(no subject)
Feb. 25th, 2006 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
once_a_queenSusan sat before her vanity, applying her cosmetics in the meticulous way she always did. Just so much powder, just so much rouge in just the right place to highlight her cheeks without looking painted, just enough mascara to fill out her already lush lashes.
She was going to Milliways. Lucy was busy with Caspian, Edmund was busy with Kitty, and Peter was busy with his thoughts. Susan intended to not be lonely one more evening in her room.
Ignoring the fact that she'd promised herself she'd return to London today to attend to her parent’s house - she liked to go there every now and again to dust and air out the rooms - she brushed her black hair and arrange it just so.
She also chose to ignore her tentative plans for returning to London more permanently for just a little while longer. She thought she might go back to live or work they are part of the time, but then she'd been ill and then she'd thought of more excuses to stay in the same place.
However, she'd felt a call of late, and she didn't like it. It reminded her too much of the call Alain had spoken of before he left for the Clearing. Hers was not a call to eternal peace. She felt the tug of life passing her by.
Pushing the troubling thoughts away, she rose to take her royal blue gown out of the wardrobe. It was a beautiful gown, identical to one of her favorite Narnian dresses. The blue would bring out her eyes and flatter her pale skin, and tonight she wanted to look as lovely as she could.
The King of the Enchanted Forest had turned her head, and Susan, ever the romantic, had rushed to the end of her own fairy story. She opened the doors of the wardrobe, her thoughts dancing in a swirl of hope and yearning.
Looking back at this night much later, Susan knew it was the wardrobe that did it. Or more specifically, the sound of her fist rapping the back of the wardrobe, something she always did without even thinking.
She drew back her hand from the back wall of the wardrobe. Staring at the beautiful gown, she was knocked out of her reverie. ‘What are you doing, Susan?’ she asked herself.
She was looking for Narnia, that’s what she was doing. She was always hopelessly searching for that which she had lost. It struck her then how very much she was hiding in this enchanted house.
Turning to face the mirror, she didn’t see Queen Susan the Gentle in her reflection. She didn’t see Susan, the cold, broken-hearted model she’d been before coming to Milliways. She saw Susan Elizabeth Pevensie, perhaps for the first time since she was a girl.
She couldn’t ignore the call. She couldn’t be a real Queen any longer. It was time to set aside enchantments and magic, and be practical, though the very thought broke her heart anew. She’d had a brief respite here, and she needn’t leave for good. Her family was still part of her life, after all, and she’d not turn her back on them ever again.
But Susan Elizabeth Pevensie knew she must go to London today. Kings, of Enchanted Forests or not, were not in her future.
Her throat tight, and her eyes prickling with tears, she reached to the far corner of the wardrobe to take out the Dior dress she’d worn when she arrived at Milliways. Time moved oddly in London – she didn’t think the dress would be too out of style yet.
She dug out the undergarments she’d need – the garter belt, the filmy hose, the stiff bustier, the stiff, scratchy crinoline – and girded herself in them as if going to war. The dress became silken armor as she pulled it over her head. As she slipped into her stiletto heels, she didn’t quite manage to stifle a sob. She was going to war, in a way, or at the very least, into a battle to be the person she had to be.
There had to be a reason she wasn’t on the train that day. Her life had been spared. Even though she’d be alone in that frightening world, it was where she belonged and there were things she must do.
If she cried her mascara would run, and that simply would not do. She held a handkerchief in her hand with a grip much like that of a knight's on the pommel of a sword, dabbing in an expert way at the tears every few moments. Susan was no stranger to not allowing her mascara to run. She placed an extra handkerchief in her purse, just in case.
She took one more look in the mirror. She thought of a porcelain doll she’d had once, that had shattered to pieces when dropped. For a moment she reconsidered. Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could pretend she was as dead to the world as her family was. Then she thought of Aslan’s fur under her hands, and she knew. She knew what she must do and she knew she had the strength to do it.
With a shaky intake of breath, Susan stepped through her room’s painting, into the front gallery, and on to Milliways. She made straight for the front door, not looking to see if friends, new or old, were there.
When she walked through the door, she found herself in her parent’s parlor.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘In my parlor.’
She was home, and oh, it hurt so.
The partner was dim the curtains closed to the sunlight. White sheets covered the chairs, and she pulled the one from her mother’s favorite arm chair away. Sitting down heavily, she tilted back her head, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to cry.
