Honestly, this is my least favorite of the five, but I hope you enjoy. Review, if you do?
Queen Susan, the Gentle
"For this is what it means to be a king: to be the first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there's hunger in the land… to wear finer clothes and laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in your land." C.S. Lewis
Queen Susan did not very much like being the only royal at Cair. Peter had yet to return from his reconquering of the Lone Islands, so Edmund had to lead the army to investigate reports of Terebinthian pirates raiding the coast. Susan had, at first, at least had Lucy by her side, but the summer equinox was approaching, which meant Lucy was expected to attend the festival held by the dryads and naiads. This left Susan, and only Susan, to hold court, something she was honestly quite poor at. Oh she could manage the household perfectly well: plan the meals, organize the servants, host any number of guests. What she couldn't do was handle the petitioners who arrived daily to ask for any number of things Susan could not give them.
On this particular day, the fourth since Queen Susan was left alone in Cair, she was feeling overwhelmed after the very first petitioner. It was a young naiad, whose lake had only been filled when a recent storm diverted a river. She looked very beautiful and haughty to Susan (which, honestly, was exactly the kind of person Susan liked, though she would never admit it.) She curtsied deeply to Susan before speaking, "I beg thee, Queen Susan. This beaver builds a dam on my tributary before my lake even fills. If he continues to do so, the water may cut off, and I shall run dry again."
Susan sat forward in her seat. This seemed, to her, like a very easy problem to solve, and that made her very happy. She felt utterly rotten having told people for days they needed to wait until one of her siblings returned to see their problems solved, or turning entirely to her advisors for what to do. She was, after all, a queen, and as such she knew that she should be just as capable as her siblings. Being able to solve any problem herself, especially the problem of a beautiful young naiad, seemed like the perfect thing for Susan.
Yet then the beaver whom the naiad challenged approached, bowing deeply to Susan, and stating his own case, "Your Highness, I know you are a friend to beavers. I beseech thee to understand. My family has, even through the hundred-year winter, made our dams on the same river, a river which now feeds into her lake instead of another. I am seeking only to continue to do as I have always done, and as my dams have never made a lake run dry yet, I don't see why they would do the same to hers."
Now Susan sat back in her throne, face flushed. It would have been very easy to grant the Naiad's request had the beaver not been there to speak for himself, but the beaver was. His words made just as much sense to Susan as the naiad's. Whichever way she ruled, she was threatening one of their way of life. She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.
"Is it possible that your dam would block the stream?" Susan tentatively asked the beaver.
The beaver, in return, puffed up his hair, and smacked his tail against the ground, "I'd be a poor dam builder if that was the case."
"Well he is a poor dam builder," the naiad interrupted. Susan looked to the creature for explanation. For some reason, (and I'll tell you the honest truth, it was not a good reason), Susan trusted the naiad more than she trusted the beaver. "Your Highness, he lets all sorts of stick float away and into my waters. With them comes dirt like you cannot imagine. I'm turning black."
The naiad had been brought to Cair through a small bucket of her lake, and Susan could see that it looked black. Of course, it was also a black bucket, so she had no way of knowing whether the water inside was truly that dirty, or if it just looked as such. She also did not have much time to investigate, for the beaver turned to the naiad and remarked, "See, see now she reveals the truth. She simply does no like my sticks and my dirt, but I am not hurting her. We all have neighbors who sometimes leave sticks or dirt in our yard while carrying it to their own. She wishes I made my dam out of gold, I think."
"Well it would be a fair bit nicer," the naiad muttered beneath her breath. Susan heard it, and I'm ashamed to say, she agreed. Having been in a beaver dam herself she knew they were sturdy, but not necessarily beautiful, things. For Susan often wished things could be both practical and beautiful, as she considered herself to be.
Though, in that moment, she was perhaps not practical enough. Biting her lip, Susan declared, "I am sorry, fair Narnians, but I cannot help you. I shall send someone to look at your dam and see if it is ruining her lake. Until then I can make no judgement."
Though unhappy with the decision, or lack thereof, both parties bowed and left. Truly her solution would have been a fair one, had she actually followed through on it. The truth, however, is that she did not even know who she was supposed to send to investigate things such as this, so she simply didn't send anyone at all. Instead the matter would go forgotten until it was brought before Edmund's court. (The naiad, of course, having taken matters into her own hand and smashing the dam while the beaver was in it.)
"Is there anyone else?" Susan called out hopefully, though of course her hopes were dashed, for there were a number of others. None of them got any more resolute solutions. Susan smiled at each, making them feel welcomed, but not at all satisfied with their appeal. Unfortunately, in Susan's mind, that was all she could do.
Despite having done nothing helpful at all, Susan was exhausted when she sent the last of the petitioners away unsatisfied. She was not done with her responsibilities, however, because then her advisors (or more accurately, her siblings' advisors), began telling her what she needed to do. Susan listened, saying nothing as they squabbled among themselves hoping for what truly amounted to favors. She didn't know what to say to any of them at all. Half of them, if she was being honest, she did not even know the purpose of.
It was, therefore, a welcomed relief when a guard came rushing into the room, panting heavily. His news, however, were not welcome, no matter what they relieved Susan from, "Pirates! Pirates on their way to Cair."
