A Miracle
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Chronicles of Narnia and all related characters belong to C.S. Lewis.
Author's Notes: This is not a PeterxSusan fanfic. It's pure sibling fluff, and nothing more. No incest implied. Paragraphs 11 and 12 shifts to Susan's POV. Italics are flashback scenes, and thoughts.
There, the High King stood, on one of the battlements, looking out over all the land of Narnia. Silent tears threatened to fall, as he felt his eyes well up. He looked out towards the setting sun, trying to fight back the warm pool of tears that were forming in his beautiful, warm, blue eyes.
Three black banners fluttered in the wind, as all of Narnia mourned the death of a queen. The three remaining royals had ordered their subjects to wear black tunics, and to mourn for their queen for seven weeks. Three black banners. All bearing the High Queen's attributes. In the centre was a banner with the words Queen Susan of the Horn. Beneath the words was Susan's horn.
To the left of it, there was a black banner, with a bow and a quiver of arrows, emblazoned upon it. To the right of the central banner, another black banner. It bore Susan's monogram; SP. Above the monogram were the words Queen Susan, the Gentle.
Although Edmund had always loved his family, he had difficulty in showing it. He always kept it hidden below the surface. He did not show nor say how much he loved Susan, nor did he ever say how he felt about Peter, or Lucy. He and Peter would often have fights, but they would always make up, after that. They had grown closer, ever since they first came to Narnia. Peter was his best friend, but he did not say it, nor show it. Now, he decided, it was high time he show to Peter how much he meant, before he too, was gone. Who knows? Maybe, in the next battle, he won't be so lucky, and end up like Susan. The younger king strode into the courtyard, and mounted the steps leading up to the parapets.
"Keeping silent won't do you any good," he said; his voice cracking.
"I... miss her," was all the High King could say, at that moment.
Peter did not feel high and mighty, just now. He wasn't magnificent, now. He was weak.
"It's not your fault," King Edmund said, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"No, it is. I came too late."
"There was nothing you could've done, Peter," Edmund replied; his voice coarse and low, "You know I love you. You're my brother. But I want to tell you this, in case I don't get to say it, anymore. I love you. You're not only my brother. You've also been my best friend, all my life. Sorry for the headaches I've caused you, whenever we fight."
A slight smile formed on the High King's face, but not for long. It vanished. His thoughts were back to Susan's death. Suddenly, Edmund did the unexpected. He flung himself onto Peter, and wept. There, in the setting sun, on the battlements, the brothers held each other in a tight embrace, and wept bitterly.
War was upon Narnia. Calormen was on the offensive. The reinforcements from Archenland had been delayed, and King Peter the Magnificent had heard no word from the Archenland king. The enemy was upon them, and they needed to fight. The High King decided that they had waited for Archenland too long. King Peter and King Edmund planned their counter-attack, along with their generals and captains, and rallied the Narnians for battle. It was dawn, and they were to leave Cair Paravel.
As the High King and his brother donned their armours, the High Queen came running, from her chamber. She had armour on, and was in the process of strapping a belt, and placing a sword in its scabbard.
"What do you think you're doing?" Peter said, sternly.
"I'm going into battle—what else?"
"No, you're staying here! You can command the archers, as always, but you will not leave the castle."
"I am now twenty years of age, and I can handle a sword, like you taught me!" she protested.
"You are not skilled in sword fighting, yet!"
"You taught me how, and yet you do not have faith in me?" Susan said, in a bitter tone.
"I do have faith in you. I do. But I fear for your life. You've handled a sword only in training, not in a real battle."
"Give me the chance to prove myself, Peter! Please? Besides, I have my horn with me."
"Alright, then," Peter said, shaking his head, and smirking, as he and Edmund headed out.
The young queen was in her bedchamber, laying in bed, and crying herself to sleep. She was weak, and she had not eaten a single meal. Queen Lucy the Valiant was not herself, lately. She had threatened to have Mr. Tumnus' head, if he even dared to knock on her door. The same threat was applied to all the servants at the castle, as well. She shouted at Edmund when he tried to force his way in. They had no choice but to let her be.
