Chapter Text
The first night after their coronation, Lucy sneaks out of Cair Paravel.
It isn’t a very noble act for her to do—making sure everyone in the palace was asleep, trudging through the cover of the night with nothing but a lantern and a cloak of goose-feathers. Her shoes had gone missing again, somehow, perhaps being utilized by a family of mice as she feels the cold dew of the grass under her feet. Lucy has found that she doesn’t mind going barefoot around the woods now. When she walks, the ground makes her feel feather-light, and when she sidesteps to avoid crushing wildflowers under her toes she swears she hears them whisper their gratitude.
Lucy giggles mischievously as she tiptoes down the mountain, her cloak flapping in the wind as she runs towards the woods, with nothing but the stars above her head and her dagger strapped to her hip. She still feels it is strange in this place, in their new home—even in the late hours of night, there were no noises of automobiles chugging down the street, or the rush of war planes in the skies, or the electric sputters from her mom’s wireless, telling reports of invasions and raids and whatnot. (With time, she will forget the existence of these things, and Lucy will be hugged by the lands of her home.)
She has no destination in mind. Not even a map in her pockets—Queen Lucy will map out her reign with her hands and her smile.
Lucy has no fear as she rushes through the forest, the thick trees tickling the back of her neck as they bowed in her presence. When she sidesteps the wildflowers to avoid crushing them she hears them whisper their gratitude, and when she twirls through a calm stream the naiads shower her with pearlescent water droplets in offering. To the glistening Eastern Sea, her power extends, and all other bodies of water that flows towards it.
She stops for a moment, breathless, her chest heaving as she takes in a breath. Lucy falls over from running, and she lays there on the grass, erupting in a fit of giggles as she looks up at the starry sky. The blades of grass kiss her skin, caressing her form like a gentle hug. Though the woods were to become Edmund’s domain, Aslan had told her that Narnia’s magic would always recognize the one who loved it most.
Lucy sits up when she hears a crowd of people’s footsteps, accompanied by lively music and laughter. She looks up to see a group of girls dancing as they walk, cypress leaves decorating their beautiful tresses that bounced with in tune with the joys on their faces. Grapes, apples, and all matters of fruits sprouted from under their feet as they danced through the grass, their lips spilling songs so enchanting that it seemed as if it was calling Lucy to dance forever and ever until the end of time. Lucy stares in wonder as an old man came trudging in atop a donkey, his laughter echoing throughout the forest as his jolly smile shone bright. Amongst them is a boy, and Lucy finds him to be handsome. A crown of vine-leaves rests on his curly hair and his fawn-skin garb was so unusual and Lucy notes that his eyes are one of wild mischievousness rivalling her own.
He stops in place and stares at Lucy, though his feet do not stop moving as he dances with the girls, and Lucy holds her laughter back as she thinks he looks quite silly. “Your Majesty, we welcome you to this neck of the woods. Join hither, and dance with us.”
“You know who I am?” Lucy tilts her head inquisitively, brushing off grass blades from her cloak as she stands and stares as well.
“Why, the whole of Narnia knows whom thou are, Your Majesty!” The boy chirps, twirling two of the girls under his arms as they laugh and return with the others, picking up the ruby beads of grapes and chewing, the juices running down their lips. “Queen Lucy, Daughter of Eve, Mistress of the Eastern Sea, She-Who-Heals. You have ended the Hundred Year Winter.”
Her apple cheeks flushes as she laughs, bubbly and cheerful. “I couldn’t have done it without my siblings.”
“My Maenads can now dance and live in joy.” He bows his head, and Lucy resists the urge to pat his curly head of hair as she thinks he would not like that very much. “For that, I thank thee. We are forever in your debt.
“Now!” The boy claps, and one of the girls spins on her feet. When she strides over to them, a goblet is in her hands, sparkling and heavy with a reddish liquid. The boy takes it and has a sip, before offering the goblet to Lucy. “A toast, Your Majesty, to a successful reign and the beginning of Narnia’s golden age.”
Lucy shifts, a mental clock in her head ticking. She isn’t heavily aware of what the effects of wine are, only that her mother—and Susan—made certain to remind her that wine was a grown-up’s drink. But this boy is quite nice, and Narnia was her home now. No harm would come to her.
She takes the goblet, taking a tentative sip as she watches the boy, remembering to remain cautious. The sweet liquid pours down her throat, like the powdered doughnuts with grape jam that were always her favorite dessert before the war. The next sip she takes reminds her of warm, melted chocolate, and the next tastes faintly of the tangy Fitz soda pop. When her shoulders sag in relief and she finds herself being passed around by the girls in complex twirls and footsteps does her mouth break open into a free smile and Lucy laughs, open and unabashed.
She does not recall anything after that. The next time she opens her eyes, the warmth of the first sun rays are caressing her skin, and Susan is taking her up in her arms, wrapping the goose-feather cloak around her. The only thing Lucy hears is the chirp of the birds, the rustle of the leaves in the trees, and Susan’s voice, worried. Lucy smiles as she is lifted up onto a horse’s back, with Susan’s motherly presence wrapping around her.
“What were you thinking, Lucy?” Susan scolds, fussing over her little sister. She picks at the grass blades in Lucy’s hair and all Lucy can feel is her red cheeks and the life surrounding them. Narnia is alive. Narnia welcomes you in Her arms. “Where were you even going?”
Lucy smiles with all her teeth and turns to Susan. “Don’t worry, Susan. I’m home.”
And by the time they ride back to Cair Paravel, their steps light and dewy as they meet Peter and Edmund—who had just woken up, as boys always do—Lucy stares out at the balcony to greet the lands of Narnia and forgets she has any other home than Narnia.