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bantha_fodderThis Silver Moment, Covered with Mud, by Pen
Narnia, Susan, G.
Written for yuletide for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
londonsophie, originally uploaded here
**
Susan stood on the deck of the liner and watched as England slowly approached. The waves bounced the ocean liner up and down, and though they had been many weeks at sea, some people still turned green and returned below decks, their sea legs having never fully developed. Susan remembered the things she had learned on adventures beyond Narnian seas, advice given by gruff old sailors and tiny little cabin boys, and though her body was young and had rarely travelled the seas of our world, she stood confident, her feet firm upon the deck.
As the docks loomed close, her parents came up behind her. "I shall be glad to return home," her mother said. "Indeed," her father agreed, nodding and looking not a little bit relieved as the liner was tied in. "I am looking forward to a jolly decent British meal," he said, hiding his disappointment at no longer being able to enjoy American food. Susan smiled at her parents' chatter, so steady and loyal to Britain. Movement on the docks drew her attention, and she scanned the crowd.
She met Peter's eyes, and when she waved, he waved too, and she was glad to see her brother.
**
The house was dark, and Susan sneezed as she opened the curtains. She watched the dust floating in the sudden light, and she watched the patterns forming in the air.
"How was it?" Peter asked.
"It was wonderful." Susan smiled at him. "I had the most enjoyable time, with father and mother, and we saw quite a lot." Susan noticed Peter's frown, and paused, concerned. "Did you worry?" she asked. "We were quite all right."
"It wasn't that," Peter replied. "Staying with the professor was just a bit dull. We talked, of course, of Aslan, and of never being allowed to return, but all the work we did was so dull."
"Not like Narnia, you mean." Susan voiced her fears aloud, and Peter nodded.
"Not like Narnia," Peter said, and did not notice when Susan frowned.
**
She opened the atlas, traced their path across the ocean.
"So America is exciting, then?" Peter asked.
"It was simply brill, huge buildings and beautiful lights and so many new, exciting things!"
"Like other places," Peter said, with a bit of a shrug. "Not like old England."
"You silly, England can be exciting!" Peter shook his head, and Susan grasped his hand. She tugged on it, once. "Peter, it can," she said, and willed her brother to trust her.
He threaded his fingers through hers. "Alright then," he said, his back straight and his tone challenging, as if he did not believe her. "Prove it."
The King smiled out through Peter's sad grin for just a moment, and she grasped his hand firmer, pulled him to his feet.
She would meet his challenge, though she had no courtiers to help her, though she had no idea what she was doing.
England could be just as exciting as any other place, she knew it could be.
**
The streets were dimly lit, and Susan laughed as they carefully shut the door behind themselves. "Hush," Peter said, ever wary, ever cautious, and Susan smiled at him.
"Dear Peter," she said. "Always so concerned." She gripped his hand and tugged, and tugged, until they were running down the street in a very unceremonious manner, their shoes tapping loudly through the silence of the evening.
In the distance, Susan saw the lights of London, and waved down a taxi, the excitement curling through her stomach. "Last chance to back out," she said, her hand on the taxi handle. She saw Peter wavering, thought perhaps that he might take her up on her offer to return home, and pulled him into the taxi. "It was your challenge," she whispered into his ear, confident and sure. "I would not like to think that you were not up to it, brother." Peter looked at her, and pulled the door shut as the taxi rolled down the street.
"I am no coward," he said, and Susan laughed.
**
Susan stood in the dimly lit London street, and nudged Peter. "By the fountain," she said, quietly, and having paid a small fee they stepped into a room filled with bright lights and dancing people and red shoes.
"Oh," said Susan, pleased, and pulled Peter into the crowd to dance.
He did not resist, though the shadow of a frown remained upon his face. Susan ignored that shadow, and though it may have been wilful she had her brother's interests foremost in her heart, and we cannot fault her for that.
As they spun about the room, Susan looked at the faces lining the walls, their constant chatter and laughter filling the air. She admired one girl, alone against the walls, flowers woven through her hair. "Perhaps I should dance with her," Peter said, ever gallant, and Susan grinned.
"Perhaps you should," she replied, glad to see her brother taking an interest in the things in front of him, rather than those things long left behind.
**
After quite some time, Susan and Peter pushed their way out into the cool night air. Susan's feet were sore, and sweat was beading on Peter's forehead, but still they laughed, and ignored the noises of the street, the fighting and the laughter and the sound of cars in the distance.
"That was fun," Peter said, "but hardly an adventure. There were no giants, no swords."
"Why, Peter," Susan said. She put her hands on her hips, and tried to act in jest, but in her heart she knew why Peter was so sad, and so reluctant. "You do not-"
What Peter "did not" was lost upon Susan's lips, as the argument which they had been ignoring ceased with a gunshot, and feet pounding on the pavement. Susan, gentle in her heart and always caring, ran towards the figure lying across the ground, but she was too late, and she did not have healing at her fingertips or in her handbag.
