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It was the first time in 13 years that Aslan set foot inside Cair Paravel. Thirteen years since he himself had crowned his four chosen ones in the castle’s grand marble throne room. It was a new era for Narnia: one of peace, freedom, and prosperity. Aslan knew that his dear ones would grow up to become the greatest rulers Narnia had ever had.
Now, 13 years had gone by. The Pevensie children were not children anymore. Lucy, the youngest, was now 21, and at the center of Aslan’s reason for returning: she was getting married. Or already had gotten married, technically. The official ceremony had been that morning. Aslan had only come for the reception.
He had taken the form of an ordinary Sea Bird, rather than a talking one. He felt it important to be inconspicuous this day, as he wasn’t technically supposed to return to Narnia for another year, when it would be in need of his assistance. Gods and legendary heroes were only supposed to appear in times of need, not times of peace and prosperity.
He perched himself on a window sill, and watched the festivities. Lucy was easily noticeable, in her bright red wedding dress and silver crown. Veronica, her wife, was practically glued to her side. A group of Fauns—including Tumnus—played a merry tune on their pipes, to which Lucy, Veronica, as well as several Fauns, Dryads, Satyrs, Talking Beasts and Dwarves danced in perfect harmony.
And Aslan felt proud, so very proud, of all four of his chosen ones. Of Peter, the magnificent warrior, stood by the refreshment table, cup of wine in one hand and husband Aidan holding the other; of Susan, the gentle diplomat, entertaining a group of foreign guests while stealing glances at Lord Peridan, her lover of 7 years; of Edmund, the just lawyer, trying and failing to avoid Bacchus, a game of catch-me-if-you-can which he seemed to enjoy; and of Lucy, the valiant believer, basking in newlywed bliss. They had all grown up; had come so far from the divided and scared children who first entered Narnia 13 years ago.
A wave of sadness suddenly rushed over Narnia’s chief deity. For he knew that in a few short years, he would have to send them back. Back to the world they originally came from, where only a few seconds had passed since they left. He knew what would happen to them when they fell back out of that wardrobe, and it made him overwhelmingly upset, upset at himself.
It would have been much easier if he could have chosen someone else to take the throne of Narnia after the defeat of the White Witch. He could still have brought his chosen ones to Narnia, let them stay until after the battle, and then, a few days later, their familial relationship healed, their lessons learned, he could send them back to England. For at that time, they had only been in Narnia for 10 days, and still considered England home. They were the same physical and spiritual ages they were when they left. They had not had the time to grow into adults and make a home in Narnia. Leaving would be like leaving the most wonderful vacation spot when the vacation was over: a bit sad maybe, but not earth-shattering.
But there had been no one else. The Royal House of Frank was extinct, and although the King of Archenland was descended from Frank V, the Narnians would never have accepted a foreign monarch, even if they were an ally. No, his chosen ones were the only people who could rule Narnia after the Witch’s dictatorship ended.
And now, it was too late to stop them from making Narnia their home. Thirteen years was a very long time for them; half of Peter’s life; more than half for the others. They didn’t even remember England now, not really. Susan had preserved a few traditions from “That Other Place” as they referred to it now, but other than that there was nothing. They had become Narnian in every way except being born there. Having to go back to England at all, even if they could remain the adults they were, would be very difficult. Even more so that they would return as children.
Aslan didn’t want to cause them suffering, he really didn’t. If he had his way he would allow them to live out their lives in Narnia and enter his country when they passed on. But they had to return to England. There was no way around it.
“They will be needed again in Narnia’s distant future.” his father, the Emperor Beyond the Sea, told him. “The Narnians must believe their Kings and Queens can come back, and the Kings and Queens must be able to come back. Time is much slower in England. Before they know it, they will return.”
“But father,” Aslan pleaded, “they will be coming back to a Narnia centuries after their reign. Their loved ones will be long gone. It will be too much for them to bear while working to save Narnia from a powerful enemy as they saved it from Jadis.”
“Your chosen ones are strong, my son,” the Emperor coaxed. “stronger than you may think. They will persevere, just as they did this time.”
His father had been right. This was not the end of the Pevensies’ role in Narnia. Their courage and strength would be needed centuries into Narnia’s future. No matter how sad it made him to cause them suffering, Aslan had to send them back.
But that time was not now. Now, as the large gathering helped Lucy and Veronica celebrate their marriage, Aslan could let his chosen ones be happy, for a few years longer.