Disclaimer: I don't own anybody you recognize.
Dedicated wholeheartedly to my lovely twin, Beth (Bethhhhhhh), for encouraging me, pestering me, fangirling with me, and generally being an awesometastic, LucyEdmund-loving twin! Love you, Beth! Here's your brand new, shiny LucyEdmund!
She's seven, celebrating her birthday, surrounded by family and laughter and cake frosting, and she's dancing because she's a little girl full of fairytales and daydreams. Victoire corners her away from the dancing crowds, bouncing on her feet with excitement, and presents her with a rectangular gift wrapped in sparkly golden paper.
"Open it!" she urges. "I think you'll love it."
Lucy's curious, so she quickly unwraps it and makes a mess, and the paper falls away to reveal a box set of seven muggle storybooks. "What are these?"
"Take one out," Victoire answers, a smile on her face.
Lucy draws one out by the spine and sees the close-up photo of a golden lion on the front cover, right underneath the curling, red script that spells out The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.
"What's it about?" she asks, almost immediately in love with the beautiful lion and the beautiful name.
"It's about four children who fall into a magical world and have all sorts of adventures," Victoire beams, ruffling her hair. "You've always been the fairytale lover out of all of us, Luce. I used to read these myself when I was your age, and then I saw a box set in a bookstore. I thought it'd be perfect for you."
Lucy hugs the set to her chest. "It is. Thank you."
Victoire presses a kiss to her little cousin's temple. "You'll love it," she promises and breezes away.
She's more right then she knew.
Lucy's always been a believer. In magic, in dreams, in all those abstract things that nobody really gives a second thought to. But she believes, and so, is it any surprise that she believes in Narnia?
"This was a mistake, Vicka," her father complains. "Giving her those books—now she actually believes in that silly world with talking lions!"
Victoire sets her hands on her hips. "So what? She's young. Let her believe, Uncle Percy. You only get to believe in fairytales once, you know."
But they're both wrong, Lucy knows. Because dreamers like her, they're alwaysalwaysalways going to believe.
So, she dreams of a world with talking lions, a world with four kings and queens, a world full of magic and dreams and hope and faith and the kind of love that neither romantic nor familial but just is (and isn't that the best kind of love there is?)
Nothing, nothing at all, can stop her from believing.
The littlest queen, Lucy, is her favorite, perhaps obviously, perhaps not.
Lucy shares a name with her, but not much else, because Queen Lucy is brave and kind and everything she, little witch-Lucy wants to be. She wants to be valiant, wants to be a healer (and not the kind from St. Mungo's, but a real healer, the kind like Queen Lucy), wants to be queen of Narnia.
And maybe it's a wild hope. Maybe it's silly. Maybe she should stop believing in Narnia with all her heart.
But the thing is, Lucy's a witch. She knows magic. She knows how to twist a wand and create sparks. She knows how to cast a spell and make a banana dance. She knows how to say a few words in Latin and cause an explosion of rich colors.
She knows magic.
But she also knows magic.
She knows about the real kind of magic, the true magic that exists in the hearts of dreamers (because that's what she is, see?). She knows about the magic that's present in the way her parents look at each other, in the way Teddy smiles at Victoire, in the way Lily dances, in the way Fred flies, in the way Hugo swims. She knows about love, about belief and faith in something so much greater than any of them, greater than any war, greater than anything.
And she knows (and so did Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy and Eustace and Jill) that that's what real magic is.
Teddy gives her a full-length mirror for her fourteenth birthday, because, well, he's a boy and he's silly like that.
"So you can see yourself clearly," he tells her with a wink, his hair turning golden, the color of crowns. "At least, that's what the old lady who sold it to me said."
She beams and has her mother charm it into her room and then spends an hour after the party looking at it.
"Lucy, come down for dinner!" her mother calls as she's admiring the gilded edges and crystal-clear glass.
"Coming!" she yells back, placing just one hand on the mirror to feel the refreshingly cool glass.
And then magic happens.
Her face, young and fresh and full of dreams, begins to transform. Her strawberry-blond hair lengthens, darkens, straightens. Her cinnamon-brown eyes turn brighter and lighter and wider. Her body shifts, becoming smaller and younger, and her dress weaves itself into a gorgeous blue ball gown.
Atop her head, there's a golden tiara embedded with the prettiest jewels she's ever seen, and it feels like all of those dreams, all of those years spent believing, are coming true.
"Hello, Lucy," says Queen Lucy, a smile on her face. "It's so nice to meet another believer."
"Oh, my gosh," Lucy breathes. "You—you're real. You're Queen Lucy of Narnia. I knew you existed! I knew this was real!"
Queen Lucy giggles. "Of course I'm real. Dreams are always real; we just have to know where to look for them. I see you've found a portal to Narnia. Would you like to enter?"
She doesn't have to think twice. Magic is real, magic is happening, and Lucy's never been one to miss out on events this amazing.
So, she pushes a little on the glass and it swings open, sparkling clear and revealing that world of magic that she's been dreaming of for years.
"Welcome," says Queen Lucy warmly, appearing on the other side of the threshold, "to Narnia, Lucy."
And this? This is what dreams are made of.
"We normally get muggle children," Susan remarks, studying Lucy carefully. "And they're all a lot younger. Where do you come from?"
"Um," Lucy says eloquently, blushing. "London, Your Highness."
"No need to call me that," Susan smiles. "My name is Susan. Use it. I remember London, a little bit."
"I thought you forgot about the other world," Lucy asks, puzzled. "When you're in Narnia, you can't remember, right? It feels like a dream of a dream, doesn't it?"
"Forget?" Susan asks in astonishment. "Well, perhaps a little. I can't remember Mum or Dad's names for the life of me. But I haven't forgotten it entirely, you know."
"Oh," Lucy says, and decides not to mention that she eventually will. "Then I must be early in the Golden Age?"
"Is that what they call it in your world?" Queen Lucy asks, sounding delighted. "The Golden Age? What a lovely name! Oh, Susan, does that mean we'll finally have peace in Narnia?"
"Perhaps," Susan says, smiling. "Come, Lucy. Let's get you properly attired for a meeting with our dearest brothers, shall we? They'll be very interested to meet you. We've met a witch before, and she was around your age, too. It's very exciting to meet people from your world, you know. We used to be muggles, see, and the only trained witch we've met is that awful White Witch."
"I know," Lucy beams, the excitement of being in Narnia (oh, my gosh!) finally catching up to her. "Tell me how you defeated her?"
The Queens do so as they help her pick out an outfit and get ready, and maybe dreamers don't deserve this much luck, but Lucy's not going to waste her chance.
Because it's Narnia and it's magical and what more could she want?
"Another witch?" Peter leans forward, grinning. "Incredible. What kind of magic can you do?"
Lucy rises from her curtsy, feeling a little overwhelmed because she's talking to Peter and Edmund Pevensie, for heaven's sake, and fumbles for her wand. "Um, all sorts, Your Majesty. Charms and hexes and jinxes and curses—"
"Curse Peter," Edmund orders, grinning in a way that sets her heart pounding out a drum solo.
