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To be a friend of Narnia is a blessing and a curse and here is why:
Bombs are raining down on your house from men whose language you do not speak. Your neighborhood is no man’s land for a war you had no say in. Screams pierce the air as you curl up against your mother in the dank shelter. Smoke fills your lungs; traps them, and tortures them until you cannot tell the difference between oxygen and chemicals anymore. You are a child. You know nothing of the world yet.
At a young age, your mother bundles you up in as many layers as she can and bids her good-bye at the train station before sending you off to the countryside. Tears streak in your eyes but they do not make you special. You are not the only crying child here. There is little you can do except pray. Pray that the war will be over, that you will see your mother again, that Professor Kirke will not be a strict man who will hit you with a stick.
Goodness, the house is large. The housekeeper detests children, which is ironic because the professor tells you that four more are coming next week. The bed is cold. The food is fresh. They forbid you to read the newspaper.
The Pevensies are a jolly lot. Peter, strong and brave. Susan, beautiful and intelligent. Lucy, bright and optimistic. But oh, Edmund. The one your age. The bad seed, the rotten apple, takes pleasure in bullying Lucy. You dislike him immediately. He reciprocates the feeling well.
Firstly, he constantly complains that you're taking up all of his space on the couch, never mind that there are about a million other couches in this mansion. Second, you argue about everything—his snide tone, your wrinkled hem, his muddy shoes, your dirty hands after playing in the garden outside—and you think he is punishing you with cabin fever. Third, he constantly occupies your time with his foolishness and it’s driving you mad. You cannot wait to go home and get away from him forever.
To escape with Lucy during hide-and-seek, you enter a land shrouded in the coldest snow, and you refuse to follow the faun. You wander deep until you meet the witch. The White Witch lets you live, silently satisfied that you bring no siblings, and fulfill no prophecy. You become her weapon, her sword and shield as the remnants of the real world fade away. You are enchanted. You make enchantments. It lives within you; it always has. You find magic deep within your skin and cast spells that create palaces out of ice and blizzards with your words.
As miserable as the cold is, it is yours.
In steps that boy, a naive little boy, and you watch silently as Edmund stuffs his face with luxurious food that you had enchanted out of snow. You tell him to stop. He bites back that you are the one who enchanted this, so he ought to enjoy the same magic that you do. You do not tell him of the fear, the guilt, the monstrosity that you face internally. After all, you’re still a child. Perhaps a child led astray by evil, but a child nonetheless.
The Witch keeps you wrapped around her finger. Terror eclipses you with every waking moment. Edmund recognizes his folly. You recognize your vanity. Sins are a human condition. You can repent. You do not know this yet.
In the cold cell, Edmund asks you if you really hate him. You tell him you don’t. He is misguided, but so are you. Edmund is brave. He is ready to make up for what he has done. You admire those qualities. You never thought he was capable of apologizing. There is fear in his eyes, pain in his busted lip. You use your magic to hold an ice pocket for his bruises. You will protect him as best as you can. He thinks you’re not so bad either.
Spring is coming to end winter. You cut the ropes, use your magic to fight although you are scared, and together with Edmund you run away to Aslan’s camp. Aslan, who showers you in warmth and forgiveness. His mane is soft. His voice is rich with low timbres. You sob and Edmund cries with you, which he would normally never do. The Pevensies surprise you by including you in their hugs as well the moment you reunite. They say nothing about your wickedness. They are only happy to see you and Edmund again.
Peter talks of a battle. An army is raised of the rebels, the rightful Narnians. Susan is training with a bow, and Lucy keeps morale up. And you? You prepare to repent. There is a shift in your relationship with Edmund. Edmund, whom you once scorned as the least likable sibling, is now your best companion. He is the only one to know the suffering you went through. And perhaps the other siblings don’t understand yet, but for now, Edmund does.
He teaches you his knightly trade, though Peter forbids you to join the battle fray. The sword is heavy in your hands, the crown too large for his head. You are given a horse and taught how to ride it. You gallop through the fields of Narnia, playing soldier with Edmund with your swords and shields, and though the prospect of war strains the air with its fearsome uncertainty, you enjoy this moment with your future king.
