Disclaimer: Narnia, its people, and its hold on our hearts have never been mine. I only hope to go further up and farther in with those who love it too.
“The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”
The gifts of Aslan – Aravis, my soon-to-be daughter, this is a truth I wish my good lady could have taught you. Alas! That is beyond us now. But ‘tis a truth every king or queen should know.
As of yet, Hast never had a child. I had but two, my two lovely boys! Boys no longer, and one to be yours on the morn. Yet when they were born – like myself, both were loud and fat and round. ‘Twas my nurse who said my cry could take the place of the hunting horns that call the hounds as I drooled all over my mother’s shoulder. The gifts we are given are seldom always pleasant, but they’re gifts nonetheless.
Take kingship, if you would. Well did my second son declare with joy he should never be king! ‘Tis a gift, Aslan sent, for we’re Aslan-appointed, and under his authority. Honour and power and wealth, indeed! And constraint and responsibility and the need to be the first to give. Kingship is a gift, and a heavy one at that.
But aye, his gifts. A gift, Aravis of Archenland, has this strange requirement, that it may be taken back. You were given Archenland as a home, a gift, and were given to us a gift as well. But some day, if He wills, Aslan could call you back, back to the land of your birth. Be not alarmed, for I do not see that happening. But it is the right of Aslan to ask it of us.
I… I was given a gift beyond price. Hast heard before of my courtship of Cor’s mother, wise beyond her years, and in my eyes with a beauty to rival even Queen Susan’s. But we have not told you much of her death.
We tried often for children, for a king must have heirs. But Aslan knew us better, and did not grant us that gift for five years. Oh, what a gift those five years were! But for our lack of children, Archenland flourished.
Then, at last, we were given what we longed for. My sweet consort grew larger and larger, far beyond the normal size, and we learned we’d been given not one, but two. Oh, our happiness! For so hard had we tried, and we wondered if our son or daughter would be solitary, bearing the burden of royalty alone. But no! For within her were two. Larger and larger she grew, till she could not dress or even slip her small feet into slippers without help, and to my eyes she radiated a purer, brighter beauty than before.
Yet this, my dear child, was the hardest lesson of all. For our sons were born, and the two of us laughed as they cried, loved them till they quieted, and listened with awe to their futures.
But my love never left her bed again. Giving birth had weakened her, and we were given but a few weeks. Oh, heart-rending gift! For Aslan had given me my wife, and three weeks after the birth of our sons, He took her away. The first week we waited, waited for her color to grow pink again, her energy to return. She held our children only to feed them, or in the hours after we both learned Cor would save Archeland from its greatest peril, and our pride knew no bounds. But that day exhausted her, and the next morning I could not wake her.
The second week we called the doctors, the healers, and they said something inside her had broken. It was something they could not fix. I gripped her wrist, that withering, thin wrist. Her face, whiter than Narnia’s winter, looked to mine, and oh, Aravis, may you never have to see fear like that in the faces you love. The doctors left, unable to help us, and we wept.
The third week I sent to Narnia, to our fellow sovereigns, begging for their help. We waited, my Queen often asleep, her wrist still in my grasp. We waited in vain, for we had left calling for help till too late. Queen Lucy and her cordial were far in the North, and though Hawks flew and Squirrels ran, she did not make it to our court in time. I buried my wife.
I had yet to learn this lesson, and my daughter, I did not deal well. My attention slid off of my court, my future, my responsibilities, as I cried out to Aslan and wondered why I was not able to keep my wife. Why He kept Queen Lucy till she was one day late, till after my wife’s last breath. And so when a case was brought before me, of a Lord Chancellor who had taken from us money, I settled it carelessly, and looked no further into his motives. If I had – well, all things turn out well in Aslan’s plan; but it is a warning I need, now. If I had looked harder, been a better king, perhaps I might have learned of his evil and rooted it out sooner. Distracted by not only grief, but anger, I did not.
And so Lord Bar took my son. I lost my wife, my confidence, and then my firstborn son.
I chased, fury in my heart climbing with each rolling wave, and we caught up, we gained justice, our enemies perished – but I still lost my son. And I came back to an empty Archenland and a crying child, and wondered how the prophecy would be fulfilled when I had lost so much.
Yes, child, you understand that. You too have raged against the loss of loved ones, of freedom, for you have lost much and grieved much. You have been given much, too, and I bid you remember it.
And remember that Aslan may give much, but also take it away. I had five years with my wife, for He refused us a child. He gave us two children, and took one away for far too many years, but saved my kingdom when I could not, and returned my son to me at the same time.
All He gives you, He may take away. Every joy may turn to sorrow; every sorrow may turn to joy. In all things, Aslan is good.
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