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Still proud of them for putting out a film that gave Chadwick the respect he deserves and they also worked under stressful conditions. Losing a film brother and working in the middle of a scary global pandemic...bravo to them for putting out a movie with Ryan they can all be proud of. And I don't give a fuck what other people thought of the film, it was a lovely tribute.
Siya's and Rina's dress
୨⎯ Narrative ⎯୧
The great hall of Cair Paravel gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Newly polished marble floors reflected the light streaming through tall windows, creating patterns of gold and rainbow across the assembled crowd. After a hundred years of winter, the castle by the sea had been restored to its former glory in a matter of days—a testament to the magic flowing through Narnia now that the White Witch's reign had ended.
Banners of red and gold hung from the rafters, each bearing the emblem of a lion rampant. The scent of sea air mingled with that of fresh flowers, garlands of which adorned every pillar and archway. Outside, the waves of the Eastern Ocean lapped gently against the shore, their rhythm a counterpoint to the excited murmurs of the gathered Narnians.
At the far end of the hall stood seven thrones upon a marble dais. Four in the center—two larger flanked by two smaller—and three to the side, arranged in descending height. All were carved from white marble and inlaid with gold and precious stones, each design unique to the sovereign who would occupy it.
Aslan stood before the dais, his golden form seeming to radiate light of its own. He surveyed the gathered crowd with deep satisfaction. Centaurs in polished armor stood at attention along the walls. Fauns and dryads clustered together, whispering excitedly. Talking beasts of all kinds—from the smallest mice to great bears and leopards—had found places according to their size. Even the trees had sent representatives, their branch-like limbs swaying gently though there was no breeze within the hall.
The Great Lion's gaze shifted to his own children, waiting quietly to one side of the hall. Though human in form, they were as much children of Narnia as any creature born of its soil. Siya, the eldest, stood tall and regal in a gown of deepest gold that complemented her dark skin, her black hair intricately braided and adorned with golden beads. The silver mark on her forehead—the sign of Aslan's chosen—gleamed in the afternoon light.
Beside her, Rina wore a dress of forest green with silver embroidery that caught the light as she moved. Her hair was shorter than her sister's, falling in soft curls around her shoulders. The same silver mark adorned her forehead, a star-like symbol that connected these human children to their lion father.
Young William fidgeted in his formal attire, a miniature version of royal Narnian dress with a small ceremonial cape draped over his shoulders. His dark eyes, bright with excitement, darted around the hall, taking in every detail until a gentle touch from Siya stilled him.
Pride swelled within Aslan's chest as he regarded them. How strange and wonderful were the workings of magic, that these children—born of human form but of Narnian essence—should be his own. They had each faced the darkness in their own way during the White Witch's final days—Siya with her unwavering leadership, Rina with her compassionate courage, and William with his innocent faith. Though they did not share his leonine form, they carried his spirit within them.
And yet, today they would stand aside as the prophecy reached its fulfillment.
A soft horn sounded, and the crowd parted. Down the center of the hall came the Pevensies, walking in pairs. First Lucy and Edmund, then Susan and Peter. They were dressed in Narnian finery—tunics and dresses in rich colors embroidered with symbols of their new kingdom. They had changed in the short time since their arrival in Narnia, Aslan noted. Not just in appearance, though that too was evident. There was a new confidence in their bearing, a wisdom in their eyes that spoke of lessons learned and trials overcome.
As they approached the dais, Aslan turned to address the assembled creatures.
"Today," his voice rolled like distant thunder through the hall, "we witness the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. The thrones of Cair Paravel, long empty, will once again be filled. Winter's grip has been broken, and Narnia enters a new age of peace and prosperity."
He turned to the Pevensies, who now stood before him.
"Kneel, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve."
They did so, heads bowed in solemn reverence. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver approached, carrying between them a velvet cushion upon which rested four crowns. Mr. Tumnus followed, bearing a ceremonial horn.
Aslan nodded to the faun, who raised the horn and blew a clear, sweet note that seemed to hang in the air like visible magic.
"To the clear Southern Sun," Aslan intoned, "I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant."
He motioned to the Beavers, who carefully lifted the smallest crown—a delicate circlet of silver leaves—and passed it to him. With gentle dignity, Aslan placed it upon Lucy's head. Her face shone with joy as she looked up at him.
