The Dilemma
AN: The Susan Question was the next greatest voted on my poll, so here it is. Half the opinions in here are not mine, but Susan's, trust me, I am not nearly so vehement about my opinions. Rated T because Susan swears far too much. (This is half movie canon, half book canon. I use the bits I like and ditch the bits I don't) Read this as if you were listening to an old woman tell you her life-story on a bitterly cold winter's night...
My name is Susan Carmicheal nee Pevensie, The Gentle Queen over the lands of the Radiant Southern Sun, Duchess of Felimath, Lady of Anvard, ward to lost strays, Head of MI6 and very recently, crowned a Traitor to my only belief. There will be some who will tell you that I abandoned my family. I can tell you that I didn't. If anything, they abandoned me. Confused? Clive's fault. Lucy had always been his favourite pupil. But I suppose you'd want me to start from the beginning?
Everything has a purpose. Nothing happens by chance. It was something we learnt and frequently forgot in our lives but, everything was dictated by The Emperor over the Sea. Over my life, I've met many people who've had trouble believing this, and I can't say I blame them. After all, I might have been one of those people, had things happened differently, but how could I ignore the existence of God when I had met his son?
It wasn't by chance that Lucy had stumbled onto that wardrobe in the summer of 1941. She told me later that it had felt like something had drawn her there. Her feet hadn't listened to her commands and when she'd approached it; her heart had jolted her closer towards the wardrobe. And from the first moment she'd stepped unto the snow-covered land, the Pevensie siblings became His Children.
I hadn't believed her of course, I was a rational person and to be perfectly honest, I hadn't particularly liked Lucy. I'd been jealous because no one paid attention to me as long as she existed. Peter played with her for hours on end and Edmund delighted in tormenting her. That wasn't the case afterwards, our bond never closer after what we'd seen and done together, but I had been self-centred as a child. Some may take this as a consensus for proclaiming me a traitor and close their case on me. But no one proclaims that of Edmund, and he risked so many lives for her lies and her promises. Everyone has flaws; mine were just more prominent and more highlighted by Clive. But I digress. Denial was unreachable when we actually stumbled into Narnia. Even I couldn't deny what my own eyes were seeing.
The adventure persisted in the land of never-ending cold and I was continually baffled by the trust that Peter, my staunchest ally when it came to protecting the others, placed upon these talking animals when we came from a land where danger was hiding in the most innocent of forms. It was almost as if he had been bewitched or tempted by the power, just like Edmund. I was the staunchest supporter for leaving and going home. Perhaps it was for a selfish reason; after all, I had always been in control at home, and I was most certainly not here.
But I can't recall. You must remember this was over 100 years ago for me. Tea? Oh yes please. Earl Grey, if you will. It was always a rich concoction after the bitter rubbish they fed us during the rationing.
Where was I? Disbelief? Oh yes, now I remember. I was so scared and so proud. Then I met Aslan and all of that melted away. I suppose all of my doubt and conceit and selfish nature melted away too, to the background of my heart and mind. I don't think I'd realised it at the time, but all of our personalities changed once we'd met Aslan. Edmund would argue with me, he's always been one for arguing about our experiences, but I believe it was His doing that fashioned our change, not what we'd done. Then the Lion rescued Edmund and then immediately sent the boys to war and sent himself to death.
I'm not a fool, you know. Neither were my siblings. In Narnia it didn't seem to have any significance apart from the fact that he'd died for Edmund, a fact that he loved us so very dearly. Because even though he came back to life, it must have hurt. But we came back to England and all the details became less foggy. I knew from the moment that we read the Bible in Sunday School, exactly who Aslan was supposed to be in our world.
I'm going off topic? Sorry, you must remind me every time I do. Don't forget, I am 85 and though my body is still at the peak it was 50, my mind's going off. Dementia they call it? But as you told me, I ramble. Aslan died then returned with Lucy and I to a battle filled with destruction. He killed the White Witch and restored my brother back to life.
He then gave us a broken country and told us to fix it. He must have had faith in our abilities, but I often cursed him for not giving us more help. That was usually when more help arrived or we were notified of other countries or people. I still remember the day I single-handedly raised Archenland from its stupor of sadness after the death of its queen. Lucy was famous for her reclamation of Galma. Bards later described her setting foot upon the isle as what sealed their allegiance to us. A little exaggerated perhaps, but she'd always had a way with words. Peter conquered the Lone Islands by sheer brute force, because that was Peter's speciality. There'll be people who say that we were inseparable, but I can't say that's true. We often got frustrated with each other and often had large, over-complicated fights over anything, as most siblings often do. Being Kings and Queens don't change that at all, but bards and historians tend to neglect the bad times and gloss over the good times.
What's that? My engagement to Rabadash? Smug bastard. But I suppose I am being unfair. My thoughts are clouded by my hatred. Only Edmund was ever truly rid of his anger to be able to judge people. It's strange; when we were young in England, his temper was what personified him, and there, it was his lack of temper that made him so renowned.
Rabadash...Rabadash was a kind and honest man when he came here. He saved Lucy's life when we were on a trek out in the Western Woods, just Lucy, Rabadash and I. A huge band of the White Witch's supporters emerged and attacked. They counted on our being alone and without protection, but I wore light-weight armour underneath my clothes and Rabadash had his weapons on him. He killed all 25 of them. But one of them had stabbed Lucy; fatally. He carried her to the castle at the speed they go in the desert, so she could utilise her own cordial. My horse, Sida could never have reached the speeds his horse did. His horse died, that kind of speed isn't good for a horse to ride at for too long. And for Calormens, their horses are their family as much as anything else.
I think I started to love him then...
It's getting nippy in here, could you close the window? Thank you, I am an old lady in body, as healthy as I seem in other perceptions. I have survived much worse temperatures both in Narnia and in this world. When, you ask? Well, I'll tell you the occasion in Narnia, seeing as we're at that point in my life story. It was three years after we had defeated the White Witch and Edmund was on his final scourge of Narnia to rid of the Fell Beasts. Peter accompanied him when he could get time away from petitioners and foreign dignitaries, but then, he usually handed those over to me or to Lucy. His idea of diplomacy was to chase them into battle as quickly as possible and try to conquer them. I tell you, that was not ideal to deal with.
It was to our surprise (that is, me and Lucy) when we heard that the two of them had been sparring and there was sudden fog and they'd vanished. A ransom note remained. The Fell Beasts wanted...something. I can't remember what now. It seems unimportant what they wanted, just that we'd give anything to have our brothers safe. Lucy went with a hunting party, a monarch needed to stay at Cair Paravel. She too vanished into thin air at another outbreak of fog. This was when I decided to venture outwards, despite protests from every single corner. I went alone, in the dead of night with a horse and my weapons. I may have been gentle, but even the gentle will fight when pushed. May have been, you ask? Yes, I was once gentle. No longer is my heart and soul gentle, I have seen and done too much for that to be true any longer. It is a sacrifice I have made gladly and one I would make again if given the choice.
In any case, I went alone to find my siblings. I found the Fell Beast's camp and realized they planned to resurrect the White Witch using our bodies and our blood. They were waiting for me to come to have a full set. I slaughtered every last one, alone. My siblings could only watch, they were regrettably tied up quite firmly. But, being alone and sneaking out so the Cair's staff couldn't stop me meant that I endured the freezing temperatures of the North without even a proper cloak. We returned triumphant, but any innocence had been wiped from us.