"Don't do that," Peter counters immediately, shooting his brother a glare. "Why don't you show us a charm?"
"Will her magic work here?" Susan asks curiously.
"Perhaps if she cursed the High King—?" Edmund tries to suggest, laughing when Peter reaches over and shoves him.
"Stop teasing him," Queen Lucy commands, smothering a giggle of her own. "Lucy, why don't you try a simple charm?"
She charms a teacup to dance on the table and the Pevensies watch in rapture and delight.
"That's amazing," Edmund exclaims, offering her a smile, which is ten times better than any birthday gift (except those two that led her here).
"Oh, do some more for us!" pleads Queen Lucy, looking very much like the delighted little girl from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and Lucy's heart threatens to beat right out of her chest.
She's spent so long looking for magic, and now she's found it in this world full of dreams, in the sparkling eyes of the four kings and queens of Narnia, and she's nevereverever letting this go.
"Tell me," Edmund says, cornering her after dinner in a beautiful, blooming courtyard, "where do you come from, Lucy?"
"I come from London," she answers, wondering if she should curtsy or not—but, well, his grin is so sweet and easy that she kind of forgets how to. "It's in England. You used to live there, remember, before you had to move to Professor Kirke's."
"I think I remember," he answers, gesturing for her to take a seat on the edge of a fountain nearby. "Indulge my curiosity—how's life, where you're from? What's this magical, hidden world like?"
She can't help but think that this place is the real magical, hidden world, but she tells him about Wizarding Britain anyway. "It's really amazing and peaceful now, ever since my Uncle Harry fought the last Dark War against a wizard named Lord Voldemort and defeated him."
"Lord Voldemort, huh?" Edmund asks, his brown eyes bright with curiosity. "Was he anything like the White Witch?"
"Quite a lot," Lucy says, smiling. "He was just as arrogant and just as power-hungry as her."
"I'm glad your world's safe now," he tells her.
Lucy beams. "I am, too. But I'm even gladder that your world is."
He grins, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes, and, all right, she's not really supposed to fall in love with a King of Narnia, but she's Lucy, so she falls easily.
(And she falls hard, at that.)
"Lucy! There's a girl in your mirror!" Queen Lucy calls just as Edmund's walking her back to her room that day. "I think…I think it's time for you to go."
"No!" Lucy cries, horrified. "I've only had one day here!"
"You'll come back," Peter tells her, appearing behind his youngest sister with a reassuring smile on his face. "Aslan wouldn't have let you come if you weren't meant to be here."
"But portals to Narnia only work once!" Lucy says, feeling all that magic and all those dreams slipping right out of her hands.
Edmund brushes his fingers against her hand, his skin warm and comforting against hers. "I'll see you again," he promises with absolute faith. "I know I will."
Lucy looks into his honest brown eyes, feeling a little dazed, before turning to the mirror where she'd entered from. Molly's standing there, hands on her hips as she searches Lucy's room back home.
"Lucy!" she can hear her sister call. "Where are you? It's time for dinner! There's leftover cake from your party!"
Her heart breaks, just a little, as she touches the mirror. "Goodbye," she whispers.
Susan touches her shoulder, Queen Lucy her hand. "Goodbye, Lucy," they say together, but there's no hint of finality in their voices.
The last thing she sees is the smiles on the faces of those four magical children and the glittering crowns on their heads.
It takes another year, and another one of Teddy's gifts, before she gets to reclaim that magic.
"You like lions, don't you?" he asks her, offering her a little figurine of a golden lion. "That's what Victoire told me, at any rate."
Victoire rolls her eyes from behind her fiancé's back, and Lucy giggles, wondering if these two aren't a little magical themselves.
"I do," she says, accepting it with careful hands. "Thank you, Teddy."
"Anytime, Princess," he says affectionately, ruffling her hair. "Have fun in Narnia for me, will you?"
She looks at him with wide eyes, wondering if maybemaybemaybe—
Teddy winks, then wraps an arm around Victoire and wanders away.
Well, okay, maybe they don't really know. But you don't have to know to believe, and Lucy knows that better than anyone else.
She waits for a quiet moment, then takes the figurine up to the mirror, looks into the glass, and wishes with all her heart.
I want to return to Narnia.
And then she's back where she belongs, and the eyes on that little figurine are glowing with magic.
"You're back!" Edmund exclaims in delight, because she's stumbled into his room this time. "Um," he adds, suddenly realizing that he's shirtless and in the middle of dressing.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Lucy squeaks, feeling herself blush brighter than ever as she squeezes her eyes shut and whirls around. "I'll just…um…"
"Hang on," Edmund mutters, and she hears the rustling of Narnian fabric for a moment. "You can turn around."
She turns, still blushing furiously even though he's fully-clothed now. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know—"
"It's all right," he smiles at her, seeming so happy to have her back that she almost forgets about her embarrassment (and the sight of his remarkably well-toned chest). "I'm glad you're back. Lucy'll be delighted. She's missed having someone around with the same name."
Lucy giggles. "I, uh, I missed you all, too."
Edmund grins and holds out his hand. She takes it, and then he pulls her to him in a warm hug that seems a little out of place for a boy who only knew her for a day one year ago.
But then she realizes—if she's been dreaming about them, who says they haven't been dreaming about her?
Because this is Narnia and dreams work that way. It's magic or maybe (it's love).
"Guess who returned!" Edmund declares, entering the throne room where his three siblings are lounging around, deep in discussion about something that sounds like politics.
Queen Lucy gives a gasp of joy and rushes off her throne and straight towards Lucy, blazing in her happiness as she flings her arms around her namesake. "Oh, I've missed you!"
"I've missed you, too!" Lucy laughs, feeling that familiar feeling of warmth and magic and dreams blossom in her chest. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!"
"That wouldn't have happened," Susan says lightly, pulling her little sister away so she can claim Lucy in her own hug. "Aslan wouldn't let it. You belong here, don't you?"
"You do," Peter adds before she can, offering her a smile. "We've had dreams, you know. Lucy and Edmund most of all, but I saw you at that school of yours—Hogwarts, is it called?—with your cousins and your friends. You seemed happy."
"I was happy," Lucy admits, darting into his arms next. "But I'm happier here."
"Good," Edmund grins, leaning against his throne. "Because you're definitely staying for dinner this time."
"How does this work, exactly?" Lucy asks Edmund as they're wandering around the courtyards at his (strange, but she didn't question it) request. "Logically, you four shouldn't even be able to remember me, much less be friends with me after hardly a day of spending time together."
Edmund shrugs, tilting his crown lopsided in the process. "It's Narnia. Things aren't logical here. See, we've met muggle children before, children who believe so deeply in Narnia that they found their own portals and came through. We've cared for them, loved them, because they belong here—but they won't always. They'll grow up. But you, Lucy, you're special, and I'm not sure why."
"Is it because I share your sister's name?" Lucy smiles.