Suddenly, war is no longer scary. What was once your exile sentence to the countryside is now your ticket to adventure. You forget that you are a child.
Edmund shares his blankets with you when it’s cold. You comb his hair when it’s windswept from riding. He saves a seat for you beside him at supper. You learn to polish his sword until it glistens. Everywhere you go, he is there. Everywhere he goes, you follow. You argue, but only because you care for each other. You are inseparable. One time, when Susan remarked that a significant change of heart had bereft her youngest brother since you had found companionship, he scratched his neck and looked away.
You count the freckles on his chill-kissed cheeks. You hope they will never disappear when you get older. The terror of being free from the witch’s clutches has not settled yet. Nightmares will follow soon, but for now, it is out of your mind. There is only youth, and childhood, with these siblings who treat you as though you are part of the family.
The battle is harsh. Jadis wears Aslan’s pelt. Comrades die around you, stricken down by the wicked weapons and ghoulish monsters. You turn the witch’s teachings against her and fight with them until you are exhausted. Edmund challenges her and ignores your protests. When he disarms her wand, your heart leaps with hope. When he nearly dies, your heart feels itself crumbling away like burning parchment. Your tears paint his face when he reawakens.
He holds your hand. You are both still children.
Narnia thaws, and before you are four royalties. Kings and Queens. You kneel. You bow. Then you are told to stand, for you are the High Enchanter. Power rests in your hands but you do not claim it for yourself. You are content to use magic to cultivate the land and bring everlasting peace to this realm. Narnia enters its Golden Age.
Your body grows. Uncomfortably. You gain height. Your weight changes, more or less. Your feet are getting too big for your shoes. New robes must be fitted for you. Your voice is changing too. It is uncomfortable. It is alright. You are younger than you’ll ever be.
Magic spells come as easy to you as breathing. You’ve tried teaching Lucy and Susan but it isn’t important to them. Peter is too busy. Edmund likes to watch you instead. At some age, it becomes less of a silly game and now you feel a blushing tension, your stomach doing flips, every time he gazes at you elegantly flicking your hands through the air.
As if you’re dancing. As if you’re performing a choreography in a sun-drenched courtyard, not a craft that could get you barbed as a witch back in England. But England is past you now. You don’t remember it at all. It’s more like a profound dream that you can dimly recall. Right now, there is only the world around you, evergreen and enchanting where nothing can hurt you.
Despite yourself, the longing comes and washes over you like waves. You are nearly of age now, still dripping with the innocence of young romantics, but old enough to see Edmund as he is now. To yearn for him. To do anything for him. His face haunts your dreams though you see him daily. You read in the library late at night, listening to the crackle of the fireplace, and listen to Edmund’s soft breathing as he flips the pages.
Firstly, he never complains that you're taking up all of his space on the couch, never mind that there are about a million other couches in Cair Paravel. You lay on his lap, curl up against his form when it’s cold, and he secretly loves how you trust him. Second, you find comfort in everything—his gentle tone, your well-ironed cloak, his polished boots, your clean hands after wading with the naiads through Narnian rivers—and everyone thinks you’re joined at the hip. Third, he constantly occupies your time and it’s driving you mad.
Edmund is every bit of the King the prophecy said he would become. Judgment and counsel come to him like balancing feathers and human hearts on an ancient scale — fair and just. He is a veteran. His sword clashes with enemies. He wins wars, with wit and strategy that even the goddess Athena would commend. He was a traitor, and you had been tempted by power, but even a traitor may mend. But deep inside, beneath the exterior of kingly demeanors, he is still the boy you know well. The boy you love.
Soon enough, you’re not a child anymore.
Wildflowers return to the fields of Beruna. You swim in the lakes but never play in the snow. Wind rushes at you and the sky showers you in warm light. Is the sun the same star in Narnia and the world you left? You will never know. Edmund teaches you how to shoot with a crossbow, though you need it not. The horses are getting elderly but their loyalty never changes. Wisdom is an old friend, not a dangerous stranger.