Our return to England? I say, you are impatient aren't you? Oh, I'm rambling am I? Ttch, the impatience of youth. In my day, we endured. The day we left was a day of great celebration. It was Winter's End, a huge festival. When we were to return to the castle, after we had caught or attempted to catch the White Stag, there would have been a celebratory speech and all of the countries in Narnian alliance—What countries you ask? Well, Narnia and Archenland, obviously; The Lone Islands, The Seven Isles, Galma and Terebinthia, being parts of Narnia territory, yes, they were involved too. Calormene reluctantly agreed to be allies after the Lord Peridan agreed to marry Rabadash's sister. Of course, this course of action occurred after the Tisroc's 'tragic' demise to be replaced by Rabadash, who was more peaceful. And after Peter had defeated and captured Harfang, they too were part of the trade alliance that Edmund had spent three weeks drawing up to satisfy all parties.
The Stag wasn't really required by any of us, we were all content. But the nobles of Archenland weren't nearly as content as we were. Narnia was a rather large Empire, if I must call it that, and none of its monarchs were married. I had tried to alliance Narnia with Calormene, but we all know how much of a catastrophe that was. I didn't attempt to marry again, which was met well by all of our subjects.
Of the others, Lucy declared herself into the service of Aslan, meaning she could never marry or have any serious commitment as such of marriage. She did this after a particularly tormentous time I had with a suitor from Radhaven. She swore she'd never marry and I told her it wasn't possible. She retaliated with that announcement. The rest of us had no prior knowledge.
Peter didn't want to marry either, but for more noble reasons. He knew that Archenland and Calormen would see his wife as having more authority than the rest of us (by labelling her the High Queen, a position that doesn't and will never exist), which Peter did not wish to happen. And either way, his suitors were all despicable simpering idiots. Idiots don't make for good wives.
Which left Edmund. Edmund of course, wasn't exactly the most... sociable out of all of us. In fact he had only ever obtained four marriage proposals and those girls had never met Edmund. Rest assured, once they had, any idea of marriage escaped their miniscule brains.
I often suspected he did this on purpose, but he never revealed his true feelings; on this subject especially, he was particularly reticent. What does reticent mean? What do they teach in schools these days? It means he was discreet and private, which truth be told, wasn't exactly uncommon for Edmund. That's why he and I got along so well, both in England and in Narnia. We were—I mean, are both very private people. Which is why this conversation is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, young man!
We left with great pomp and searched with joy. Not seriously. If we had searched seriously, that stag would have been found in approximately five minutes, but we loved to have humour and we didn't want to harm the Stag. We followed it to a lamppost. I remembered it clearly. Not like the others. I remembered snow, sleighs and a ruined cave and I remembered England. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't say anything to warn them of where we were going back. I could only voice my discontent. So with a heavy heart, I walked past the lamppost and landed in England, 12 years old again. And there are no words to describe that pain, that sense of raw—animalistic agony. The funny thing was, we all still kept the scars from Narnia. Edmund's scars from the battle of Beruna and the White Witch's torture, Lucy's whip-marks along her back, my horrendous burn marks along my legs, Peter's...tattoos.
Yes, I do disapprove of tattoos. He got them done in the Seven Isles. Muil, I believe. They covered his scars. I have to say, it was quite amusing to see when Mother bundled us all into baths the moment we got home and when he pulled of Peter's top and saw the lion tattoo, with Narnia's motto 'By the conscript of Aslan and of service to the home country, Narnia'. I think she had a royal fit, especially when she saw Lucy's whip marks. She did wonder what happen to us. But eventually, she stopped caring and started drinking. That wasn't fun to wean her off, I'll tell you that. The consequences on Edmund were phenomenal too. I don't think I'd ever seen him that grumpy. He was quite the alcohol addict in Narnia, which wasn't a problem, because we had a constant supply of it and it never affected us adversely. None of the liver and heart problems it creates nowadays. I suspect it was part of Bacchus's magic. We got all of our wine from him and his maenads.
What did we do in England? We served. We all had a routine during that summer and the summer afterwards. Peter taught all of the younger children at the park. Usually that was up to parents, usually fathers; but of course, most fathers were away with the war. Peter refused to let them go without an education; feeling his kingly responsibility sparking up again, as it had in Narnia.
Clive told you we abolished schools? Pish Posh! Education is important, even if English education was dull. We all understood that, even Lucy, who never wanted to go to school. We created better, safer schools. Clive had always hated his teachers and peers though, so it stands to sense that he imprinted that in Narnia.
So, Peter overcame his immense temper and frustration to teach children, which was pretty extraordinary. Didn't mean he stopped being hot-tempered when he was out of the park, but he was like a different person inside of there.
Edmund had two jobs. He helped the old blacksmith, Mr Hyland when he was incapable of working (and managed to sneak in our own creations in his free time, like lock picks, arrow heads and swords.) But then again, we were in need of them. Most other days, he helped the judge in the courthouse of Finchley decide criminal justice. He was always good at doing that in Narnia, being the Just King and when the old judge, The Most Honourable Mr. Faulkner had caught him condemning the boy who had thrown rocks at Mrs Merriner's window, the poor old widow. He thought it most fair and Edmund soon joined Mr Faulkner in court, as his Aide and Personal Assistant.
Lucy was amazing. Everyone could see she had talent in looking after people, even in Narnia, without her cordial. She stayed innocent while the rest of us grew cynical and bitter. I'm not saying that she never grew up or that she was perpetually childish, just that she never had her heart broken or her soul ripped out ruthlessly. It wasn't her circumstances either. She always fell into the worst circumstances imaginable, just like the rest of us, how do you think she got her whip marks? She trusted Aslan more than the rest of us ever had. She always remained faithful.
What was her duty? Oh, I didn't actually say, did I? She saved someone's life on the street after an unexpected bombing. He had gotten trapped underneath a beam in their house while he was running out. Peter pulled him out, but Lucy saved his life, because she realised that there was shrapnel stuck in his heart and she extracted it. That was when she was made an honorary doctor and she lived up to it. Every free day, she walked all the way to the next town and worked at the hospital there where she could. If not, she made weekly inspections around all the houses in Finchley to see if everyone was okay. Once, there was a raging outbreak of typhoid fever in the town. Lucy rushed around, curing people left right and centre, without even a thought to her own safety. She remembered ours though and almost never came home to save us getting the disease. It was then, I realised that Aslan was truly great in naming her Valiant because she was just that, both here and in Narnia. The same with Edmund; he was always just, and always refined.
What did I do? I was more of an odd-job lady. I held services for people who were physically unable to go to church or couldn't stand the preacher/Jesus. (Not liking the preacher, I understood, Father Christopher reduced Lucy into tears because she climbed a tree when she was seven). I also did shopping for people who were unable to do it and held singing and violin lessons, free of charge to those who wanted to learn. Admittedly, my skills weren't terrifically useful like the others' were, but I was useful much later on in life...
