Title: On the Other Side of the Wardrobe
Rating: G
Summary: They have gone from English children to Narnian monarchs back to English children again. One sleepless night, Lucy and Peter juggle their dual identities, hope for guidance and seek reassurance in each other. A Lucy & Peter siblingfic.
Written for the Narnia Fic Exchange 2013, for Moriwen who wanted a Lucy and Peter sibling fic, with mentions of rthstewart-universe.
Many thanks to rthstewart who created such a magnificent (!) cast of OC, some of whom are named-dropped in this fic.
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
"Cheshire Puss," Alice began . . . "Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where—" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"—so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
— Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Back on this side of the wardrobe, Lucy found that she had trouble sleeping. After all, she was eight again, and thus could not escape the Macready forcing her into bed at hours when in Narnia they would be sitting down to sup. She understood that this body – which truly was the body of a child – needed the sleep, but the English country was too quiet, lacking the sound of the waves outside her window, the soft music of the Trees' lullaby and the occasional hoot of the Parliament. She even missed the comfort of the night-guard, who she never realized she could feel even in her sleep, until now when they were no longer there.
When sleep thus evaded her, Lucy would creep out of the room, and head towards the spare room, to sit and gaze at her Narnia, carved into the apple wood, glowing in the light of her candle.
On the first night she indulged in this nostalgia, she woke Peter up when passing his room, and the wooden floor-board creaked under her feet. They might be children again, but Peter clearly found, as Lucy would find later, that the instincts honed in Narnia stayed with them. Years of sleeping in camp, on campaign and at war had taught them to wake at the slightest disturbances, especially when sleeping in strange places and in foreign beds.
Peter peeked into the spare room and then draped his dressing gown around her shoulders, because Lucy had not thought to take her own. The faded blue wool fanned out on the wooden floorboard like her long dresses and robes once did, but without the stateliness she had been used to. The wool was warm and rough, not the cool, smooth, pampering silk and satin of her Narnian dresses. How strange, now that she was here, Lucy came to miss the fripperies that she was so indifferent to in Narnia. Perhaps it was because the lack of them was another reminder that she was here and not there.
"Do you think we might ever go back?" Lucy asked when Peter sat down beside her. She looked over at him, and was startled, because even in the candle light, he was so much smaller than she was used to.
"I don't know; the Professor and Miss Plummer never did," Peter said with a sigh.
She didn't tell Peter about how, that afternoon, when Edmund was with the Professor and Peter and Susan were sitting with Miss Plummer, that she had tried half a dozen times to shut herself in the wardrobe, hoping that she would fall through the fur and the wood into – not snow this time, but sweet, soft, Narnian grass again, maybe with a Dryad branch to catch her fall. But there had been nothing other than the rough texture of wood, the mothy smell of fur-coats and the cold draft of her disappointment.
"I miss them, Peter," she confessed. "I was in the kitchen today and they were feeding the knuckle bones to Miss Plummer's dog and it hit me, I won't get to meet Briony's new litter and – "
Peter took her hand in comfort while she leaned her head against his shoulder. That felt different, too, because this Peter was thirteen, and not the broad-shouldered, battle-hardened warrior-brother she had been so accustomed to.
"Do you think we might forget?" she asked. "We forgot England in Narnia, after all."
She did not wish to forget; her current heart could not bear the thought. It wasn't just Narnia, either. Narnia was beautiful and wonderful, but a beautiful land with a castle by the sea could hardly capture her heart like the people there could. Her heart clenched and ached at the idea of erasing them from her soul – her friends, subjects, mentors, confidants, the Beavers, Mr. Hoberry, Mrs. Furner, Cook, Tumnus, Briony, Morgan, and -
Lucy choked down a sob. Who would she be without them? How could she put away fifteen years of growth, life and love? She did not know how to be this English child trapped in the burgeoning heart and mind of a Queen.
"I don't know if I have that kind courage," Lucy said, wiping away the tears. "I don't want to lose myself, Peter, but how does one become valiant when one is shoved off to the countryside as a useless child to hide away from the war in the real world?"
