Unbeknownst to almost all, Susan had always dreamed of being an actress.
And it was only in Narnia that she got the chance to play her biggest role: Queen of Narnia, crowned to the Radiant Southern Sun.
She played the ravishing coquette, admired by a plentiful amount of suitors from surrounding lands.
She played the fearless warrior, swiftly wielding her precious bow and arrows alongside King Edmund in the heat of oncoming battle.
She played the concerned mother, nurturing the mighty High King Peter back to health after a particularly messy scrape with a haughty prince from a neighboring country.
She played the wise older sister to Queen Lucy the Valiant, making sure to instruct the young monarch on all manners of propriety and ladylike behavior.
But at nightfall, she returned to her chambers and, after a long day, finally took off her mask. Only in the dark of night did she feel comfortable enough to be herself. No characters, no roles. A chance to simply be Susan.
He was captain of the guard, also entrusted with bodyguard duty to Her Royal Highness, the Gentle Queen.
He was, perhaps, the only person who knew about the real Susan's existence. Everyone else saw her as the Queen, the flirt, the sister...
They did not know the weeping girl who cried behind the closed doors of her bedchamber, longing for another time, another place long ago forgotten, whispering "Mother" and "Father" in-between soft sobs.
They did not know of the frightened damsel who locked herself in her armory, clutching her precious horn, offering imploring prayers up to Aslan to keep her brothers safe while they were away at war.
They did not know the gifted musician with her quick and nimble fingers, artfully plucking the strings of her harp in the open field behind her castle, releasing notes and melodies out into the crisp morning air.
She was the best actress he'd ever seen. At times, he found himself wanting to stand up at the end of an official dignitary meeting or formal banquet and give her a standing ovation. He wondered if she would ever tire of parading her various facades in front of her captivated audience and reveal her real self to the world, once and for all.