FicWad

Introduction: My Name Is..




The records of Narnia in your human world are fairly accurate and have been written to make
nice little books for children. But I do think that one of the major flaws in the series is that other than the children, you never truly....... get to know the characters as people. In how many books did my husband appear? He was dull as a weed. He was not a person; he was an archetype.
Except that he really wasn’t. He was a man of many dimensions and certainly more complicated than the average son of Adam. But you wouldn’t know that if you had read those books.
But I got the worst of it. I didn’t even get a name!
That really was rude, don’t you think? Leaving out my name? Be rest assured, I had one. I had a name and a mother and a personality. My father was part of the constellation of Aslan’s head. He was one of the eyes. The other eye was my mother, Serendipity. When he was about to fall, he kissed Serendipity and suddenly a great beam of light grew between them. He grabbed it just before he fell and when he descended on the island, he dropped the beam of light in the sand and it became a shell. The shell open, rays of light burst forth and an infant materialized. That infant was me. I am 100% star. My birth was not unlike the famous Birth of Venus painting in your world by the artist Botticelli, only there were no Gods or angels and I did not emerge a full-grown woman.
And my name was Sitara.
I deserve my name, I think. Though I was not a perfect woman by any stretch and I was not the type of person you’d put in a Children’s book. But I deserve a book of my own. I am not ashamed of my life, the things I did and the person I was. I did many wrong things—countless mistakes, sins, and failures. But I am proud of my life and all my struggles because they made me who I am.
The truth is that I am too scandalous a figure for children. Sure, my wrongdoings were definitely no greater than anyone else’s. Not my father’s and certainly not Caspian’s or any of the children. But my vices were sometimes of a nature unsuitable to talk about with children. It is rather strange though, King Edmund betrayed his family and all of Narnia so he could become the White Witch’s prince and cost countless people their lives in the process. That’s fine. All the bloody battles and family betrayal and wars and slavery is perfectly fine to discuss. But my own exploits are so bad that I don’t even get a name, despite the fact that my death resulted in the entire plot of The Silver Chair, that I gave Narnia a King, and that I taught the crew of the Dawn Treader to reverse the enchantments and see the end of the world. But no name. Nope. Nada. Never. I’m Ramandu’s daughter and Caspian’s wife.
But Sitara is a far more interesting woman.
As I said, I was born when my father fell. And Aslan charged us with the visitors of our home and guarding the end of the world. And I grew up on my father’s island, beckoning the birds to feed my father the berries of youth, playing, greeting our rare visitors and practicing magic. I was always a very talented witch. Better, Aslan said, than he had seen since the White Witch herself. Of course I was and have never been evil, but I had great power.
But I was not happy.
There seems to be this image that the author of your world’s Narnian records seemed to want you to have of me: beautiful, wonderful, virtuous, good, gentle, dutiful, regal, hospitable, kind, and chaste. With my yellow hair and my blue garments and my lunar heritage. I was the lovely girl who took the young man’s heart and invited them to eat at my table and visit my father. A perfect Lady-Princess.
I appreciate the author trying to give me such a good image, but that’s not who I was.