At the end of the seven-week mourning period, Queen Lucy was to be crowned High Queen, in place of her sister. She did not like the idea. Though she was obligated by the Laws of Narnia, she never wished to be High Queen. She was content on being Queen Regent. Above all, she did not want her sister to die—and the way she did was painful enough.
The young queen lay there, in bed, not even caring to take a bath. She still wore her mourning robes. It was designed just like the gown she wore during their coronation, but it was black, and was made especially for occasions like these. Lucy did not care if the fabric itched or not, or whether she smelled or not, or whether it was her body that was making her itchy or not. She just didn't have the strength to stand. She loved Susan dearly. And even though she scolded her, often, she loved her more than anything in the world.
A bird perched itself on the windowsill of Lucy's chamber, and greeted her, cheerily. Annoyed, Lucy took her pillow, and threw it at the window, making the poor bird fly away.
When she wasn't crying, she was just laying there, with a blank expression on her face. When she could not do anything anymore, except to stare at the walls, she cried again. And again. And again. She would remember Susan.
The sun had just risen, and Peter, Edmund, and Orieus rode off to war, leading the army, to meet the Calormenes in battle. Every Narnian who was too weak, too scared, and too old to fight was sent to Cair Paravel to take refuge. Queen Lucy and Queen Susan were to stay in the castle, in case there was a siege.
The High Queen was in her full battle gear, and commanded the archers, as they stood on the battlements, prepared for any attack.
The Calormene army was advancing fast. The archers stood with nervous anticipation, as the Calormenes closed in on the Narnian army.
"Archers, on my command! Ready!" Susan's command rang loud. The archers did as she commanded.
"Draw!"
The archers bent their bows.
"Up!"
The archers pointed their bows and arrows upward.
"Archers, loose your arrows!"
A rain of arrows came down upon the enemy. A great number of Calormene soldiers fell, but they were undaunted. Some fought with arrows sticking deep into their flesh. Others were dead.
Susan repeated the order to fire, and the Calormenes volleyed back.
Below, the battle was still raging, and many Narnians had fallen.
"It's alright, Ed," Peter said, softly, rubbing his brother's back. That was something they had never done. Perhaps they realised how much they meant to each other, as a family. But what did it take for them to realise that? It took them Susan's death. And Peter wished they had realised it, long before Susan had died.
Peter said that everything was alright. He was lying. It was not alright. He knew it wasn't, but he had to say it was alright. Edmund's body shook, as he stood there, crying. In that moment, he was not the picture of a king. He looked like a little boy, wounded, in the arms of a loving father or older brother, seeking for comfort.
I wish it had been me who fell into the sea, instead of Susan, Peter thought, bitterly, as he wept with his brother.
That accursed day will live on, forever, in every Narnian's memory, especially those who were very close to the High Queen. Peter could still hear the sound of her horn, ringing in his ears. Oh, the dreadful day!
He could still hear his sister's screams, as she fell from the battlements, and into waves, below.
He could still hear her calling out to him, Peter! Peter! Help me!
The High King covered his ears with his index fingers, instinctively, and shut his eyes, tighter, until they ached.
The High King lifted his eyes, and looked out, once again, over the horizon. Two weeks had passed, now. Five more weeks, and the time for Narnia's mourning will be over. But for the High King, the King Regent, and the Queen Regent, the mourning will never be over. It was as though the light had suddenly been snuffed out from their lives.
The battle raged on, until high-noon. To the right and left of them, Narnians and Calormenes alike fell, dropping like dead flies, everywhere. But the enemy pressed on, and many of the High King's army lost their lives, defending their land, king, and people.
The Calormenes broke through the lines of the Narnian army, and advanced towards the castle.
"Fall back! Fall back! Retreat!" King Edmund gave the command, with a nod from his brother.
In one fell swoop, the Calormenes engulfed the Narnian army, as a gigantic wave on an angry sea engulfs a ship.
The Narnians kept up a good fight, but to no avail. The Calormenes were upon them. Above, archers took a final stand, as a rain of arrows fell on the hosts of Calormene warriors. Thanks to the archers, the Narnians had managed to keep the invading army at bay, for a time.
At the High King's command, the Narnian's retreated into the castle, and bolted the gates.
