I had to scramble rather for this, but I'd been thinking of writing Narnia fanfic at some point soon again anyway, so why not at this point! I may as well put in a warning up front that it's likely that at some point what I write will become fairly dark, just 'cause that's what I've been writing lately. (I have various original works on AO3, for instance, and some of them are dark.) If trigger warnings are required for any given day I will note that. So saying, possible warning for vaguely suicidal thoughts.

Anyway. I have an overall concept (because yes I'm going to tie them all together somehow this year again. I may be insane) so let's go!


Prompt #1: Tell of a time when music changed things in Narnia—either because it changed hearts or because it held magic.


"Here, miss."

The letters the man held out to Susan felt like a barrier; pushing them into her hands, pushing her away, fulfilling his duty, done with her.

She nearly dropped them, blind and deaf to everything but her grief and fear. They were dead, they were all dead. If there was a God in heaven, or an Aslan in Narnia, why hadn't she been taken too? She'd been on that train, and the jolt had woken her, though all the others would now never wake. She should have died alongside them, or instead of them. God knew she was more deserving of death than any of them.

All she knew of these letters were that they had been recovered from Peter's person: in a box, terribly battered, and mingled with fragments of brilliant greens and golds. Susan would not let herself speculate, or remember the Professor's tales. But this was a great fat wad of letters, and the paper... it did not feel like the paper she was used to. Maybe she was imagining things. Perhaps she was insane.

No wonder if she was.

With shaking hands she pulled out one at random, blundered towards a bench and sat down to read it. She was suddenly desperate to read what the others had written, maybe only to Peter but maybe, maybe, maybe it had been all of them: those who called themselves the Friends of Narnia.

Whatever it was, she needed to read them, and maybe for a time she could forget that they were dead, as they lived through the pages she now held.


My dear Queen Lucy,

In the Lion's name I present this small reminder of the Great Snow Dance in the Western Wood this evening. I, Tumnus the Faun, shall be delighted if you would bear me company to that selfsame Dance, that (seeing as my dancing days are done) we may sit nearby and rejoice in it and the first days of winter. There shall be Hedgehogs and Satyrs and Bears and Beasts of all kinds, and I heard even that the young Hag you spoke to three evenings hence is planning to come. I ask you not for your dagger or for your bow, but for your valiant spirit and sweetness in the speaking.

Perhaps in this the noble Queen Susan would be kind enough to come also, for her gentleness is sore needed when we are speaking to a Hag, or a Wer-Wolf, or any of those sort of creatures who yet wish to know Aslan. I am grievously rough and short with them, unless I already know that they hold a heart for Aslan, and yet I do not think that is what Aslan himself would wish. You and your royal sister must help me, I think, and perhaps your royal brothers also, if it is not too much for me to ask. For King Edmund truly earns the name he was given, and is the gravest and steadiest of monarchs; we are blessed by Aslan in the giving of he who once was a traitor and now forever shall be Aslan's.

I believe it was the pipe of one of my brothers (not by the same mother, but brother nonetheless) that drew the Hag to our side, three evenings ago. Perhaps I take too much upon our race, but she was watching him so closely as she ventured cautiously out. I may be counting the snowflakes before the clouds have even amassed; yet I hope this is a new start for Narnia, and that this Golden Age heralds an eternal joy and connection between those who were once of the Witch, and now have come to our side.

I pray you shall forgive me for taking up so much of your time on that which was meant to be a simple reminder. In any case, Queen Lucy, Lion go with you, and I hope to see you and your royal siblings at the Great Snow Dance at moonrise.

Yours in memory of the Lion's blood,

Tumnus


She re-folded the letter, tears spilling down her cheeks. The silly games they had played, that had driven them apart, were all she had left of them, and it felt like the worst kind of betrayal. How dare Peter carry such falsehoods, and make it so that all her memories of her family were of this twisted make-believe?

If only this had been her life, she would have been so happy: or if only she had died in the crash with the rest, she would not have to be here, living, breathing, hating Peter with every fibre of her being.


The letters may not be in chronological order, as Susan is pulling letters out at random. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please review! I hope this all made sense... I'm out of practice with this kind of style!