Disclaimer: All the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.
CHRISTMAS WISHES
He makes the rounds as he does every night, watching over the ones who sleep, the ones he's always watched over, the ones more dear to him than his life. There is a special warmth in Cair Paravel this night, this Christmas Night. Already there has been feasting and singing, games and teasing, unabashed revelry, gift giving and receiving, squeals of laughter and delight, warm thanks, kisses and hugs. Now those he loves are sleeping, and he thinks of what more he would wish for them.
He pads silently into the first room. Lucy, beloved Lucy. She looks tiny curled up in her high royal bed, clutching her stuffed unicorn still adorned with a red Christmas bow. Lucy overflows with light and love and laughter, and there is just no darkness in her. He wishes for her to be forever full of the joy and innocence that shine from her now even as she grows into the courageous young woman she will someday be. He drops a kiss onto her freckled nose and whispers a blessing over her before moving on.
In the second room, he has to push away a mound of blankets before he uncovers the tousled dark head half buried under a feather pillow. Edmund, beloved Edmund. This one still feels the winter's cold more than the others, but tonight at least there are no nightmares. Tonight, for once, the boy dreams of something that puts a faint smile on his lips, and the one who has always watched over him smiles fondly, too. For Edmund, he wishes peace and wholeness. He wishes for him to never doubt he is forgiven and loved and needed, desperately needed, by the others who reign here. With another blessing, he presses a kiss to the boy's pale forehead and then moves silently away.
The third room is awash with moonlight. It falls silver on the bed, lighting the angel-faced sleeper, illuminating the curve of a fair cheek against the blackness of the hair. Susan, beloved Susan. She, too, seems more at peace this night. Though she has rarely been troubled by nightmares, he knows she carries burdens much too heavy for one of her tender years, burdens made all the more insupportable when coupled with fears and doubts. He wishes for Susan the sweet peace of belief, of trusting beyond knowing, of resting in truth rather than sight. He kisses the blooming cheek, blessing her before he leaves her to sweet dreams.
At last he reaches the fourth room. The wide, soft bed, the bed of the High King, is warmed by the flickering firelight and a wealth of rich coverings. In it sleeps a boy, really not quite a man yet, his golden head resting on one pillow and his arms clutched protectively around another. Peter, beloved Peter. There is a sweet purity in his slack face, a look that says he has exhausted himself in loving and caring for the other three who sleep here this night and in doing the same for his dear kingdom. It is a look that says he was made for such a purpose and would have it no other way. The one who has always watched over him nuzzles Peter's cheek and wishes for him courage and strength and faith to support the others and wisdom to let them support him as they together rule. At last he leaves the boy to his rest, breathing a blessing on him and all of Narnia for this Christmas Night and always.
And, still soundly asleep, the High King smiles and dreams of a Lion's purr.