A/N: I am back again! Amazingly...

IMPORTANT NOTICE: While I used aspects of the movies in this, it's primarily book-based. So if you haven't read the the books, especially The Last Battle, there are MAJOR SPOILERS herein. Proceed with caution.

Story Note: Most people probably don't read notes, but I am someone who actually does, so I am going to explain my views on this. A lot of people go with the view that since Susan is still alive, there is a chance she could turn around and still end up with her siblings. The very first time I read the books, I did not get that impression, and every time after that I have read them I have not gotten that impression. It's not because I dislike Susan. The first time I read The Last Battle, I was terribly sad that she wasn't there. As I've gotten older, however, I have decided that I love the way C.S. Lewis wrote the ending. While it is sad, remember that whether you personally believe in God in not, these books are written as biblical allegory. Lewis showed with Susan that it is possible to see the truth and understand the truth and still not accept the truth. Aslan (God) knew that. Peter, after two trips, had accepted the truth. Susan, after two trips, had not and would not no matter how many times she was allowed to return.

That is my view on the matter; take it or leave it. Either way, the ending is still pretty open honestly, so enjoy the story. :)

(As always, I own nothing. The lines of lyrics below belong to Karmina)

All the King's Horses

"Run with my hands on my eyes
Blind, but I'm still alive
Free to go back on my own
But is it still a home
When you're all alone?

"All the kings horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put me back together again"

These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

The irony of the situation never left my mind, not once during the Battle of Baruna. Mum sent us away to keep us from the war, yet here we were fighting a battle we really had no part in anyway. We thought, naively at the time, that surely that would be the only battle there would be and we would go back to England shortly after.

But it wasn't. Years upon years and battles upon battles would follow the first.

No matter how many days or weeks or years passed, the scars never fully disappear. I had physical scars, as did my siblings, when we lived in that place, but those disappeared as soon as we returned. But the memories? Those never leave. The memories of wars and destruction and death, burying those who meant the most to you. I did not like marching off to battle; I always stayed at the castle to avoid it.

"One of us has to survive, you know," I would joke. But the truth was, I did not want any more memories I would never be able to leave behind. I did not wish to see any more of my friends fall on the battlefield. I earned my title of the Gentle Queen that way.

But wars were still fought, and lives were still lost. Every time I would watch as the soldiers returned; every time a dear friend would be missing. I thanked Aslan that never were my siblings among the dead, but that alone did nothing to easy the pain of loss.

Perhaps it is terribly juvenile of me to say, but I no longer want to understand the bitter ways of war.

But I was a Queen of Narnia, and I could not avoid it.

Even the balls and feasts I would forget if I could. They were pleasant and enjoyable affairs, as were hunting trips and traveling abroad, but if I had to choose between remembering all of the awful things and forgetting all of the good, I would forget everything at once. All of the parties and joyous affairs of being royalty were simply not worth the nights spent worrying if one brother or the other would even survive the night.

But then, by chance or by Aslan's will, we stumbled back into our own world. Not knowing if we would ever return, perhaps we could put those nightmares behind us. If only it could be that easy, but it wasn't. Our time there had changed each of us, and it wasn't a simple task to return to being school children.

Even thus, I thought in my heart of hearts, perhaps I can forget the bad and hold onto the good. We live here, after all. This is where we belong.

Peter didn't agree, and when were whisked back suddenly, I can't say I wasn't happy to return, but for how long this time? We weren't a part of that world, not really. I knew we couldn't stay forever.

We met Caspian the Tenth. Another war was brewing, and we would have to rise to the occasion once again, take our place as the Kings and Queens of Old, and somehow bring peace to a land that we had been absent from for over a thousand years. I did not want to be a part of it.

But as a Queen of Narnia, I had no choice.

And so I watched with trepidation as my oldest brother marched out to fight the king of the Telmarines, never knowing if he would come out on top. What would we do if he lost? I had confidence in my brother's skills, of course, but there was no guarantee of victory.

Yet another memory I would never be able to forget.

When Peter and I were told we could not return to Narnia again, I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. I loved this place, so part of me did not want to leave it behind again. But at the same time, I knew it was coming. We didn't belong here, and we couldn't stay forever, and it was almost better to know for sure that I would not see this place again.

No more wars. I wouldn't have to watch my brothers struggle to stay alive with swords and armor ever again.

We would often speak of Narnia after our return, especially when I returned from America and heard that Edmund and Lucy had been on another adventure. They loved to tell the tale of their voyage, even though I could see they were a little disappointed to have not seen the country we loved so much while there. That disappointment always quickly disappeared when they told of having a glimpse of Aslan's Country. That, they always said, was far more wonderful than anything else in the world. It gave them hope amidst the sorrow they felt at having also now been told they would not return.

I was relieved. None of us would ever return to a place so filled with danger. I would not have to worry for them anymore.

But the memories would not leave me. We were no longer a part of that place, yet I could not leave it behind.

My siblings continued to relive the glory days and all of our adventures as often as they could, but I found that I no longer wanted to relive it with them. For every time that we did, I would see them, bloodied on the battlefield, barely alive - or worse.

And so I chose to forget.

"Oh, how you all still speak of those childish games we played!"

If I could pretend it hadn't been real, then perhaps those grotesque memories would let me be.

I didn't want to remember, and so I didn't. After some time, I convinced myself that it really was all a game. Narnia wasn't real. Neither was Aslan. The Battle of Baruna had simply been all in our minds, as during that time all we could think about was the war. We hadn't fought with swords and bows but with sticks, not against minotaurs but against rocks and trees.

I was not, and never really had been, a Queen of Narnia.

The years passed swiftly by. My siblings had somehow pulled our cousin, Eustace, and his friend, Jill, into their delusion. They went off on an errand or trip the details of which I didn't care to find out.

And they never came back.

Once again, I had to stare down at the lifeless bodies of my brothers and my sister, and tell authorities, "Yes, this is them." Only this time, it was real. There would be no waking up from this nightmare.

If any god in any world exists, why would Aslan take these, my precious siblings, from me? Over all of these years, in all of the situations we had been in, why on an innocent trip? He could have taken them long ago if He had wanted them and could have taken me as well.

My greatest fear realized, I have been left alone.

Wars and death, feasts and balls, the shining sea and the dark of the woods, the dry heat of the desert and the damp cool of the mountains.

If knowing these means losing everything I love, then these are truly the things I no longer wish to understand.