"The same way one becomes magnificent in the body of a half-grown boy, I suppose," Peter said with a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Lu."
In Narnia, when they did not know something, they always had others to turn to for answers, for comfort, for explanation, even if they might not be able to reach Aslan himself. Here, there were only her brothers and sister, the Professor and Miss Plummer who would truly understand. And if even Peter could not give her the answer she sought, then who here could? Was she hoping, demanding too much that Aslan might be here as well? In Narnia, she only had to close her eyes and ask. Could it possibly be the same here?
"Don't cry, Lu," Peter whispered, squeezing her shoulder. "I think, this time, we could choose not to forget. Aslan would not give us such gifts only to take it all away again, as if none of it happened, as long as we stay true to the wisdom that we've been given. I don't think you could revert back to the child you were before anymore than Edmund could – and in Ed's case, I think we would all be thankful for that!"
Lucy smiled wanly through her tears. It was not only Edmund, either. They had all undergone such change, that surely even travel between worlds could not undo?
"I know it's worse for you and Ed to be here – " Peter continued, and Lucy stiffened. He trailed off midsentence.
It was as if both of them were holding their breaths. She knew though he had opened the door, he would not allow the conversation to cross the threshold unless she invited it.
Lucy did not know if it was something she could talk about right then, not just to Peter or Susan, but even to Edmund. Everything was still so fresh, so raw, with so many questions and unknowns. When her heart burnt like this, even Lucy the Valiant struggled for understanding. She wished for a definite answer, she would rather be told that it had all ended, rather than sitting here, feeling like those wardrobe doors were the only barrier between her and her heart's desire, taunting her, and she was unable to cross it.
Now she remembered that, sometimes, there had been wistful looks...when he did not think she was looking, that confused her. Here, now, she wondered whether it was because he had known…
Her brother was rubbing soothing circles on her back, but thankfully he was not making useless remarks like "it will be all right". At that moment, it wasn't all right and Lucy was sure it would be a long time before it could be all right again, for any of them. It was all well to share stories with the Professor and Miss Plummer, but there were still things that they did not touch on, things that could barely be called memories yet, because they had been still present in her life literally last week. Lucy could not pretend that she was not grieving, yet at the same time, it felt like she was mourning her own death, rather than the loss of those whom she loved.
Peter was wrong, though, because his and Susan's losses and pain could not be said to be less than hers and Edmund's; she told him this. "After all, it is not something to be measured."
"No, it is not, I suppose," Peter said.
Still, he followed her lead in taking the original subject no further. She would speak of it later to Edmund, she told herself, if she could bring herself to, and if Edmund would allow her. Peter and Susan did not hurt less than she but also they would not understand the way Edmund would.
"I don't think I could forget, Lu, but I don't know what we are to do when this summer is over, either," Peter said with a sigh. "Did we fight battles, defend a country and grow with Aslan by our sides only to go to school again when autumn comes? Must we act the part of children again?"
Lucy sniffed back tears. There had been questions, too many questions since they have come back and it seemed like answering one only made five more crop up. She wondered whether the fact that the Professor and Miss Plummer both treated them like the adults and monarchs that they were was making the entire situation even less helpful, because it contrasted so starkly and so painfully with the way the Macready still felt free to scold them for disturbing the Professor and his guest. From here on out, undoubtedly where would be more people who would treat them more like the Macready did rather than like their Narnian friends.
"Children grow up here too, eventually," Lucy said. "It is not so much being a child that I dread, exactly, Peter. It is the fact that we have no voice here. Always to be seen and not heard. I don't know how I shall bear it."
Even as children in Narnia, they had power and a stance, if not with the world at large, then among the Narnians whom they loved and loved them in return. It was the future of not being heard, of being pushed aside as insignificant, more than this eight-year-old body, that frightened and muddled her. Yet it was all the more reasons to for her to hold on to the few who did understand what a puzzle her own identity had become.
