Ficpost, Five Things, Lucy
Jun. 11th, 2008 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mari4212Title: Five Things No One Knows About Lucy
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: PG
Words: 1,344
Disclaimer: All of this comes originally from C.S. Lewis. Considering the fact that he once told a fan to write his own stories of Narnia, I'm hoping he wouldn't mind my playing with the characters.
Author's Notes: Major props go out to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elvisvf101 for his incredibly fast and amazing beta job. Some of the best lines in this were his suggestions.
1.
Sometimes, she gets very jealous of her sister. It’s hard not to. Susan is beautiful, gracious, and well-spoken at all times, whereas Lucy can barely keep her temper when the diplomats start bickering or some other kingdom’s ambassador refuses to deal with her because she’s too young or because she is not a king, as though either of those meant anything in Narnia.
Even the suitors can sometimes make Lucy envious. Not that she’d ever want most of them herself. A great many of them were obnoxious boors, or sent obnoxious boors to represent them, and Lucy didn’t think very highly of obnoxious boors. It wasn’t the suitors themselves that Lucy found herself wanting, but the attention they always showered upon Susan. Lucy knew that she was considered to be quite lovely herself, but she knew as well as anyone else with eyes to see that Susan was the true beauty of the family. And it hurt, sometimes, to watch when everyone in the room’s eyes turned to watch as Susan entered, even the men talking to Lucy at the time. It was just one more way that Lucy would never measure up to her sister.
Most days, Lucy knows that jealousy is very wrong, and how much Susan would hate it if she knew that Lucy felt inadequate. On those days, it’s easy enough to talk herself out of it and go do something useful around the castle to distract herself.
Sometimes, though, it’s easier to just give in and feel jealous for a day, even if it does make her miserable and perfectly nasty to everyone around.
2.
Lucy’s favorite sibling was Edmund. Not Susan, even though Susan was the kindest of them all, and always had a moment to spare if Lucy needed help with any problem. And not Peter, who was always there to comfort and defend her in any trouble, and who only needed to embrace her and she felt loved and protected all at once.
It was Edmund. Edmund, who at times was just as awkward and unsure as she was about how to be a ruler of Narnia. Edmund, who could make her laugh at the worst moments possible with just one word or a wry glance. Edmund, who was her confidant and confessor. Edmund, who needed her just as much as she needed him. He was the only one of her siblings who ever seemed comfortable showing her his darker side, his faults and vulnerabilities, just as she in turn showed him all the parts of herself that she wasn’t proud of, all the picky details and flaws that made them both real people. Edmund, who would be just as surprised to realize that he was her favorite as she had been to realize that she did play favorites.
She loved Susan and Peter, really, she did. More than anything else in the world, she loved her whole family. But they never needed her to be anything but someone to take care of, it seemed, and it was hard to know how to deal with that. Edmund needed someone to love him as much as she needed someone to love.
3.
She’d been frightened by some of their subjects, at first. She knew that most of the Narnians were good, and that they were glad to see the Witch defeated and Narnia restored. But some of them had been so big, and the sort of creatures that she’d been warned to avoid back in Spare ‘Oom. The first time a delegation came from the talking bears, her knuckles had been white, from her gripping the arms of her throne so hard, trying not to be scared, or at least not to let it show to anyone but herself.
When one of the delegates fell asleep in the first hour of negotiations and started snoring and sucking on his paws, and the other one just rolled her eyes and gave the same sort of exasperated sigh that Susan always did whenever she or Edmund did anything undignified in public, Lucy laughed. After that, it wasn’t quite so scary to meet the rest of her subjects.
Well, except for the representatives of the good wolf clans. But that was the exception that proved the rule, especially given the wolves she’d met first. No one, not even the wolves themselves, blamed her for that.
4.
She had bad dreams, sometimes; nightmares that left her shaking. She would walk the halls of Cair Paravel those nights, stopping in front of each of her siblings’ rooms to listen at their doors for any signs of life. Only when she could hear Edmund’s heavy snoring, or the murmurs Susan would make at times when she was sleeping, or Peter’s pacing steps as he worked through something could she calm herself enough to go and sleep again.