Prince Caspian? You mean King, I suppose. He wasn't Prince for very long. I'll start at the beginning of that story, shall I? All of these events happened in the two summers after Narnia. It was the start of the autumn term in 1942. We were waiting at Finchley station when we were swept back to Narnia. We came back to a Narnia that was more ravaged than ever before, a whole 1600 years after our reign. I compared it when I had downtime in 1975, It was like people from the year 375AD coming to 1975AD. But, it felt nothing like that. It was not so different, despite the ruins of Cair Paravel. It was just as ravaged as it had been after Jadis had given that land, 100 years of winter. But the others couldn't see how similar it was, they were so absorbed with themselves.
Not that this is a bad, thing, loving yourself is a key part of life, but no one could see past their own faces, not even me in the end. Lucy couldn't coincide our Narnia with Caspian's Narnia, Peter couldn't put aside his pride to listen to Caspian and Edmund could only see our people or Jadis's people and not Caspian's. And I? I couldn't believe in Aslan.
There's a movie about us? Well, I never! This I haven't seen! Is it good?
...Caspian and I fall in love? Peter kills over half of our people because he couldn't acknowledge when to retreat? Peter and Caspian resurrect the White Witch? Edmund is bitter about everything? Lucy doesn't fight? What is this? Did the scripter write this manuscript while he was on drugs? Peter was always the first to sound the retreat when things went wrong! He hated seeing our people in pain! Peter and Caspian were great friends, and they would never have resurrected the flipping White Witch! Edmund was never bitter! He accepted and moved on! And Lucy... Lucy was named Valiant for a bloody reason!
Hollywood may have achieved a great many things, but I admit that they tend to leave one displeased with the results of their so-called 'greatness' ...You didn't think I knew how to curse? I couldn't have been the Head of MI6 without learning how to swear like a sailor.
Move on? Yes, quite. What actually happened there? Well, Clive dramatized his version of the book. It was much less melodramatic and there were a lot more covert operations. Not to mention it spanned a year or two. It was guerrilla warfare we used. It's slow, always has been, but it had never been as ineffective as it was in Miraz's time. It was typical that we'd gotten competent conquerors of Narnia. Peter's idea of single combat was a last bat attempt because while we had the upper hand and we usually won all of our skirmishes, we were losing morale among the troops and Miraz simply didn't care about the rebel movements. Guerilla warfare only worked if they had an effect. Miraz's troops were pawns to him, so he didn't care if a few died everyday so we could get supplies and food. It was when we insulted his honour that really got his goat.
You're really stuck on my relationship with Caspian, aren't you? There was nothing. Maybe he had a crush. I don't know; it's not like he would have admitted it. It's hardly proper. I was 1600 years older than him. And he was 12. My mental age was 29 at the time. So, now can we please move onto a more interesting and substantial topic?
My reaction to be being banished from Narnia? Devastated. Wouldn't you be if you were told you couldn't ever return to your home, the place where you belong? But in a way, I was slightly relieved. I couldn't stand Caspian's world. It was broken, not just in land, but the peoples' life and love had been broken. No one trusted each other and it was all for themselves, not for the greater whole. The squabbering and the bickering were unbearable in the camp. I couldn't have lived there without breaking even further than I already was. Pieces of a whole, that's all we were. None of us were quite complete. We'd lost parts of ourselves so many times, we were broken. And I didn't want to break more.
That was why I clung to the hope of completion when Aslan told me we could him in our world too. When I was with Aslan, it was like I was finally healed. So I searched. And I didn't have to look very far. Hadn't I been showing Aslan to the disillusioned of Jesus Christ? I saw the parallels and I had truly understood why he had taken us to a world of riches and cruelly torn us away and dropped us back here. Our mission was to fix this world as we had fixed Narnia.
I told the others and there was joy from Lucy but quiet scepticism from both of the boys. I understood completely. The enormity of the task was huge and here, we were just four more people in a world filled with people. We weren't Kings and Queens in England and fixing this cruel, almost dead world was a task so insurmountable, I'd felt like crying when I'd realized it. We promised each other to start immediately; every little difference would contribute towards the bigger things.
But we languished that year. Peter was devastated about leaving Narnia and couldn't come to terms with it. Edmund covertly told me that he had been getting into more fights at school and he seemed to be on the verge of tears constantly in class. He said that my brother the High King no longer walked or talked like a High King. Instead, he acted like an arrogant schoolboy and his teachers were not impressed with his attitude, despite his stellar achievements in academics. It didn't sound like my brother at all, but what was I to do? Their school was halfway across the country. What difference could I make? I depended to Edmund to heal him, and because Edmund spent most of his time trying to heal Peter, he achieved nothing.
I, on the other hand focused too much on the big things. I kept looking for large opportunities and often missed them by just a tad. I didn't pay attention to my classmates, so when I abandoned my quest for the large things, I was aloof and alone for no one was with me and wanted to talk to me, apart from Lucy.
Lucy was our breath of fresh air. She kept doing the small things, helping in the school hospital wing in her spare time and being a ray of sunshine generally. She always brought flowers to classes for teachers and shared her lunch with everybody. She coached and tutored those who could not understand things that came to her like breathing and I was a recipient of this, for Science and Mathematics hadn't been my focus in Narnia, as so much as languages, diplomacy and archery had been. I would have been lost without her. She was our anchor.
But my opportunity came that summer. Father had returned from fighting, his leg injury was too serious for him to be anything but a liability on the battle-field. That meant he had gone back to lecturing about medieval history. But then he got a job in America. A tour around America. In 1942 where U-boats patrolled the waters between England and America, sinking any supply ship coming. And Mother called it a holiday.
I did wonder at the time, how stupid they thought we were. Really, even Lucy, who didn't always catch on to subtleties of diplomats knew that something was up. Edmund was the one who deduced that Father was obviously still working for the army. Why else would he get a permit to leave? Obviously, he was taking family with him to keep it unsuspicious. And they picked me to accompany them on their journey. I was proud and at the same time, slightly confused. Why me? But Edmund said that I shouldn't wonder about my parents' choice, but thank Aslan for this momentous chance to try and fulfil my duty. What could I have said to that?
I said nothing and I left, having established a code with Edmund as to inform him about my whereabouts. And Aslan was with me, because on the very first day of our so-called vacation, I got embroiled into trouble. Father's actual aide was struck ill with scarlet fever and couldn't accompany him on his 'tour', so I posed as my Father's secretary. Mother was understandably unhappy, because while she was in New York, enjoying the sights, we travelled down to Alabama. I looked through his notes, and while there were several about lecturing, there were equally as many about important national secrets. My father, unlike my mother was slightly more perceptive. He saw the changes in us so much clearer than Mother had, and because he had been away from us so long, he passed away our maturity as a gradual thing. It was nice to be treated like a normal person.
I told him I knew what he was really doing and he expected that I knew it. He then told me his plans in confidence. On Winston Churchill's orders, he was gathering support from the richer families in the southern states of America to ally with Britain. It seemed another near impossible task, but much smaller and much easier to accomplish, compared to lifting our broken world out of its sorry state.
So we were first to meet the Finches, the head of that family, being Atticus Finch. He was a formidable man indeed, despite his age and his glasses that seemed to heighten his vulnerability. But he was a true lawyer and very good at his job. It took some careful persuasive techniques from Father to merely sway him towards the side of England. It took my simple suggestions to his children and his black housekeeper about England and equality for all that cemented his decision to side with us. Edmund would have been proud. That was how he'd won over the Seven Isles.
