(Set after "The Last Battle". Susan begins to realize what she cast away. Is it too late or can she find her own way back to Narnia?)
(Obviously, I am hardly the first one I am sure to tackle this but I've been watching "Chronicles of Narnia" several times recently so Susan is on my mind.)
"What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children."
Susan Pevensie held her head in her hands and groaned as her words came back to her. She had thought herself so clever, so worldly, so superior, so grown up. And being grown up meant that obviously things like Narnia with its talking animals and mythological beings and high adventures had to not only be impossible but rather silly. Something to make fun of.
She recalled reading something discussing humor. She couldn't remember all the types the author mentioned but one she recalled. It was Flippancy. Flippancy assumed that the subject had already been examined and deemed funny; whether it actually was or not. The joke had already been made so there was no need to think about the subject. Just laugh.
Along with her friends Susan had become quite a master at that. They poked fun at people and places and things. The more revered the person or situation the funnier it seemed It wasn't even flippancy anymore; it had passed to mockery. But it all was funny. And so adult. Wasn't it?
She had become alienated from her family. Not just from her siblings who refused to give up what she had tried so hard to leave behind but her parents as well. They had spoken to her, tried to point out things to her, remonstrated with her. She had shrugged them off. After all, what could old people like her parents know about what was exciting, glamorous and important in life?
"What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children."
She had thrown those memories aside. But why not? She was a member of the very latest up-to-date crowd. They wore the smartest clothes and attended only the most exclusive gatherings. She was popular, someone whose disapproval could keep any one new out of the inner circle.
Inner circle, hah. That might be the worst thought of all; to realize that she had become as vapid, as obsessed with status, as forgetful of everything that truely mattered as her "friends" were. When everyone else in her family had been killed in the train accident they had all patted her on the shoulder and gone "There, there". They had wondered "When are going to get over it all Susan? After all, it's been weeks now." And best of all "How much money did you get? Bet you can pay for all of us to go to that party." When she seemed to lose interest in them and all of their games they turned on her. She overheard nasty comments supposedly directed to others but carefully pitched loud enough for her to hear. And she found that she didn't care.
What she cared about was what she remembered now. Images that flooded back into her mind and left her aching with loss. Thought of her parents and all they had given her; thoughts of her brothers and her sister and the adventures that they had shared. Real adventures, not made-up.
She had kissed and been kissed by numerous boys. Maybe too many boys and some of those kisses had gone further than they should have but none of them matched the touch of her lips against Caspian's. There had been wild dances and parties and raking her sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes as she looked on fancy decorations and scenes of penthouse parties but what were any of those compared to standing on the ramparts of Cair Paravel with the wind blowing through her hair and the vision of all of Narnia laid out before her?
"What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children."
Those words burned her each time she recalled them. They had led to a place that she now knew was empty and under its bright superficial glamor was dark. She wished she had never fallen into the trap of the lifestyle she had embraced. Compared to what she had given up it was nothing.
She brought herself up short. No, that was wrong. If she had any hope of ever regaining what she had lost she needed to face the truth. She had willingly done what she had done.
Perhaps it had started when she had stepped through the gate back to England. Her heart had been heavy. She knew she would never see Caspian again. She would never return to Narnia. Since she could never go back to Narnia had that led her to reject the very concept of Narnia? Perhaps.
She had smothered that loss by flinging herself into a world where the very idea of Narnia was ridiculous. No, it wasn't ridiculous, it was only ridiculed. The idea that there was more to living than having a good time, that nobility and honor and bravery really existed and were worth pursuing couldn't be tolerated because it would reveal that life as silly, superficial and in the end empty. When she compared her "friends" to her siblings that became even more apparent.
The Kings and Queens of Narnia. High King Peter the Magnificent, King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant. And once, once upon a time, Queen Susan. Susan the Gentle and her hair fell to her feet.
But not always gentle, she remembered a flash of fire lit her eyes for a moment. She seemed to feel the weight of her bow in her hand and was once more leading the Narnian archers against the creatures of the White Witch's army. Once more she turned to cover her sister as Lucy, the one who never lost faith, searched for Aslan. High adventure and bravery had surrounded her.
She raised her head. Was it all gone? Had she left it too late? Without even meaning too she cried out.
"Aslan! Aslan!"
There was no reply at first. Not that she could hear. But a sense of peace stole over her. In her mind she seemed to hear the great lion's calm voice.
"Peace my child. I have always been with you. I always will."
"What am I to do?"
"Have Faith."
