Suitors

Susan has always had suitors; when she was Queen, she had them in droves. Even in England—she's always been the pretty one of the family—and she wonders, briefly, as his lips touch hers, what's so different about Caspian.

He seems to sense her hesitation, and he pulls away to get a better look at her, his dark face vulnerable. "Queen Susan?" he asks, in his richly accented voice. "Is there something wrong?"

Susan thinks about it a second more, then reaches forward to gently stroke his cheek with her hand. The answer, she thinks, is in that she loves him with her whole heart, and it's because of his tenuous strength and his almost unexpected gentleness; its because of his shy smile; its because of something she cant really define, but she'd like to call it destiny.

"Nothing," she says, and leans forward to kiss him.

She will enjoy this, she thinks, until the time comes that she must go back.

And then, a piece of her heart will die, and she will mourn it in black stockings and lipstick, and try to pretend like nothing's wrong.

Because she knows she can never come back.

And now, she can never, ever move on.

A/N—Terribly fluffy. Sorry. I haven't written a Narnia fic in forever…..