My first, and probably my last Narnia fic. Deals with something which always bothered me in the series. (Points to anyone who spots the Young Wizards reference.)
Susan's Boon
I sometimes regret not passing, you know. With my brothers, and sister, and cousin (and his friend).
Not passing into Eternal Narnia. But then, I never was like them, not really. Peter the Magnificent, Edmund the Just, Lucy the Valiant, Susan the Gentle. But perhaps I had better begin at the beginning.
Not the very beginning, I hasten to reassure you. There will be no squalling infants in this story, nor the retelling of tales you already know. I shall begin at the beginning of what may be called the relevant portion of my story. It was shortly before Rabadash came to Cair Paravel to court me. One of the Centaurs, a great prophet even for his kind, summoned the four of us to the forest to meet with him. We went, and he told us this: "Aslan, or perhaps One greater than Aslan, has told me to speak to you. He told me that each of you will be granted a boon, whatsoever you ask for, at the time when it is most necessary to you all; except Queen Susan. She must earn her boon, for what she will ask cannot be had without the earning, however much it may be wished. Edmund may perhaps be uneasy about his choice in latter days, but you must all choose what will be best for yourselves. Remember to be careful what you ask, Your Majesties, that what you ask for may be the same as what you desire." I thought even at the time that he was looking particularly hard at me just then. But, he melted into the forest, and we never saw him again.
But even that is not perhaps the real beginning. I think that it really began with the dreams. Shortly after arriving in Narnia, maybe even as soon as the coronation, I would dream of a Presence, so calm and so utterly benevolent that I felt it would do me nothing but good, though it might kill me doing it. I know what you're thinking, 'How does Queen Susan the Gentle not recognise Aslan?!', but I swear to you it wasn't. It was more than Aslan, better than Aslan. I know now that it was the Emperor.
That's why Aslan never liked me as much as he did the others. I didn't need him as they did, and so I didn't – couldn't – love him as they did. He needs to be loved, you know. He isn't one half so unselfish as his Father. He used to talk to us all. He talked to Peter of kingship, to Lucy of love, to Edmund of wisdom and to me of his Father. It was after may years of this, many years of learning to be certain of what I wanted, that I asked for my boon. All this time, you understand, I had been trying so hard to earn it. I had accepted Rabadash's proposals of courtship in the secret hope that a strong alliance with Calormene could help it, and help prevent Narnia's ultimate downfall – and so it would have. I 'made nice' with Giants, and Merfolk, and Lone Islanders, and altogether was every kind of diplomat. I'd like to think I did as much in my own way to create and preserve the Golden Age as any of the others. I tried always to be patient, too, and kind. I earned my title 'the Gentle'. If Edmund was always just, I sometimes reminded him to be merciful. So I asked. I asked to meet the Emperor Over the Sea, face to face. For even a moment, I begged, because I knew even then that a moment in the Emperor's presence is worth more than an eternity in any Paradise. Aslan shook his head, and told me that a single lifetime could never be enough to earn such a gift. I told him that it was my desire, and that I should try nevertheless to earn it. He shook his head again, and told me I'd have one (and only one) chance to repent, to ask for something he could give.
And then we left, and came back to England. None of the others ever really understood me, after that. They cried, and hated their childishness, and clung to Narnia. I admit that I did too, a little. Then we all set Caspian on his throne, truly together for the last time, and Aslan did as he had promised. I told him that I wished to meet the Emperor more than ever, that even to kiss His footstool would be enough. He told me that I should never set foot in Narnia again. I replied that I knew that Narnia was only ever a stepping-stone. Aslan said he wished I would not grow so wise.
I knew what the others had wished for, of course. I told them of my choice, and I pitied them, though they could never see why. I would not reminisce because I saw no need to. I had said my goodbyes to Narnia with Caspian, as Peter ought to have. Even imperfect Aslan wanted us to live here you know, in this world. Only I went to America with Mother because only I would be so useful. I was 'grown up', even then, because I knew what it was to be a Queen, to be 'the Gentle', and I never let myself forget that. I was helpful and I did my utmost never to lose my temper, and I tried to be mature, in ways too few adults do. The others would not own it, they saw my adulthood as a betrayal, and my refusal to mourn Narnia as the proof of it, and so the rift between us grew, and widened.
What's wrong, I'd like to know, with enjoying going to parties? I dance with a great many young men, it's true, but that make them happy. I contribute as best I can to the conversations at dinners, and I generally try to oil the social wheels, as it were. I get a good part of my enjoyment of a party from making sure the evening runs smoothly, and everyone has a good time. Why do people (my siblings included) insist on seeing this as promiscuous and silly behaviour? I go, I make the evening a little nicer for everyone, and if I should happen to enjoy myself, what's the harm?
As I said, some days I regret not passing. I probably would have been there, at the last, if Edmund had asked me. He saw, a little, what I was trying to become, and he did not resent it. Justice requires a little wisdom, you know, as surely wisdom requires justice. Peter asked, however, with all the brashness and arrogance of young adulthood, talking about how it was 'for my sake'. It was the worst possible thing for my sake, of course! Though I miss my family, and probably always will, I can think of no worse torment than being forever near the Emperor, always nearer than before, nearer – and always just across the sea. For Edmund's sake, I might have gone, but never for my own.
Aslan told one of his children once that he had a name in this world. The Emperor does, too. Several names, in fact. I find my peace in that, now. I can sing his praises, and kiss the feet of the angels who keep His footstool. I honour Him by praising Him, as best I know how, with Psalms and prayers, and charity, and good deeds, and my work – I am a nurse, for there can be no higher work than saving lives. I love my husband and my children, and I shall always have the hope that this, second lifetime will be enough. Aslan is only ever a popular face, you know. The loveable, approachable, palatable side of the Emperor. If you should ever chance to meet him – and whether that chance should be good or ill I leave entirely up to you – ask him to carry a message to Edmund (for I think now and then he regrets...something. Even he doesn't know quite what). Ask Aslan to tell him to be comforted, that the Emperor shall visit Narnia at the end of eternity, and that I think He will grant Susan's boon.
Thanks for reading. A question, however, for my Gentle Reader, designed to make him (or her) think. What do you think was my bugbear, and what the vehicle for expressing it?
Please review. Thankyou.
A note to whatever(): I am dealing here partly with Lewis' betrayal of Susan. If you look at the book in the order he wrote them, Susan gradually becomes a worse character until she is selfish, petty and vain. I am therefore suggestng that she is misrepresented, and that the Susan of LWW/SC survives. I would have told you this privately, however you did not leve any way of doing so. My thanks, however, for your comments.