And so Queen Diana and her siblings entered the thicket in pursuit of the White Stag, and before she had gone forty paces she noticed that she was making her way not through branches but through coats. And the next moment she came tumbling out of the wardrobe door into the empty room, and she was no longer a thirty-five-year-old queen in her hunting array but just eight-year-old Diana Pevensie in her old clothes.
"Of course there's a reasonable explanation! That's what it means for there to be an explanation!"
Why is she so small. Diana has always been a small person, but the difference between being eight and being thirty-two is very noticeable on the height front. Both Arthur and the wardrobe tower over her.
"We're expected at court. There are cases I'm supposed to hear. We still haven't come to any conclusion about the tariff situation with Calormen--"
The expression that looks grave and serious, yet kind and empathetic, on a graying man closer to forty than thirty looks bizarrely out of place on an acne-ridden thirteen-year-old.
Arthur looks genuinely panicked, not Diana-can-tell-he's-panicked-but-he-has-a-gentle-kind-smile-to-everyone-else panicked, actual fear showing on his face. "We left Mirza as our heir, but he's a Bear. Everyone knows the queens and kings of Narnia are supposed to be humans. He has no legitimacy. It's going to be a civil war. --Fuck, I knew I should have married a woman and produced a legitimate heir, but there were still four of us, I always thought there would be time--"