One night, Edmund looks at you with a strange look on his face. Or at least, Lucy says it’s strange. You don’t know how you’ve never seen it, because Edmund has always looked at you that way — like you are the only person in the room. Peter is pensive, Susan is sly; they know something you do not. It is like standing at the edge of the cliff, and the bottom is tempting you to jump and see what awaits you below.
Kings and Queens promenade in the glittering ballrooms under a constellation of foreign stars, and Edmund speaks to you in a low voice. He may be a skilled diplomat, but his battery is taper running fast at parties. The moon sees you dance together underneath its course. There was once a time when you were both awkward kids, stepping on each other’s toes, but now you are as graceful as any prince or princess. He carries the train of your gown when the cape drags. You think of the fairy tales with glass slippers and sleeping beauties and princes fighting dragons. You think this is better than any story because it is real.
Cair Paravel’s rose garden is quiet. Peaceful. Your hand is on his arm as you stroll. And when Edmund leans in to kiss you, albeit shyly and unsure of your reaction, you reciprocate the sweet press of lips. Oh God, oh God, oh God. You’ve been waiting for this nearly your whole life. It is more magical than any spell you can come up with. It is not the coquettish fireworks you thought you’d feel, or butterflies erupting in your stomach like the romance novels said. But only because it feels right. Loving Edmund has been a long time coming.
Time runs faster and faster. Before you know it, you are in your mid-twenties. Soon the apples will blush and fall into your hands. You have not been a child for a long time but who you were, lives in you still. Marriage was not something the Pevensies were expected to be arranged to, though many men clamored for Susan’s dainty hand. Even you went with Edmund to fight in a war against that, once. Narnians hold their breaths, giddy with anticipation, thinking that your beau will finally announce the land of your nuptials. But no. His clever eyes glint every time a joke is pushed his way, asking if he would wed.
You will admit, though, that you are yearning for the day that you can sleep in the same bed without admonishment from your chaperones. As if you’re still children!
High upon a hill, overlooking the shimmering lakes, Edmund takes you to the top as the blue sky rolls to pink. A gentle breeze whispers through the trees, carrying the promise of something extraordinary. Your heart hammers like a battle drum. It reminds you of when you were young, standing upon that hill with a shaky hand as Edmund’s scratchy teenage voice commands the archers to fire against enemy troops. It is a different kind of uncertainty. His eyes are different from his siblings and you have always loved them, even more so as they gaze deeply into yours. His voice shakes when he professes his love for you, overwhelmed with emotion. Edmund had always been good with words. Tears stream down your face as you nod yes, before he slips the ring onto your finger.
When you stride down the aisle, the beautiful, ethereal ceremony of white roses fades to nothing as you look at only him at the end. You think you will love this boy forever. The Pevensies celebrate; it was about time you stick their surname onto yours. You had been part of the family the moment you met so long ago.
Fifteen years after your entrance to Narnia, whispers spread across the land — the white stag has been spotted. Should one catch it, they will be granted a wish. You know exactly what you will wish for, which is for Narnia and your family to prosper. Maybe, just maybe, you will expand the family and be blessed with more love to go around. You are getting older, after all.
Summer sunlight spills through the thick trees as you ride through the Lantern Waste in hunt of the stag. The color in your cheeks feels high; you are as eager as anyone to pursue the stag, especially now that you have seen its snow-white pelt. Edmund falls behind. The others, still the siblings they are, taunt him to keep up. You slow your horse to check up on him. He reaches over to squeeze your hand gently three times. He knows you can sense some magic in the air; you chalk it off because after all, you and Edmund are the Duke and Duch of Lantern Waste, this forest is thus your domain. It grants some power. But it is different this time.
