!!kinda slow burn!!
'do you ever feel like you're going crazy?'
'only the most sane people question their sanity'
·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ ·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
'until next time, my princess'
'until next time, my king'
(...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It had officially been two and 3/4 years since she left Narnia. Not that Estelle was counting. She'd lost track after the Pevensie's departure. Peter and Susan were the first to go, with the former leaving to be tutored by a professor, and the latter living in America with her parents. Then it was Edmund and Lucy. They'd been unwillingly shipped off to Cambridge to live with their aunt and uncle, the Scrubbs.
Estelle had shared letters back and forth with all four Pevensie's fairly successfully for a while. Finding her main source of serotonin in the papers that fell through her letterbox. After the first year, the communication slowly died out, but not from her end. She couldn't blame them, not really. They hadn't seen each other in a long time and maybe they'd just started to forget about her.
The Pevensie's were to the Amore like an eclipse, made to meet once and create something beautiful, but not to stay. They'd taught her a lot in their friendship and it was time that she learnt to live independently. Although she'd deny it, in truth she deeply missed the stories of adventure in America or the recent heated argument between Ed and his vile cousin, Eustace.
Estelle didn't cope with the sudden change well, with no Narnia and no Pevensie's, she began to believe that she was just going crazy. After all, there was now no evidence left of their experience at all apart from a nasty purple scar on her ribs. One of the things that she missed the most were the friendships that she had formed in the land. Reep and his not-so-small ego. Trumpkin and his incessant complaining. Caspian.
Since returning home, she'd realised that maybe her feelings ran a lot deeper for the King than she'd initially thought. She tried and tried to find the same soul-connecting tenderness with many different men but none of them could make her heart leap the way that Caspian once had. She went back to shoplifting fairly quickly too. Yet now, it was not just a survival instinct, but more so out of pleasure. The rush of adrenaline it gave her was the most feeling that she could experience in any given day.
That was until night fell. When she felt it all. One of the many lessons that she'd taken away from Narnia was that crying is okay, and it's necessary to let your emotions out. But now, it was more abnormal if she wasn't crying herself to sleep every night. On the rare occasions that she didn't, she was instead kept awake by the prophetic song that was on constant replay in her head. At first, it reminded her that it was all truly real. Now, it made her want to rip her own brain out just so she could never hear it again.
The day had started alike the one before it and likely the one that would follow. Estelle had woken up with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, thrown on the first outfit that she could find -meaning that they often didn't match- deciding that she didn't fancy school that day and leaving the cruel house, looking for some form of distraction from her plain existence. That was the harsh reality of her life after Narnia. She was just existing now, not truly living. Her outfit of the day was a white blouse, navy blue skirt, tights and patent loafers, featuring her untamed locks and discoloured under-eyes.
