I've been writing some version of this story for the past ten years. It was always either too, angsty or melodramatic, long and invloved, or required far too much of a frame story. Well, Shadow and Bone did a number on me, like I imagine it did to many people, and there simply aren't many crossover between Shadow and Bone and Narnia, which is a tragedy, so here I am. Btw, this is an anti-Darkling fic, so groupies be warned.

"Make me she, whom I'd agree holds more beauty over me."

A girl, a woman truly, as the players in this story like to play a bit with time, had been stuck in a ship's cabin for weeks with thoughts that would have made many a sailor blush and one sentence playing over and over in her mind. She was surprised that the spell she'd stolen from Coriakin's mansion hadn't burned her way entirely through the bed by now, so obvious had its presence become to her. It was a silly thing, she knew, and normally it wouldn't have bothered her so. It hadn't the first time she'd grown up. She'd stood in the corners with Edmund at all the grand dances to help hide him from the nobility and she had thought it such a nuisance that Susan had to spend so much of her time with suitors and not exploring the castle, or hearing stories from the centaurs, or really much of anything else. It was a recent development, very recent, to wonder what it was like to be looked at, to be seen in the way that beautiful women were. The words "what if" are some of the most insidious ever put together and lend themselves to all sorts of mischief. The woman took her moment of weakness and read the words that had become as deeply written on her heart as a man's name.

"Make me she, whom I'd agree holds more beauty over me."

Before she finished what she intended, she disappeared in the first ray of sunlight the ship had seen in weeks.