The second family was the prestigious Carrer-Swans, with their new-fangled auto-mobiles and extravagant money in the depths of Tennessee. This was a far easier job than old Atticus, because the head of the family was a young lust-driven 26 year old man. He was married, but what did that matter to him? A little bit of maturity and disdain in our meetings had won him over. After a night in his bedchambers, the Carrer-Swans were firmly on the side of British aide. My father was disgusted by my actions, but I told him that I was faking it for England. He nodded and accepted it, but it wasn't for England. Not really. It was for Aslan and we had done much worse than some simple seduction in his name.
The third family however, was far more complicated. The Schoonmakers were a prestigious old name from the 1800s and while their son and daughter were into the showy displays of splendour, the mother was much shrewder. This task could not be fulfilled by seduction by either me or my father because the mother was newly widowed and had been devoted to her husband. That was when we had required the help of the British Consul from Atlanta, because we were truly doomed. Our aid came from an unlikely source. A negro maid who snuck into the house, secretly poisoned the mother and disguised it as the mother choking on food. My father suspected that I had asked for this convenient change, and he was right. I had. Don't look so disgusted, you, my boy, have done much worse than that in the name of your country, haven't you? The son of that family was easy to deal with after his mother's demise. He pledged his money to England without even a simple seduction.
But the fourth family was truly problematic. They were the powerful Sindacco family. They were rumoured to be involved with the Mafia families of New York, but there was no denying their wealth. It should have been easy enough, there were more than enough male members in the family for me to seduce. It should have been easy. But it wasn't. You remember the rule of threes? You don't remember? I only taught you that last year! I thought you had a good memory!
Well, it's the way to tell if something is going wrong. If it happens once, it's an accident. If it happens twice, it's a coincidence. If it happens thrice, you're compromised. These were my own creation in Narnia and I had forgotten them those days in windy Chicago. My first hint that something had gone wrong was that my weekly communication with Edmund was ceased. I'd passed it off as nothing; he had seemed to be very busy in my last letter to him, searching through newsletters to sort our Peter's latest quests into the wonderful world of biology with the Professor Kirke, of Narnia and his acquaintance/beau, Polly Plummer, another Friend of Narnia.
My second hint was that the splints that were usually enclosed inside Father's documents were missing. I presumed I'd misplaced them somewhere; I had been in a hurry those days, because the family were so demanding with their constant need for entertainment.
My third hint was when my father was shot. Not fatally, of course, but bad enough that he had to be rushed to hospital immediately and when he was well enough to be moved, in just a few days , he was transferred to New York where he would be safer. I was given the chance to go with him and take in the tourist attractions with my mother, but I knew if I did, any chance of fulfilling Aslan's wishes would vanish. So I stayed and played my womanly wiles further in schemes of hatred among the four brothers. The girls I twisted with gossip I'd heard from other states, all hinting the English were going to win and the German were evil.
It looked like I was slowly making progress in turning their support toward the British, when one day I was called to the senior family meeting. I wondered why I had been called when I entered the room. No one was there apart from a man with a gun. He was about to shoot me, but I wasn't completely vulnerable. The moment I saw him, my hand went to my knife. And the man seemed to be a member of the family, because he monologued about how he had me trapped and how the Sindacco family could never be fooled, while I secretly pulled the knife out of its thigh holder. Just as he looked like he was going to shoot me, I threw the knife and stabbed him. My aim had never been as accurate as Lucy, but I still killed him.
Unfortunately, I had forgotten the ramifications. I was a representative of Britain, and I had just stabbed a member of the Sindacco family. Any hope of convincing them to be on the side of the British was gone. Ignoring the fact that they had just tried to kill me, now even the younger, more impressionable members of the family would be against my involvement because I had just murdered a senior member of the Sindacco family And the only way out of the collapsing spiral was to fake and lie.
So I did. I lied. I pretended some mysterious assassin had tried to kill me and Mr Sindacco had tried to protect me, being a guest. The younger Sindaccos ate it like candy. The senior Sindaccos were much less believing of my tale, but after I'd made a few calls to the British Embassy in Chicago and they confirmed most of my statements, it smoothed over. Apparently Mr Sindacco hadn't told his family about the murder attempt he would spring upon me.
After they had pledged their money to England, I went back to New York where both my mother and father were. My father had told my mother everything that had happened about our spying jaunts and unsurprisingly, Mother had been furious. She forbade me to do any more spy work, but it wasn't that easy when out on the streets of New York at night, walking home from a party I'd attended on Father's behalf, taking notes on the news on the politics front, I saw a gaggle of drunken white men harassing a black woman. No one seemed to be doing anything of this poor woman whose very clothing was being taken away from her. I, being Aslan's protégé and follower, went to her rescue with a few quick jabs and kicks, they retreated.
I took the woman home and it turned out her mother was one of the most influential in the black communities. The African-American peoples of America were no longer slaves, but were hardly citizens of America, only being second-class to everything else, segregated to their own community, unable to achieve fame. Their only well-paying careers seemed to come from being servants to rich white people, and well, what things they disclosed to their 'dumb' black comrades. Given a chance from Aslan like that, I could hardly abandon spying altogether. The next day I went along to the British Embassy as if carrying papers for my Father.
I was immediately directed to his office which was very close to the Head of that Embassy, a man called Colonel Frederick Golding. As he was having his tea break, I slipped in to take out a file for my father and 'dropped' the piece of paper detailing the many secrets the black people had collected during their servitude, right onto his biscuits. Naturally, being a curious man, he read them, blustered for a while then hired me as another spy, close to his confidence. When he discovered my age...well, wasn't there an explosion? But even he couldn't deny the talent that 15 years of being Queen had given me.
I served my country well in those days, gathering intelligence, planting secrets and manipulating the shallow minds of those people who seemed so weak and so blind to the truths that seemed so obvious to myself. While I never served directly on the front lines, or was involved in any planned action, things worked out well. Until the event a week before we were meant to leave. A mole in the secret service. How he managed to get so far, I didn't know, but according to the Colonel, some minor plans had failed because the Americans seemed to already know something. I was baffled by his progress, because I had caught him in the telegram room while collecting a message from the Lord Halifax listening into some intelligence meant for the Colonel only. He turned round with a gun but I was already prepared and I rapidly shot him twice. He went down, but then I discovered his strength; all of the telegrammers came in with guns pointed at me. I hadn't participated in 6 against 1 combat since Narnia so it was a challenge, but I defeated them with some difficulty. That difficulty being, that one of them had shot my leg, which was pouring blood all over the beige carpet. That was how the Colonel found me, surrounded by corpses, attempted to apply a bandage to my bleeding leg.
...that was interesting to explain. Needless to say, we were extradited a little bit early back to England where I was limping around for the rest of the two weeks. Imagine my surprise when I came back, feeling happy I'd done Aslan's will, when Lucy and Edmund revealed the bombshell about Eustace and returning to Narnia. It was bittersweet hearing that they had been banned just like Peter and I, but they seemed much calmer than Peter and I had ever been. I was frankly jealous, but Peter explained to me, that they had been expecting to be told they weren't to return. Lucy said it had been heart-wrenching hearing it, but relatively easy to adjust afterwards. Pardon? Did I hear the loophole about Eustace?