Panic settled in the heart of all those gathered, Susan especially. She knew nothing of battle or warfare. Those were Peter and Edmund's domains, and even little Lucy paid attention to them. Susan tried to block out every thought of war, for fear she'd simply die of fright knowing what it was her siblings, and people, rode into.
Yet now the war had come to her doorstep, and there was no one but Susan there. She hadn't a clue what to do. She looked around wildly, expecting one of her advisors to tell her what the appropriate response was, but they, of course, were all panicking as well. Edmund and Peter had with them every advisor who knew something of war, and every soldier as well. That much Susan did know, and so, in the apex of her leadership that day, she asked, "Guard, how many fighting men have we?"
The guard hardly looked ready to fight himself. He was a slightly plump faun, breathing heavily from running from his post to Susan. "Perhaps a dozen, Your Highness, but our armies are with your brothers. Not nearly what we need to fight off such a force."
Susan bit her lip, thinking. She had no way of fighting, so that was not an option. What then was? She hated the idea of pirates invading her home, and destroying the lives of her people. She also greatly feared what would happen should they not appease or defeat the pirates. In that stream came her solution, "Spread the word that everyone is to evacuate the city. Let everyone able to fight hold off the pirates, and let us flee to the woods for our safety. Mayhap the pirates take their fill, and their ships sink in the sea."
Though by no means advisors in issues of war, the advisors who remained in Cair had enough sense to state the obvious, "Your Highness, we cannot just flee. They will destroy everything."
Susan suspected they would, but she felt completely out of her depth. She was not meant to handle such things, "I am sorry, but this is my decree. Take nothing and flee to the woods. We must all go, and perhaps then we will be safe."
As Queen Susan ordered, the people of Cair Paravel, and the surrounding village, did. You may imagine exactly how it went. Susan and her advisors fled immediately to the wood, and were followed soon by the servants of the castle. The people of the village were slower to hear the news, many going to the castle for protection, only to find it already overrun by pirates. These villagers were slaughtered where they stood- men, women, and children. The few armed guards they had were all commendable in their bravery. They rushed, leaderless, into battle against the pirates, giving time for fleeing children to make it to safety. Yet one by one they were cut down, until the only living beings in Cair and the surrounding village were the pirates themselves.
This was how High King Peter found his home. He sailed in with his army expecting his siblings' welcome, and instead found the Cair overrun with pirates. Quickly, and without thinking, he led a desperate attack against them. They were defeated nearly instantly, and once they were, he fell to the ground weeping. In his mind, the only way Cair Paravel could have been abandoned was if his siblings were all dead.
None of them, of course, were. Word quickly came of Peter's return, and all the Narnians who'd fled to the forest returned to their homes within hours. Susan was the last to return, hesitant to make the move at all, but also entirely unsure of how she would face the destruction.
It was not the destruction, however, that she had to face, nor was it even Peter. No, when Susan left the woods and began her return to Cair Paravel, she was met instead by the Great Lion. She paused, heart trembling, and then said something which you and I know to be very foolish, but which she thought perfectly reasonable, "Oh Aslan, why do you only come now, when the battle is over and so much lost?"
Aslan looked at her, and her heart stopped. She honestly did not understand for why there was such disappointment in his eyes, which is perhaps the most shameful thing. She did, however, recognize the emotion, and her heart fell even before he began to speak, "My daughter, how could I have come during the battle when it was not waged?"
Susan thought Aslan was not being very fair, and said, indignantly, "But Aslan, we had no fighters. What could I do but run away? I did not know You and Peter were coming."
"There was one fighter you knew was in Cair Paravel, and yet she did not even lift her bow," Aslan sternly replied. "Its aim is always true. From a high tower, you could have stopped each pirate in his assault."
Susan's heart plummeted; she had entirely forgotten about her first Christmas gift here in Narnia. She could not stand battle the way Lucy, Edmund, and Peter did, so she never used it. Did Aslan truly mean, though, that she should have killed the pirates instead of leading her people to safety?
As if He could read her mind (which we know He could), Aslan replied, "My daughter, you did not lead them anywhere at all. You ran yourself, and some followed."
For the first time, shame burned in Susan's heart, and she realized what she'd done. At the first hint of danger she'd run, thinking only of her own safety. She should have grabbed her bow and fought until every last person had made it to safety, or died trying. It was what Peter would have done. Or Edmund. Or even little Lucy. Tears burned Susan's eyes. Narnians had died. Narnians had died and she'd done nothing to stop it.
"Oh Aslan, what have I done?"
He did not lie to her, which was His greatest kindness of all, "A great evil, but one that, like any, may be forgiven. Peace, Susan, those who have died are now with Me, and happier than yourself. But never again can you be the first to flee. To be gentle is not to be a coward. To flee when others are in danger, or to abandon the truth for the approval of others, are acts of cowardice which will leave you empty."
Susan burned with shame, and nodded humbly, "I am sorry, Aslan. Truly I am. I promise, I shall never be a coward again."
It was, of course, a lie. In the end, long after Narnia was gone, a coward was all Susan would be. Aslan knew this, so perhaps that was why he looked so sad when he nodded to her and said, "You are forgiven. Go and sin no more."