Within the gates, the Narnians regrouped, and recovered their strength. Some were being treated, while some were resting, their backs against the wall. But the majority had reformed their ranks, in case the Calormene forces burst through the gates. They stood ready for yet another attack.
Outside, the Calormenes were scaling the walls of the castle, and the archers were firing at them. A great number of them had battering rams, endeavouring to break down the gates.
King Edmund shouted, at the top of his lungs, "On my command! Ready! Pour!"
A cascade of hot tar came down upon the enemy. It slowed down the Calormenes, for a moment, but they fought on. With one final blow, the Calormenes burst through the gates of Cair Paravel.
That scene was being replayed, over and over again, in the High King's mind, and he screamed, an agonized cry, and dropped to his knees, sobbing loudly.
His brother went down on his knees, as well, trying to comfort him, rubbing his back. It was a side neither of them had shown.
"Do you remember the story of Pandora's Box?" Edmund said, in a weak voice, "When Pandora had thought that nothing more could be done, there was one little creature, left on the bottom of the box. It was Hope. Hope. Maybe this is it. Maybe there still is hope in all this. Just like that box."
Peter lifted his head, and said, "Hope? Hope. There is no hope. Hope is dead!"
He pounded the cold stone floor, with his fist. Hope was dead. His hope was dead. His family's hope was dead. Narnia's hope was dead.
And if hope was dead, what was there to live for? Nothing, he decided. Only a miracle would bring Susan back. But that was wishful thinking, for Peter did not believe in miracles.
The sounds of battle still ringed, in his ear. The clashing of swords. The sound of her horn! The screams for help! Growing louder, and louder! Louder! Louder!
The High King was tormented, and he felt like his heart would burst, as well as his head.
He could remember every detail, as if it had only been yesterday. He couldn't sleep nights. He had not been eating. And though, unlike Lucy, he went outside, and took in some fresh air and sunlight, he did not speak to anyone. Not a word did he utter.
Another scene flashed, in Peter's mind. The fateful duel. The fateful swing. The fateful death.
The Narnians stood their ground, as the Calormenes breached the castle. They swarmed into the Cair, just as locusts swarm in on an inviting field of golden grain and wheat, then, leaving their destruction behind, when they are done.
Such was the picture of the battle, that day. The Calormenes were determined to sack Cair Paravel, and raze it to the ground.
Above, high upon the parapets, and down below in the courtyards, the battle raged on. The invading army was moving fast, and had taken almost a third of the castle.
"Susan!" Peter shouted, "Your sword!"
The High Queen drew her sword, as she turned to face a Calormene soldier. They battled, high atop the battlements. Swing for swing, blow for blow. They crossed swords, and they clashed swords.
Below, the High King was fighting, as fierce as the Great Lion, himself. Fighting by his side was his brother King Edmund. Suddenly, they heard a cry, and both turned, looking in the direction from whence the sound came. They heard the sounding of a horn, and a scream for help.
Peter froze in his place, and so did Edmund. It took them minutes, before they recovered, and Edmund said, "Go! I'll cover for you!"
The High King was stubborn, and hesitated. He did not want to leave his soldiers.
"Go!" his younger brother repeated. Peter ran up the stone steps that led to the battlements, above, but he was too late. Susan was hanging on the edge and her fingers were slowly slipping. Peter tried to grab her wrist, but he could not. Susan could not reach his hand. She plummeted to her death below, while the High King stood there, watching, unable to do anything, but scream.
The last lights from the sun glowed, just before it set completely, like the dying embers of a fire, as it is being put out.
The Radiant Southern Sun, Peter sadly thought, as he watched it go down. It was symbolic, somehow. Symbolic of Susan's death. Symbolic of their loss. Symbolic of Susan's departure. She was gone from them, now. She had left them, forever. No longer to return. She was dead.
Edmund put a hand around Peter's shoulders.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?"
"I guess I'll be alright. I just can't believe she's gone."
"Me either. I wish she was still here. With us. Alive. I miss her too."
"Who do you wish was still here?" a female voice said, interrupting the conversation between the two brothers. They turned, in shock. As though they had just seen a ghost. Was it a trick their eyes were playing on them? Or was it their beloved sister, in her spectral appearance? Had she come back to haunt them? Or was she brought back from the dead?