...are you mad? Of course I did! I was head of diplomacy, remember? Edmund revelled in the language of law as did foreign diplomats, so I learnt to hear loopholes and amendments almost naturally in speech. I was considerably annoyed. I don't think I saw Eustace as the new reformed person until I met him for the first time over the summer of 1943 with Jill. All of the Friends of Narnia gathered at Polly Plummer's cottage and we all exchanged tales. Eustace told his story of being a dragon and the change he'd gone through. And I'd talked to him afterwards, of course. He was my cousin.
It was nice. He wasn't an adult like the rest of us Pevensies and he didn't love Narnia as we did. He was more fond of this world and science. Goodness, I don't think I'd seen Eustace's obsession with science before then.
My opinion on Jill? She was nice,a polite and sensible girl. She said in the search for Rilian she fought with a bow, so I gave her some tips, but to be honest, the girl was so frightfully shy, I couldn't get much out of her. All I knew was that she wanted to be on Broadway because of her acting skills. I have to say, I doubted her skills, if she couldn't even venture out of her shy shell to talk to us, but I kept quiet to be polite.
What happened then? You're very impatient, aren't you? What happened next was that we lived and met new people. The Professor invited to his smaller flat for an Easter break and there we met Polly Plummer, who was very obviously his beau. Peter was always confused as to why they never married but he didn't particularly know about how few the rights for women were then. For Polly to be able to reach her potential serving Aslan and doing extraordinary good, she couldn't marry Digory, because society dictated that once you were married, you stayed at home and had children. Married women were not allowed to work. So Polly remained unmarried. I found it sad that they departed from this world before they saw the work of their actions.
Polly had been in several momentous women's rights movements, like the Suffragettes and she was my inspiration for what I needed to behave like in this world to be accepted. Lucy and I often trailed her for a day to see her mannerisms. She interacted with many types of people and all of them charmed by her, and in turn, ourselves.
Peter went to university. Father wanted him to study classics and he did for a while. But the three of us knew just how much he hated them and just awful he was at translations and seeing hidden meanings. That had always been my sort of thing or Edmund's sort of thing. Peter was plain in words and actions, honest to a fault. That's why I'd told him to go into teaching history or teaching science. He was such a good teacher and leader and settler of squabbles.
But Peter was stubborn as hell. Yes, another reason he's just like you, you stubborn boy! He went on to study medieval literature and I think it honestly was slowly killing him. It was here that he met Clive. Then, he was Professor Lewis.
Peter was obviously struggling and Clive offered Peter extra help and tuition and slowly the two became friends. Clive saw Peter's maturity in other ways and introduced Peter to another man called Tolkien, another literature professor, but he was in the middle of planning a novel and uninterested in him.
You want to know how Clive became so close to us? It was an accident. We had all gotten leave from our various schools and gone to see Peter in Oxford. Peter studied at the Magdalen College and we'd all been to visit him. However, what I hadn't known was that someone was following us. A someone loyal to the Sindacco family.
We first went to Peter's dormitory, but he wasn't there. A roommate told us he was being coached, and I don't think I'll ever forget Edmund's horrified face at this blasphemy of Peter not being perfect at studying.
We then stumbled into Peter and Clive talking about how the Socratic method of deduction worked. Peter looked quite surprised for a split-second before recovering magnificently and introducing us. Clive looked briefly interested at Edmund's credentials, ignored me completely and seemed fascinated by Lucy. It was almost as if he was drawn to her charisma, which wasn't new. It looked like he was about to dismiss Peter so we could go talk for day and half about how we had so fared when it all went horribly wrong. The follower walked into the room as we had and seemed hesitant to ask for Peter.
Peter was always able to tell was something wasn't right (maybe he would have been a better spy than I) and he immediately tensed like a dog, his hackles raised with the anticipation for a fight. We all sensed his mood immediately when it happened and all of us were armed. I could see all of our hands sneaking towards our weapons, and to our undivided attention, he snatched Lucy and demanded that whoever killed the Sindacco boss step forward or Lucy died. I don't think I've seen a funnier face pulled than the assassin's when Lucy stabbed him with her thigh-holstered dagger. I immediately shot him with my pistol and I knew that Edmund must have a thrown a shuriken, because later he always complained of having one missing from the set.
Clive was astonished by our actions, and was unable to believe that mere children could achieve such things. We adjourned, swearing him to silence, all unwilling to disclose the secrets we had held so dear to us for so long. Lucy told me later that he always pestered her for the truth, but she would never reveal them to him. Do not look at me like that boy; you have secrets too! How many secrets you possess, even I will never know, but you understand secrecy better than you understand breathing.
Clive continued tutoring Peter and Lucy always visited him as often as she could, with tantalising stories of satyrs and dwarves and great heroes of Narnia like King Gale and Queen Aislinn. I wouldn't have been able to cope with the constant secrecy, I am a spy at heart, and knowledge is my obsession, as you very well know, but Clive dealt with it well. I suppose his introduction to Digory was probably useful; the two got on like fire and wood. You want to know how he managed to find out my story? That leads onwards. Onwards a few years.
It was when I was 21, Peter was 23, Edmund was 19 and Lucy 18. We had survived these years well. Our father had headed back to India in 1946, to fight some more. Spying had been a fun occupation for him in the Second World War, but with his injury slowing him down and his advanced position, India had always been more thrilling. I don't doubt that his other illegitimate daughter wasn't another cause for this. She was my age, and in other circumstances, Father told Peter she might have even lived with us if things had turned out differently. Obviously, Mother would not take her in and while I would have liked to have known her, I doubt that I would have been able to swallow my pride in my Mother's position.
Meanwhile, the Friends of Narnia...could have only been described as a mixed bucket. On one side, we helped as discreetly as possible in everything we possibly could. Edmund dabbled in politics instead of Law, from the urging of myself and Peter. Both he and Eustace (studying Science) headed off to Cambridge, much to Peter's consternation and Eustace had achieved a great status of managing to talk with Einstein himself about Particle Physics (a feat that he wouldn't stop boasting about).
Jill's acting had rigorously improved over the several missions we'd completed in our daily lives and there were times I didn't even detect her presence in the room, because of her acting like she was invisible. I told her that she would make a great spy, after seeing some of the more dramatic overtures and lies that she could say off the top of her head; but she was much too honest for that, so I didn't attempt to involve her again.
But of my siblings' actual accomplishments, they remained few and far between. Lucy declined an opportunity to learn medical sciences at Scotland, because the instructors loathed Christ and religion. I sternly informed her that she had missed a brilliant opportunity to serve Aslan but she refused to see sense. Edmund missed a chance to be in the House of Commons for a passing of a bill because the Professor had broken his ankle and needed help. I told Edmund that Peter and Eustace could have managed, not to mention Mrs Macready, but he did not attend that politics session either way. Peter had passed his degree with great difficulty and was now pursuing a degree in Biological Sciences at my urging, but wouldn't attend a lecture conducted by John Maynard Smith because Mother had caught a 'fever'. Yes, you insolent boy, otherwise known as a hangover that she couldn't hide from Peter.
It's not that they weren't good, they were so very good and had they not been called to Narnia, Aslan would have granted them eternal happiness for the dedication and love they showed to one another. But, he had called us back to England for a reason. We were here to make things better, make things here on Earth, just like they were in Narnia, and my siblings were not achieving that goal.
