Scars
Summary: The scars may not be visible anymore, but they're still there, and healing is a painful process four all four pevensies. Set post Silver Chair. One-shot.
Author's Note: This is a response to the lyrical challenge I made for myself. I put my iTunes on random, wrote down random lyric to fifty random songs, and am trying to write a story based on either the lyric wrote down or a phrase or word in the lyric. This story came from Skillet's "The Last Night" and the lyric I wrote down was, "You come to me with scars on your wrist."
Also, this story takes place after The Silver Chair. While it really could describe any time after Voyage of the Dawn Treader, there are a few references to Eustace and Jill.
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the Pevensies, Eustace, Jill, Narnia, Aslan, etc. You know the drill.
Peter
He had been High King of an entire nation. He had ruled, and ruled well. He was a soldier. He was a knight. He was a king. He was battle-worn. He was self-assured and confident. He always knew what to do in a crisis. That's what everyone thought of him. A tower of support and of strength. They called him Peter the Magnificent.
Inside, he still felt like a fifteen-year old boy from the countryside in England who could never live up to the title bestowed on him. He was so unconfident, just stumbling along trying to keep his family together. No one else saw him as that little boy anymore.
His parents saw him as a eccentric young man, just starting his second year of university. They saw him as dependable and reliant, but they also worried about him. They whispered to each other at night, talking about all of the children. They had changed years ago, and had never been the same since.
His siblings still saw him as their older brother and high king, simply with a few more battle scars of fighting with the world. Edmund would still follow him into any battle, no matter how hopeless it appeared. Lucy still viewed him as the most Magnificent older brother in the world. Susan, though however far apart she drifted, still saw him as a friend, a team. Eustace now considered Peter a mentor, and Jill revered Peter.
He felt so young, but he also felt so old. When his father had come home from the war, it frightened Peter how well he identified with the world-weary, war-worn look his father look. The tiredness, the hurting, the aching of it all. Peter understood well how his father drifted to sleep at night, thinking of the man he had to kill on the opposite side of the battlefield. Peter knew the uneasiness and self-doubt that came with being a soldier. He knew it all to well.
It had been years since he handed the rightful crown of Narnia to Caspian. He had come to terms with never going back to Narnia. He had found Aslan in England, and that was enough for him. It healed the hurt of missing Narnia and Aslan, but it hadn't been able to heal all his scars.
Peter had once confided in Lucy that the simple things he was doing in his life seemed pointless. When one had ruled an entire nation and made important decision, when one's life actually had an impact on the world, simply studying at an university seemed to be a rather useless thing to do in the scheme of the universe. In the end, it meant nothing.
Her reply had been so simple, and so Lucy. She had grown, but her innocent, almost childlike way of looking at the world had not changed much. "So then make it mean something," She had said.
Meaning would come, she told him later. For now, all he could do was hold on to Lucy's words.
Susan
She had been beautiful. Courtiers had come from across nations to seek her hand. She had been the Gentle Queen, a maternal figure to many. In Narnia, being a woman was not looked down upon. She had found her identity in her womanhood. In England, it was different. Gentleness and softness meant nothing. She had to cope by finding herself in her beauty.
They saw her as shallow, as worldly. Perhaps she was, but she knew they didn't understand why she did what she did. She loved Narnia, but she often thought maybe if it hadn't been true, then losing herself in simple beauty wouldn't feel wrong. It would just feel normal. So she tried to pretend Narnia, Aslan, and being Queen Susan the Gentle had never happened.
When Susan knew she wouldn't go back to Narnia, she tried to learn how to get along in England. She saw the fatigue of the women around her, how they tried so hard to be someone they weren't. She also saw that those women were the only ones that had lives. The only ones that society accepted.
Susan saw she had two choices. She could the intelligent, eccentric woman who was kind and polite to everyone but too different for anyone to get close to, or she could don the stilettos and brush on the powder like all the other girls her age.
She knew she should be stronger. She knew she shouldn't give so easily. She belonged in Narnia. But she wasn't in Narnia. She would get along the best she could.
Peter had once told her that he had found Aslan, even in all the midst and chaos that was England. He showed her what he had found. She brushed it off, laughed at him, and told him not to be so silly. But later that night, she read the passage in the old family bible he had showed her. And she knew it was true. She just didn't know if she was strong enough to undergo the fight with the world that would happen everyday if she chose to believe. Peter was strong. Edmund had enough reason to guide him through whatever battles the world would throw his way. Lucy could do it because she always had, and she had never known a never way of thinking. But Susan was unconfident of her ability to do the same as her siblings.
When Eustace and Jill had come back from Narnia, they spoke so convincingly she almost gave in. Just seeing the transformation in Eustace made her speechless. But when she tried to let go of her scars, she found herself clenching her fist instead.
