and live without mistakes. There would be no point in living if we were all perfect.

⭑ And so, being around you was like he could breathe again.

⭑ You took his worries, anxieties, and self-hatred and blew it away. As if your very being was magic (and it was.)

⭑ Edmund told you about his nightmares, and how the White Witch still haunted him. Even though years and years had passed by.

⭑ You perked up even more - because that was one of your talents. You could enter people’s dream state and alter their nightmares/dreams.

⭑ And that night ... you did -

⭑ It was the first night in years that he had a full nights sleep. He did not wake up once.

⭑ The first thing he did when he woke the next morning was run to you. Already in your work room, hunched over a spinning wheel and humming to yourself. You glittered in the sunlight, and Edmund was struck with such a new feeling. ‘Love,’ he thought, ‘this must be what it feels like.’

⭑ He didn’t enter the room, but rather turned around, and went to find Lucy.

⭑ Edmund explained his feelings and wanted her opinion on what to do next. Since she spent the most time with you.

⭑ The romance that Edmund was showing you made your heart soar. Not many people... or creatures, had shown you attention like this.

⭑ And a king?

⭑ Well... what person wouldn’t want this attention ...

⭑ And since the politics of marrying weren’t so harsh on Edmund - Lucy defended her brother and you. She was the biggest advocate for your relationship.

⭑ “Wouldn’t it be a positive for the Narnians to see one of them on the throne? Next to a King?” Her point was extremely valid. And although Susan could argue - the fact was ... she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to argue against her brother. Or against you.

⭑ Susan could see the good you brought him - the light that shone in his eyes now.

⭑ So you married.

⭑ And it was one of the happiest days of your life.

⭑ Your days were still filled with work -

⭑ You didn’t want to give up your position as a seamstress

⭑ So you were now ... the royal seamstress? Queen of the seamstresses?

⭑ Anywho - you were still creating for the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Your family.

⭑ You moved into Edmund’s chambers and it was ... awkward at first. Well, he was awkward. You just watched as he showed you around the chamber (because it was quite large.)

⭑ An ensuite, a large oak desk with a chair to match, a four-poster bed, marble floor to ceiling. It was all so elaborate.

⭑ He showed you where you could have your stuff, but began moving his - because he instantly felt bad that he had made that decision for you.

“Actually, I’ll just move my stuff. You choose!”

⭑ Your heart swelled. He cared so much about you

⭑ Ed sleeps closest to the door (so that if there’s a threat he can protect you)

⭑ He wakes up first, and gazes at you adoringly for hours

“Ed...”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Sorry, you’re just...so pretty...”

⭑ Helping each other get ready in the mornings and nights.

⭑ He never has nightmares again, even though you don’t use your powers. It’s because of your union, AND your proximity when sleeping.

⭑ Lucy will burst into the room some mornings, waking both you and Ed. She leaps onto your bed and snuggles in between you two.

⭑ Relationship Tropes:

✧ Off the Walls Eccentric (You) x Emotional Wall with 1 Weakness (Ed)

✧ Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Ed) x The Top (You)

✧ Aggressively Supportive

#king edmund the just #edmund pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #narnia x reader #narnia x you #narnia #narnia moodboard #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x you #edmund pevensue headcanons #headcanons #witchthewriter #reader inesrt #fanfiction #narnia fanfic

1K notes · View notes