I on the other hand, went to the other extreme. I jumped when Aslan opened even the slightest possibility of something grand. I met Gandhi you know. They thought that a young British child might be able to convince Gandhi to stop petitioning for Indian Independence. I was sceptical by their plan. If all of the mill workers of Manchester couldn't persuade Gandhi to change his mind, what could I do? In fact, I think I furthered his ambitions. I quite agreed with his cause. Despite my ardent opinions on the continued colonisation of the Lone Islands, Narnia treated the people with the same standards in The Lone Isles as we did in Narnia itself. The British Empire did not do that, their cruelty and revenge was renowned. I knew that India deserved better, as did the Indian people. Their skin didn't make them different to us, just as there was no real difference between Narnians and Calormenes, apart from ideals.
I went to Africa, and met the Governor–General of South Africa at the time, the Earl of Athlone, Alexander Cambridge and his tired Aide-de-Camp, Eustace George Walter Bourke, a pleasanter fellow than his name would suggest. His ideals and pleasant attitude towards Africans was a satisfying change to the attitudes of most British Governors. He wasn't an advocate for African freedom as I was, but he was kind and meant well.
I even saved the Queen's life once, you know! It wasn't when she was actually a queen, of course. I was in Scotland, tracking a criminal, as their agents were singularly useless (Don't be like that my boy, you nor your parents were even born at this point!). I quickly found him after merely four hours loitering near the centre of the town and spend a day tracking him. His target was the Queen, who was staying at Balmoral Castle. She was due to be married to the Greek Prince, Philip Mountbatten in days to come. Someone didn't like this turn of events obviously, because the person who was I following was an assassin from one of the smaller European countries, which at the time, was part of the Soviet Union. You want to know which country? I'm not sure, I don't have the ability to be able to determine a person's nationality from looking at them once! Turkmenistan? Estonia? Something along those lines.
He targeted her as she was walking along some country path. Alone, with her dogs. Yes, they were corgis! And no, I don't know where her obsession with them stems from. I'm not a royal analyst. Anyway, he was about to shoot her, when I pushed her down. I got shot in my leg, for the trouble, but I managed to nail the man with a bullet to the head, right between the eyes. I was awarded a medal for my courage and she made me a knight. She called one of her dogs after me as well! No, I'm not joking! It was called Susan, one of her favourites. It was with her on her honeymoon. I was quite pleased with myself, even if Jill later said, in a fit of spite that it suited me perfectly, being a small annoying dog.
To accomplish many of these activities, I often missed important events in my friends' and family's lives, which gave me a reputation among them. However much I wished to leave spying behind, until my degree in Political Sciences at Oxford had finished; spying wouldn't relinquish its grip upon me. I was often expected to give reports about my fellow students, who were usually sons and daughters of important lords and ladies. I often dashed off at odd hours, going to 'parties', looking nothing like myself to avoid suspicion. I knew that Jill despised me behind my back, no amount of acting could hide animosity perfectly, but to be frank I couldn't have cared less. I couldn't disclose my secrets to nay of the others, apart from Edmund, to whom I dropped regular hints.
Then, a spying opportunity arose for my unique talents. There was tension mounting inside of Berlin as the blockade continued and there was little to no access for soldiers and getting the airlift to lift supplies to the Berliners, trapped by the Soviet Union. The problem was that at Tegel, the runway and proposed airport to fly in aid to Berlin was blocked by a Soviet Union radio tower. My mission as to sneak into there as a radio-controller and attempt to sabotage the machinery without suspicion to help the people of Berlin get more aid. I would tell you all the details of what happened, but you've survived enough nerve-wracking, near life-or-death missions to want to hear one of mine.
The long story short is that nothing could break in the tower subtly and I was caught by a very clever Russian girl who recognised my accent as from a region different to the one I had claimed to have come from. I escaped luckily, with just a few bruises to show for it and Tegel got their airport, thanks to the gung-ho attitude of one General Jean Ganeval, with an attitude to rival Edmund's. I heard that in response to a furious Soviet Union colleague who asked him how he did it, the General replied "With dynamite, my dear colleague."
I had heard then that Father had gone back to England and had gone to Bristol to visit Grandma on my Father's side. I had hoped that perhaps they could forgive each other and become better individuals because of it.
It was while I was on this mission that a mysterious figure showed at up the dinner table of the other seven who was dressed in Narnian clothing. I was informed of the whole situation by Edmund through a telegram using the One-Time pad I had given him. I had wasted no time in acquiring a telephone and calling Peter using the telephone. I can still recall the entire conversation. I told Peter this, and this truly regarding their foolish plan with the rings: "Peter, my good brother. When has Aslan, in all of his might, ever needed us in Narnia without calling us? We are banned from Narnia. You cannot follow through with this foolish plan of yours Peter."
In reply, to which he said: "I shall not venture into Narnia myself. Jill and Eustace who have not been banned shall go and help Narnia." I told him he was a fool and that he was defying Aslan's will. He told me that I had been less than perfect as a disciple of Aslan those past few years and I had no right to rebuke him. I told him that all I did was that Aslan willed. Peter responded that God did not help those who wouldn't help themselves. I was then assaulted by the Russian soldiers so we were unable to finish our conversation. Yes, I got out of it fine, only a few bruises to show for it. No, I'm not as unlucky as you. Also, I have more training. 15 years in another country as queen does that for you.
I hurried back to England. Once the blockade was removed, I hitched a ride with one the RAF soldiers who had been providing supplies to the people of Berlin and went back to England. When I arrived, I heard the news. Every single one of the Friends of Narnia along with my parents, were dead. They asked me to identify their bodies as they weren't sure who had died. They were horribly mangled. If I hadn't seen worse battlefields, I would have thrown up. There were flies around their battered, bloodied bodies. I identified the Professor, Polly, Eustace and Jill as well. The accident had happened just two days before, and Alberta and Harold were off in Scotland to visit Mum and Alberta's Father. Jill's mother had been helping at the Berlin Blockade as well and unable to arrive there.
I inherited all of their money. Aunt Polly had left her money to Professor Digory and he in turn, had left it to my father. My father had left his money to be split equally among the Pevensie siblings. Seeing as the only one that remained was I, all of their money was mine. I cursed Aslan that day, the only time I fouled his name truly.
And who else came to me in my misery and shared it but Clive Staples Lewis? He came to Polly's cottage where I had been staying on a stormy night similar to this and pleaded to know about their deaths. It was painful reliving it but I needed to tell someone apart from Alberta, who had wailed like a banshee. He then asked me why we were so brilliant, I broke down. I had lost my family, I had almost gotten killed in Russia. I told him everything. Every last detail about our years ruling Narnia and the many adventures. I told him of not only my story, but all of the others'. Jill and Eustace's trip with Rilian, Polly and Digory's venture into Charn, The story of Caspian and the Dawn Treader. I told him as much as I could before my throat parched and I don't think I'd seen Clive look that enlightened before. I told him everything until my tales and heart were at peace with themselves. And he told me that I was a good person and that he would excuse himself and left. I didn't question his decision; I was too empty for that. I beseeched Aslan for help. I just couldn't deal with all. They were dead, Clive knew everything and I was alone.