She was going to Milliways. Lucy was busy with Caspian, Edmund was busy with Kitty, and Peter was busy with his thoughts. Susan intended to not be lonely one more evening in her room.
Ignoring the fact that she'd promised herself she'd return to London today to attend to her parent’s house - she liked to go there every now and again to dust and air out the rooms - she brushed her black hair and arrange it just so.
She also chose to ignore her tentative plans for returning to London more permanently for just a little while longer. She thought she might go back to live or work they are part of the time, but then she'd been ill and then she'd thought of more excuses to stay in the same place.
However, she'd felt a call of late, and she didn't like it. It reminded her too much of the call Alain had spoken of before he left for the Clearing. Hers was not a call to eternal peace. She felt the tug of life passing her by.
Pushing the troubling thoughts away, she rose to take her royal blue gown out of the wardrobe. It was a beautiful gown, identical to one of her favorite Narnian dresses. The blue would bring out her eyes and flatter her pale skin, and tonight she wanted to look as lovely as she could.
The King of the Enchanted Forest had turned her head, and Susan, ever the romantic, had rushed to the end of her own fairy story. She opened the doors of the wardrobe, her thoughts dancing in a swirl of hope and yearning.
Looking back at this night much later, Susan knew it was the wardrobe that did it. Or more specifically, the sound of her fist rapping the back of the wardrobe, something she always did without even thinking.
She drew back her hand from the back wall of the wardrobe. Staring at the beautiful gown, she was knocked out of her reverie. ‘What are you doing, Susan?’ she asked herself.
She was looking for Narnia, that’s what she was doing. She was always hopelessly searching for that which she had lost. It struck her then how very much she was hiding in this enchanted house.
Turning to face the mirror, she didn’t see Queen Susan the Gentle in her reflection. She didn’t see Susan, the cold, broken-hearted model she’d been before coming to Milliways. She saw Susan Elizabeth Pevensie, perhaps for the first time since she was a girl.
She couldn’t ignore the call. She couldn’t be a real Queen any longer. It was time to set aside enchantments and magic, and be practical, though the very thought broke her heart anew. She’d had a brief respite here, and she needn’t leave for good. Her family was still part of her life, after all, and she’d not turn her back on them ever again.
But Susan Elizabeth Pevensie knew she must go to London today. Kings, of Enchanted Forests or not, were not in her future.
Her throat tight, and her eyes prickling with tears, she reached to the far corner of the wardrobe to take out the Dior dress she’d worn when she arrived at Milliways. Time moved oddly in London – she didn’t think the dress would be too out of style yet.
She dug out the undergarments she’d need – the garter belt, the filmy hose, the stiff bustier, the stiff, scratchy crinoline – and girded herself in them as if going to war. The dress became silken armor as she pulled it over her head. As she slipped into her stiletto heels, she didn’t quite manage to stifle a sob. She was going to war, in a way, or at the very least, into a battle to be the person she had to be.
There had to be a reason she wasn’t on the train that day. Her life had been spared. Even though she’d be alone in that frightening world, it was where she belonged and there were things she must do.
If she cried her mascara would run, and that simply would not do. She held a handkerchief in her hand with a grip much like that of a knight's on the pommel of a sword, dabbing in an expert way at the tears every few moments. Susan was no stranger to not allowing her mascara to run. She placed an extra handkerchief in her purse, just in case.
She took one more look in the mirror. She thought of a porcelain doll she’d had once, that had shattered to pieces when dropped. For a moment she reconsidered. Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could pretend she was as dead to the world as her family was. Then she thought of Aslan’s fur under her hands, and she knew. She knew what she must do and she knew she had the strength to do it.
With a shaky intake of breath, Susan stepped through her room’s painting, into the front gallery, and on to Milliways. She made straight for the front door, not looking to see if friends, new or old, were there.
When she walked through the door, she found herself in her parent’s parlor.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘In my parlor.’
She was home, and oh, it hurt so.
The partner was dim the curtains closed to the sunlight. White sheets covered the chairs, and she pulled the one from her mother’s favorite arm chair away. Sitting down heavily, she tilted back her head, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to cry.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 07:06 am (UTC)This, while not of the Deep Magics, is something inevitable.
And then, to the left of the chair, there is a flash of gold.
The room, until now slightly musty and closed up, begins to smell of spring--apple blossoms and fresh cut grasses mingling together.
