Tell someone who annoys you something you appreciate about them.


"Lucy, really," Susan sighs exasperatedly, quite suddenly. Though Susan turns her back on her dozing sister as soon as she calls her attention, she still caught Lucy jumping almost a foot in the air, shaking herself awake. Susan stands at the window once again, straining her eyes across the white scenery. Almost a foot of snow covers their courtyard. She told the Calormenes that a trip to Narnia in the winter, while appreciated, might run the risk of getting stranded. It is still snowing, and she's doing her very best to avoid that prince, Rabadash, and has taken to "gala planning" with Lucy, but every time she thinks it's safe to go to bed, she hears one of her brothers pass by the door with Rabadash and his horde of flatterers.

Once, she heard Rabadash, his tone thick with sarcasm and fake politeness, trying to reason with Edmund, who was doing everything in his power to drive both Rabadash and Susan crazy. "Really, King Edmund," she heard Rabadash drawl, "I do appreciate the tour of your home, but I am certain you have taken me down this hallway four times already. And I've been here before, you know. Several times."

"Have you?" Edmund crooned back, interrupting his speech about suits of armor, which was mostly fiction, if Susan wasn't mistaken. "We get so many visitors. It must have slipped my mind."

"Sorry, Su," Lucy yawns, stretching. "I'm paying attention."

"I am sorry to keep you trapped in here, Lu," Susan says, turning back towards Lucy, leaning against the windowsill. The cold leaks in and it numbs her hands. "But we ought to have something planned for the Calormenes anyway."

"You're right," Lucy says. "I'm just tired."

It is late, and for all Lucy's bravado she is only thirteen, and doing the work of someone much, much older –a full time queen, out at the break of dawn training with the boys, and trapped in this drafty room "planning" a last minute "gala" with Susan. And all the normal queen things she did in between Susan avoiding boys and Edmund trying to wrestle with Lucy in the frostbitten grass.

"You can go to bed, Lu," Susan decides sitting at the table across from Lucy. "We've got a guest count, at least, and made seating arrangements. We don't really need to pick a color. Besides, I think Peter and Edmund have finally stopped giving Rabadash a fake tour of the castle."

"It has been almost a half hour since I've heard Edmund talk about your toe fungus," Lucy agrees. But she doesn't get up, like Susan expects her to. Instead she quirks a lopsided smile at Susan. "So…" she asks. "Are you going to kiss Rabadash?"

"Eugh," Susan groans. Lucy giggles. "I'm not going to kiss him. Never. Not even if we marry."

"You really don't like him?"

"He's a pompous, self-satisfied flatterer, Lucy," Susan says. "I couldn't love him."

"Oh, don't be so self-important, Susan," says Lucy, batting her eyelashes innocently. "You never know."

"Go to bed, Lucy," Susan sighs. Lucy laughs devilishly and pops up from her seat, leans over the table to give Susan a kiss, and leaves the room, her skirts swishing defiantly behind her.


The next evening, after some frazzled attempts at procuring enough food for Rabadash, all of his nobles and the entire Narnian court, Susan stands amid swirling skirts and the prancing music of the fauns as Peter accepts the humble thanks of one of Rabadash's nobles. Rabadash, seventeen and petulant, sits at his table, alone, leaning his chair against the wall behind his table, tracing the outline of a carving of Aslan's head in the stone absently, watching as his nobles line up for a turn to dance with Lucy.

Rabadash makes eye contact with Susan for a half of a startling second and looks away immediately, blushing. Susan sighs, irritably, and weaves her way through the crowd of Narnians and Calormenes (and a few unlucky Telmarines who happened to be in Narnia to negotiate lumber when the snow started) happy for a respite from the bitter cold of Narnian winters, to Rabadash.

"Having fun?" Susan asks him coldly.

Rabadash doesn't look at her. He props his boots onto the table instead, leaning even farther back in his chair and sneers at his toes. "Hardly," he grumbles. "Your brothers took me on the longest and most boring tour of this palace, if you can even call it that, last night. And now I'm here. Narnia is awfully cold, you know."

"I hadn't noticed."

"It's not cold where I'm from," Rabadash informs her. "It's warm."

"I've been," Susan says disinterestedly. "Do you mind horribly taking your feet off our table cloths? It's considered rude in many places."

Rabadash sneers again, but puts his feet down, looking at Susan at last. He returns to tracing the outline of Aslan. "This is a funny lion," he remarks. "They're everywhere. Does Narnia have a lion problem?"

"It's not a problem," Susan tells him. "That's Aslan."

"Oh," says Rabadash. "I've heard of him. I didn't realize he was a lion. I should have known…" he looks around the room contemptuously. "Considering."

Susan huffs and sits in the empty chair next to him. "You're being very rude," she says. "This is our home and we don't have to do any of this for you. I stayed up all night planning this when it became clear you wouldn't be able to go home like you planned, and this is the thanks I get." Rabadash's sneer turns into a half smirk. "And," she adds haughtily. "You didn't even compliment my dress."

Rabadash looks at her, blushing feverishly, but he replies "I can't see it with your arms crossed, can I?" coolly.

Susan smiles and stands up so Rabadash can examine her. He does so hungrily, and then, he leaps to his feet, enthusiastically, grabbing her left hand. "Queen Susan!" he exclaims. "You look exquisite!" Susan laughs airily and lets him kiss her hand. She can feel Lucy's eyes on her back. Let her stare! The charade of it is thrilling! "Would you like to dance?"

