This is another Guest reviewer request, this time of a bit featuring Peter and Susan. I hadn't realized I'd neglected to have anything focused on the two of them. : ) I will admit this turned out a little more bittersweet than I planned, but I think it works OK. Reviews are always welcome!


Starting on The Path Back


"This is Rabadash all over again, Su! Why can't you see that?" Peter exclaimed, pulling at his hair in frustration.

"Peter, don't be dramatic," Susan answered, patting her own hair into place as she ignored her brother's ranting. "Richard's a perfectly nice young man. His father is an advisor to the Crown! And I've told you, I don't want to hear about those silly games we played during the War. It's juvenile."

"What's juvenile is your stubborn refusal to admit it all really happened, Susan," Peter replied repressively. He sighed. "Why you want to forget some of the happiest experiences you've ever had, I don't know."

"Why you don't want to live in the real world, I don't know," Susan snapped back, straightened from the mirror, and dropped her lipstick into her little purse, snapping it shut with extra force. "But if it will make you feel better, I'll be sure Richard has me home by ten."

"If you aren't back by then, I will come looking for you," Peter promised darkly.

Susan rolled her eyes and did not answer as she left the room. It wasn't that she doubted him; to the contrary, one of her previous dates had ended ignominiously when her older brother had crashed it, telling William his sister's curfew had ended a half hour prior, so would he kindly see himself home, and Peter would look after Susan?

Peter could be overprotective, and what was worse, her parents allowed it. So she typically chose to ignore him when he went into protective mode; that way she didn't have to argue with him.

From across the room, Peter shook his head at his sister's stubborn obtuseness. When would Susan wake up?

Take this Richard fellow. He was handsome and spoke smoothly, and seemed all politeness, but there was an unctuousness to his manners that rang false to Peter. He hadn't been hyperbolic when he said Richard reminded him of Rabadash; the young man really chafed Peter in the same way as Rabadash had, those years ago in Narnia.

He just hoped, denying Narnia or not, Susan was on guard and didn't allow herself to be swept away by the young man.

When Richard came to pick up Susan ten minutes later, Peter took the opportunity to look him over again. He still didn't like him, but at Susan's half-pleading, half-demanding look, he didn't voice any threats against Richard.

Feeling a little melancholy, he watched Richard's car move off down the road, Susan smiling prettily in the front seat. He turned and trudged back into the house and went to find his other siblings. They, at least, weren't likely to cause him as much of a headache as Susan did, on an increasingly frequent basis.

Lucy and Edmund looked up from the kitchen table as he walked into the kitchen.

The table had been covered with a sketch of Narnia's northwestern area: a campaign map. Peter eyed the odd collection of salt shakers, dried beans, and chess pieces that were arrayed across the paper's surface.

"Mum and Dad have gone to their dinner at the university," Edmund said. "We're on our own."

"So Ed and I are trying to remember the details of our fights against those bandits on the northwestern border," Lucy replied.

"I think we could have come around the southern part of the ridges and swept into their main camp, but Lucy says no," Edmund said. "What do you think?"

Gratefully Peter let his siblings distract him from his worry over Susan. "Well, was this before or after the Bat colony did scouting for us…?"

Mapping out battle strategies was far preferable to worrying over Susan's stubbornness, after all.


They were still engrossed in their strategizing and tactical analysis when the front door opened unexpectedly early. Peter glanced at the clock. Yes: it was only quarter to ten. He hadn't really expected Susan back for at least twenty or twenty-five minutes, at least.

This was highly unusual; he felt a stirring of unease.

"Keep working on this angle," he told Lucy and Edmund. "I'll just go check on Susan."

The other two were still absorbed in their work and nodded absently, neither taking notice of the unexpected time.

Although he moved toward the front door quickly, Susan had still put her coat in the closet and retreated upstairs before he could catch her. He followed her upstairs.

The door to her and Lucy's room was closed. He tapped on it softly. "Susan?" He called. There was no answer. "Su? It's Peter. Is everything all right?"

There was a little pause; a distinct sniff. "I'm fine."

He felt a little alarm. "Susan, you don't sound fine. May I come in?"

The only answer he heard was a soft sob, so he said, "I'm coming in," and turned the handle.

Susan sat in front of her dressing table, dabbing at her streaming eyes with a handkerchief. Peter looked her over quickly. She did seem all right, physically at least.

"What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"N-no," she said. "He didn't."

His frown deepened as he tried to think what could be wrong. "Was he—forward? Did he try to, er," he groped for words, landed on his mother's favorite euphemism "interfere with you?"

"No, he was a perfect gentleman. And it's not his fault the nice things he was saying made me—oh!" A fresh well of sobs interrupted her.

Much concerned, Peter pulled over a footstool and sat beside her. "Su, what is it? Tell me. Let me help."

"You can't."

"Please."

There was another little pause; then, in a tiny, tired voice: "All right." Susan wiped at her eyes again, set a little more upright, and faced her brother. Her eyes searched his open face, but she couldn't seem to find the words to begin.

"What did he say that made you cry?"

"It's so stupid. I'm sure he thinks I'm mad."

"What?"

"H-he said I was the most beautiful young woman he'd ever seen… and he c-called me the 'gentlest soul he'd ever met.'"

"Oh, Su," Peter sighed, and hugged her. He wouldn't crow in triumph that for at least a moment, she wasn't denying Narnia and Aslan, for if she truly did not believe in them, that particular adjective—Gentle—wouldn't have any power to hurt her at all.

