[Fic] "I Believe the Children Are Our Future" -- Chronicles of Narnia

Jun 25, 2020 23:00

Summary: Helping your sister take care of her new twins is vexing. Figuring out a stable and robust system of government for Narnia that will outlast your death is even more vexing, but you can't properly manage the former task without eventually facing the latter. AU, no White Stag. (1,425 words)

Note: Written for
alexseanchai, in response to the prompt: kids / babies, the Pevensie(s) of your choice, didn't-return-to-England AU. It is also a fill for the
genprompt_bingo square kids / babies.

---------------------------------------------
I Believe the Children Are Our Future
---------------------------------------------

"I still say having twins was a bit much," Lucy remarked as she held Ngoro on her lap, carefully propping her niece upright so the baby could stare out the nursery window at the summer rain pattering on an exuberant spray of ivy. "Yes, it's a marvelous way to trump Edmund and Margita for having the first child of House Pevensie, but when do you and Jurusi sleep?"

"We trade watches," Susan said, deftly folding the last flap of Alfred's diaper and fastening it with a silver pin, "besides which, all the good folk of Cair Paravel stand ready to lend a hand, paw, or wing whether we need the assistance or not."

"That's not-- well, yes, I suppose that is how things go around here," Lucy conceded. "Though frankly, as vexing as it can be to have everyone sticking their noses into one's decisions, I prefer that to the alternative. We've seen quite clearly what happens when people have no one willing and able to tell them they're being foolish or need more sleep."

Susan made a hideous face at her son, who giggled and flailed his pudgy, uncoordinated hands toward her mouth and nose. "I beg you, don't remind me."

Lucy made a face in turn, then swayed back to avoid getting smacked in the eye by Ngoro's equally uncoordinated excitement. "Alas, I think I have to -- at least in a roundabout way. It was fine when Ysavetta was the only heir, but we now have three children of House Pevensie and no established rule of precedence for which shall inherit what. Worse yet, I don't think we've established a principle of dynastic inheritance at all, considering our authority comes directly from Aslan and the land's own prophecy, which isn't what I'd call an easily replicable precedent."

"Lucy. I am too tired to think about political theory."

Lucy hefted Ngoro into her arms and stood from her armchair. "You won't become any less tired for at least a year." Ngoro made a noise halfway between a coo and a frustrated kitten-mew, and flailed again toward Lucy's face. Lucy intercepted her niece's hand with one of her own fingers, which Ngoro promptly wrapped her own tiny fingers around and tugged close to shove into her mouth. "Besides, you're far more honest when you're too exhausted to put on your regal face." And like it or not, some questions needed answers.

"You're far too honest all the time. It's most vexing, having a sister who's the next best thing to a living saint." Susan sat down on the broad couch that doubled as a bed for whoever was taking night watch in the nursery and guarding the infant prince and princess. Then she flopped down onto her back, pulling Alfred with her until he was lying face-down on her stomach. "Hello, darling! Yes, I know, that feels so much better now. Isn't it nice to be clean? How about we try to keep Mummy's dress clean for at least five minutes? Can we do that, sweetling?"

"Five candied chestnuts says he can't."

"Deal," Susan said as she grasped Alfred's hands within her own and began waving his arms back and forth, up and down, in mirrored patterns. "Now take your finger out of my daughter's mouth -- honestly, when was the last time you washed your hands? -- and tell me why you think we ought to settle the succession today rather than wait to discover if any of our children even wish to shoulder the weight of an entire country."

Lucy pried her finger out of Ngoro's mouth and tapped her niece on the nose to distract her from her thwarted gnawing. "The Tisroc's sons."

Susan's hands stilled for a moment. "Ugh. Yes. Fair point. There are any number of rotten strands contributing to that poisoned web, but the tacit rule that the throne goes to whosoever can take and hold it certainly bears much of the weight."

"I fear that accepting murder as a legitimate method of succession was the seed of a number of those other rotten strands over the generations," Lucy said. "I'd prefer for our family and our country not to turn down that path."