Edmund chuckles. "Perhaps. Or perhaps because you've believed in Narnia for so long and so deeply that you've made it your home without ever actually being here. And any friend of Narnia is a friend of ours, you know."
Lucy muses on that for a moment. "I wish I could meet Aslan, so I would know."
"Oh, you shouldn't wish for that," he warns. "Aslan will appear when the time is right, when you're ready to know, and not a moment sooner."
"Of course," Lucy nods quickly. "I wouldn't—"
"Hello," Peter interrupts, appearing in front of them as quickly as if he'd Apparated. "Brother mine, may I steal our friend for a moment?"
Lucy glances at Edmund, who seems a little reluctant to give her up to his brother. "If it's important," he grumbles, inclining his head towards Lucy before heading back towards the castle.
"It is," Peter says, though his brother can't hear anymore, and turns his intense blue gaze back on her.
"Um, hello," she says, a little awkwardly, remembering to curtsy this time.
"Hello, Lucy," Peter says warmly. "I had a question for you. See, there's this ball tonight, because it's Susan's birthday tomorrow, except tomorrow Edmund and I are going to be riding to Archenland to meet with the King, so we're holding it tonight. And I was wondering if you would mind very much going with me, because Susan's insisted that Edmund and I find ourselves dates, and I can think of no one I'd rather go with."
His smile is warm and charming and Lucy feels her cheeks heat up in response to the butterflies dancing lightly around her stomach, because oh, my gosh, did Peter Pevensie just ask me out?
"I'd love to," she says.
Peter's grin lights up his face, and he takes her hand so he can press a kiss to it. "Then I shall meet you by your quarters at eight. Until then, Lucy."
Oh, my gosh. Peter Pevensie just asked me out.
"You look like a queen!" says Queen Lucy, clapping her hands in delight. "Turn around!"
Lucy does so and her breath catches in her throat because Susan has done an amazing job of cleaning her up for the ball. Her dress is made of that comfortable Narnian fabric in the prettiest shade of ocean-blue she's ever seen, her hair is beautifully styled and curled and clipped back with sparkling lion clips, and around her neck, there's a golden locket with a bell charm on it.
"Keep it," Susan advises her with a smile when she asks about it. "In case you ever need to call for us, just ring the bell."
She has a feeling the queen isn't talking about inside Narnia, so she makes sure the necklace is fastened extra tight.
Someone knocks on the door. Queen Lucy, who's closest, bounds over and opens it, revealing Edmund standing on the other side.
"Did you find a date?" Susan asks in interest.
Lucy bites her lip, not sure she wants to hear a—
"Yes," mutters Edmund, still standing outside the room, and her heart breaks a little (which is ridiculous, considering she barely knows him, but she's Lucy and she's always been a little ridiculous). "She's an annoying little immigrant from Archenland, so I hope you're happy, Susan. I just—wow."
His gaze has fallen on Lucy and widened considerably as he stumbles across the threshold. "Wow," he repeats. "Lucy, you look—you look gorgeous."
Queen Lucy has a mouth over her hand, trying helplessly to hold back her giggles, and Susan is smiling like she rather wants to laugh as well, but all Lucy can do is stand there and blush that trademark Weasley blush as Edmund walks towards her, seeming utterly captivated.
"Thank you," she manages finally. "I, um—You look great, too."
It's a rather lame compliment, but Edmund doesn't seem to mind, instead flashing her that easy grin of his and flopping down onto Susan's bed. "Thanks. How long did my terrors of sisters work on you?"
Lucy giggles as the queens whirl towards their brother, affronted expressions on their face, just as Peter enters the room.
"Hello, everyone," he greets before his eyes land on Lucy. "You look gorgeous," he compliments warmly.
Edmund stiffens.
"Um," Lucy has to take a moment to remember her manners, now. "Thank you. So do you."
"He looks gorgeous, does he?" Edmund asks, sounding a bit annoyed. "All I got was 'great'."
"I—" Lucy turns to him, a little desperate, a little curious as to why he cares so much (but she knows, of course she knows).
"Stop it!" Susan commands him. "You're making her uncomfortable, and for all you know, we may not see her again for another year."
Edmund sighs. "Right. I'm sorry. Let's go to the ball, shall we?"
Peter looks a little uncomfortable as his brother storms past, but he offers her his arm anyway. "Ready?"
Lucy smiles and slips her arm through his. "Ready."
The ball is amazing—but it's Narnia, of course it's amazing. There are laughing guests everywhere, surrounded by Susan's overflowing pile of presents and sweet-smelling food and the scent of a hundred different types of juice floating through the air on summer breezes.
And, to top it off, Peter is an excellent dancer.
"Did you have dances back home?" he asks her when they're taking a breather by the refreshments table.
"Oh, she did," Queen Lucy interrupts before she can answer, beaming in delight. "I saw one. You attended with that blond boy, didn't you? Lorcan, was it? He had very pretty blue eyes."
"Yes, Lorcan Scamander," Lucy nods, surprised that it takes her a minute to remember the name of one of her best friends. "He's a good friend of mine."
"Just a friend?" Queen Lucy teases, adjusting her crown. "He seemed to fancy you. He was very good-looking—I can't see why you'd prefer my clown of a brother."
Peter rolls his eyes, grinning. "I'm sure she'd prefer a king to a wizard any day, Luce."
Lucy blushes. "I would. And Lorcan's just a friend."
"What kind of a name is Lorcan?" Edmund asks, appearing behind her and making her jump in surprise. He offers her a grin and a glass of lemonade.
"Thank you," she says, accepting the glass with a smile and taking a sip. "It's—um, I don't know, actually. His parents are a little…odd. Actually, most wizards and witches are a bit odd. One of my cousins, for example, is named Albus Severus Potter."
"Poor boy," Edmund remarks, then extends his hand. For the first time, she realizes she hasn't seen his brunette date since he entered with her on his arm. "May I have this dance?"
Lucy hesitates, looking at Peter in askance even though she dearly wants to say yesyesyes, of course.
"Have fun," he smiles, seeming only a little averse to parting with her. "I'll find a way to entertain myself."
Edmund grins and quirks an eyebrow at her. "Your permission, my lady?"
She laughs, feeling as happy as she did the day she first entered Narnia, and takes his hand. His warm skin against hers infuses her with a kind of magic that will never come from a wand or a potion, but only from the hearts of people who are in love.
He sweeps her into his arms and they go twirling around the dance floor, their bodies melding together as if they were made for each other. And maybe they weren't really because they're from two separate worlds, but then again, maybe they were, because they're both Narnians in the end, aren't they? And can't they both feel that sweet, real, Narnian magic floating in the air?
It's the kind of magic some people spend years looking for, and, hey, if she's lucky enough to find it at fifteen, she's nevereverever going to let it go.
"We'll see you next year, yeah?" Edmund says hopefully later that night when they're all gathered in his room and watching her father survey her cluttered bedroom in confusion through the mirror.
"I sure hope so," she says, embracing Queen Lucy. "Oh, I'll miss you all so much!"
