AN: Just a little ficlet I wrote a while ago and thought I'd finally post. I'm currently losing my mind to fireworks going off. Anywho, thanks for reading!
~To Forget~
Her siblings think she has forgotten, that she has given up on it all, but of course she has not. It is better to pretend, though, she thinks, because maybe one day she will no longer remember it like it happened just moments ago. It's better this way.
She cries bitterly when she remembers the day that she told her sister and brothers that it had been a fun game, but childish, and that they had to grow up. They were too old for make-believe, to pretend that they were once kings and queens and that animals could talk. She weeps when she thinks of that place, of the life she has to relive, of the Lion pacing across the beach and disappearing into the setting sun.
She still remembers the dryads of the forest as they floated in the breeze, their very being the essence of the trees, the fawns as they danced under the moon, and the centaurs, so brave and sure. She remembers the feeling of the pure wind on her face, the sun in her hair, the cool earth beneath her bare feet. She remembers it all, the forests and glens, fields and rivers, the lakes and the sea and Cair Paravel. She remembers the lamp post, burning in the deepest forest and shedding light on none but the occasional traveler. She remembers and she wishes to forget. To forget would be to live again, to let go. Oh how she wants to let go.
But she cannot forget the feeling of a circlet upon her brow, of a stone chair holding her aloft, of her cloak billowing as she strides to her place on the dais. She cannot forget the Narnian sunsets and the Narnian sunrises, the sky awash in the colours of molten gold and jewels far more precious than those in her crown. She cannot forget the feeling of her bow in her hand, of her muscles straining to draw the arrow back just a bit further. She cannot forget the brush of His breath, warm and sweet, across her face.
She weeps even as she puts on her makeup, carefully outlining her lips in bright red, pinning her hair back from her face. A tear rolls down her cheek and falls on her stockings as she pulls them on, then slips on her heels, dabs at her eyes, and puts on a far happier face before walking out the door.
Maybe at this party she'll finally forget about it all. Maybe this time, she'll believe herself when she thinks, "There was never such a place as Narnia."
She already knows, though, that she is never going to forget.