"To the radiant Great Woods, I give you King Edmund the Just."
Edmund's crown was silver as well, but more substantial than Lucy's, set with dark sapphires that gleamed like midnight. As Aslan placed it upon his head, Edmund's expression was solemn, the weight of his recent experiences evident in his eyes. Yet there was determination there too, and gratitude.
"To the gleaming Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Susan the Gentle."
Susan's crown was a flowing design of golden flowers and vines, delicate yet strong like the queen herself. She accepted it with graceful dignity, her eyes meeting Aslan's with quiet understanding.
"And to the magnificent Western Mountains, I give you High King Peter the Magnificent."
Peter's crown was the most imposing of the four—gold set with rubies and emeralds, a king's crown in every sense. As Aslan placed it upon his brow, a change seemed to come over the young man, as if the crown itself conferred not just authority but the wisdom to wield it well.
The newly crowned monarchs rose and turned to face the crowd, which erupted in cheers and jubilation. "Long live King Peter! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!" The chant echoed through the great hall, growing louder with each repetition.
When the cheers finally subsided, Aslan raised a paw for silence.
"Narnia's future is now in the hands of its kings and queens," he announced. "But they will not rule alone."
He turned to where his children waited and beckoned them forward. They approached with measured steps, Siya in the lead, William bringing up the rear, his small face a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
"The children of prophecy will share the governance of Narnia with the children of its magic," Aslan declared. "Though born of human form, these three were brought into being by Narnia itself, their spirits as much a part of this land as the trees and rivers. Together with you, they will ensure peace and justice throughout the realm."
He motioned to Siya, who knelt before him with regal grace.
"To the great Seven Isles of Brenn, Daughter of Narnia, I give you Queen Siya the Resilient."
A crown of hammered gold set with amber stones was placed upon her head. As she rose, her eyes met her father's, filled with solemn purpose.
Next came Rina, her steps light yet sure as she knelt.
"To the Glorious Dancing Lawn of Aslan's How, Daughter of Narnia, I proudly give you Princess Rina the Brave."
Rina's circlet was silver, adorned with emeralds that matched her eyes. Unlike Siya's full crown, this was a slender band that spoke of responsibility without the full weight of sovereignty. As she rose, she smiled at her father, a silent acknowledgment of the path he had chosen for her—guardian rather than ruler.
Finally, William bounded forward, remembering at the last moment to slow to a dignified walk. He knelt before his father, small hands clasped together to stop their excited fidgeting.
"To the wild Western Woods and whispering valleys, Son of Narnia, I give you Prince William the True."
The smallest circlet of all—little more than a band of silver with a single golden star at its center—was placed upon William's head. He beamed with pride, standing as tall as his small frame allowed.
"Rise," Aslan commanded, and all seven of the newly crowned rulers turned to face the assembled Narnians. "Behold your sovereigns, chosen by prophecy and by right. May they rule with wisdom, justice, and mercy for all the days to come."
The crowd erupted once more, the cheers now including the names of Aslan's children alongside the Pevensies. "Long live Queen Siya! Long live Princess Rina! Long live Prince William!"
---
Later, as the celebration continued with feasting and dancing in the great hall, Aslan walked alone on the eastern balcony of Cair Paravel. The sun was beginning its descent toward the western mountains, casting long shadows across the land.
"Father?"
He turned to find Siya approaching, her new crown catching the golden light. The evening breeze gently stirred her gold gown, the fabric shimmering like sunlight on water.
"Walk with me, daughter," he invited, resuming his pace along the balcony.
They moved in companionable silence for a time, both gazing out at the kingdom spread before them—forests and rivers, meadows and distant mountains, all vibrant with the colors and life of spring.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" Siya asked finally, her voice quiet but certain.
Aslan nodded. "There are other worlds that need me. Other battles to fight."
"When?"
"Tomorrow, with the dawn."
Siya's expression remained composed, though Aslan could sense the turmoil beneath her calm exterior. "Will you tell the others tonight?"
"No. Some goodbyes are better left unsaid."
She considered this, then nodded slowly. "What counsel would you give me before you go? The Pevensies are good-hearted, but they know little of ruling a kingdom."