So Aslan came to me in a dream that night. He appeared to me in a place I recognised as the Western Wilds. He comforted me when I burst into tears and hit him and screamed. He then told me that they were all happy in his country where they belonged. I asked him why he took them from me and he told me that Narnia's time was finished and gone, and he had proved this with the destruction of Narnia. I had sobbed at this news, for it was devastating. He then rebuked me for my sins and I had never felt more ashamed for pushing them away or doing the things I had done. I told him I had done it all in his name. In reply, he growled and told me that the Spanish Inquisition was done in his name, the castration of many young men was done in his name, wars were started in his name. It didn't make it right that any of these happened, just as his name didn't bless anything.
He told me that the world had enough cruelty and cold people. He told me England needed Queen Susan the Gentle once more. He told me that I would never be alone because he would be by my side as would the family I made from the men and women I had befriended across the world. He told me that to bring freedom and happiness to England, I had to be free and happy.
I'd always thought that being happy was Lucy's role, but Aslan sternly told me that now that they were in his country, all of their roles were mine. I told him I couldn't do it alone. And he said once more, that I would NEVER be alone. And he was right. I never have been and I never will be. I had killed, I had seduced, I had lied, I had cheated, I had destroyed and I had made in his name. Now, I would change, I would liberate, I would laugh all in his name, and I would most of all, be free in his name.
He breathed upon me and told me something that would stay with me the rest of my life. He said, "Dear one, you are brave as a lioness, as swift as a cheetah, as cunning as a fox, as sprightly as a bird, as graceful as a deer and as friendly as a beaver. You are everything and anything you choose to be. This is because you are mine." Don't you ever forget that, spy boy, you can be anything, but you have talent and everything you need to keep the world running smoothly. You may not like it as a whole, but everyone feels the thrill of the chase if they are like the tiger, and you, spy boy, are the most like a big cat I have seen!
So I lived. I told MI6 that I was temporarily resigning to pursue other deeds. The man in charge at the time, Hugh Sinclair, told me that I could never escape spywork, and I knew that. Spying followed you everywhere. You couldn't quit. I told him I'd be back and he said that he'd eagerly await that day. I went on to work in the Government. What party? Labour, of course. My father may have been richer than most, but the common people were still the people that I had empathised most with in Narnia and continued to here.
I wasn't someone very influential. I was one of three Labour representatives in the Municipal Borough of Finchley and rarely managed to win votes there, but I was popular with the people of Finchley. Nearly everyone remembered Susan Pevensie as the girl who helped everyone whenever she could. I still continued to try and help, and this eventually got me promoted to the main governing body, as one of 6 Labour representatives for London in the House of Commons. I was often privy to many laws and rule passings and voted for change in a good way. That wasn't my only venture however.
I often travelled to other countries and helped in many disputes. Perhaps the most famous one I found myself involved in was the Civil Rights Movement of 1960. I met the Finches again, this time the two young children whom I had befriended for a short time, Scout and Jem. They weren't children anymore, just like I wasn't. At the age of 31, I was old. Older than I'd been in Narnia in any case, with a lot more injuries. I was there when the Senate of America passed the Civil Rights Bills on the 10th of April. It was an amazing day.
You look bored. Do you not want me to list every single person I met? All right then. What do you want to hear? How I met Sebastian Carmichael? Well then, spy-child, you're a secret romantic, aren't you? But I'll tell you. I was doing a tour of Royal Greenwich Observatory, as was my duty as politician. It was there I met Sebastian. He was an astrophysicist, working with the famous Professor Bernard Pagel of the elementary abundances of stars and galaxies. If I'm honest though, Professor Pagel didn't give Sebastian nearly enough credit for what he did, despite the fact that Sebastian basically made sure the whole observatory ran smoothly, while the other scientists had their heads up in the stars or with mathematical theorems. I suppose I saw a kindred spirit in Sebastian. He was practical and grounded. He understood that things needed organisation and he didn't have any false senses of pride that stopped him from doing the dirty work that needed to be done.
It also helped that he saved my life once. You looked surprised, spy child. I thought you were getting bored with my story. We were out in London, in 1963. It was a busy night, out in the West End. I wasn't suspecting anything to happen; after all, I wasn't anyone important. Suddenly, as we were making our way to the taxi station, my bag got stolen. I was furious and I chased after the man, intending to teach him a good lesson about assaulting women for petty money. What I didn't know was that it was a trap. Six Russian men confronted me in a small, dimly light alleyway. Three men I could have defeated easily. Four, I could have done at a stretch, but six was near impossible, especially considering they had guns and all I had was a thigh holster knife, that wouldn't go very far. As your Indiana Jones character said, only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight.
I acted the part of an innocent woman, slipped into it fluently. After all, I hadn't run in, screaming hell and murder. I had merely pursued him. However, they weren't convinced, not that I'd expected they'd be. They asked me in Russian whether I could understand them. I pretended that I couldn't, they would reveal information to me far easier if they had a language that I supposedly didn't understand. And these were no Galman mercenaries who were smart enough to guess that of course I knew their language. They asked me in broken English about some stolen key but I hadn't a clue what they were talking about.
Sebastian had turned into this confrontation, looking hopelessly confused. "Susan?" he'd asked me, staring at the six men who seemed to be pointing all their guns at me.
"Nothing to worry about, Sebastian. Just go home." I'd said to him. The last thing I thought I'd need, was a confused civilian. Especially, since the Russians didn't seem to take too kindly to the intruder to the scene. They pointed a gun at him and I quickly blurted, "He isn't a danger. He doesn't know anything!" When they didn't seem to understand, I gave up my advantage. I spoke the same words in Russian to them, and the expressions on their faces were priceless. I'd already picked up that they worked for the KGB and that they suspected I'd had some connections to the alias I had taken in my role as a spy at the Berlin Blockade.
They turned on me, brandishing their guns and speaking in rapid Russian at me, talking about how I was a bitch and that they were going to kill Sebastian unless I revealed any information I knew about this mysterious key. I told them I didn't know anything and they seemed to go towards Sebastian. I then jumped unto the first Russian and started thwacking him around the head, wrestling the gun out of his hands. To my surprise, I wasn't the only one to take this decision. Sebastian had also jumped another Russian when I had moved and taken his gun and stunned him unconcious. The remaining four pointed their guns at us and I shot one, but the other one started firing bullets at random at the walls. Sebastian dived behind a dustbin and I had picked up a wooden board as a shield. I steadily advanced on the madly firing Russian and shot him down with one clean shot. He'd already taken out one of his own members with a bullet and I turned towards the other. He aimed towards me, and the bullet ricocheted off my arm, skimming a minor vein. I managed to get around and shoot him quickly. But what I'd forgotten was the last man. He was about to shoot me (so Sebastian says), when I heard a gunshot. I turned round and the last Russian man was dead on the floor, shot by Sebastian.
Sebastian was horrified by what happened, as were the British bureaucracy. They advised me to resign from my public role as politician and I did. I had no more interest in it. Instead, with the ample amounts of money I had, I bought a large house out in the countryside and married Sebastian. I knew him well and I was sure I couldn't love him more. It was a quiet ceremony, out in the countryside, on Midsummer's day in a field filled with flowers. It was wonderful, but tiny. I had little family and the Scrubbs had declined the invitation to see my wedding. Only Sebastian's sister was on his side of the family, so she and her husband attended as witnesses. Don't look so sad! It was enough. I only wish that Peter, Lucy and Edmund could have seen it, though, I think they did, from Aslan's Country. At least, I hope.