Susan looked at her fingers, covered in blood, and in the darkness the girl on the ground looked familiar, like someone Susan had once known from very far away. Unwilling to leave the girl, Susan sat on the ground and dirtied her skirt, ruined her gloves. "Is it an adventure now?" Susan asked, sullen, and Peter looked down at her, his heart beating fast inside his chest and his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand.
"For her it is," Peter said. "If only Lucy were here," he murmured, and looked away until the doctors came.
**
Sombre, they tiptoed into the house, silent as they crept past the door to their parents' room. They paused, each at their own doors. "Peter," Susan began.
"Go to bed, Susan," Peter said, and shut his door firmly.
Susan frowned, worried she had upset her brother. Brothers and sisters always fight, from time to time, but Susan worried at Peter's silence, and worried at his reluctance to experience the world beyond Narnia's walls.
She shut her own door just as firmly.
**
Susan stood at the threshold of the kitchen. From there she watched her brother as he read, and she worried. "Peter," Susan said, her hand resting on the doorframe. Peter looked up at her, his eyes bright.
"Edmund and Lucy have written," Peter said, the thin paper gripped in his hand. "They took that bully Eustace to Narnia!" Peter grinned in wonderment, and in memory, and in pleasure. Peter grinned a little in envy, too, though we shan't talk of it, as Peter was, after all, High King, and it was a confusing thing to go from King to schoolboy, and not even prefect.
Susan remembered balls and musicians and golden sunsets and her crown, heavy upon her head. She though of Aslan, his face serious, and she thought of the things she had seen in America and that hateful Eustace polluting Narnia's green hills.
"Oh," Susan said, and looked away. In his excitement, Peter did not notice.
**
Susan rolled her stockings up her thighs; pursed her lips at her reflection and curled her fingers around the bright red tube. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: courage for adventures; for her life; for the things for which we must forgive her.
As she looked at her reflection, she saw His visage before her own; slashed a bright red line through it as she turned to go.
He frowned at her, and perhaps He wanted her to see Him, but she did not turn around.
She never did.
And so Susan passes for a time from this story of Narnia's Kings and Queens, and into her own great adventures.
But that is another story for another time.
END
Narnia, Susan, G.
Written for yuletide for
londonsophie, originally uploaded here**
Susan stood on the deck of the liner and watched as England slowly approached. The waves bounced the ocean liner up and down, and though they had been many weeks at sea, some people still turned green and returned below decks, their sea legs having never fully developed. Susan remembered the things she had learned on adventures beyond Narnian seas, advice given by gruff old sailors and tiny little cabin boys, and though her body was young and had rarely travelled the seas of our world, she stood confident, her feet firm upon the deck.
As the docks loomed close, her parents came up behind her. "I shall be glad to return home," her mother said. "Indeed," her father agreed, nodding and looking not a little bit relieved as the liner was tied in. "I am looking forward to a jolly decent British meal," he said, hiding his disappointment at no longer being able to enjoy American food. Susan smiled at her parents' chatter, so steady and loyal to Britain. Movement on the docks drew her attention, and she scanned the crowd.
She met Peter's eyes, and when she waved, he waved too, and she was glad to see her brother.
**
The house was dark, and Susan sneezed as she opened the curtains. She watched the dust floating in the sudden light, and she watched the patterns forming in the air.
"How was it?" Peter asked.
"It was wonderful." Susan smiled at him. "I had the most enjoyable time, with father and mother, and we saw quite a lot." Susan noticed Peter's frown, and paused, concerned. "Did you worry?" she asked. "We were quite all right."
"It wasn't that," Peter replied. "Staying with the professor was just a bit dull. We talked, of course, of Aslan, and of never being allowed to return, but all the work we did was so dull."
"Not like Narnia, you mean." Susan voiced her fears aloud, and Peter nodded.
"Not like Narnia," Peter said, and did not notice when Susan frowned.
**
She opened the atlas, traced their path across the ocean.
"So America is exciting, then?" Peter asked.
"It was simply brill, huge buildings and beautiful lights and so many new, exciting things!"
"Like other places," Peter said, with a bit of a shrug. "Not like old England."
"You silly, England can be exciting!" Peter shook his head, and Susan grasped his hand. She tugged on it, once. "Peter, it can," she said, and willed her brother to trust her.
He threaded his fingers through hers. "Alright then," he said, his back straight and his tone challenging, as if he did not believe her. "Prove it."
The King smiled out through Peter's sad grin for just a moment, and she grasped his hand firmer, pulled him to his feet.
She would meet his challenge, though she had no courtiers to help her, though she had no idea what she was doing.
England could be just as exciting as any other place, she knew it could be.
**
The streets were dimly lit, and Susan laughed as they carefully shut the door behind themselves. "Hush," Peter said, ever wary, ever cautious, and Susan smiled at him.
