A/N
Product of my insomnia, I wrote this very late one night, woke up the next morning and decided that despite my sleep deprived state it wasn't all that bad so I thought I'd share it with you guys. It's not the cheeriest of topics but hey, ho. Try to enjoy it!
I played around with narrative styles here, especially with Helen's, which is a series of rapid flashbacks, I'm not sure if it works so do let me know what you think. Again I'm still not entirely happy with Susan's but I think I've done all that I can with it.
There are parts of this that are not Canon, I am aware of this, but in the end decided it fit better into the flow of my story to just temporarily alter a few facts in Lewis' perfect story.
I love reviews, hint hint.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Narnia is the property of C.S Lewis.
…..
Susan Pevensie
The Lion came for her, when the end at last came.
Her eyes fluttered shut, weary arms reached for the angels only she could see, and her face, weathered by the storms life had dealt her, seemed to glow with pure joy.
And so, on that bright September morn, as the rain beat at the windowpanes, Susan Pevensie, MBE, RVO, once and always a Queen of Narnia walked into the ever-loving embrace of Aslan and returned home.
….
Helen Pevensie
The carriage slams into her, flinging her against the station wall like a rag doll.
She can hear screaming. Why on earth is someone screaming like that at the University dance? Her eyes sweep across the hall in search of the source of the screaming but a pair of twinkling brown eyes and a wicked grin catch her attention instead. Charles Pevensie. She and Charles are waltzing, one-stop, foxtrot, Charles lifts the veil to kiss her, the child in her arms slumbers on as Helen bends her head to brush his soft hair with her kiss, Peter giggles, Susan dances, Edmund pouts, Charles straightens his uniform, Lucy cries. She gathers her children into her arms for the last time, crumpled tickets in their tiny hands, the words swim before her eyes as tears fall on the telegram in her shaking hands… husband… lost … in …. action, curtains twitch as a boy kisses Susan by their front gate, it's so good to hear their laughter again, Edmund, the image of his father, asleep on his books, Lucy's paints Lions now, must remember to make an apple pie for Mrs Johnson tonight.
The screaming fades, someone calls her name softly, telling her to look at him, brown eyes hold hers.
Home.
…
Tumnus
Winter returns to Narnia, silence reigns in place of the Four.
Slowly spring comes again, new babes are born and their laughter heals Narnia.
The lonely faun returns to his little house in Lantern Waste, Cair Paravel is haunted now.
On warm evenings he sits outside his door, eyes unseeing, clouded by the memories of his golden age.
Most days he hobbles over to the lamp-post, sits and waits for the child with dull clothes and bright eyes, she never comes.
Despondent he wonders home, shivering and alone.
Winters melt, springs burst into Narnia and summers flit by, but Old Tumnus never sees them.
Winter returns, night settles. The old faun follows the familiar, frozen path through the trees. The lamppost beckons, illuminating the child who waits patiently beneath.
Tumnus reaches for her, scarcely daring to believe. A warm, solid hand encloses his.
"Welcome home, friend"
…..
Thank you for reading, please do review.