He did feel a moment of sympathy for Richard, who couldn't have any reason to know that word would be anything other than flattering to Susan. Then he pulled his attention back to his sister, who seemed to have found her voice.

And she was finally talking about Narnia.

"It's so hard for me here, you know? I don't know how you other three do it. How you can go from being feted and loved and cheered everywhere you go—how you can go from being world-famous—how you can go from being a power that others listened to—how you can go from everything we were, to… being nothing, nobodies here. I don't understand how you three don't run mad.

"And how you can live here knowing we are never to go back. It still smarts. Talking about That Place just reminds me of everything that I was there, that I'm not here, and it hurts all the more. So it's easier just to wall it off and not have it hurt anymore."

"Su," Peter said, and chafed her hand. "Of course it's tough. We all have to struggle with fitting in here, feeling sad we can't go back there, missing all our friends and adventures and things. –No, we do! It's not easy! But we help each other through it; that's how we don't run mad. We strengthen each other. We'd welcome your strength, too."

"But I'm not strong!" Susan cried. "I'm not Queen Susan here, I'm just Susan Pevensie who isn't smart or brave or a leader. I'm just pretty. So… I try to be as pretty as I can be, since that's all I'm good for."

"All you're good for? Susan, you spent years perfecting being a diplomat, a hostess, an organizer, headed up I don't know how many charitable efforts, served on committees, sat in judgement, helped draft laws and decrees, and still remained kind and welcoming to even the least of our people. How can you say 'pretty' is all you are?"

"That was in N—that Other Place," she said. "When I was Queen Susan."

Peter frowned at her bowed head. "Now, who told you you're not Queen Susan here?"

Astonished eyes turned toward him. "But I'm not! What do you mean?"

"We are always Kings and Queens of Narnia, whether we're in Narnia or not," Peter said, a little fiercely. "And you are far more than just pretty, just as you were far more than just a pretty Queen in Narnia. You are kind and caring, and you go the extra mile for your friends, and you try to make people happy and content. Even if it means you are unhappy, you do these things. You may not have been amazing at school," he admitted, "but a lot of people aren't very good at schoolwork, and they do a lot of good in the world. You can, too." He encouraged her.

"But how do I know what to do?" she pleaded.

How? Peter groped for an answer for her. "Well, you could start by thinking of the reasons Aslan chose you to sit on one of the Four Thrones," he suggested, "and go from there. Because He chose Susan Pevensie to be Queen Susan, which means Susan Pevensie has a lot to offer. And it means Susan Pevensie has the qualities to be Queen Susan, whether she presently has a throne to sit on, or not. All right?"

She looked a little doubtful, but far more cheerful than when he'd come in. "I suppose so."

"No, really, all right?"

I-I promise I'll think over it. Really."

"Good." He said. "Now, why don't you come down to the kitchen and have some cocoa with us?"

She hesitated, and shook her head. "No, I think I'll turn in." Peter nodded, rose, and went to the door. Before he exited, she called out, "Peter?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Thank you. You're a good brother."

"You're a wonderful person, Su, don't forget it," he smiled, and went back downstairs. Maybe there was hope for Susan after all.


The next day, Peter received a wonderfully worded invitation for he and his siblings to get together for dinner with old Professor Kirke and his friend Miss Plummer, and Eustace and Jill.

Reading over the letter, he was inspired with a sudden thought. Perhaps this was too soon, but perhaps it wasn't. It couldn't do any harm to ask, surely?

He found Susan on the telephone with a friend and quietly interrupted her.

"Su…" he held out the letter. "Would you… Do you want to come?"

Hesitation hung on her face, and a faint longing flashed in her eyes. Then through the earpiece, the person Susan was on the phone with asked, "Susan? Are you there? What about it, a whole week in an estate house! Do say you'll come. Delilah will be devastated if you don't."

"Well…" Susan said hesitantly into the mouthpiece, eyes still on the letter. "You see, I might have plans with my family…"

"Oh, family," the other girl said. "You can do something with them when you get back, surely? They're not going anywhere. And anyway you really must come or Delilah's plans for an equal number of men and women will be dashed. Please? It's really a once in a lifetime opportunity…"

Regret flashed in Susan's eyes as she said, "Oh, well, if it would upset all of Delilah's plans, I suppose I must go." Sorry, she mouthed to Peter, looking truly disappointed, as the other girl squealed in delight.

Peter only smiled and shrugged, and mouthed back, Next time. He couldn't expect Susan to change overnight, and anyway she was willing to consider going to one of their friends-of-Narnia dinners, which was a huge change. So was the fact that she'd allowed him to mention Queen Susan at all last night.

He knew the others would be happy to know she was even considering coming at a future date, their sometimes grumbles about Susan's flightiness notwithstanding. Their grumbles were borne out of worry she would fall from Aslan's Presence entirely, which none of them wanted to see happen.

But she might come back to them, after all. That would be enough news to enliven their dinner.

Smiling a little sadly, Peter went to his desk to write a reply to the invitation. Yes, the three of them would be delighted to accept the invitation. But if an extra seat could be kept available—?

Just in case.


So, please let me me know what you think. I do have a set of Golden Age stories but they are on a computer that suddenly decided to not power on, so those'll start to go up once I retrieve them. (Apparently I did not save them to the cloud, shame on me.)

Any other ideas/requests? Glad to hear folks are enjoying the stories so far.