"Dear Peter," she said. "Always so concerned." She gripped his hand and tugged, and tugged, until they were running down the street in a very unceremonious manner, their shoes tapping loudly through the silence of the evening.
In the distance, Susan saw the lights of London, and waved down a taxi, the excitement curling through her stomach. "Last chance to back out," she said, her hand on the taxi handle. She saw Peter wavering, thought perhaps that he might take her up on her offer to return home, and pulled him into the taxi. "It was your challenge," she whispered into his ear, confident and sure. "I would not like to think that you were not up to it, brother." Peter looked at her, and pulled the door shut as the taxi rolled down the street.
"I am no coward," he said, and Susan laughed.
**
Susan stood in the dimly lit London street, and nudged Peter. "By the fountain," she said, quietly, and having paid a small fee they stepped into a room filled with bright lights and dancing people and red shoes.
"Oh," said Susan, pleased, and pulled Peter into the crowd to dance.
He did not resist, though the shadow of a frown remained upon his face. Susan ignored that shadow, and though it may have been wilful she had her brother's interests foremost in her heart, and we cannot fault her for that.
As they spun about the room, Susan looked at the faces lining the walls, their constant chatter and laughter filling the air. She admired one girl, alone against the walls, flowers woven through her hair. "Perhaps I should dance with her," Peter said, ever gallant, and Susan grinned.
"Perhaps you should," she replied, glad to see her brother taking an interest in the things in front of him, rather than those things long left behind.
**
After quite some time, Susan and Peter pushed their way out into the cool night air. Susan's feet were sore, and sweat was beading on Peter's forehead, but still they laughed, and ignored the noises of the street, the fighting and the laughter and the sound of cars in the distance.
"That was fun," Peter said, "but hardly an adventure. There were no giants, no swords."
"Why, Peter," Susan said. She put her hands on her hips, and tried to act in jest, but in her heart she knew why Peter was so sad, and so reluctant. "You do not-"
What Peter "did not" was lost upon Susan's lips, as the argument which they had been ignoring ceased with a gunshot, and feet pounding on the pavement. Susan, gentle in her heart and always caring, ran towards the figure lying across the ground, but she was too late, and she did not have healing at her fingertips or in her handbag.
Susan looked at her fingers, covered in blood, and in the darkness the girl on the ground looked familiar, like someone Susan had once known from very far away. Unwilling to leave the girl, Susan sat on the ground and dirtied her skirt, ruined her gloves. "Is it an adventure now?" Susan asked, sullen, and Peter looked down at her, his heart beating fast inside his chest and his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand.
"For her it is," Peter said. "If only Lucy were here," he murmured, and looked away until the doctors came.
**
Sombre, they tiptoed into the house, silent as they crept past the door to their parents' room. They paused, each at their own doors. "Peter," Susan began.
"Go to bed, Susan," Peter said, and shut his door firmly.
Susan frowned, worried she had upset her brother. Brothers and sisters always fight, from time to time, but Susan worried at Peter's silence, and worried at his reluctance to experience the world beyond Narnia's walls.
She shut her own door just as firmly.
**
Susan stood at the threshold of the kitchen. From there she watched her brother as he read, and she worried. "Peter," Susan said, her hand resting on the doorframe. Peter looked up at her, his eyes bright.
"Edmund and Lucy have written," Peter said, the thin paper gripped in his hand. "They took that bully Eustace to Narnia!" Peter grinned in wonderment, and in memory, and in pleasure. Peter grinned a little in envy, too, though we shan't talk of it, as Peter was, after all, High King, and it was a confusing thing to go from King to schoolboy, and not even prefect.
Susan remembered balls and musicians and golden sunsets and her crown, heavy upon her head. She though of Aslan, his face serious, and she thought of the things she had seen in America and that hateful Eustace polluting Narnia's green hills.
"Oh," Susan said, and looked away. In his excitement, Peter did not notice.
**
Susan rolled her stockings up her thighs; pursed her lips at her reflection and curled her fingers around the bright red tube. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: courage for adventures; for her life; for the things for which we must forgive her.
As she looked at her reflection, she saw His visage before her own; slashed a bright red line through it as she turned to go.
He frowned at her, and perhaps He wanted her to see Him, but she did not turn around.
She never did.
And so Susan passes for a time from this story of Narnia's Kings and Queens, and into her own great adventures.
But that is another story for another time.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-24 07:57 am (UTC)My mother said it first - 'The Last Battle' was a great big cheat, because the whole point of the previous books seemed to be to find or sow the spirit of Narnia in the real world.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-27 11:52 am (UTC)There are so many things that I love about Narnia, and so many things that I dislike, but this is perhaps the greatest: that Susan was dismissed so easily, and with so little thought, as if she was insignificant. Even if CS Lewis was writing to nothing but his own agenda, she could still have been amazing. And yet.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-26 04:20 am (UTC)Beautiful story, and beautifully written. Great job!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-12 10:26 am (UTC)