Warm breath gusts across Susan's fingers.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 07:16 am (UTC)"Oh, Aslan..."
Then the tears come, but even in grief, Susan is polite.
"Gracious, all I do is cry when I see you. Please forgive me."
no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 07:41 am (UTC)The great golden head shifts, and the silky fur of his mane tickles her fingers.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 05:14 pm (UTC)"Are you really here? Can you stay with me always? The house is so quiet now - I couldn't bear the quiet, if I should decide one day to stay."
This house was always full of laughter and shouting, boys' whooping, and girls giggling. Now she can only hear the tick-tock of the mantle clock.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 12:30 am (UTC)There is the deep and quiet rumbling of a Lion's breath next to her, the rustle of fur against cloth as he shifts, the almost soundless movement of velveted paws on the floor.
And, far enough away that it might only be her imagination, the laughter of other children--those who might yet exist.
"Should you stay, dear one, it will be up to you to fill this place with noise."
no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 01:08 am (UTC)Susan buries her face in Aslan's fur. "Is it a punishment? For not believing, for turning away from my family?"
Even as she says it, she knows that this is not the case. However this is what she's most frightened of, that she was not allowed to go to Aslan's Country because she was a bad person, and had done bad things.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 01:35 am (UTC)"Do you truly believe it to be so, Susan?"
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Date: 2006-02-27 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 01:49 am (UTC)"The past is over and done with, daughter, save what you have already taken from it. Your story, however, is not yet finished. Keep that in mind, and take heart."
His breath on her face is sweet, redolent of violets and sun-warmed apples, carrying some of a lion's courage with it.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 04:31 am (UTC)"It will be hard."
Then she remembers that long walk to the stone table, the mocking, the knife plunging down, the cruel ropes cutting into the tawny fur.
"Sometimes we must do things that are hard."
It's not a question. Susan was once a Queen of Narnia. First and foremost, however, she's a Daughter of Eve
no subject
Date: 2006-03-02 02:53 am (UTC)His tongue rasps softly against her fingers.
"For who can say what comes in with the dawn."
no subject
Date: 2006-03-02 04:37 am (UTC)"The sun, surely," she murmurs. She looks round the dim parlor. "That's what this room needs. It was never this dark, before, and I think... I think I'm ready for it to be light again. I thought of coming here more, perhaps spending a night or two here. I thought I might look for work, taking a position for a few days a week, but still living in the House of Arch with my family. For a little while longer at least."
She pauses, breathing in the clean, fresh scent of the great Cat.
"One day, we'll all be together again. And then, death won't matter, will it?"
no subject
Date: 2006-03-02 04:59 am (UTC)There is silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of a Lion breathing.
"And now, child," his voice is a rumbling growl, warm and fierce, "if you feel yourself ready for the light, why not let it in."
Those last words are more roar than not, and yet still more song than roar.
Already the room feels brighter, the air less musty and stale.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-02 05:34 am (UTC)She pushes the curtains aside, and flings open the shutters.
The winter sun shines in, much stronger than Susan remembers the sun being in February. She turns back to Aslan, smiling through her tears.
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Date: 2006-03-02 05:51 am (UTC)But the smell of spring lingers.
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Date: 2006-03-02 10:34 pm (UTC)She smiled once more, as she bustled about the house, opening all the curtains and shutters.
The sadness that had threatened to overwhelm her was pushed aside. There would always be a sense of loss, for Susan did have much to grieve. She was a Daughter of Eve before ever she was a Queen of Narnia, but that was the fate of humans - they lived lives of loss and gain, joy and sorrow... they lived. She would do so, as well.
Whilst she was lonely, she wasn't alone. Her aunt and uncle still lived, and she had neighborhood girls, old school chums, and true friends to reacquaint herself with.
This very day - once she'd made up her face yet again, and she was glad Mum had taken as much stock in cosmetics as she - she'd ring one of these friends up for lunch or tea. Then she'd go shopping, and perhaps speak with some of the dressmakers she knew to see if they were in need of assistants. After this, she'd likely go back to the House of Arch, or maybe she'd stay the night. This house needed to be lived in again. It seemed lonesome to Susan, and she couldn't bear that.
She'd be with her family whilst they were near, but she would also take this first step into a new life without them.
It would be hard, but spring was in her heart. Narnia was not a place she'd lost - it was a state of being, and Susan knew she was a queen, no matter where she might be.