"Guide them with patience," Aslan advised. "They will make mistakes, as all rulers do. Your task is not to prevent those mistakes but to help them learn from them."
"And Rina and William?"
"Rina will find her own path. She has always been the most independent of you three. William..." Aslan's expression softened. "Watch over him, but allow him room to grow. His heart is pure, and his instincts truer than he knows."
Siya was silent for a moment, absorbing her father's words. "Will you return?" she asked eventually.
"When I am needed," he replied. "Though not always in the way you might expect."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Rina and Peter, deep in discussion about the defenses of the northern border. Behind them came Susan with Mr. Tumnus, reviewing plans for the Spring Festival that would mark the official beginning of the new reign.
"There you are!" Lucy called, bounding onto the balcony with William in tow. Both wore flower crowns atop their ceremonial ones, clearly having escaped the formal atmosphere of the great hall for more enjoyable pursuits. "William's been showing me the secret passages in the castle!"
"Not _all_ of them," William clarified quickly, casting a nervous glance at Siya. "Just the ones that aren't dangerous."
"There are dangerous passages?" Edmund asked, joining the group. He looked more relaxed than Aslan had yet seen him, the burden of his betrayal finally lifting from his young shoulders.
"Only if you don't know the tricks," William said importantly. "But I know all of them! Father showed me when I was little."
"You're still little," Rina teased, ruffling his tight curls affectionately.
"Am not! I'm a prince now!" William protested, adjusting his silver circlet with dignity that was somewhat undermined by the flower crown perched precariously atop it.
Laughter rang out across the balcony, bright and carefree in the evening air. Aslan watched them all—his children and the children of Adam and Eve, already forming bonds that would serve Narnia well in the years to come.
A deeper contentment settled within him. This was why he had created Narnia, why he had woven the Deep Magic into its very fabric. Not for power or glory, but for moments like this—disparate souls finding common purpose, joy amidst sorrow, hope emerging from darkness.
The sun touched the horizon, setting the western sky ablaze with color. Silhouetted against it, his children and Narnia's new rulers stood together, their faces illuminated by the last golden rays of day. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new adventures. But tonight, in this moment, all was as it should be.
Aslan turned his gaze toward the Eastern Sea, where beyond the horizon other worlds waited. Other children who needed guidance. Other darkness to be vanquished by light.
"Until we meet again, dear ones," he murmured, too softly for any but himself to hear. "Until we meet again."
---
The midnight air was cool as Aslan padded silently through the corridors of Cair Paravel. The castle slept, its inhabitants exhausted from the day's festivities. Only the night guards remained awake, standing at attention at their posts, though even they seemed not to notice the Great Lion as he passed.
He paused outside each door, offering a silent blessing to those who slumbered within. Peter, dreaming of battles yet to come, his young face serious even in sleep. Susan, her practical mind sorting through the details of governing even in repose. Edmund, finally resting peacefully, the shadows of guilt receding from his dreams. Lucy, smiling in her sleep, her innocent faith undimmed by all they had experienced.
And his own children—Siya, who would bear the heaviest burden in his absence; Rina, whose path would take her far from Cair Paravel in the years ahead; and little William, whose destiny was still unfolding.
Aslan lingered longest outside Rina's chamber. Of his three children, she was perhaps the most like him in spirit—fiercely protective, unwavering in her convictions, yet gentle with those in need of compassion. She had risked much to guide the Pevensies safely to him, revealing herself when staying hidden would have been safer. That courage would serve her well in the days to come.
In the great throne room, Aslan stood before the seven thrones, now silent sentinels in the moonlight streaming through the high windows. He breathed deeply, infusing the very stones of the castle with his blessing—a protection against the darkness that would inevitably attempt to return.
"Watch over them," he instructed the stars visible through the windows. "Guard them while I am gone."
The stars seemed to twinkle in response, their ancient light bearing witness to his command.
Aslan made his way to the eastern shore, where the waves whispered against the sand. The moon cast a silver pathway across the water, stretching to the horizon and beyond.
He paused, looking back at Cair Paravel one last time. Its white towers gleamed in the moonlight, a beacon of hope and light for all of Narnia. Within its walls slept those he had chosen—through prophecy, through the mysterious workings of magic, through the unfathomable design of destiny—to carry his vision forward.