"I would, Prince Rabadash," Susan replies gently, and without another word she leads Rabadash into the center of the room, where all eyes immediately fix onto the pair. Lucy falls away a little, taking the boy she's dancing with aside to give Susan some room. "I must return the compliment, of course," Susan admits. "You, too, look…divine."

Rabadash wags his eyebrows. "Do I, indeed, Queen Susan?" he wonders. "And I was beginning to suspect this party was all an elaborate ruse in order to not spend any time alone with me."

"Oh," Susan says, blushing. "Well, I…must admit…" Rabadash smirks at her, but he says nothing.

The other dances fall back into the center. Susan and Rabadash fall into the fold. Under the cover of music, Rabadash looks her in the eye again. "Tell me more about this Aslan character," he presses.

"Oh," Susan gasps, taken aback. "Well, He's a Lion," she stammers.

"I've gathered," says Rabadash.

"And well, when we first came here, the whole country was like this –completely covered in snow," Susan recounts. "And Aslan wasn't here. He was…someplace else. I don't know. But–"

"When you first came here?" Rabadash interrupts. Susan is very aware of Rabadash's hand on her waist. "Where were you before?"

"Oh, well, it's a long story," she murmurs.

"We have nothing but time."

Susan tells him the story of how they came to Narnia, about England and the War, about the lamppost, about the White Witch, about Aslan –how he died, how he came back and killed the Witch.

She watches Rabadash careful as she tells him, barely moving except where he guides her, and when she finishes her story she stops completely, waiting for him to react. He doesn't, for a long time, and then, slowly, begins to sway again. "Do you believe me?" she presses.

"No," he decides. "It's ridiculous. You're mad." Rabadash smiles at her, joking. Susan sighs, relieved. "It's not the story I heard, though," he tells her. "My father, the Tisroc (May he live forever), says that whoever this Aslan character is, he brought you four in as puppets so he could rule as a worse tyrant than the…witch…" He laughs a little at the idea of a witch. "Or that King Peter is, at least."

"But you don't believe that?" Susan wonders.

"I don't believe anything," Rabadash asserts. "I believe that my father is the first Tisroc in a century to have any contact with Narnia, and, Tash forbid, my father dies, I hope to continue that relationship." Rabadash pauses poignantly, staring deeply into Susan's eyes.

"Am I part of that plan?" Susan asks.

"It's not my plan, of course," Rabadash says defensively. "It's the Tisroc's (May he live forever). Though…it's not a bad plan."

"It's not a good one," Susan says. "It's devious and ignores hundreds of years of contention between the two countries. Especially since in the short time we've been here your father has made it clear that he has no interest in being friends with Narnia. He wants it for Calormen one way or another."

Rabadash shrugs and drops Susan's hands. He takes her by her waist instead and pulls her close. "We will have Narnia, eventually," he whispers in her ear. "This way is the best way."

"How's that?" Susan wonders derisively.

"Narnia remains independent from Calormen, though ruled by the same family," he explains simply. He spins Susan around and pulls her close against his chest so she's facing Lucy. "Do you see that fool dancing with your sister?" Susan nods. "That's my half-brother. His family rules territories as independent states within our Empire. One day he will become King –not governor –but king of that territory. But, since he's the Tisroc's son, he'll be under my control."

"Unless the Tisroc lives forever," Susan reminds him.

Rabadash shrugs. "He won't live another ten years," he tells her. "And then…theoretically…our sons and grandsons will rule the Empire of Calormen and this small little snowy wasteland of Narnia, independently of each other."

Susan turns back around to face him. "Chilling, Your Highness, truly," Susan tells him icily. "And very devious, I must say so." She pulls away from him. "But you forgot one little thing."

"What's that?"

"You haven't formally made your intentions clear," she says.

"This was much nicer," Rabadash mutters.

Susan smiles. "Yes," she agrees. "But I must see whether you are worthy to stand against my brothers."

Rabadash smiles again, bows curtly. "Maybe when we're older, Your Majesty," he says, turning to leave.

Before he can return to his table to sulk some more, Susan grabs his hand. "You are a better man than your father, Rabadash," she tells him. "I believe that."

Rabadash pulls his hand away from her, his mood suddenly and inexplicably sour. "If you say so."


A/N: I honestly didn't do what I set out to do, and instead wrote a fic I've been meaning to write since I was 13. If you were wondering 1. YES ! I think Susan and Rabadash at least liked each other and while eventually Susan was talked into marriage because she thought it was to the benefit of Narnia, and Rabadash's main priority was making sure he could Take Over the World, they actually liked each other. They actually wanted to be together at some point. Maybe when they were sixteen, probably not ten years later when they're both real political powers in the world, but you know...puppy love.

A/N2: Also...like, you probably don't care, but it's very important that you know that Edmund is doing exactly what Rabadash is doing at this impromptu event. Sulking. He has his boots up on a table and he is tracing a carving of Aslan in the wall, and if Susan catches him she will kill him. It has absolutely no bearing on the story at all, but it is Advent and I'm in a giving mood.

A/N3: for all of you taking finals in the next couple of weeks, good luck! And Merry Christmas!