To the glistening eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant. To the great western woods, King Edmund the Just. To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan the Gentle. And to the clear northern skies, I give you King Peter the Magnificent. Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.
I think it was a fantasy, hidden in the old house’s creaks and groans. Lucy will never be the woman we made her up to be, she will never be anything more than seventeen, arguing and clenching her teeth. Wardrobes only lead into another world if children step into it.