"Keep the necklace," Susan tells her when she takes her turn for a hug, stopping Lucy from her attempt to unclasp it. "It'll be a souvenir, so you won't ever forget us."
Peter touches her hair lightly, his smile a little wistful. "Would you ever forget us, Lucy?"
"Never," she promises fiercely as he hugs her. "Not ever. I promise. I swear."
"We won't forget you, either," says Edmund, the last to be hugged, as he buries his head in her still-curled hair. "You're kind of impossible to forget."
Lucy blushes, infused with the warmth of his body even after she's moved away. "I, um, thank you," she says, unsure what to say to that.
Queen Lucy giggles, making both Edmund and Lucy turn redder. "Have fun at home! We'll see you soon!"
She touches the mirror and it gives way, sending her tumbling back into her coldcold world of fake magic, the lion figurine flashing from her pocket to her hand, her ball gown melting into her old blue sundress that seems so boring now.
But she can clearly remember Edmund's last, sweet grin, so maybe that'll last her through a year.
"You know, Lorcan's really rather cute," Molly says in a completely unsubtle attempt to hint at her. "Have you ever considered—?"
"Yes," Lucy says impatiently, looking up from the drawing of a crown she's creating in her sketchpad. "I have considered it, Molly. And my answer's still no. Stop nagging me."
Molly huffs. "I'm just trying to help you! You two would be really cute together! Besides, he's probably the best you're going to get, considering the other boys in your year."
Lucy sighs, looking past Molly to where Lorcan is joking around with his brother and Hugo and Lily. "He's just…not my type, Molls. Sorry."
"Then what is your type?" Molly demands, utterly frustrated.
Lucy shades in a silver leaf on the crown—his crown—and sighs again. She's been doing that a lot lately. "I don't know. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, funny, sweet, charming…"
Molly sends her a look. "Okay, so Lorcan's blond and has blue eyes, but he's still funny and sweet and charming. D'you have another boy in mind or something?"
"Sort of," Lucy mutters and bends over her sketchpad. "Just…forget about it, would you? I don't want to date Lorcan."
"You're missing out," Molly tells her before giving up and wandering away.
Lucy touches the silver crown she's drawn. "Oh, I'm missing out, all right," she agrees wistfully, wondering if he's found himself another Archenland girl to dance with.
"Do you still believe in Narnia, Luce?" Lorcan asks her one day, a teasing smile on his face, and she frowns because he doesn't believe.
"With all my heart," she answers, one hand instinctively drifting to her bell necklace. She rings it every day before bed, but it only brings her dreams of Peter charging into battle, Susan dancing with an Archenland noble, Edmund practicing his sword skills in the courtyard, and Lucy giggling in the gardens. It never brings her to Narnia, but she refuses to stop believing.
Lorcan's smile falters a little. "Lucy, we're almost seventeen. Don't you think it's time to stop believing in fairytales?"
Lucy snorts. "Says the boy who believes in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," she mutters in a fit of annoyance.
Almost instantly, hurt fills Lorcan's silver-blue eyes, and almost instantly, she regrets saying it. But it's too late to take it back.
"I'm sorry," she begins, but he shakes his head, making her stop in her tracks.
"Don't," he warns, his voice, for once, not cheerful and happy. "You know, just because you seem to live in Narnia doesn't mean you should just cut us all off and ruin your friendships, Lucy. Are the Pevensies more important to you than us?"
"I'm sorry," Lucy cries. "I didn't mean that!"
Lorcan rolls his eyes. "Tell me that when you get your head out of the clouds," he says, and then he walks away from her.
Lucy sinks to the ground, tears filling her eyes, wondering why she can't just let herself be happy here anymore.
In the weeks that follow, she hardly talks to any of her friends, not even Lily and Hugo, and it takes an intervention from—who else?—Teddy and Victoire for her to wake up from her funk.
"Lucy," sighs Victoire, brushing green Floo powder off her clothes after she and Lucy enter Teddy's flat. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Lucy mutters as Teddy helpfully leads her to a couch. "Why did you bring me here?"
"We wanted to talk," Teddy answers, looking at her with concerned gray eyes—his real color, she realizes with a start—and offers her a glass of lemonade. "Lily and Hugo are getting worried. They were in here just a few days ago, wondering what's wrong with you."
Lucy takes a sip of the lemonade, and her eyes widen in astonishment, because this isn't normal lemonade. She's only tasted this once before, at Susan's birthday ball. It's Narnian lemonade.
Victoire sits down next to her with a secretive smile. "Do you like the lemonade, Lucy?"
"You—" Lucy can barely form words. "You went to—you believe—you know—"
"Know what?" Teddy demands obliviously.
Victoire smoothes down a flyaway curl of Lucy's. "Of course I do, Lucy," she says lightly, smiling and completely ignoring her confused husband. "I gave you the box set because I knew you'd believe as well. Out of all of us, you were the one most likely to make it to Narnia. I thought Lucy would like you, too."
"Are you saying Narnia is real?" Teddy interrupts before Lucy can get over her shock.
"Sweetheart, why don't you go make us some more lemonade?" Victoire asks him, flashing him a smile.
"Um," Teddy looks between the two blond girls for a moment, then sighs. "Weasleys. I swear, you're all insane," he mutters, wandering off to the kitchen.
Lucy has to giggle a little. "I'd have thought he knew as well. He did give me the mirror and the figurine."
Victoire shakes her head, still smiling. "He's a boy. How many of them could be that smart?"
She laughs for real this time. "None, I suppose," she admits. "Is that what you brought me over here for?"
"Not quite," Victoire says with a sigh. "Lucy, I only got to go to Narnia three times. I think that's the maximum for people like us—for witches and wizards—because we already have magic, and so, it's easier for us to believe without having lived there for years. How many times have you been there?"
Lucy stares, disbelieving for once. "Twice." The word settles like a chain on her wrists, attaching her irreversibly to this world with the knowledge that she only has one adventure left in Narnia.
"After that," Victoire smiles sadly, "Aslan's going to send you back to live your life here, Lucy. And you can't do that if you push everyone away first. Don't make that mistake. I did, and it nearly cost me Teddy."
"But—" Lucy protests, but is silenced by the look in Victoire's bright blue eyes, the same color, she now realizes, as the Narnian sky.
Instead of denying what she knows is the truth, she takes a deep breath, forces herself to relax, and asks, "You've met the Pevensie brothers but you married Teddy anyway?"
Victoire smiles, a little wistfully now. "I love Teddy. I didn't—I mean, I—Not every girl gets a King, Lucy."
Lucy ponders on that as Teddy reenters the room holding two glasses of lemonade. Victoire winks at her and stands to accept her glass.
"What'd I miss?" Teddy asks, quirking an eyebrow at the exchange between the cousins.
"I was just telling Lucy how she shouldn't cut people out of her life here," Victoire says with a pointed glance at Lucy. "We're your family, Luce. You'll always have us for as long as you need us."
"And you do need us," Teddy adds, sitting down on an armchair opposite her. "Don't you?"