Susan walked up to them, but Peter and Edmund backed away, as if unsure, and afraid.
"Peter! Edmund! You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, with a trace of her usual sarcasm.
She was back. And alive.
"Susan!" they said, simultaneously, "Susan!"
They embraced, and Peter said, "H—how did—? How did you survive?"
"A miracle," Susan said, with a smile.
I remember it, clearly, like it was only yesterday. I was aiming at a Calormene soldier, down below, who was trying to scale the walls of the Cair. It was pretty scary. They kept on coming. I hear Peter shouting, "Susan! Your sword!"
I drew my sword, and was faced with a Calormene soldier, ready to kill me, if it wasn't for Peter's warning. We clashed swords, for what seemed to be like years. Lucy could be of no help. She was in one of the towers, involved in combat. She was too far. Peter and Edmund were nearest to me, but they could not leave the army in the courtyard, below.
Peter was right. Maybe I couldn't handle a sword. Or maybe I just lost confidence. I was scared. Nervous. I decided, that time, I would never be any more scared in my entire life.
The sword flew out of my hand, and I tried to fight hand-to-hand. My enemy struck me once, in the face, with his gauntlet. Then, he punched me in the stomach. I kicked him in the groin, and he fell back. But then, he stood up again. He picked up his sword and mine, and did a Florentine on me. I would have lost my head, if I hadn't dodged his blade. That's when things took a turn for the worse.
As I avoided him, I fell off the parapets. I held on, but he stepped on my hand, so I had to release it. I was now holding on with only one hand. I screamed to Peter and Edmund to help me. Then, I blew my horn, for everyone to hear.
I still can see Peter running up the steps, killing every Calormene in sight. He reached me, in time, and he was trying to reach for my hand, but I could not reach his. I was trying to hold on. I slipped, and plummeted to the rocks, below, and into the angry waves of the Eastern Ocean.
Everyone had thought that I was now buried in my watery grave, below. Dead. But the truth is I was very much alive, though wounded, and exhausted.
I swam to safety. To shore. But I saw Calormene soldiers, upon the beach, and I could not risk being captured.
When they could not see me, I had my chance. I swam back to the ocean, and I swam for miles. I have no recollection how long. All I knew was that I had to reach land. Safely. Anywhere. Somewhere safe. I swam for hours, until I reached a cave. There, I lived in fear and safety, for seven days, until the Narnians drove the Calormenes back.
I felt like a worthless coward, for hiding. So there I stayed, seeking shelter and solace in the cave.
I debated with myself. Was it my fault? Did I desert Narnia? Was I a coward? Or did I do the right thing by keeping out of sight of those brutes? I decided Narnia would lose a queen, and I could not bear the thought of it. By now, my people were probably mourning my death.
My intuition was confirmed, when I heard the tolling of the bells, symbolizing a death. I could hear the Narnians chanting, each night.
"The full Cold Moon is in the sky
Shining on the corpse of earth
Signifying the hour to die
And end the journey begun at birth."
I just knew I had to come home. Home to my subjects. Home to my sister and two brothers.
Lucy was now able to get out of her rooms, and walk around. She had ordered the servants to draw water for her bath.
Though she was still weary from crying, she had now gathered some strength. She sat at the long oaken table, in the lonely and deserted banquet hall. This was where they had eaten their meals, as a family. This was where they had held their banquets and balls. Now, those balls would cease to exist. Her happiness had died. A silent tear slid down Lucy's cheek, as she thought of it. She wiped it with her thumb, and said, "No! I promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore."
She ordered the servants to light the place up, and had the cooks prepare her some food. As the table was being laid out, and the food was served, Edmund came in, and sat beside Lucy.
"Aren't you going to share?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.
"There'll be plenty for the both of us."
"Both us?"
"Yes, both of us."
"What about Peter? Or Susan?"
Lucy was shocked at her older brother's words.
"How dare you make a joke of this! Susan is dead!" she said, almost crying.
"Says who?" Susan said, interrupting them.
"H—how did—how did you—?" Lucy said, standing up, abruptly.
"A miracle," Susan said, as she smiled, and hugged her sister.