Was it possible for her to be Lucy Pevensie, school girl, and Lucy of Narnia, Queen, Knight, et cetera, both? The fact that she sat here now told her that on a physical plane, she existed. Yet what use would England have for a Queen and Knight of Narnia, especially when entrapped in the physical form of a little girl that everyone would find so easy to dismiss?
"I suppose even the Professor and Miss Plummer cannot teach us how to be children without losing our grown, adult self along the way," Peter said ruefully. "That is our domain and obstacle alone, and now, more than ever, I wish for Aslan's guiding paws here."
"If Aslan could send us there and back again, then he could walk with us here, too, I think."
Peter turned to look at her, and even in the low candle light, she could see his eyes shining with hope. "You really believe that?"
"If I close my eyes and wish hard enough, I think I can feel him – Aslan," she whispered. "And I have to believe that it is not just a dream, a figment of my imagination. I won't have the courage to face what is ahead otherwise. It is illogical, as you or Susan might say before we went through the wardrobe, but Peter, if I abandon this faith, I will then abandon any hope of seeing Aslan again, either here or there. I cannot do that, Peter."
She knew Aslan was real, more real even when he was not physically by her. She was beloved by him; his love and grace was what taught her first to believe – in him, in the magic of Narnia, in the wonder of his creation and all who came with it. She was taught to love as he loved, and even now, across the great divide of two worlds, her love still encompassed all whom she left behind.
So yes, perhaps Peter was right. It would not be possible to forget this time around. Faith and hope might be seen as a child's wish, but the love that had its root in his light was tangible, even here, and would still be everlasting in Narnia even if they were physically gone.
Yet, even in the comfort that she would always have Aslan's love, there were still moments when Lucy needed to know she had security and reassurance from her big brother as well. So, sounding more like the child she physically was, she asked, "Do you think we can do it, though, Peter? Living two identities, such a double life?"
"Even if we could not, is there another way to go?" Peter asked, not answering her directly. Perhaps even Peter did not know. She sighed. "But of the four of us," Peter continued, "if there is one who could do it, it is you, Lucy. Even if he should speak to us here, no doubt you would be the one to hear him best. You always had enough faith for us all, either here or there. I hope you will remind me of it when I need it, Sister."
She smiled wryly to herself. So while the child in her sought his comfort, Peter also had uncertainties that needed solace from her as well. Then again, it had been much like that between the four of them in Narnia too. They ruled together, consulted, advised and depended on each other for judgement and support. So it would be again, here in England.
Their first few days in Narnia had been rather like this too, with too many fears, worries and questions. If in Narnia, their subjects had to take time to learn about their human monarchs, then here, those around them – not just the Professor and Miss Plummer, but everyone else as well, including their parents when they saw them – would have to learn to adjust to them as they were now: the not-children. It had been hard in Narnia, and surely a thousand times harder in England, where everyone knew so little of who they truly were. But if they managed to build a country up from the ravage of war, surely they could face this world of their birth, which was now a brave new world to them.
They had prevailed in Narnia, though it took over ten hard years before the country began to look anything like a Golden Age, and so they would again, in England. They would never be monarchs here, to rebuild another Golden Age in their names. Lucy did not know yet for what purpose they have been brought back, and what roles they would all play in the future, but she refused to believe there was no rhyme or reason to this return. She only knew, now that she was here, there was naught to do but make the best of it.
To be the lost monarchs of Narnia in England would surely be a challenge, a challenge which she was sure would result in many frustrations, tears, moments of weakness, of questioning both oneself and Aslan. Then again, the English children who had grown to be Narnian monarchs had once faced those challenges too. If Aslan was not wrong in placing his faith in them when they were truly children who knew so little, he could not be wrong in releasing them on this world, when, despite all appearances, they were much older and wiser now.
The simultaneous existence of their two lives when put side by side like this seemed like something they never should have to deal with. It seemed overwhelmingly impossible to live such a life. And yet, to survive this world, Lucy knew that it must be one of those impossible things that she would need to believe in before breakfast.
The End