Lucy laughs, a little bitterly, a little wistfully. "I do, I suppose."
And maybe she can make magic of her own here, instead of simply dreaming about it.
On her seventeenth birthday, she rings the bell before going to bed.
Everything goes dark.
She opens her eyes and finds herself lying down on a large, comfortable bed the likes of which she's never seen back in Earth. From a nearby window, sunlight filters in, bright golden and blinding and dazzling, and she knows.
She's back in Narnia.
"Hello, there," grins Peter, hovering over her. "I see you found your way back. Does your mirror not work anymore?"
"Peter!" she gasps, sitting bolt upright.
"Hi, Lucy," he says, or begins to say, before she tackles him with a hug. "Oof! Yes, um, it's wonderful to see you, too, Lucy."
Lucy giggles but doesn't move back, wanting to savor every moment of her last time in Narnia, of her last time seeing the four Pevensies again. Peter seems bemused, but he doesn't let go either, instead hugging her back with the same warmth and strength she remembers.
"Enjoying yourselves?" interrupts a new voice, equally familiar but deeper than she remembers, and Lucy jerks away with a start. Peter looks a little sheepish as they both turn around to see Edmund standing framed in the doorway, his expression undecipherable.
"Um," Lucy blushes. "I—Edmund, hello."
He makes a motion as if he wants to step forward, but restrains himself. "Hello, Lucy. How long have you been back?"
"Only a moment," answers Peter. "She just appeared with a flash."
"In your bed?" Edmund raises an eyebrow.
Peter turns as red as Lucy. "I don't know. Her mirror is connected to yours and Lucy's, maybe her bed is connected to mine!" he says, slightly defensive.
Edmund turns to Lucy, seemingly having decided to ignore his brother. "I don't suppose I get a hug like that?"
She giggles and launches herself forward, straight into his arms. He catches her neatly, and his mint-forest-Narnia scent threatens to overwhelm her. For a moment, she feels like crying onto his shoulder and raging at Aslan and the cruel fate that has been decided for her.
But then Edmund's hands are warm on her waist, his breath sweet on her face, and his eyes bright and brilliant as he looks at her, and she forgets to breathe, let alone cry.
"Um," he says, blushing and disentangling them as soon as his sisters enter the room. "Welcome back, Lucy."
"Lucy!" cries Queen Lucy in delight, rushing forward to claim her in a decidedly Lucy-like hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!"
Susan lingers behind her younger sister and catches Lucy's eyes. Something in her brown gaze makes Lucy think that she knows, too. She knows what's in store for Lucy—and maybe even what's in store for her.
"We're very happy you've returned at last, Lucy," says Susan warmly, prying her little sister off of her. "You're just in time for lunch. Perhaps you can stay more than a day this time?"
Edmund's hand brushes hers. "I sure hope so."
When she falls asleep that night, she doesn't go home.
Instead, Lucy wakes up the next morning, still in Narnia, with a smile of joy on her face. The lion figurine, which she's kept in her pocket since Teddy gave it to her, heats up, and she pulls it out so she can smile at the likeness of Aslan.
"Thank you," she says, just as there's a knock on the door to her bedroom.
"Come in!" she calls, pocketing the figurine, and the door swings open to reveal Edmund.
"Hello, Lucy," he greets, glancing once at her blue nightgown and averting his eyes. "I came to make sure you hadn't disappeared during the night, as Lucy—er, our Lucy—is still asleep."
"Oh," she says, trying not to think about how cute he looks when he blushes. "Well, I am. I suppose that means I'm staying, then?"
Edmund grins at her. "It does. We're going to have breakfast soon. Are you coming?"
"Yes," she answers, unable to stop smiling. "I would love to."
At breakfast, she finally remembers to ask the Pevensies—"Did you ever meet a witch named Victoire?"
Peter chokes on his water.
Edmund grins, Queen Lucy giggles, and Susan smiles.
"Yes, we did," Susan answers as Edmund claps his brother on the back. "A long time ago, near the beginning of our reign. She was about fourteen, and she visited us three times. We haven't seen her since then. Do you remember her, Peter?"
Peter looks down at his plate of food, his ears red in a manner reminiscent of her Uncle Ron. "Yes," he mutters.
Edmund snorts. "Peter took a bit of a fancy to her," he tells Lucy, ducking his brother's arm when Peter attempts to hit him. "What? You did!"
"Shut up, Ed," says Peter, sounding much more like the English schoolboy he used to be rather than the High King of Narnia. "She was very pretty, is all."
Lucy suppresses a laugh. "She's part-Veela, that's why."
Peter's astonished blue eyes meet her own. "You know her?"
"She's my cousin," Lucy tells them, beaming. "She gave me the Chronicles of Narnia, those books telling about your adventures. She's the whole reason I'm here!"
"What does 'part-Veela' mean?" Queen Lucy asks, puzzled as Peter processes Lucy's new information.
"Veelas are a magical creature in our world," Lucy explains. "They're possibly the most gorgeous creatures on Earth. Victoire's great-grandmother was a Veela."
"That would explain it," Susan nods, sending her brother an affectionate smile. "Peter, you did mention that Lucy reminded you of Victoire, remember?"
"I thought it was just a coincidence," Peter mutters. "You both have the same eyes."
Lucy nods. "We both get them from our grandfather."
"They rather remind me of the Narnian sky," chimes in Edmund, offering Lucy one of those grins of his that always sparked a storm of butterflies in her stomach. "Do you suppose your family was always destined to end up here?"
"It's entirely possible," Queen Lucy agrees, a bright smile on her face. "Are you all blond?"
Lucy blinks. "Erm…"
Peter finds her later that day out in her favorite courtyard, where brightbright flowers bloom in all the colors of the rainbow.
"How long do you think you have this time?" he asks her, sitting down on a bench alongside her.
"I don't know," she admits, breathing in the scent of a bluebell. "Victoire didn't say."
Peter's blue eyes suddenly seem much brighter at the mention of Victoire. "How is she, by the way?"
Lucy hesitates. "She's fine. She's happy. She's got an amazing career ahead of her."
"Has she…" Peter struggles with his words for a moment. "Has she found someone? A husband?"
She bites her lips, not really wanting to tell him, but he deserves the truth. "Yes."
He looks away, out and up at the brilliant blue skies. "Is she happy with him?"
"I…" Lucy sighs. "She is. Peter, I'm—"
"It's all right," he interrupts, a light smile on his face. "I knew it would happen. Is it that Teddy boy she was always talking about?"
"Yeah," she admits. "They got married a year ago."
"Hm," Peter says, his voice nonchalant. "Thanks, Lucy."
He walks away, leaving her wondering if the same thing will happen to her that's happened to Victoire.
After a week of dreams coming true, Lucy finally hits a snag in this wonderful, perfect world.
(Because nothing's perfect, and she really ought to know that by now.)
"Lucy, we'd like you to meet Marina, the daughter of the Duke of Archenland," Susan says, gesturing to a young girl, about Lucy's own age, standing in the throne room. "She's here to experience Narnian politics."