It wasn't an overnight change. Susan took some time to adjust her life. She saw that many of the things she had been involved with were not necessarily bad on their own but when mixed together and allowed to push anything else to the side they were poisonous. It was not the world she needed to withdraw from, it was simply parts of it. Once that took place, eventually for the siren call of some of those habits could be very strong, she was able not only to balance her life but to embrace the memories of her family and the wonderous land she had shared with her siblings once and dreamed of seeing with them once more some day.
There were times when she was tempted to fling herself back into that whirl of parties and such. One of the strongest was when she was invited by one of her now fallen away friends to her wedding. It had been a glittering affair, on the pages of every society section in Britain it seemed. She had been drawn in until she had realized two things. First, the condescending bride had not invited her out of friendship, not her, not most of the other guests. It was to show off to Susan and those others, to make them not happy but jealous. The other guests had been invited because the couple wanted to move up in the ranks of society rather than because they actually liked those people and the contempt the high society types showed to everyone made Susan wonder if anyone had come here simply to celebrate the joining of two people in love.
The final straw had been the groom, whom Susan had never met before. He was no Caspian. Instead the more she watched him the more he began to resemble Prince Rabadash of Caiormene. She thought of warning the bride-to-be. She had, after all, once been a friend. But when she took a closer look at the young woman she saw a female version of her groom. Perhaps they deserved each other. Perhaps some good would come out of their union. She couldn't know. She did feel that she had taken some of the pleasure out of her former friend's ostentatious celebration when that friend tried to rub it into Susan how rich she was and how important and how much she was above her and Susan genuinely did not care. And apparently had shown it although she had not intended that. It had helped her often to look back on that day and think what a narrow escape she had had.
When she closed her eyes for the last time one day in the future she was content. When she woke up again she felt so good that at first she didn't want to open her eyes. She could tell she was laying on a bed of fresh cut grass and the morning dew was still on it. A breeze was blowing and she could smell the sea.
The sea? She sat up and then jumped to her feet, smoothing her long skirt down as she did. She found herself racing up an incredibly worn and broken set of stone stairs. When she came to the top the wind caught her hair, streaming it our behind her as she looked out over the ocean. Her right hand came to rest on a broken column, A column that she instinctively recognized. She was once more at Cair Paravel!
The joy she felt was tempered slightly by amazement. When she and her siblings had returned to Narnia, summoned, although they had not known it then, by Caspian blowing her horn, Cair Paravel had been in ruins. But this column had been still standing. Now it was not only broken but the edges had been worn smooth by time and wind. How long had she been away? The first return had been after only a short time in their original world (Susan found she no longer thought of it as "home") but it had been centuries here. Now she had been gone for decades. How much time had passed here?
She shook her head. One day she might solve that. Or not. But here she was. Although she didn't really expect and answer she called out for her family.
"Peter? Edmund? Lucy!" There was no answer. "Mum? Dad?" Only the wind answered her. So she was alone.
No, she thought. She was by herself but she was not alone. She was being watched over, she knew it. Then she clapped her hands in excitement for she saw, laying on a worn stone table with a broken leg or two, her bow. Beside it was her quiver, filled with red-fletched arrows. She picked them up and slung them over her shoulder on to her back before strapping on her arm guard.
What now? Where to go? Instead of being frightened she was filled with anticipation. She was back in Narnia and before her lay the world and a quest to find her family. Which way should she start?
A memory came to her, a memory warm and more real than any of the ones from her fading former life.
"To the radiant Southern Sun, I give you Queen Susan the Gentle."
South it was then. And she would be worthy once more of that title when this adventure was finished.
"I better get started then," she said aloud, to herself and to whom she was sure was guiding her, "before my hair grows back down to my ankles."
(The End)
(Note: I had originally intended to have Susan awake back in Narnia surrounded by her siblings but that seemed too easy. Better to leave her with an adventure before her, a quest. Besides, that leaves her story open for a sequel about her journey.)
(Story Notes: C.S. Lewis had planned to write "Susan of Narnia" to tell what happened to her after the events of "The Last Battle". He passed before he could start it but to me the title itself seems hopeful that Susan would one day find her way back to Narnia. Additionally more modern authors such as J.K Rowland have objected to Susan being shut out of Narnia simply because she discovered lipstick and sex. Remember that's not the reasons, those are only symptoms. The cause of her losing Narnia is because she lost belief in it. Finally I prefer Susan from the Disney films over the books. Although still "The Gentle" her fighting alongside her brothers with her bow seems much more like a character that Lewis might have written later in his career. Joy Grisham had QUITE an effect on a man who had previously never considered women to be strong characters. Also her romantic interest in Caspian points out that attraction and yes, sexual interest, is NOT foreign to Narnia, except when it later led Susan away from her faith in Narnia as though they were incompatible.