They would face trials in the days to come. Some would fall, only to rise again stronger. Some would lose their way, only to rediscover it when most needed. All would grow and change in ways he could see but they could not yet imagine.
"Be brave," he whispered to the sleeping castle. "Be just. Be gentle. Be valiant. Be resilient. Be true."
With that final benediction, Aslan turned and began walking along the moonlit path across the sea, his great paws barely touching the silvered water. With each step, his form seemed to shimmer and fade, becoming translucent, then transparent, until finally only the moonlight remained, dancing across the waves as if nothing had disturbed its eternal rhythm.
But in the highest tower of Cair Paravel, Rina stood at her window, having woken from a dream of farewell. She watched the empty beach, a single tear trailing down her cheek.
"Until we meet again, Father," she whispered, the silver mark on her forehead gleaming in the moonlight. "Until we meet again."
Narrative
Clark Kent was in his element on the football field. Coach Walt had been impressed with his progress, though Clark constantly had to remind himself to hold back.
The team was boarding the bus for an away game against the Granville Giants. Clark settled into a seat near the middle, nodding at his teammates as they filed past him. Through the window, he caught sight of Honey Ross cheering with the other students who had come to send them off. She flashed him a bright smile that made his heart skip.
The bus rumbled along the winding back roads of Lowell County. Clark was lost in thought about the upcoming game when he felt the bus swerve sharply. The driver shouted something as the vehicle careened off the road. There were screams as the bus crashed through the guardrail and plunged into the river below.
Cold water rushed in immediately. Clark snapped to attention, watching as panic erupted around him. The bus was sinking fast, water pouring in through the broken windows. Without thinking, Clark moved into action. He forced the jammed emergency door open with a burst of strength and began helping his teammates out.
"Everyone, this way!" he shouted, guiding them through the exit.
As the bus continued to sink, Clark realized one of the freshmen players was trapped under a collapsed seat in the rapidly flooding vehicle. Taking a deep breath, Clark plunged back into the water. With no one watching him underwater, he used his full strength to bend the metal and free the boy, pushing him toward the surface.
By the time Clark emerged from the water, everyone was safely on the shore—everyone except Lana Lang, who stood apart from the group, staring at him with wide eyes. She had been sitting near the front of the bus with the team manager and had a clear view of everything Clark had done.
While the others were busy checking on each other, Clark met Lana's gaze. The look of shock and disbelief on her face told him everything he needed to know: she had seen him. Panic set in immediately. Without waiting for the paramedics or police who were surely on their way, Clark disappeared into the nearby woods.
He ran—not at full speed, but fast enough to put distance between himself and the questions that would come. His feet carried him not toward the Kent Farm, but to the Ross property on the other side of town. Fear pounded in his chest as he approached the familiar two-story house. He needed the one person he trusted completely: Honey.
Clark's hands were still trembling when he knocked on the door. To his immense relief, Honey answered. One look at his pale face and wet clothes told her something was terribly wrong.
"Clark? What happened? You're soaked!" she exclaimed, pulling him inside.
"The bus crashed into Miller's River," he said, his voice shaking. "I had to... Honey, I had to use my abilities. Lana saw everything."
Honey led him to the kitchen, grabbing a towel from the laundry room on the way. As she handed it to him, concern was etched across her face.
"Tell me everything," she said softly.
And he did. The words poured out of him as Honey listened, her warm brown eyes never leaving his face. He told her about the bus sinking, about having to use his strength to save the freshman boy, about Lana's expression when she realized what she had witnessed.
"I ran away before the police or paramedics arrived," Clark finished. "I didn't know where else to go."
Honey took his hand in hers. "You came to the right place, dumpling."
"Let's get you into some dry clothes. Pete has some things that might fit you," Honey said, leading him upstairs.
After changing, they retreated to the Ross family barn, a place where they had spent countless hours together over the years. The familiar smell of hay and the gentle sounds of the animals calmed Clark's nerves somewhat as they sat side by side on bales of hay.
"What am I going to do, Honey? If Lana tells people what she saw..." Clark couldn't finish the sentence.