Your horses are in a steady trot together so you and Edmund can chatter as you catch up with the others. Up ahead, Lucy has come to a stop right by a metal tree. The stag is nowhere to be found, but you can feel a powerful tension of enchantment in the air. It is like a dream, or a dream of a dream. Weary glances are exchanged between you and your husband. Never one to let his dearest sister stray, he tells Lucy to be careful, and you all run after her into the trees when a memory pops into her head.
The trees are thick. They scratch you. You can’t see anything. Edmund wildly turns in search of your hand and you call back, telling him that you are right behind. He snaps at you to stop pushing and you snap back to stop pulling. What’s this? You wonder. Why does it all feel so childish all of a sudden? The trees are still thick, but they don’t scratch you. They are soft. They are coats. Peter and Edmund’s voices seem to have become an octave higher and you wonder if something is terrifying up ahead.
Then you all tumble out of the wardrobe.
You land right beside Edmund on the cold hardwood floor of Professor Kirke’s mansion.
You are quite horrified to look at your husband and see a child staring back at you.
Gone are the glimmering ball gowns and the enchanted rivers. No longer will you return to the wardrobe and enter a realm of eternal springtime. The cold bucket of reality has been doused on your ratty little cardigan and you are left to wonder what you had done to deserve this punishment.
At first, you do not know how to react. The professor prepares a cup of hot chocolate for all of you and you bite back the urge to ask for red wine. When you sit on his cushiony chair between Edmund and Susan, your old leather shoes do not even reach the floor. Shades of cool paint the world that is not yours. Or maybe it is, but you do not like to admit it. You will learn to live with it eventually. For now, you wail like the child you are as the five of you bang on the wardrobe innards to find nothing.
You accidentally hurt Edmund’s feelings on the first day back when he attempts to touch your shoulder, only for you to recoil at the sight of a little boy being so caring. You shake off the jitters, remember that you are still the same age, but it is difficult. You apologize and hug him. It is an awkward adolescent hug. You hate it. You hate how you are a child again. It is worse than not being able to perform magic.
To be or not to be? You have read those famous words written in the play by a great English poet, in a soliloquy performed by a character who is a madman. You think you’re going even madder with each day that passes. It is hard to adjust back to childhood when you were once reaching the age of starting a family with the boy beside you. You shudder to look at young Edmund and think of it now. But it mends. You aren’t sure if your Narnian wedding vows are valid in this world, considering the legal issues and all, but you are sure that you love him still. He was your childhood sweetheart once; he can be your sweetheart again.
You play cricket together. There are trees you can climb, and places in the countryside you can wander with your bikes. You still read in the library and listen to the crackle of the fireplace. It’s astonishing, really, how you can fall in love with someone all over again. People look at both of you and give you funny grins, telling you that your puppy love is adorable and that you and Edmund should enjoy it while it lasts before you get older. But you glance at each other with your secret smiles and know.
When the bombings end and it is time to go back home, you cry. You have never known such a long time without Edmund and the Pevensies before and you do not know how you will survive. They reassure you that they will visit you in London and write to you from boarding school. Edmund, most of all, promises to write you multiple times a week and phone you — as long as it’s okay with your mother, of course.
Life falls back into its old pattern. You are happy to see your mother again but you wished you could introduce your husband to her. What a funny thought it is now to drag Edmund over and introduce him as your husband. School is boring but you are exceptionally good at the language arts, politics, and economics. Your friends are all amazed that you know such grown-up trades. You shrug and say it’s magic. They would fear your maturity if only you hadn’t mentioned that you had a boyfriend. They all want to know what he is like, what he looks like, and the things you’ve done together. When you tell them that he has once brought you to the lakes, they swoon.
You tell all this to Edmund. He is diligent in keeping his promises to write you every week. The other Pevensies have gotten caught up with their personal lives but not him. He even saves his pennies and quarters just so he can telephone you. Life is bittersweet. You are a child.
A year later, Narnia calls you again.