It was soon after that my first child was born. Leonard Edmund Carmichael was a bonny lad. He had my straight black hair and the typical Pevensie features, but he had Sebastian's humour and sparkling green eyes. He got into all sorts of trouble as a child. Yes, even worse than Ian tells me you were! But I couldn't stand to be a stay at home mother. During the six years of staying out of the public eye, I'd been a teacher of sorts, teaching children basic letters, numbers and other such simple things for the local neighbourhood. But, when Leonard was five, and old enough to be understand and follow instructions, I wanted to work again. I was 37 now, and it was unlikely I'd be able to get a job in politics again. But I hadn't forgotten MI6's offer from times way back. Even if I couldn't work on the front lines, I could help in the background, as I had as Queen Susan. My brothers had fought. I influenced.
Sebastian had been reluctant to give me up to work, but I'd told him that I would be driven insane if I didn't have something to do. So he agreed, the darling that he was.
So I went back to them and they welcomed me with open arms. So open, in fact, that they gave me a cushy administration job that required a minimal amount of work and access to all the important documents of every clearance. It was all I needed to do a bit of meddling. Yes, I meddled a lot. It was how I managed to get your Father into the business.
I met John when he was a child. Robert Rider was a co-worker of mine and John was unfortunately unable to stay at his boarding school during some important meeting that Robert was having with Alan. Yes, I did call him Alan, he was a co-worker. Albeit, a lot younger than I was at the time. You didn't imagine that he was ever young? Everyone was young once upon a time, even if he doesn't look like he might have been.
John was left with me, despite me repeatedly telling Robert that I was going to the shooting range and his ten year old son couldn't possibly come along. I took him with me anyway. He was around the same age as Leonard and he had a charm about him, even then. Once he saw how well I could shoot, he said he wanted to be like me when he was older. I told him very clearly, that my job was dangerous and scary and that you didn't live very long. I told him that if he still wanted to be like me when he was an adult, he should call my card.
Yes, I gave him a business card. I can operate a computer, spy-child! I wouldn't have been able to survive if I hadn't. And sure enough, he did, as did his younger brother Ian. I sent him through training. No, he didn't go to Brecons Beacons, that's an SAS training facility. I do believe Tulip was in a hurry to get you somewhat competent. No, he and Ian went through most of their training at Arisaig house. They went through Commando like training to get them as competent field agents. Of course, they went to the other houses and training facilities to learn the other basics; like camouflage, codes, weapons training, propaganda creation and radio signal tracking, but most of their time was at Arisaig house.
I created a lot of the training devices and methods we used there, so I got promoted to Head of MI6, where I stayed for quite a while, during Margaret Thatcher's years in power. She was very dependant on us, especially through the Falklands War. I wasn't happy with that; war was never advised, but was necessary at some points of time. Not at that time of course, the Falklands Conflict was a commodity and a folly, but there was minimal bloodshed compared to some other wars I'd seen. I was involved directly with a lot of the training then as well. I was much more hands-on as Head of MI6 than Alan Blunt was.
By the look on your face, I'm assuming that you never got this kind of training? Yes, like I said, Tulip was probably in a hurry, and you are more ingenious than you give yourself credit for. But I tell you, if I had been at the agency at that time, it would never have happened. Why wasn't I at the agency?
I retired, you silly boy. It was after Leonard had married Alyss and they'd just given birth to Nathaniel Bartimaeus. You look surprised, spy child. You didn't know your friend's middle name? Well, I hope you won't tease him too much for it. After all, he can't really help it. Not that I can reprimand you without being hypocritical; Lucy, Peter and I always used to create silly nicknames to call Edmund. It was just too easy and he got so easily annoyed. Oh, you also didn't expect me to retire? I was getting old. I retired at 62, as was the rule, in 1991. But, I didn't leave the scene altogether. People that really wouldn't be able to cope with being in a foster home, they came to me. Sebastian and I were grateful for more children in the house, it made everything just that little bit livelier. The house had been a lot quieter since Leonard had grown up.
Stop looking surprised, spy-boy! Your face continually contorted in the same expression is getting a little old. Surely you didn't think you were the only child to stay in my house? Didn't you see the clockwork tendency of everything; how we always knew the questions you would ask? We knew how to deal with troubled children.
You are troubled, silly boy. Someone who isn't troubled doesn't need therapy. But I'm troubled. Sebastian was troubled when he was still alive. It is a consequence of the lives we led. And it is a necessary one, or we would think we were invincible when we fall as easily as any other man. You know that he was dead. When you ask? It was in 1996. There was an outbreak of influenza and he wasn't strong enough to live through it. He died peacefully in his sleep in the hospital.
And you know my story from there, Alex Rider. You joined the agency in the year 2000 and shocked the world by completing nine missions in one year to great success. And great loss. Great losses indeed. You came to me when you had lost your guardian and Nathaniel, Meghan and I slowly put the pieces back together of what was left of Alex Rider. We had some trouble along the way, like last night with the assassins coming for you from the Chinese triads, but, isn't that part of what makes our lives special?
I suspect my story is complete now. There isn't much more to do on this world. I've done so much, yet it feels like so little. Can I really claim that the world is a better place since 1949? Thank you my boy, but it seems like every trouble the human race fixed, another three sprung up in its place. I worry, Alex. I worry that it will get worse once I am gone. Promise me that you'll do your bit to complete Aslan's will? Ah, you make an old woman proud, Alex. I'm sure you make all who know you, proud.
(X)
Alex leant back in his chair as the tape finished playing in his apartment. He still felt that twinge of guilt from recording her, but he'd needed to know whether she meant any harm to him. Luckily she hadn't, and Alex suspected that she'd known about his recording device anyway.
It had been a decade since Susan Carmichael had died. Alex had done much in that time. He'd ascended the ranks of MI6 for one, not that that prevented any danger or trouble reaching him. It attacked him wherever he went. He knew the old saying, 'Evil Never Rests'. He'd done a lot for the world, but anonymously, not like Susan's high-profile career, with the very rich and funny Nathaniel Carmichael and his old friend Tom Harris giving him a hand as well.
He'd married Sabina Pleasure as well. He'd heard from Susan that she'd attempted to get Alex to come live with her in America and he'd visited her quite often and soon they'd found themselves married. She knew the risks of his job but her job was equally risky, being a celebrity. They just learnt to deal with it.
He had kept his promise to Susan. Scorpia had been wiped out by him as a child and he demolished the Chinese triad that had pursued him for so long, once he was 17. Many other crime agencies were swiftly toppled under Alex's quick missions, but Susan had been right in saying the moment he did something, ten more problems sprung up. He had been stretched so thin, some days he'd just wanted to give up and let the world deal with itself.
Those nights his dreams were filled with the gentle purring of a lion and the soft breeze on a mountaintop along with blurred images of his parents' faces.
He wondered some days, whether Susan had been lying. Whether it had all been an elaborate plot to make him…do what? Do good? Stay at the agency? Alex had never been able to believe that. She's wanted what was best for him in the end. Always had. Always would, wherever she was now.
He stared as his intercom beeped at him again. With a sigh, Alex picked up and cut off the tape of Susan Pevensie's last words.