Author's Note: I'm writing this story in an attempt to get into the mind of Susan Pevensie, from the time just before The Last Battle to just after the closing events of that story. We hear just a little of Susan in that book, and it's upsetting to many how she was left out of Aslan's Country, seemingly because of her vanity and interest in "nylons and lipstick and invitations." While Susan was admittedly never my favourite character in the series, here I'm going to try and show her view of things. I don't think it was so much about her interest in "grown-up" things as her refusal to believe in Narnia anymore, unlike the others, that caused her to be left behind, but I hope to redeem her a bit here. After all, C.S. Lewis did say that her story wasn't finished, so who's to say she didn't have a change of heart later on and join her family and friends back in Narnia?

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Chronicles of Narnia.

About Susan

She had begun to dread the telephone calls from her brothers and sister. They called her regularly, and after the basics of conversation, they invariably wanted to talk about one thing: the childish fantasy that they called Narnia, the one subject that Susan liked least in the world. If these phone calls weren't irritating enough, then the constant invitations to join them for a gathering to discuss Narnia in person certainly were. Whenever they asked, she laughed it off and breezily offered an excuse as to her prolonged absence from these little parties.

In truth, she hadn't seen her brothers and sister face-to-face in months. That was about to change when she returned to their parents' home for Christmas. Not only would she be in contact with them practically all day, every day for the holidays, but she would actually be forced to share a bedroom with her youngest sibling and only sister, Lucy. It wasn't that Susan didn't love her sister, or for that matter, her brothers. On the contrary, she loved them very much and hated to see them trapped in a fantasy world. It had been one thing back when they were children, but now it was past time for them to grow out of that sort of game, especially Peter, who at twenty-one was nearly finished university. He still stubbornly clung to the belief in that far-off, made-up world just as much as the younger two. Susan was the only rational one of the lot, and it was a position that alienated her from her siblings. Much as she wished she could still be close to them, their childish obsession was maddening, a dividing factor between them.

She would just have to try and knock some sense into them this Christmas.

…

The blue door actually looked threatening somehow. She stared it down, slowly reaching for the brass knocker, and determined that she would be pleasant but firm with her siblings on the subject of Narnia: she was not going to be a part of their games anymore. She hesitated before knocking, unsure of why she was even bothering; it was her house too, after all, but before she had the chance, the door swung open in front of her, revealing a very excited Lucy.

"Su!" she cried, pulling Susan by the arm into the warm hall. "I saw your cab arrive! Why didn't you come in right away? Why did you take a cab? Ed would've picked you up, you know. Did you only bring one suitcase? I thought you were staying for the full two weeks."

Susan took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Sixteen-year-old Lucy was sometimes a bit much for her to handle. She was looking much more grown-up these days, but there was something in her expression that warned Susan that Lucy hadn't changed much otherwise. "I am staying," she confirmed. "I've learned to pack light, that's all. Where are Mother and Father?" she asked, following Lucy into the kitchen and peering around curiously for any signs of the rest of the family.

"Oh, they're off at some Christmas party," Lucy answered indifferently. "They said we could come along if we wanted, but I'd much rather sit at home than make forced conversation with stuffy adults. Ed decided to stay with me to wait for you and Peter to arrive."

"Isn't Peter here yet?" Susan asked as they walked upstairs toward the bedrooms.

"No, but he said not to expect him until late."

They'd arrived at the girls' old bedroom, which looked almost exactly the same as when Susan had last seen it, the day she'd packed up her things and moved out to her flat across London. Lucy's side of the room was messy and bore remarkably few signs of being inhabited by a sixteen-year-old girl. On the other side of the room, Susan's old bed sat, crisply made-up in contrast to Lucy's sloppy sheets and covers, and the few things she'd left behind were just where she'd left them.

"It's so nice to have you home again," Lucy said wistfully as Susan gingerly sat on her old bed. "It hasn't been the same with just Edmund and I at home. And this room feels so empty with only my things in it."

"Empty?" Susan raised her eyebrows teasingly. "With that mess?" Lucy giggled and for a moment it was as though Susan had never left and that strange distance had never come between them, which Susan attributed both to their age difference and to the younger's continued insistence on discussing Narnia.

"Come on," Lucy urged, taking Susan's hand and pulling her up off the bed. "Edmund will want to know you're here!" Susan allowed herself to be half-dragged down the hall and into the boys' room, where Edmund lay on his bed, reading a comic book.

"Ed! Susan's here!" Lucy practically shouted as Edmund set down his comic and smiled at his older sister.

"I can see that, Lu," he said good-naturedly. "Hello, Su. Good to have you back." Something in his tone of voice irked Susan, though she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Perhaps it was the presumption that because she was back at her childhood home she would return to her childhood ways and manners.

