Her Just and Magnificent Protectors

Summary: No matter how she hurt them, no matter how much she forgot…the Just and Magnificent would always be there to shield her from harm.

The wind snapped at her face and bare legs nastily as Susan made her way home, hurrying through the streets toward the house. Why, oh why, had she not worn something more practical tonight? Peter had warned her, with such concern, how cold it would be. She should've known to listen to him.

Sighing, she bowed her head against the wind, trying to get more of her face into her scarf.

Then someone snatched her from behind, around the waist.

Susan started to scream but a big, rough hand clapped over her mouth. She struggled furiously, terror overpowering her, and bit one of the fingers. There was a shout of pain and outrage, the hand released her, and she took off running. Her short dress and heels hindered her progress. Pounding footsteps were catching up to her.

"Peter!" she shrieked, hoping she was close enough to the house for him to hear – she was on her street now, only a couple houses down!—"Peter! Edmund!"

The hand covered her mouth again, muffling her frightened sob.

"Stop screaming," a low male voice snarled.

The hand was big enough to completely cover the lower half of her face. She tasted blood from where she'd bitten the finger.

"Try to run again, Susie," a different voice said, "and we'll be forced to knock you out." Where had she heard that voice before?

Although she knew it would not work twice, she tried to bite one of the fingers again. This time a new hand came up and struck her in the side of the face, snapping her head to the side. She cried out sharply, "Oh, please let me alone!" but her voice was muffled.

Another pair of hands was at work, placing a dark cloth over her eyes and tying it a the back of her head. She sobbed out once more. How many were there?

Someone shoved Susan forward roughly, gripping her arms. She knew if she lived through tonight, there would be bruises. The hand hadn't left her mouth and was now becoming quite constricting, hindering her breathing. Her heart pounded hard enough to hurt her chest.

"Where are we taking her, Dale?"

"I figured we could take 'er to the river, give 'er a scare over there." He whispered something else that Susan could not hear. More fear struck up inside her.

After a few moments of more shoving, Susan heard the crash of water against rocks and dirt. The river.

"Get 'er over to the shore, I say."

More pushing, more pain.

Susan was shoved down onto the grass. Water lapped at her feet and she sobbed again, now that the hand was gone from her mouth. No one would hear her anyway. What was the use?

Heavy, warm hands groped along her chest. Someone – Dale? – snickered. "She's nice, Charlie. Good thing she ain't the type with all them clothes. Come feel 'er."

Charlie.

"Charles?" she cried, remembering him – kind smile, dark hair, gray eyes. How could he -?

"Shut up." Something hard struck her face.

She knew now. Charles, her very own beau, and Dale, his American friend who had come to visit. This time she did not cry, because she no longer wanted to give him the satisfaction. Who were the others, though?

"She's nice," Dale continued, "but I can think of some areas she might be nicer, ya know."

His hand slipped below her skirt.

Susan froze for a split second, and then she screamed at the top of her lungs. Whatever else they might do, this was too far! No, she would not allow it, she would not! She struck out blindly and felt her hand connect with something, then a shout of anger.

"Stop that!"

A foot drove itself into her side, kicking roughly. Susan gasped and coughed.

"Oh!"

The blindfold was wrenched off suddenly and she found herself blinking into Charles's face. Then his foot slammed into her face. It hit her again and again.

"Oh…" she cried again, weaker this time. Her voice was becoming faint. Her head spun.

All at once, the kicking ceased and she heard footsteps, fleeing.

Susan opened her eyes, afraid to find they were still there and preparing for another attack. Instead, she heard a low groan and a few thumps. She waited for her eyes to focus on the only face in sight, and sighed in relief to find her fifteen-year-old brother before her, face contorted with rage. Someone was lying at his feet.

After just a minute, he turned away from his victim and knelt in front of her, touching her swollen cheek. There were no hostilities just now, only gentle concern.

"Peter's gone after the other one, Su. I'm going to take you home."

She barely nodded. What a sight she must be, she thought wearily.

"Can you get your arms around my neck? No, forget that – I see the bruises." Gently, she was lifted off the ground and gathered into Edmund's arms. She pressed her face against his shoulder until everything was black and silent.

When Susan woke, it was to Peter's face hovering over her anxiously. The pain throbbed all over her body.

Someone was dabbing at her face with something cold and stinging. She knew better than to pull away, so she lay still and let them do it.

"How do you feel?" Peter asked cautiously.

Susan didn't feel much like answering that, so she asked another question. Her voice was hoarse from screaming. "How did you…how did you know where to find me?"

"I heard you scream. But by the time we figured out where the screams were, you were gone, and we had to try and follow you. It took us a good half hour to find you." Peter closed his eyes, face remorseful and guilt-stricken.

Edmund came over to the bed and started wiping another stinging liquid over some of her cuts, the ones on her arms this time. "I sent that beau of yours to the hospital," he said coldly. "I'm not sorry, Susan."

"I'm not sorry either…"

"Good, then."

"But will Charles live? Oh, Edmund, you haven't killed him, have you?"

"He will live, but I hope I left him some nice scars," her brother said savagely.

"I hope so too…"

"I won't let it happen again." Peter leaned over her once more. "Understand, Susan? No more parties for a while. I can't let that happen to you."

"Oh, alright, Peter, but you have to let me go and stop this soon. I just couldn't bear not going to any parties at all." For a moment, she sounded like her new self, instead of Queen Susan the Gentle.

A tired look passed over his face.

"Yes, of course, Su." He sighed and kissed her cheek. "Just get some rest. I'm going to sit up with you." He laid an ice pack on her hot skin.

"Peter, they touched me," she suddenly said.

His eyes darkened. Edmund swore and punched the pillow.

"They touched you."

She nodded, suddenly afraid.

Peter looked away, and then closed his eyes. He picked up his coat from where it lay across the end of her bed. "Edmund, please stay with Susan."

"Peter, I want to come."

"No. Stay with Susan." And he was out the door.

Edmund looked down at her, regarding her wearily. "You may as well get some sleep then, Su, while we're gone."

Susan just closed her eyes. Of course he would be going against Peter's will, the overprotective boys they were. They would always be so.

The door shut behind Edmund as he left too.

She couldn't help but remember them as they had once been – no, as they still were. The Just and Magnificent. The inseparable brother kings, fierce and bold.

The Just and Magnificent would always protect their queens.