Lucy had once told Susan during an argument that Lucy knew Susan still believed somewhere in herself and she would find her faith again one day.
Susan hoped Lucy was right.
Edmund
He had been the Just King. They considered him wise. Reason was his strongest ally. Many sought his advice in conflict. He planned. Peter had come to consider Edmund the best at war strategy throughout Narnia. He always remembered what Aslan had done for him, and that always guided his decisions.
He had been forgiven, and that fact, while beautiful, continued to haunt him everyday. Though he was overwhelmed with gratitude for what Aslan had done, he also considered it an expectation set on him. He had to show the world that a traitor could change. He felt a need to be kingly, to be the voice of reason in every situation, no matter how much emotions overtook him.
He had changed, and he was glad. But he was also afraid of failing again. After he returned to England, he felt he had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to prove he was sincere. The first time he tried to help someone pick up their things, he received a glare so icy it made him feel like he was back in the White Witch's dungeon.
On the outside, everyone around him seem to accept that his change was permanent, except for himself. The fear of falling back into temptation chained him night and day. Often, when he tried to fall asleep at night, he saw Aslan's golden eyes. They were beautiful, forgiving, and haunting. Sometimes, the memories of those eyes would reassure him. Other times, they plagued him.
Those were the hard days. Had he lost his temper? Was his motivation pure selfishness? He knew Aslan didn't expect him to be perfect, and neither did his family. So why did he?
Sometimes, he could swear he heard a soft lion's whisper in the silent night. "All is forgiven, Son of Adam." The voice would drift over Edmund like a Narnian lullaby, and he would sleep peacefully. Sometimes, it was just as simple as hearing the words and believing.
But on sometimes, the doubt would not leave Edmund's mind. Often on those nights, he would creep into Peter's room. Occasionally, he would wake Peter, and whisper his doubts he would trust with no one else. Most of the time, he would just fall asleep in the chair opposite of Peter's bed, content just to be in the same room as another human being. It made him feel more natural in the world around him.
Edmund never remembered being moved, but often on those nights he would wake up in Peter's bed and see Peter sleeping in the chair. It was a simple big brother gesture, something that was a natural reaction for Peter. It was because it was such a basic reaction for Peter that it made Edmund feel loved.
Edmund's doubts would continue to plague him, of that he was sure. He was also determined to use that motivation to hang onto Aslan so dearly. It was strange, but somewhere in all the doubt he had found confidence.
Lucy
She was Queen Lucy the Valiant. She was brave. She had enough faith to keep everyone holding on. Her unwavering belief in Aslan was her biggest virtue. In Narnia, her simple child-like view of the world was considered a great asset.
In England, she was simply considered naive and childish. Her brothers sought to protect her from the world with all their strength and honor. Her parents, while they didn't quite understand, never questioned their youngest daughter.
But everyone else, including Susan, kept telling Lucy to grow up, to get some common sense. To develop some realism.
What no one seemed to realize was that Lucy wasn't naive. She knew about the world around her, she saw all the hurt and suffering. She knew she couldn't fix it all, even if she wanted to. She just had a faith in the one she believed could and would heal everything. She saw no reason in dwelling on the terrible things in the world unless she could help them.
Lucy had to admit it hurt her to be misunderstood, even after all these years. Even her brothers didn't quite understand. They loved her, and her faith, and they told her to never let it go. They held on to their faith as well, but it wasn't the same. Both Peter and Edmund seemed to believe Lucy was just wired to have faith, as if she didn't have a choice. The truth was, she had just chosen long ago, even before Narnia.
Susan, perhaps, did understand Lucy a little bit. It was strange concept, as Susan had let go of all faith in Narnia and Aslan, but Susan understood Lucy's choice. She understood it because she once had it as well.
Lucy held on to faith because faith meant hope. Hope for Narnia, and for England. Hope for Susan. Hope for all of them.
After an argument with Susan, Lucy had cried on Peter's shoulder that maybe Susan was right. Lucy asked if Peter agreed with Susan, that Lucy was just holding onto Aslan and Narnia for childish reasons. They were all having trouble adjusting, even after all these years, and Lucy thought perhaps she find a more grown-up way to deal with the hurt and scars of Narnia.
"Don't ever change, Lu," was all Peter said. It had seemed reassuring at the time, but later Lucy realized just how cryptic the reply had been. Peter didn't agree with Susan, that much was obvious. But for once, his big brother advice has failed.
Lucy was use to be the pillar of faith for everyone else to lean on when they were doubting. She considered it an obligation and a joy. But some nights, when the air was still and Narnia seemed further off and like a dream than the world around her, she wished just once she could whisper her doubts and her fears.
Those nights, she didn't know what to do, so she would just clench her pillow tightly and try to burn the memory of Aslan so deep into her that she couldn't separate her memory and the reality around her.