The Heir of Aslan || Narnia

Chapter 10- The Lion in the Wardrobe

It's a beautiful day, the sun is up, the music's playing
And even if it started raining
You won't hear this boy complaining
- Beautiful, Michael Bublé

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𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 Pevensie had never truly minded long walks. There was something serene about them, something magical that he would find only in the pages of a well-written novel. When he was in London, the surrounding had been fairly sparse of magic. That being said, every day, he made sure he went for at least one walk for his own pleasure.

     If James had grown up in Narnia, he was sure his tradition wouldn't have changed. Even if it was snowing all of the time, he loved the idea of frost covered boots where his blonde hair was dotted with snowflakes. It was most stunning, and now that spring was breaking, even more so. In this weather too, James would be glad to spend his time walking there too.

     That was truly the description from a novel.

     The trek to Aslan's Camp should've felt longer than it was. It should've been gruelling, after all they'd been travelling for quite some time, but still James' was filled so full with hope that the mysterious being would be able to return their brother. All James wanted was to have Edmund back, then they could leave Narnia, in peace, without a war.

     Once most of the snow had melted away, the grass became greener. Everything seemed to be brighter.

     Soon enough, a vast array of colourful dots appeared in the distance. They were scattered across a green field, and as they edged closer, it appeared that they were tents.

    They had found Aslan's camp.

    A horn sounded loudly. Someone had been watching them, announcing to the residents that they had visitors. If what the Beaver said was true- then they had been expected for some time now.

      As they stepped through the tents, the creatures stopped what they were doing. Centaurs, animals, faun's all paused and gasped upon the sight of the four Pevensie's. James didn't like that all eyes were upon him. It didn't feel right.

     Boys like him didn't deserve attention. Boys like him, boys from Finchley, never deserved lives like this.

     However, it was the most magical experience. From beside Lucy, as he was holding her hand, James could not help but break a small smile in disbelief. These events must only be from the pages of Tolkien for nothing else seemed to fit. His eyes met Peter's for a moment- and his brother seemed to belong almost instantly. How it happened, James was unsure, but it did.

     As they stepped through the tents, a crowd began to follow. Seemingly, James wasn't the only Pevensie feeling out of place.

  "Why are they all staring at us?" Susan asked.

  Smiling, Lucy replied. "Maybe they think you look funny."

  James snorted a little, though it was wrong, as he noticed Mrs Beaver fussing over her fur. Aslan seemed to be a big deal to everyone. If he was such a big deal, why were they being offered his presence so easily. The Prophecy couldn't be real. Could it?

     There was a small clearing among the fabric homes. There, a larger, grander, gold and scarlet tent stood upon a stone plinth. Flags and banners upon poles stood to show who it belonged to. This must be where Aslan resided.