The dreams changed over time. At first, when they were still new to Narnia, there were dreams of harsh whistling noises and screeching sirens, the ground shaking, and the tense twisting look of fear and worry on their mother’s face. Those dreams would alternate with dreams of the Stone Table, the fierce hatred and poisonous joy on the Witch’s face and the sickening thud of the knife hitting flesh, or dreams of Edmund’s face pale and marked with blood against the grass. As time passed, they were replaced with others, new fears. Peter’s face gray with worry and drawn with pain as he wrote out letters to families of soldiers who hadn’t returned from battle. Susan laughing with some faceless suitor and the creeping dread that this time, he’d be the one to take her away for good.
There was never a fortnight gone by in which Lucy wouldn’t have to walk the halls, listening for her siblings to remind herself that they were still there.
5.
Sometimes, she just needed to go away. She loved her kingdom dearly, and loved her family just as much. But sometimes, she needed to escape from the duties of being a Queen and a sister. Those days, she needed to break away from everything and simply be Lucy, with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.
She’d saddle her horse in the early dawn, when light was just breaking over the waves of the sea and the stars’ song was just fading. She’d leave a note where one of her siblings would easily find it, and ride off before the rest of the castle’s inhabitants had awakened. She would ride for hours on end, until every last trace of worry had been shaken off in her wake, and only then would she dismount and walk among the trees.
Sooner or later, she’d encounter one of the talking beasts, or a dryad who didn’t believe in coming to court too often. And she would sit there and talk with them for hours about their lives, the ordinary day to day existence that she found so precious and beautiful. Sometimes they would confide in her, their own worries and troubles: problems that she could help them with, arguments with their neighbors. And even though she had fled the castle to avoid the worries and problems there, she found herself glad to help with these new troubles. Most of the time, it only took a word here and there to set things at ease. Sometimes, not even that, as all they wanted was someone to listen to them, to tell them that what they felt and wanted was important. Lucy could do that easily. There were times she wanted nothing else, herself.
She’d ride back in before sunset, to deal with Susan’s scoldingss and Mrs. Beaver’s frettings, able to cope with them again after a day’s break. Peter never said much, aside from asking her to give him a little more warning next time. He, at least, seemed to understand why she needed to escape so much.
Flying away from the castle at times kept her grounded, and helped her remember what was important in the end.
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Rating: PG
Words: 1,344
Disclaimer: All of this comes originally from C.S. Lewis. Considering the fact that he once told a fan to write his own stories of Narnia, I'm hoping he wouldn't mind my playing with the characters.
Author's Notes: Major props go out to
elvisvf101 for his incredibly fast and amazing beta job. Some of the best lines in this were his suggestions.1.
Sometimes, she gets very jealous of her sister. It’s hard not to. Susan is beautiful, gracious, and well-spoken at all times, whereas Lucy can barely keep her temper when the diplomats start bickering or some other kingdom’s ambassador refuses to deal with her because she’s too young or because she is not a king, as though either of those meant anything in Narnia.
Even the suitors can sometimes make Lucy envious. Not that she’d ever want most of them herself. A great many of them were obnoxious boors, or sent obnoxious boors to represent them, and Lucy didn’t think very highly of obnoxious boors. It wasn’t the suitors themselves that Lucy found herself wanting, but the attention they always showered upon Susan. Lucy knew that she was considered to be quite lovely herself, but she knew as well as anyone else with eyes to see that Susan was the true beauty of the family. And it hurt, sometimes, to watch when everyone in the room’s eyes turned to watch as Susan entered, even the men talking to Lucy at the time. It was just one more way that Lucy would never measure up to her sister.
Most days, Lucy knows that jealousy is very wrong, and how much Susan would hate it if she knew that Lucy felt inadequate. On those days, it’s easy enough to talk herself out of it and go do something useful around the castle to distract herself.
Sometimes, though, it’s easier to just give in and feel jealous for a day, even if it does make her miserable and perfectly nasty to everyone around.
2.
Lucy’s favorite sibling was Edmund. Not Susan, even though Susan was the kindest of them all, and always had a moment to spare if Lucy needed help with any problem. And not Peter, who was always there to comfort and defend her in any trouble, and who only needed to embrace her and she felt loved and protected all at once.
It was Edmund. Edmund, who at times was just as awkward and unsure as she was about how to be a ruler of Narnia. Edmund, who could make her laugh at the worst moments possible with just one word or a wry glance. Edmund, who was her confidant and confessor. Edmund, who needed her just as much as she needed him. He was the only one of her siblings who ever seemed comfortable showing her his darker side, his faults and vulnerabilities, just as she in turn showed him all the parts of herself that she wasn’t proud of, all the picky details and flaws that made them both real people. Edmund, who would be just as surprised to realize that he was her favorite as she had been to realize that she did play favorites.