You had meant to take the tram home from school, but when you step out, you find yourself in a cove. The air smells like salt. Beyond the mouth of the cave is a coastline with crashing waves. Your heart leaps and you murmur a spell, flicking your hand. Sparks dance on your fingertips to your delight. There are voices on the other side of the beach. You dash out of the cove and see the four of them, clad in their uniform. The world stills. You give a great shout and run towards them, already throwing your cardigan to the sand as you leap into Edmund’s outstretched arms. He spins you around until you fall into the shallow waters. His lips are salty as you kiss him fervently.
Centuries have passed in Narnia since you left. There are battles to fight, kings to overthrow, and princes to help. Some battles are lost. You check on each other to be sure that you both made it out alive. It is nothing new to you. Edmund makes cheeky remarks against Miraz. He takes Peter’s superior status over him in good jest. You are proud of how far he has come. When Aslan’s How is sieged, you and him circle back-to-back, clashing swords with enemies while covering each other’s blind spots. It is a dance you can never forget.
Caspian is a good prince, and he has a stubborn heart that you know will make a fine king of him. You tell him such. He holds your words in high regard; you are a magician, after all. But you are modest and tell him that you must bow before him as he is a king now, causing him to blush. Jealousy oozes off Edmund like viscous magma. Susan and Lucy find it amusing but Peter finds it relatable. You take your lover’s face in your hands and the anger melts into sadness. He had just missed you so much.
Peter and Susan are not to return. One day, you will all be exiled from Narnia.
There are many things you want to say to Aslan, many emotions running through your mind. Fury, disbelief, and confusion. Was it all a hoax? Was it all for nothing? What was the point of bringing you into this wonderful realm of fantastical creatures and adventures, if your destiny was to wait for it to be ripped away from you? You push the thought away. It is not yet your time. This time, you willingly give up your magic and walk through that door before entering the other world once more.
Another year passes. You take up studies in Cambridge. Luckily, Edmund and Lucy are staying there too with their cousin Eustace, who can hardly believe that someone as quote-on-quote idiotic, dimwitted, and unmannerly as Edmund could ever attract another human being. You catch Lucy looking at you and mimicking your actions every time she observes you being an object of desire, like when girls ogle at your pretty hair or when Edmund brings you flowers. You realize that she is getting older in this world too. You pay a visit one day to their house to deliver carrots and instead receive a visit to Narnia aboard a ship.
Once again, you’re not really a child anymore.
Temptations follow you like ghouls on your back. Suddenly you find yourself wondering what it must have felt like for the White Witch to use her magic to get what she wanted. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. But the lion roars and you stay in your place. Edmund fights off the nightmares about the witch and is horrified when you begin to embrace the darkness again. With so many battles, you find yourself enjoying your powers to incite pain in your opponents. Edmund grabs you before you go too far, and reminds you of the goodness in the world that you are better off nurturing instead.
You snap back that he is no better, with his temptation of selfishly desiring the gold in that enchanted water. The tension is so great you can slice it with a knife. The last straw is when Edmund finds himself mesmerized by the blue star, Ramandu’s daughter, and you want to flee the island in jealous tears.
So what if she is made of magic? You have magic too! But you are only human, and you know that your flesh and bone are nothing against stardust. You weep to the sky even if you know deep inside that Edmund would never do such a thing.
Edmund finds you and apologizes. You have hurt each other with your worldly foolhardiness, but the wounds are not permanent. You had almost forgotten that no matter how sharp the barbed wires you fling out of grief are, there is always a way to heal. You remember that day in the witch’s cell when he asked if you hated him and you said no. You have seen each other at your worst and still love.
Forgiveness is sealed with your embrace. Because by all means, no amount of gold or power is worth giving up on this.
Aslan tells you that it is your last time in Narnia and this time you do not feel any fear or anger. You accept it and hold Edmund’s hand as you return to the other world where he will build his life with you.
Narnia has given you everything and has taken it all away, pestled your mind till it was overflowing with incantations and battle wounds, but it cannot whisk away what you have with him. You are growing up. And how lucky you are to be growing up with the love of your life.