"The trouble, of course," Susan said as she continued to wave Alfred's arms about to his apparent glee, "is that any fixed succession method for a royal house opens the way to unfit or uninterested rulers. Moreover we face the problem of either converting a tetrarchy into a monarchy without creating hard feelings among any children who don't inherit a throne, or of establishing some equivalent to Peter's role as High King without divine appointment to back that person's claim over the other three rulers."

Lucy sighed. "Yes, exactly. I'd thought we might have the High Throne go by seniority -- whoever has been king or queen the longest when the current High King or High Queen dies -- but that only works if there's a clear rule for accession to the lesser thrones. This is why I need your help. The Lion only knows I haven't found any foolproof answers and I've been worrying at the matter since Ysavetta was-- Ouch!" Ngoro, both hands tangled in Lucy's hair, yanked again. "Yes, I know my hair is shiny, but we don't hurt people unless we're at war, and even then we warn them first. Let go. Why don't we go look at the rain again? It's shiny too!"

"One would think a soldier would know the value of braiding back her hair," Susan remarked to the white-gold stars painted in constellations across the nursery ceiling.

"Braids make my scalp itch."

"'Tis a great pity for you. Regardless, it occurs to me that you have framed the problem too narrowly. The question is not who shall inherit the throne or thrones of Narnia. The question is how Narnia shall be governed when we four are gone to Aslan's Country. Why have a throne at all? I seem to recall that some lands in Spare Oom managed well enough without one."

Lucy stilled, hand stretched out through the open window to cup a palmful of rain, cool and cleansing on her skin. Then she pulled her arm back in and let Ngoro smash one hand gleefully into the tiny puddle.

"Narnia has always had a king or queen, since the Dawn of Time itself. Will the land be satisfied without one?"

Susan rolled onto her side to meet Lucy's gaze, Alfred cradled safely within her arms. "Perhaps not. But I think that is the question we must answer first, before we seek to burden my children or our niece with the weight and duty of a throne. And further, I think we should draw others into our search. We have never ruled alone -- neither one king or queen without three others to hold the balance, nor four tetrarchs alone with no counsel from our people -- and a question so vital as this cannot be resolved behind closed doors. That, too, is a rotten seed I would not see take root in Narnian soil."

"It's most vexing, having a sister who would rather ask a dozen new questions than find a simple answer," Lucy said with a smile.

"Anyone who claims to have a simple answer to a complicated problem is lying or deceived," Susan said.

"Even Aslan?"

"Aslan is the only potential exception, but I prefer to reserve judgment until I reach his Country and examine the perspective from which he makes his decisions." Susan heaved herself upright and held out one hand to forestall Lucy's rejoinder. "In the meantime, because you're my sister and I love you, all vexation aside, I will give you one simple answer."

She crossed the nursery, pushed Lucy down into the armchair, and deposited Alfred on her lap beside Ngoro. "You wanted to know when Jurusi and I sleep? I'm going to join him in our bed right now. You may take my watch."

Lucy watched her sister stride swift and elegantly from the room, then glanced down at her niece and nephew. Ngoro and Alfred met her gaze with wide, curious eyes, before Ngoro turned back to the window and Alfred smacked his hands on Lucy's shoulder, making tiny noises with each touch..

Perhaps it was asking too much to find a simple answer that would keep these two small lives safe as Lucy herself had never been, save for a month of peace snatched here and there from the swirl of duty and chaos.

Even so, she could do no less than try.

---------------------------------------------

End of Fic

---------------------------------------------

Miscellaneous worldbuilding notes! In this AU, I am assuming the Pevensies are still interested in international alliances -- probably moreso since the whole Rabadash incident -- and this has resulted in Susan marrying a relative of the royal house of Kutu (the country south of Calormen) while Edmund has married a princess from Telmar. I am unsure about Peter, and as for Lucy, she's eventually going to go on a sailing adventure to the uttermost east and run into a suspiciously familiar Sea-Woman because if I'm already going AU, why not shove in the Lucy ship of my heart? *waves tiny Lucy/Sea-Girl flag* If you want to comment on this post, you can do so over here on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)

fandom: chronicles of narnia, genprompt bingo, fic, mini-ficlet prompt meme, fic: chronicles of narnia

Previous post Next post
Up