"Hi, Edmund," she said, forcing a smile in return. "Any idea when Peter will get here?"

He shook his head but got to his feet and asked, "Well, shall we have a cup of tea then?"

"As long as there will be sardines," Lucy replied, a teasing glint in her eyes. He grinned, while Susan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was why she could hardly stand to be with her brothers and sister for more than a few minutes at a time. In doses, she could take their silliness, but all at once it was too much for her. She'd moved on, so it baffled her why they couldn't seem to do the same.

Still, she obediently went with them back down to the kitchen and let Lucy brew her a cup of tea, which she sipped in silence at the table while they chattered on and on about things that Susan had missed since she'd moved out.

"…and then Edmund decided to try and one-up him, and he swung the bat completely wildly and the ball flew off and hit Eustace right on the leg!" Lucy said, practically giddy as she retold the cricket mishap. "It was hysterical, Susan, you should have been there!"

"Well, I wasn't, Lucy," Susan reminded her gently. "I can't be coming home all the time. I have a job, I have friends. I keep very busy."

"Going to parties every other night?" Lucy asked, wrinkling her nose. "You're welcome to it, then. I can't stand the crowds, the noise—it's utterly stifling, if you ask me."

Susan stiffened, and said defensively, "I rather enjoy the atmosphere. Now, I'm sorry to be a killjoy, but I'm quite tired and I'm going up to bed now. Goodnight, both of you."

Lucy's face fell. "Now? But Peter hasn't gotten here yet."

Edmund, however, put a hand on Lucy's shoulder and said, "If she's tired, she should sleep. Goodnight, Susan. We'll see you in the morning." Lucy didn't say anything, but stared after her sister when she passed.

"She's just tired," Edmund reminded her.

"She never comes home, and when she's finally here she doesn't even want to speak to us for long," Lucy shot back, and then her sharp voice faded as Susan ascended the stairs, determined to put her sister's words out of her head.

…

"…marched straight off to bed barely an hour after she arrived."

"She hasn't changed her opinion, then?"

"Who, Susan? She's not likely to budge a bit once she's set on something!"

"Quieter, Lucy. She's still our sister, and whether she accepts it or not she's still a queen of Narnia. She'll remember it eventually."

"How could she have forgotten in the first place?" Lucy's stubborn voice floated up to Susan, who was frozen on the landing. Inwardly she was seething; of course they were talking about her behind her back. Who knew what they said about her whenever she wasn't around to protest?

She gritted her teeth and descended the staircase, making her footfalls purposely heavy so they would know they were caught. Entering the kitchen, she cast accusing eyes at all of her siblings, seated around the kitchen table. Edmund looked at her guiltily, while Lucy was leaning toward Peter, mouth open as though she wanted to say something. A warning look from the oldest of them made her snap her mouth shut and turn to smile sunnily at Susan.

"Good morning, Susan," Peter said finally, rising to give her a hug. "Welcome home."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, sitting as far away from them as she could. "Where are Mother and Father?" she asked again, as she had the previous night.

"They had to run some errands," Edmund answered, and then an awkward silence prevailed.

Finally it was broken by Lucy, who offered, "I can boil you an egg if you like, Susan."

"No, thank you," her sister replied. "I'll just have some toast." Turning to Peter, she asked, "What time did you arrive last night?"

"About eleven," he responded. "I was visiting with Professor Kirke, to borrow one of his books about medieval England. Aunt Polly—you know, Miss Plummer—was there too, and we ended up having a good chat about the old times."

Susan knew that the "old times" really meant Narnia, and she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "Oh yes, Miss Plummer. I do remember her from her last visit. She's an old friend of the Professor's, isn't she?"

"You know who she is, Susan," Peter said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Yes, that's right, they grew up next to each other as children," Susan continued cheerfully, ignoring this. "Well, how lovely that you got to see her again. I do hope that she's in good health. They are both getting on in years, aren't they? Please pass the marmalade, Edmund," she requested before any of them could react to this.

"Susan, why do you always act like this?" Lucy demanded, eyes sparking angrily. "It's not so long ago that you were a—" She stopped abruptly as their parents' voices filled the room and they walked in, holding parcels and looking at their youngest expectantly.

"What were you going to say?" Susan asked sweetly.

Lucy's gaze swivelled from her sister to her brothers to her parents and back to her sister before she said, false cheer in her voice, "Just that it's not so long ago that you lived in this house, so how could you possibly have forgotten where we keep the salt and pepper?"

"That's right! Thank you for reminding me, Lucy," Susan said, a smile plastered onto her face for the sake of her parents. Subject closed, she thought firmly, buttering her toast.

To Be Continued…