Before Honey could respond, the barn door opened. Pete Ross and Chloe Sullivan entered, their expressions serious.
"Clark! Man, we've been looking everywhere for you," Pete said, relief evident in his voice. As Honey's brother and Clark's best male friend, Pete had always been part of their tight-knit circle.
Chloe, notebook perpetually in hand, studied Clark's face. "The whole school is talking about the bus accident. Are you okay?"
"Physically, yeah," Clark answered.
Pete moved closer, lowering his voice. "Clark, Lana is telling everyone she saw you save the bus. She's saying you did things that... well, that no normal person could do."
Clark exchanged a glance with Honey, who nodded encouragingly.
"What exactly did you see, Pete?" Clark asked carefully. "You were on the bus too."
Pete shook his head. "I hit my head when we crashed. By the time I was conscious, I was already on the shore. But Lana... she's pretty convincing, Clark."
The weight of the moment pressed down on Clark. These were his closest friends. If anyone deserved the truth, it was them.
"There's something I need to tell you both," Clark began, his voice steadier than he expected. "Something I've never told anyone except my parents... and Honey."
As the afternoon sun filtered through the barn slats, Clark told them everything—about his suspicions that he wasn't from Earth, about the abilities that had manifested over the years, about his parents' insistence on keeping these things secret.
When he finished, silence hung in the air.
"So you're saying you're... what? An alien?" Chloe finally asked, her journalistic curiosity battling with concern for her friend.
"I don't know what I am," Clark admitted. "But I'm not like everyone else. That much is clear."
Pete sat down heavily on a hay bale. "Man, all these years... and I just thought you were really good at sports."
A small laugh escaped Clark, breaking some of the tension.
"What are you going to do now?" Chloe asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.
Clark stood up, brushing hay from his borrowed clothes. "I need to go home. My parents need to know what happened."
Honey rose beside him, taking his hand. "I'll follow you home, dumpling. You shouldn't be alone right now."
The drive to the Kent Farm was silent, Clark's thoughts racing ahead of him. As they pulled up the long driveway, he noticed an unfamiliar car parked outside. His stomach dropped when he recognized Lana's red Honda.
"That's Lana's car," he muttered. "But who else is here?"
Stepping into the house, Clark's worst fears materialized before him. Seated at the kitchen table with his parents were Lana Lang and, inexplicably, Lois Lane—a senior known for her aggressive reporting for the school newspaper.
The conversation stopped abruptly as all eyes turned to him.
"Clark," Martha Kent said, her voice strained. "We were just talking about what happened today at the river."
Jonathan Kent's expression was a mixture of concern and controlled anger—not at Clark, but at the situation they now found themselves in.
Lana's eyes were wide, still showing traces of the shock from earlier. "I told them what I saw, Clark. How you saved us."
Lois Lane, pen poised over her notepad, fixed Clark with a penetrating stare. "Care to comment on how a high school football player managed to push a bus out of a river and then rescue a drowning student?"
Clark felt the world closing in around him. Behind him, he heard Honey step into the house, her presence giving him strength.
"I... I just wanted to help," he managed to say, his mind searching desperately for an explanation that would make sense.
Jonathan stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "I think that's enough questions for tonight. My son has been through a traumatic experience, and he needs rest, not an interrogation."
"With all due respect, Mr. Kent," Lois countered, "people are talking. And this isn't just about today. There have been other... incidents over the years. Accidents where Clark was mysteriously present and people were mysteriously saved."
The tension in the room was palpable when the front door opened again, revealing Pete and Chloe who had followed from the Ross farm.
"We saw Lana's car," Pete explained, moving to stand beside his sister and Clark.
Chloe added, "Everyone at school is talking about what happened. Principal Kwan is organizing a special assembly to honor the 'heroes' of the bus crash."
Martha Kent rose from her chair with the quiet dignity that was her hallmark. "I think it's best if everyone goes home for now. It's getting late, and I'm sure all your parents are concerned after today's events."
"But I still have questions—" Lois began.
"And they can wait," Jonathan said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As the visitors reluctantly prepared to leave, Honey squeezed Clark's hand. "Call me later, dumpling," she whispered, the nickname a reminder of simpler times.
When everyone but the Kents had gone, Jonathan closed the door and turned to his son.
