Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.
Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed my last story.
Summary: Divisions between worlds are painful. Divisions within the soul are unbearable. Reconciling the two is seemingly impossible….
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Silvering: Part I
I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Long enough that my tea has cooled, and the shadows are long on the wall. And still, I am no closer to a solution.
The slim girl, hovering on the cusp of womanhood, regards me with level eyes. Her back is straight, ankles modestly crossed and soft hands folded demurely in the delicate folds of her skirt. In short, she is the picture of a well-bred young woman. But that is not what I care about.
I search her face for something, a clue to her character or a hint of her soul. Her eyes track mine. How can I spend so much time with this person and still feel as though I do not know her at all?
I should question her, but I already know the responses for we have done this before. The words will come from her with the tumbling fury of a winter stream only to dry to nothing in an instant. They do not reveal anything beyond the superficial.
It is in the secret folds of her heart that I sense my answer. A conflict of some sort prevents her from becoming the confidant lady her exterior depicts. Yes, I know I am right, for there is both hope and fear in her eyes. How do I mend the rift between the woman and the child, pulling the parts of her soul together, blending them seamlessly into one person? I can almost see the division in her, tearing her body in half from the inside. Here and there, young and old, belief and suspicion. Hope and fear.
Her mouth twists with pain though there is no wound. Her eyes are a torrent of emotion and her hand rises, reaching to me. Desperate, I lean back. I do not know how to help you! I have no cure for your ailment, no balm to sooth your battered spirit, and no comfort to offer.
I close my eyes rather than watch her pale face. I hear the shutter open, salty sea air seeking entrance into the room. The break of the waves upon the shore is clearer now, and my heart and breath fall into its rhythm without my consent. My inner discord is replaced by harmony of the surf. The breakers, too, struggle daily, constantly battering the shoreline and struggling against the confines of the tide. But still, it is part of Narnia. And it is beautiful. The seawater moves toward its destination even if it does not know where or why. It had existed before, it would endure, and it will play its role now. It is constant, but mutable. Just as the human spirit.
I open my eyes, just as the setting sun bathes the room in its fiery hues. For just a moment, I think I see the Lion, but no, it is Peter's tunic as he enters my room. I had not noticed his entrance.
"Susan?" He walks toward me, "Are you feeling alright? Lucy said you were unwell."
He comes up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I turn back to the girl, but she is no longer there. I only see a radiant woman with clear eyes, her brother's hand on her shoulder.
I meet Peter's eyes in the mirror. "Yes, I am quite well."
I am Susan, Queen of Narnia. And I shall not be torn in two.