"It's nice to meet you," says Marina cheerfully, waving at her. "I hear you're one of their royal guests."
Lucy curtsies, a little awkwardly since she was out of practice. "I am. It's nice to meet you, too."
"Why don't we continue this over the splendid lunch prepared for us?" Queen Lucy suggests, beaming as she leads the four of them into the dining room. "I think you'll rather like our cuisine, Marina."
"Indeed," interrupts Peter, smiling at the four girls as he enters the dining room from the opposite door, Edmund behind him. "It's very similar to Archenland cuisine."
"Or so we're told," Edmund adds, sidestepping around Peter and sweeping Marina a bow of greeting. "Good afternoon, milady. I don't believe we've been formally introduced."
The beginnings of something not unlike to jealousy start stirring inside Lucy as she watches Marina giggle and offer her hand.
"We haven't," Marina smiles. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."
Edmund presses his lips to her hand. "The honor is all mine, of course."
They all sit down to eat, and for the first time, Lucy really wishes she was back home with (safe, comfortable, never-gonna-hurt-her) Lorcan, instead.
"He's a boy," Queen Lucy tells her with a roll of her eyes. "He's going to be stupid. That's just what they do. But don't worry. He'll come around."
"What if it's too late?" Lucy asks, watching the Narnian sun send streamers of gold and pink light across the castle grounds. "Peter was too late for Victoire. What if it's the same for me? What if Narnian Kings aren't meant for Weasley girls?"
"It's never too late," Queen Lucy says firmly, patting her hand. "Never. All you have to do is keep faith. Aslan won't let you down."
Lucy bites her lip. "Lorcan asked me out."
Queen Lucy turns interested blue eyes towards her. "Oh, really? What did you say?"
Lucy swallows. "I told him I'd have to think about it. That was the day before I came here, in my world."
"Oh." Queen Lucy mulls this over for a while. "Will you say yes?"
There's a knock on the door, interrupting Lucy's half-formed answer, and Edmund's voice calls through the door, "Are you two ready for lunch?"
Lucy feels her heartbeat triples. "That depends."
"Lucy!" Marina calls across the courtyard, catching up to her easily near the fountain. "Can I ask you a question?"
She hesitates. "Sure."
Marina takes a moment to catch her breath. "How well do you know King Edmund?"
Lucy tenses. "Um. Pretty well, I think. Maybe not, though. I don't know. Why?"
"Oh," Marina says, looking thoughtful as she twirls a (prettyshinyperfect) brown lock of hair around her finger. "Do you know what type of girl he tends to court?"
Lucy chokes on air. "Pardon?"
"You know," Marina prods, seeming confused at her behavior. "What type of girl he likes to court. Brunettes, blonds, redheads? The sophisticated type or the Calormen type? Archenland or Narnia? Dryads or nym—"
"I get the point," Lucy interrupts quickly. "I just…I'm afraid I don't know. Sorry."
Marina seems disappointed. "Oh, okay, then. Sorry for bothering you."
"It's all right," Lucy murmurs, watching as she walks away. Marina disappears inside the castle and Lucy turns back to the fountain.
"You don't know my type?" Edmund grins, and she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of him sitting calmly on the edge of the fountain.
"What—when did you get here?" she demands once she catches her breath.
Edmund stands, still smiling at her. "A while ago," he admits. "I was here to witness that scintillating conversation between you and Marina."
She feels her cheeks warm. "I—why didn't you say anything?"
He chuckles. "I must admit, I was wondering what your answer would be."
Lucy huffs. "You're incorrigible."
Edmund turns those heartmelting brown eyes on her. "Really?"
She sighs. "Never mind."
He grins, brushing a lock of dark hair out of his face, and—
Lorcan who?
Two weeks, and counting.
"Victoire had about a month, the last time she visited us," Susan tells her, marking another day off on the calendar. "I think it's probably the same for you. The muggle children have the same amount of time as well. It's all very organized."
Lucy sighs and collapses on her bed. "Two more weeks, then. I feel like I'm getting ready for a death sentence."
Queen Lucy laughs from her spot near the windowsill. "Don't be silly. Your world isn't that bad."
"Maybe, but it's not as amazing as this world," Lucy complains, twisting onto her side and looking at the Aslan figurine on her bedside table. "Do you suppose he sent me here to learn something?"
"Of course," chorus both the Queens, smiling at each other.
"That's what Aslan always does," Queen Lucy clarifies. "You said you knew your story—that we were written about in muggle storybooks."
"Yeah," Lucy nods. "You were sent her to get close to Aslan so you could learn to recognize him in your home world. Except that doesn't work because I'm not religious."
Susan frowns in confusion. "Religious?"
"Yeah, like…" Lucy trails off, realizing they must have forgotten. "Never mind. Do we have any plans for tomorrow?"
"No, but," Queen Lucy begins, clapping her hands in delight, "we're planning a ball a week from today to celebrate you, Lucy."
Her eyes widened. "You don't—"
"Oh, hush," Susan laughs. "It'll be fun! We can have a beautiful new ball gown made for you."
"Edmund will love it," Queen Lucy teases.
Lucy blushes. "I—"
"Besides," Susan interrupts her denial, sending her little sister a Look, "you ought to enjoy your last adventure in Narnia."
Lucy finally smiles, stretching luxuriously on the bed. "I suppose I should."
Her new ball gown is almost more beautiful than her first, and she honestly hadn't thought that was possible.
It molds to her body in the way only Narnian clothes could, curving and flowing in a cascade of deep, dynamite-red silk, flaring out at her waist and spilling to the floor. Susan's styled her hair into curls again, letting them loose around her shoulder, clipped away from her face with a butterfly clip. Around her neck, the bell charm hangs, likely never to be rung again. And on her wrist…
"Here," Edmund says in a low voice, head bent over her wrist. "Lucy said you liked roses."
The bright red rose perches happily on top of the silver bracelet circling her wrist and Lucy smiles.
"I love it," she tells him. "Thank you."
He half-grins and makes a motion like he wants to do something else, but he stops himself. "I'll see you at the dance, then. My sisters must want to reclaim their dress-up doll."
"Shut up, Ed," Queen Lucy orders, rolling her eyes as she glides back into Lucy's room. "Are you two done—?"
She's about to say more, but Edmund silences her with a look and sweeps out of the room.
"He's such a drama king," Queen Lucy mutters, grinning over at Lucy, who begins giggling. "Come on, now. Ready?"
Lucy links her arms through hers. "As I'll ever be."
"Don't worry," Queen Lucy smiles at her. "It'll be perfect. It's Narnia. It always is."
She's as right as she is wrong.
There's nothing more perfect than attending a Narnian ball in her honor (because no matter how old she gets, she'll never stop being awestruck at the magic of it all).
There's also nothing less perfect than seeing Edmund dancing with Marina.
"He'll come around," Peter tells her confidently, offering her a drink. "Promise. Ed takes a while, but he always does."
