If you grew up with a tattered copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, you probably remember the snowy woods of Narnia vividly. You remember the lamppost. You definitely remember the Turkish Delight. But there’s a specific, almost hauntingly beautiful thread involving Lucy and the Prince of Peace that often gets overlooked by casual readers who just see a talking lion and a bunch of kids in a closet.
It’s deep. C.S. Lewis wasn’t just writing a fairytale; he was building a complex theological playground.
Lucy Pevensie is the heart of the story. She’s the first one through the wardrobe, the one who refuses to lie about what she saw, and the one who shares the most intimate connection with Aslan. In Narnia, Aslan is the "Prince of Peace," though that specific title carries a heavy weight of biblical allegory. He isn't just a king; he's the moral compass of an entire universe.
Why Lucy Saw the Prince of Peace First
Honestly, it wasn’t an accident that Lucy was the pioneer. Lewis was obsessed with the idea of "childlike faith," a concept he pulled directly from the New Testament. While the older siblings—Peter with his budding stoicism and Susan with her practical skepticism—were busy being "adults," Lucy was open.
She wasn't looking for proof. She was looking for truth.
When Lucy first encounters the world of the Prince of Peace, she meets Mr. Tumnus. It’s a quiet, domestic scene, but it sets the stage for the massive spiritual warfare that follows. Most people think the story is about a war against a White Witch, and it is, but it’s more about the restoration of a rightful ruler.
The relationship between Lucy and the Prince of Peace is defined by presence. Think about the scenes where she buries her face in Aslan’s mane. That’s not just a kid hugging a big cat. It’s Lewis’s way of illustrating a mystical union. He wanted readers to feel that peace isn't just the absence of war; it’s a tangible, golden, furry reality.
The Problem With Modern Interpretations
We live in a world that loves to deconstruct everything. Some critics try to strip the "Prince of Peace" element out of Narnia to make it a generic fantasy, but that's like trying to take the sugar out of a cake. It doesn't work. If you remove the Christ-figure element of Aslan, Lucy’s journey becomes aimless.
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She isn't just a brave little girl; she’s a witness.
In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, there’s a moment that really hammers this home. Aslan tells Lucy that in her world (our world), he has another name. He says, "You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there." This is the crux of the Lucy and the Prince of Peace dynamic. Narnia is a training ground for the soul.
The Raw Reality of Aslan’s Peace
Let’s be real for a second: Aslan is terrifying.
"He's not a tame lion." You've heard the quote a thousand times. But have you really thought about it? The peace he brings isn't safe. It’s a demanding, transformative kind of peace. When Lucy watches him at the Stone Table, she’s witnessing the "Prince of Peace" undergoing a ritualistic execution.
Lewis was drawing from the deep wells of Christian tradition—specifically the idea of the Christus Victor. This isn't just "be nice to your neighbors" peace. This is "crushing the head of the serpent" peace.
- It involves sacrifice.
- It requires a total surrender of the ego.
- It’s often preceded by immense grief.
Lucy stays with him through the night. She and Susan are the "Women at the Tomb" in this narrative. Their grief is the gateway to the eventual joy of the resurrection. Without that darkness, the peace that follows would be cheap. It would be shallow.
What Most People Miss About the Wardrobe
The wardrobe itself is a liminal space. It’s a bridge between a world at war (London during the Blitz) and a world under a curse (Always winter, never Christmas).
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When Lucy steps through, she’s seeking an escape from the violence of the 1940s. What she finds is a different kind of conflict, one where the stakes are eternal. The connection between Lucy and the Prince of Peace is forged in this transition. She brings her "real world" trauma into Narnia, and the Prince of Peace heals it by giving her a sword and a cordial.
Actually, the cordial is a great metaphor. It’s made of the juice of the fire-flowers that grow in the mountains of the sun. It heals any wound. Lucy is given the power to bring peace to others, literally. She becomes a conduit for the Prince’s power.
Complexity in the Later Chronicles
As the series progresses, the relationship evolves. In Prince Caspian, Lucy is the only one who can see Aslan at first. The others are blinded by their own fatigue and cynicism. This is where the narrative gets spicy. Lucy has to decide: does she follow the Prince of Peace alone, or does she stay with her family?
It’s a brutal choice.
"If you will not follow me, I will go alone," Aslan basically tells her. True peace, in the Narnian sense, often requires standing alone. It’s not a democratic process. It’s a monarchical one. Lucy eventually follows, and her obedience is what eventually opens the eyes of the others.
The Actionable Truth Behind the Myth
If you’re looking at Lucy and the Prince of Peace as just a literary analysis, you’re missing the "so what?" factor. Lewis wrote these books to bypass the "watchful dragons" of our minds. He wanted to make people feel things they were too bored or too cynical to feel in church.
So, how do you actually apply the "Lucy approach" to finding peace?
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- Embrace the "Not Tame" Reality. Understand that peace doesn't mean life gets easy. It means you have a center that holds when things get chaotic.
- Look for the Lamppost. Find those small, bright markers of truth in your own life that remind you there’s something bigger going on.
- Practice Childlike Openness. This isn't about being childish. It’s about being "teachable." Lucy was the best student in Narnia because she was the most willing to be wrong.
- Wait for the Thaw. In Narnia, the ice didn't melt because people worked harder. It melted because the Prince arrived. Sometimes you have to wait for the season to change rather than trying to hammer the ice yourself.
The Final Transformation
By the end of The Last Battle, the relationship between Lucy and the Prince of Peace reaches its conclusion. The "shadow-lands" of Narnia pass away, and they enter the "Real Narnia."
Lewis uses the phrase "further up and further in."
This is the ultimate evolution of peace. It’s not a static state of sitting on a cloud. It’s an energetic, muscular, ever-expanding journey into the heart of reality. Lucy isn't a little girl anymore; she’s a Queen. But she’s still the same Lucy who shared a snack with a Faun.
The Prince of Peace doesn't change who she is; he makes her more of who she was always meant to be.
Moving Forward with the Narnia Legacy
To truly understand the depth of this connection, you have to read the books with an eye for the "quiet" moments. Don't just look for the battles. Look for the conversations by the fire. Look for the way Aslan breathes on the statues to bring them back to life.
If you want to dive deeper into the themes of Lucy and the Prince of Peace, your next step is to grab a copy of The Great Divorce by Lewis. It’s not a Narnia book, but it explains the mechanics of his "peace" theology in a way that makes the Narnia stories hit ten times harder.
Stop looking at the wardrobe as a piece of furniture and start looking at it as an invitation. The peace Lucy found wasn't just for her; it was a blueprint for anyone willing to walk past the fur coats and into the cold air.
Practical Next Steps:
- Re-read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader specifically focusing on the "Dark Island" chapter to see how the Prince of Peace handles fear.
- Compare Lucy’s reactions to Aslan with Susan’s reactions in Prince Caspian to see the contrast between faith and pragmatism.
- Explore the concept of "Sehnsucht" (longing) in Lewis's non-fiction to understand the "ache" that Lucy feels for the Prince’s country.