Edmund is lauded as exceptional in economics and political science. University is not so bad. Your mates find it endearing how you are dating your childhood sweetheart and they hope you get married. You have even introduced Edmund to your mother as your boyfriend, and so has Edmund with you to his parents. You are even a guest at the Pevensie residence during the holidays and it feels like you are all in Cair Paravel again, the five of you figuring out how to rule a kingdom.
You speak of Narnia often with fondness, but there eventually comes a time when Susan no longer participates in the conversation. She fades. You have tea with Eustance on your free days in Cambridge and listen to his own stories of Narnia with a girl named Jill. You are proud of the boy he has become like he is your cousin, which he dutifully reminded you that he is, as you are still married to Edmund.
You come up with a career plan for after university. You and Edmund have discussed marriage like proper adults now; once you are both financially stable and graduate, you will tie the knot again. You will buy a lovely house and occasionally visit Professor Kirke in the countryside where it all began. The wedding plan is even drawn to scale. It is not as glamorous as the enchanted royal lives you both once led, but it is a life where the two of you are together, and that is enough. But Aslan has other plans.
Narnia forcefully calls you again in a snap. You blink one moment during dinner with the seven friends of Narnia, exchanging laughs and mirthful tales of your unique adventures back in that land of your childhoods, and suddenly you are looking at Caspian’s descendant imploring you all for aid. So you set off with Edmund and Peter to find the rings that had once brought Professor Kirke to Narnia. You admire the rings, pretty with Narnian craftsmanship. You wonder what your marriage rings will look like in this world.
With a heart full of hope and a spirit eager for the unknown, you wait patiently on the platform, eyes scanning the tracks for any sign of the approaching train. Anticipation courses through your veins, filled with child-like excitement for your next adventure in a world you had thought was lost to you. Edmund puts an arm around you, just to keep you close. You whisper to him that you are glad that he is choosing a life with you instead of going off to fight in the war. That you are happy you met him. That you are alive in this world with him.
The train rolls into the platform. Metal railways screech a pitch higher than normal. You hear the roar of a lion as the heavy train carriages bend a bit too far. Out of instinct, Edmund holds you tighter. Your husband, your best friend; and his noble brother Peter who is now your brother.
The last thing you feel is Edmund’s arms around you before the train slams into your bodies.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Your heart is thumping as you open your eyes.
The first person you look for is Edmund.
He gently shakes you awake.
He and Lucy help you up as Peter speaks to the Narnian King you saw a few days ago. The situation is grave and you are back in Narnia, or what is left of it anyway.
Your beautiful Narnia, your kingdom where you have grown and loved and nurtured, is coming to an end. It was not for nothing; you understand it now. You had grown and loved and nurtured and that is enough; it always had been. It had always been enough to love.
You are dressed in the finest clothes. You feast at a bountiful table. Like an instinct, like playing an instrument you thought you’d forgotten, you say an incantation, and the sparks dance on your hand again, just as they had when you were younger at the beach. The friends who had never seen you perform magic ooh and aah. But not everything lasts; as the world crumbles around you, you walk with the others to Aslan’s Country.
You ask Edmund if he is upset about your deaths.
The irony of it all. You had all fought battles and scrambled to survive on your quests, blundering for Narnia and Aslan, only to be killed by Aslan himself. It is a miracle that you aren’t resentful about it. If it had been Susan, it would be a different story. You had died with Edmund from the magic that delivered you to this land, where you came together in the first place, and there is no fate more horrifyingly poetic than that.
He takes you by the hand and leads you in.
His reply is sweet and simple: it will be fine as long as you are together.
He is every star above you, every wish you make with comets in the sky. He is wise, fair, and devoted to you like no other. It seems like it was a lifetime ago that you met him in a war-torn world where you argued all day.
You are no longer that child. Yet you still have everything to know about the world.
But you look at Edmund and you know something that you've always known since you were that little kid. It is a hunch, if you will. Everything will be alright whether you are here or there. It fills you with life during death, and bathes you in glowing comfort that is like no other sun.
This is only the beginning. You cup your hands and whisper to Edmund that you will always love him, the children you both are.