Lucy sighs. "Thank you," she tells him, taking the drink. "I just…I don't have that much time to wait, Peter."
He smiles sadly. "I know. But I'm sure he's learned from my mistake."
She doesn't want to think about Peter and Victoire right now, about how they lost their fairytale (and how Victoire found another, because she doesn't want another).
All she wants is in this world.
Edmund approaches her after (too) many dances with Marina. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks lightly, tipping a glass of juice down his throat.
"Very," she answers, faking a smile for him. "How about you?"
He grins at her. "It's a splendid ball. But Susan's always are."
"I'm aware," Lucy says, her smile becoming more real with every moment spent looking at him. "She's wonderful at this.
"She is." Edmund hesitates for a moment as a slow, semi-familiar song starts to play. "May I have the honor of this dance?"
Lucy opens her mouth to answer and is rather rudely interrupted by Marina barreling across the dance floor towards Edmund.
"Oh, Edmund, let's dance!" she says breathlessly, tugging upon his arm.
Lucy's not quite sure what to say. Um, sorry, but I was just going to dance with him? If Molly had been here, she would have knocked the girl down about five pegs by now, but she's Lucy, not Molly, and she's not capable of being mean, no matter how dearly she'd like to be.
"No, thanks, Marina," says Edmund gently, prying his arm loose from her grip. "I believe I owe our guest of honor here a dance."
Marina whirls to look at her, green eyes narrowed. "Oh," she says stiffly and withdraws. "I see."
With that, she turns and storms off into the crowd, leaving Lucy to attempt to control her smile.
"You didn't have to," she tells him, accepting his hand.
Edmund laughs as he begins moving her to the dance floor, stepping to the beat of the song. "Of course I did. You're Lucy."
His brown eyes are warm and intense and honest and she can't help seeing some sort of intangible magic fluttering between them that's even stronger than it was the last time they danced. Butterflies fill up her stomach and before she even has time to process the magic of the moment, he's leaning closer.
And then she forgets everything in the haze of lemonade and Narnia and Edmund that follows.
One more week.
"That's it?" Lucy demands, already feeling that magic slipping away from her. "That's not long enough!"
"Of course it isn't," Queen Lucy says sympathetically. "When you're in Narnia, you want to stay here forever. But you have to go home. You have family, friends, a life waiting for you."
Lucy sighs. "I know that. I miss home. But I love it here. Don't I belong here?"
Queen Lucy switches positions to Lucy's bed so she can hug her. "Of course you do. Everyone who believes belongs in this world. You and I and my siblings—this is our home. But we have to go back. We have to find a home there, too. Only then can we be allowed to stay here forever."
Lucy laughs, a little bitterly. "How do you know that?"
Queen Lucy shrugs. "It's how Aslan works. I've seen it happen to Victoire, to those other children, to you. I'm sure it'll happen to us, too."
"I don't want it to happen," Lucy mutters.
"I know," Queen Lucy wraps her arms around her in a hug. "But one day, Lucy, you'll be back. I know you will."
And maybe that's good enough.
"You're leaving tonight," Edmund tells her during a walk through the courtyards as the sun sets.
Lucy stumbles, straight into his arms. "But…I—"
He shakes his head, drawing her closer and pressing a kiss to her blond curls. "Don't fight it. It'll be worse, then. I've seen small children leave, kicking and screaming. It's awful."
She buries her head in his chest. "I'll miss you. God, I'll miss you all so much."
"We'll miss you, too," Edmund says, somehow managing not to sound like he's about to cry, unlike her. "I'll see you again someday, Lucy. I know I will."
Lucy lifts her head, blue eyes meeting brown. I love you, she wants to say, but maybe it's too early for that? They hardly know each other—(all they know is that they were meant to be together).
He smiles gently, leans down, and kisses her, inducing those butterflies to waltz around in her stomach. "Do you want to go say goodbye now?" he asks when they part.
"Mm," Lucy sighs, tugging him down for another kiss. "Yeah. Soon."
It takes them another hour, but she eventually says goodbye.
We'll see you again someday, Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy had all said, but what on Earth did that mean?
Lucy lies on her bed, staring up at the pink and blue ceiling and trying not to cry, puzzling over the last words of her Narnian friends. To tell the truth, it all seems rather anticlimactic to her—just a goodbye from each, a kiss from Edmund, no visit from Aslan, and then she was whirling through time and space and magic and landing on her bed, the morning after she had rung the bell.
The only explanation she can think of is that she'll make it to New Narnia when she died.
It's a comforting thought, but it does nothing to ease the pain.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the glass on her mirror sparkle—but her blinds block the sun.
Confused, she stands up and walks over to it, running a hand along the gilded edges as she had done so many years ago, on that first journey to Narnia when her image had changed to reflect Queen Lucy. Vividly, she can remember her blond curls darkening, lengthening, straightening, and her brown eyes turning—
Oh, wait a minute.
"Lucy!" cries the young queen in the mirror, beaming at her and Lucy's eyes widen as she takes in the sight of Lucy Pevensie standing in her mirror once again.
"What are you doing here?" she finally manages to choke out, after having regained her breath. "How can you—I thought Narnia was closed to me—?"
Queen Lucy looks sad, an out-of-place expression on her usually cheerful face. "I think this is just a onetime thing, Lucy. Because I had something to tell you."
"Oh." Lucy deflates. "What did you want to tell me?"
"I wanted to tell you…" Queen Lucy stops for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts. "I wanted to tell you to be happy. To date Lorcan, or whomever you like. To live your life and let go of us, just for a little while. You'll find your back some day—all believers do. But until then, I and Edmund and Susan and Peter want you to be happy in your world, okay?"
Lucy smiles wistfully at her. "I'll try. I'll…let go. I'll be happy. Promise."
Queen Lucy returns her smile and begins to fade. "We'll miss you, Lucy!"
And then she disappears.
Lucy gingerly turns the mirror around so it's facing away from her and wonders if Victoire went through the same heartbreak.
"I'm surprised, Luce—I was a mess when I had to leave," Victoire tells her with a smile, sliding a glass of that amazing Narnian lemonade over towards her. "You're handling it very well."
Lucy sighs. "I guess I was just more prepared for it. And older, too." She takes a sip and revels in the memories the lemonade brings.
"True," Victoire downs her whole glass in one motion. "Lucy told me I'd see them again."
"I think they mean we'll make it to New Narnia when we die," Lucy says, twirling her glass around. "Say, where'd you get the recipe for this?"
"Susan gave it to me," Victoire winks at her. "I can teach you, if you'd like? It'll be our secret recipe, to be passed on to our children."
"I'd love that," Lucy beams. "And how soon are those children coming?"
Victoire slides a hand across her as-yet flat stomach and grins. "Sooner than Teddy thinks, I'll tell you that much."
Lucy giggles in delight. "What will you name him?"
Victoire raises an eyebrow. "What makes you think it'll be a boy?"
"So then you can name him Peter, of course," Lucy points out, raising her blue eyes—identical to Victoire's own—to her older cousin. "Don't you want to?"