She loved Susan and Peter, really, she did. More than anything else in the world, she loved her whole family. But they never needed her to be anything but someone to take care of, it seemed, and it was hard to know how to deal with that. Edmund needed someone to love him as much as she needed someone to love.
3.
She’d been frightened by some of their subjects, at first. She knew that most of the Narnians were good, and that they were glad to see the Witch defeated and Narnia restored. But some of them had been so big, and the sort of creatures that she’d been warned to avoid back in Spare ‘Oom. The first time a delegation came from the talking bears, her knuckles had been white, from her gripping the arms of her throne so hard, trying not to be scared, or at least not to let it show to anyone but herself.
When one of the delegates fell asleep in the first hour of negotiations and started snoring and sucking on his paws, and the other one just rolled her eyes and gave the same sort of exasperated sigh that Susan always did whenever she or Edmund did anything undignified in public, Lucy laughed. After that, it wasn’t quite so scary to meet the rest of her subjects.
Well, except for the representatives of the good wolf clans. But that was the exception that proved the rule, especially given the wolves she’d met first. No one, not even the wolves themselves, blamed her for that.
4.
She had bad dreams, sometimes; nightmares that left her shaking. She would walk the halls of Cair Paravel those nights, stopping in front of each of her siblings’ rooms to listen at their doors for any signs of life. Only when she could hear Edmund’s heavy snoring, or the murmurs Susan would make at times when she was sleeping, or Peter’s pacing steps as he worked through something could she calm herself enough to go and sleep again.
The dreams changed over time. At first, when they were still new to Narnia, there were dreams of harsh whistling noises and screeching sirens, the ground shaking, and the tense twisting look of fear and worry on their mother’s face. Those dreams would alternate with dreams of the Stone Table, the fierce hatred and poisonous joy on the Witch’s face and the sickening thud of the knife hitting flesh, or dreams of Edmund’s face pale and marked with blood against the grass. As time passed, they were replaced with others, new fears. Peter’s face gray with worry and drawn with pain as he wrote out letters to families of soldiers who hadn’t returned from battle. Susan laughing with some faceless suitor and the creeping dread that this time, he’d be the one to take her away for good.
There was never a fortnight gone by in which Lucy wouldn’t have to walk the halls, listening for her siblings to remind herself that they were still there.
5.
Sometimes, she just needed to go away. She loved her kingdom dearly, and loved her family just as much. But sometimes, she needed to escape from the duties of being a Queen and a sister. Those days, she needed to break away from everything and simply be Lucy, with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.
She’d saddle her horse in the early dawn, when light was just breaking over the waves of the sea and the stars’ song was just fading. She’d leave a note where one of her siblings would easily find it, and ride off before the rest of the castle’s inhabitants had awakened. She would ride for hours on end, until every last trace of worry had been shaken off in her wake, and only then would she dismount and walk among the trees.
Sooner or later, she’d encounter one of the talking beasts, or a dryad who didn’t believe in coming to court too often. And she would sit there and talk with them for hours about their lives, the ordinary day to day existence that she found so precious and beautiful. Sometimes they would confide in her, their own worries and troubles: problems that she could help them with, arguments with their neighbors. And even though she had fled the castle to avoid the worries and problems there, she found herself glad to help with these new troubles. Most of the time, it only took a word here and there to set things at ease. Sometimes, not even that, as all they wanted was someone to listen to them, to tell them that what they felt and wanted was important. Lucy could do that easily. There were times she wanted nothing else, herself.
She’d ride back in before sunset, to deal with Susan’s scoldingss and Mrs. Beaver’s frettings, able to cope with them again after a day’s break. Peter never said much, aside from asking her to give him a little more warning next time. He, at least, seemed to understand why she needed to escape so much.
Flying away from the castle at times kept her grounded, and helped her remember what was important in the end.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 05:19 pm (UTC)You know, I originally had a different number five, had it most of the way written, and then decided that it wasn't working and wasn't how I saw Lucy? This number five was actually written to replace that one. And it seems to be by far everyone's favorite passage.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-20 07:59 pm (UTC)Lucy had never been my favorite character, but I'm warming up to her and it's all the fault of the fanfic I've been reading. My favorite is the last one because it is so Lucy. She is Narnia's beloved in her way.