Hey guys! Me again! Glad you are all enjoying my story so far. Happy to see that I've been getting some new followers. Please feel free to let me know what you think of my chapters in the reviews.
If any of you are fans of the Hobbit, then you can check out my other stories. They are all finished and ready for reading.
Susan sat on the bottom step of the stairs just outside the library. She wanted so badly to let herself cry, to let her eyes drip with tears of frustration. She couldn't understand why she was even upset anymore; she wasn't even all that bothered by Peter's refusal to answer. If her brother was keeping something else from her then it must be important. Peter was a fool sometimes, but he was a trustworthy fool... for the most part.
If Peter held a secret and even told her that he did, then she trusted him to do the right thing. He would tell her in his own time; she would just have to be patient.
She truly wasn't mad at him. Susan supposed she was feeling more grief than anything. Her eyes shined with unshed tears and she didn't even know why. Perhaps it was because she had cut herself off from Peter unfairly. Perhaps it was because of the stress from the Calormen being here. Perhaps it was not being able to hear Lucy laugh anymore... Or perhaps it was because she missed her little brother so terribly.
Susan never gave herself time to grieve. She couldn't allow herself a moment to think of what her baby brother had been through. If Susan gave herself time to think, her mind would always turn back to Edmund. She never quite realized what she had until it was taken from her. With the loss of Edmund, she also lost her closeness to Lucy and Peter, as well. Their family was like a carefully threaded blanket; if you took one thread and decided to pluck it from the rest, the blanket would unravel into a messy heap on the floor. That's what they were now: a messy heap.
Time heals all wounds. Time heals all wounds. Well, time had come and gone. Where was the healing? Couldn't Aslan just take the pain away? The pain of searing loss. The pain of the sorrow that filled the empty place in her heart.
The greatest part her of loss was not that Edmund was dead - her little brother was held safely in the paws if the Great Lion himself - no, the greatest pain was how her life - how all their lives - changed without him.
The greatest pain was passing by his room and not seeing his dark hair peeking out from beneath the covers. The greatest pain was gathering for the monthly meetings with only two siblings instead of three. The greatest pain was the empty throne that sat dormant in the throne room. Yes, the greatest pain was continuing to live life, all the while seeing these things around her. The world moved in fast motion around her, but also, seemed to be standing still. Susan refused to let show how much it hurt.
Narnia was falling upon hard times with Edmund's loss. His duties were nearly all left undone - all those, but the ones that Oreius could attend to. The sixty day mourning period had come and left, but Narnia would continue to grieve. Edmund's own soldiers were finding it hard to train without him; some of them had to be suspended because their lack of concentration put their lives at risk.
It would be a long time before Narnia was back on her feet. Hopefully Aslan would help them recover before the true danger set in.
"Hello, Stranger."
Susan regained herself and pushed the shine from her eyes. Then, she looked up into brown eyes. "Prince Agatone."
The prince smiled. "May I sit?" He gestured to the open spot on the stairs next to her.
"Absolutely." Susan scooted over to give him more room to sit.
Agatone sat beside her and straightened his back. "You seem upset. Is something bothering you?"
Susan gave a light chuckle. Is something bothering me? Let me get back to you once I've made a list. "Well, yes. I don't expect you to understand, though."
"I can try." Agatone offered, lightly.
"I can't imagine you would want to hear me go off ranting about my feelings... again." Susan looked down and occupied herself with picking the dirt from under her fingernails.
"If you think it would help, I would be willing to listen. I cannot promise I will understand, but I will try my best."
Susan smiled over at him. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She took a deep breath. "All these months I've been trying my best not to grieve. I miss my brother with all my heart. Not having him here is like not having a part of myself here. I've never felt a pain like this before. I want to cry. I want so bad to cry. My eyes sting with tears, but I cannot let them fall. I must be strong... for my people."
"And would grieving make you weak?"
"You think it would not? Tears are the sign of pain, and to feel pain is to be weak."
The prince smirked. "Quite the opposite, My Lady. The strongest people I know are the ones who feel the most pain. We cannot pretend that we don't grieve. If we didn't grieve, we wouldn't be human. It's natural to want to cry when you lose something - or someone - close to you. To pretend that you are not sad is to say you aren't mortal. I believe that it only separates you from your people further."
Susan contemplated his words. "I never thought of that before. I suppose you're right. Do you expect me to just cry in public, then?"
"Not at all, Mistress. Grieve in private, as long as you grieve; just don't hide your pain. Your people need you, not some altered version of yourself that you believe is stronger. Let them see you."
So, in the past chapters I've been hinting at how Susan feels. She wouldn't let herself grieve, so it built up inside of her. It really does happen. So, if she seemed a little unreasonable with Peter, now you know why.
This is not a new problem that has come forward, but one that has been building up for a while.