AU end to The Horse and His Boy. Susan does what she feels must be done. Based on the Bible story of Judith and Holofernes, with particular reference to Artemisia Gentileschi's painting of said story.
Susan feels her sister's eyes fastened upon her as the Gentle Queen wafts about the room, collecting a vial of perfume here and a precious ornament there. Lucy does not approve of her plan, but Susan feigns a calm utterly at odds with her pounding heart and tries to prove her own confidence. She steps into her richest gown and brushes the scented oil into her hair, letting it flow loose and alluring down her back, setting her golden crown atop her head. The jewelry comes next, and though Susan has never needed to pray in Narnia she finds that her mind is a pool of babbled pleas to Aslan, to a long-forgotten and nameless God from...before, to anyone who can help her as she binds golden chains about her wrists and cinches a rope of pearls around her neck.
"You don't have to do this," Lucy murmurs, but Susan shakes her head and kisses her sister's cheek silently before gliding from the room.
Peter and Edmund wait with her horse, and Peter helps her to mount, holding tightly to her hand and to the reins, desperate to make her stay.
"I have to do this," she tells him, and he finally steps away, allowing her to touch Edmund's head in farewell before collecting herself and setting off.
She rides in silence, crossing through the mountains in the next dawn's gray light and fording the river as the sun rises, so that she arrives at the edge of the desert in the highest heat of the day. The outriders are upon her immediately, swords flashing directly into her eyes, and she scrambles for a bow she does not carry before remembering her purpose and raising her hands in surrender. When they bring her to Rabadash's tent, crowding around her with lustful eyes and wandering hands, she finds herself praying again, sure she will be unable to face the Calormene prince and equally sure that she must.
He laughs.
"Susan of Narnia." His voice caresses her name, a snake winding its way gently around its victim, and she shudders to remember a time when she felt warmed and cherished by his attentions.
"Oh Prince," she begins to weave the lie, "I have come to give myself up to you, so that there need be no war between our lands."
"Nothing can stop my armies now that we are on our way, not even the beauty of a barbarian queen, but because you have come, you may live to be my wife, though I will exact my price for your earlier betrayal in the blood of your brothers and sister."
She is not surprised, but as she is taken to another tent to rest and to be guarded from escape, she cannot help but envision how his armies might crash upon Cair Paravel, a wave of swords and blood swallowing all she loves, and the tears she lets fall to maintain her mask are more real than she cares to admit, even to herself.
He calls for her that evening, to sit with him during his banquet and to stay with him through the night. Despite all his anger at how she has refused him, Rabadash of Calormen is a man, and he is a greedy man, and he is quite nearly undone by Susan's beauty. She plays at submission, letting him pet her hair and pouring him wine, and when he dismisses everyone but her she is ready. There are more tears, a struggle, and then he is asleep, drunk on strong wine and victory. She waits.
When she is certain that he is deep in the grasp of slumber, Susan stirs, tying her torn dress around her body and moving over to where his scimitar rests beside the bed, waiting to bathe in the blood of innocent Narnians. She picks it up and tests the edge against her thumb, smiling coldly at the dark blood that wells up and moving swiftly on silent feet to stand beside him. Drawing upon all her strength and that of her siblings, she swings the sword once, twice.
Susan the Gentle emerges from the tent with Rabadash's head wrapped in a cloak. She ghosts to the edge of the camp and finds her horse, and mounting up she throws caution to the wind and dashes from the Calormene camp in bruised and broken victory.
She laughs.