Victoire sighs, sinking down into the nearest chair. "Lucy, Peter and I were barely fourteen. It was just a crush."
Lucy eyes her in disbelief. "Are you sure?"
Her older cousin smiles gently at her. "Not every girl gets a King, Lucy. I know you find it hard to believe that any boy in this world could measure up to a King, but some can. You just have to find them."
"And if you don't?" Lucy asks, keeping her voice light and free of emotion.
"Then maybe you'll get your King," Victoire answers, bending to kiss her temple. "Don't worry, Lucy. You'll get your happily ever after."
She says yes to Lorcan the next time he asks her out, but they don't last and (she didn't think they would).
He starts dating Lily, she dates a couple of different boys, and soon they're graduating in a blur of crying mothers and ecstatic classmates and plans for the future. The four of them—Lucy, Lorcan, Lysander, and Lily—set off on a world tour, in an effort to distract themselves from their new, grown-up lives.
"So, are you enjoying Greece?" Lorcan asks her one day while they're relaxing in an outdoor café. Things had been a little rocky between them since their break-up, but he's happy with Lily and she's happy daydreaming about Edmund, and in the end, they're both still best friends.
"I am, thank you," Lucy says, favoring him with a smile. "And you?"
"Very much so," grins Lorcan. "Do you still believe in Narnia?"
Lucy stiffens. The last conversation they had starting with that sentence hadn't ended too well. "Yes, I do," she says, still as firm as ever in her belief. "Why?"
He pauses. "Just wondering. Luce, when are you going to let it go?"
"Never," she tells him vehemently.
Lorcan stares at her for a moment, searching for something in her eyes, though she doesn't know what. "All right, Lucy," he finally says, his voice soft. "I believe you."
Lucy sighs, reaching over and pressing her lips to his cheek for a moment. "Thanks, Lorcan."
She doesn't specify what for. He doesn't ask.
"Her name is Aurora Lucy," says Victoire, tired but beaming as she hands her baby girl over to Lucy to examine. "We were wondering if you'd like to be godmother."
Lucy's eyes widen. "Me? Oh, goodness, are you serious? I don't know anything about children!"
Teddy laughs, wrapping an arm around his wife. "It's not like we are, either. Don't worry. You'll do fine."
She giggles, a little (a lot, actually) overwhelmed. "I'd love to. Thank you. She's beautiful."
Victoire smiles tenderly down at her baby cousin and baby daughter. "She is, isn't she? Look at her eyes."
As if on cue, Aurora opens her bright, dazzling eyes and looks up at Lucy.
She catches her breath. Staring up at her are two tiny eyes identical to hers. Staring at up at her is the Narnian sky.
"She has Torie's eyes," says Teddy proudly.
"Yes," says Lucy, a bit shakily, leaning on a nearby chair for support. "She certainly does."
Aurora blinks those brightbright blue eyes and Lucy thinks maybe her heart is starting to heal.
Lily bounces up to her in a whirl of ivory silk and strawberry curls and that glow every bride has about them and envelopes her in a hug.
"Oh, I'm so glad you could make it, Lucy!" she says, beaming, when she pulls back. "I know how busy you are with your teaching while touring thing you have."
Lucy laughs. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world, Lily. Besides, Italy was getting a little stale. There's only so many times I can listen to students tell me they know more about art just because they live in the city of the Renaissance."
Lily giggles. "Well, everyone's glad you could make it."
"Me, too," Lucy agrees. "Where is everyone else?"
"Teddy and Victoire are in that room over there, trying to stop Aurora from throwing a tantrum and Remy from falling asleep," says Lily, laughing. "Lysander is fussing over Rose by the bar. The boys are floating around Lorcan's room back in that corner. And the girls are basically running around trying to make everything perfect. Feel free to join in on the chaos!"
"I will, thanks," Lucy grins. "Oh, and Lily?"
"Yeah?" Lily turns her hazel eyes, bright with joy and love, towards her.
"You're a lucky girl," Lucy tells her sincerely.
Lily smiles. "I know. But don't worry. You'll get your happily-ever-after some day."
Lucy laughs wistfully. "Everyone keeps saying that."
And she'll never admit it, but she's starting to believe it herself.
A train crash.
Of course.
She never sees it coming—but maybe she prefers it that way.
No time to worry about never getting old, never getting married, never having children, never seeing her friends and family again.
Just one second of oh, my gosh, what's happening? and confusion and panic.
And then nothing.
She'll never get old, never get married, never see sweet little Aurora again, never meet Lily and Lorcan's first baby, never see Teddy and Victoire's fifth, or Rose and Lysander's third.
But that's okay.
She knows what's waiting for her (and for all of them).
She awakens in a great meadow, surrounded by leafy trees and blooming flowers and, far away but so, so close, a castle that's remarkably, joyfully familiar.
Lucy laughs in pure delight, twirling around on the dewy grass as if she were a teenager again, as if she were ten years younger—oh, and she is, isn't she? Her hair is sunshine-blond again, her skin is smooth and freckled, her body is young and lithe, and she's in Narnia again.
"Lucy!" cry several voices at once, and suddenly she's being attacked on all sides by the Pevensies and standing in the crowd are people she assumes to be Eustace Scrubb and Jill Pole and Caspian and his wife and Rilian and Tirian and Talking Animals and this is every single dream coming true all over again.
"Oh, I missed you!" Queen Lucy cries, battling her way to the front of the crowd and sweeping her into a giant hug. "It seems like forever has passed—but then it seems like only a day ago we last talked. And then sometimes it feels like the dream of a dream and—"
"Narnia's funny that way," Edmund interrupts with a grin, prying his sister off of Lucy. "Hi."
She feels like a sixteen-year-old girl again. "Hi."
And then he's kissing her like she's never been kissed before and she wonders if she ever truly knew magic before this moment.
"Get a room," Queen Lucy mutters when they finally part, beaming as she watches Susan and Peter race towards Lucy.
She hugs Susan, then Peter, then Queen Lucy again, then meets everyone else, then hugs Edmund again, and after the sun has begun to set, they all finally move back inside to Cair Paravel.
Edmund lags behind the rest of the joyful crowd, waving his siblings and the rest away and turning to her with his bright brown eyes full of tender love. "I'm never letting you go again."
"I'm never letting you," she promises him, laughing and yanking him down for one more kiss.
He grins when they pull apart. "Forever, then. Be my queen?"
"As if you had to ask."
Edmund picks her up and spins her around in the air with a whoop of delight and Lucy throws her head back and laughs.
Everyone was right. She finally got her happily-ever-after.
Author's Notes: Guys, I had 32 fics just last October. Now I have 70. 70! That is insane and amazing and I love everybody who reads and reviews my fics sososo much, it's ridiculous! =)
Now, I reallyreallyreally hope you all enjoyed this and if you did, please do review! I'm quite nervous about posting a full-blown crossover, but I really do hope you all liked this – and please review if you did! Thanks in advance!
(And please don't favorite without reviewing. Thank you.)