Lucy Pevensie, Music Room, Boarding School:
Lucy admitted to being guilty of sneaking out after hours. She was quite good at sneaking though, so she didn't worry that she would get caught. And even if she did, well, it wouldn't be a big deal. She could explain it off.
It had been one those days. The kind of day where she had a lot of flashbacks and wanted to be alone for a while...and not participate in her peers' childish banter. Yes, even Lucy sometimes wanted to be mature.
So she went to the place that she had discovered when she had been looking for Susan at the beginning of the school term - the music room.
To Lucy, the music room was like a gift from Aslan himself. She had always been fond of music, and dancing to a lesser degree - that was more Susan's forte. Or, perhaps that wasn't quite accurate. Lucy liked to be wild and dance barefoot with the dryads and nymphs, while Susan preferred the graceful uniformity of ballroom dancing. Like oranges and apples, different, yet both were fruit - just like both loved to dance.
Lucy slipped into her sanctuary; empty at this time of day as usual. A piano sat in the corner and other instruments lay in cabinets and shelves, or leaned up against the walls in their cases. There were violins, flutes, clarinets, piccolos, tin whistles (Lucy's personal favourite), and even one harp. There were a few percussion instruments as well. All instruments suited to a girl's tastes.
She still remembered the first time Mr. Tumnus had taught her how to play a flute - and then when she had received one as a present from her very dear friend. It had been one of her most prized possessions and she thought of it now wistfully.
Surveying, her temporary domain with a small smile, Lucy slipped off her shoes and stockings first, setting them by the door, which she also shut softly. In her sanctuary, she wanted to be able to let loose - that meant no earthly limitations. So, she also loosened her frock and took out her hair pins and immediately began to feel better. Barefoot, she padded to the centre of the polished wood floor and did an experimental twirl, delighting at the way her hair flew about her face and her frock flared out freely. She smiled, imagining she was in the woods, dancing under the stars - just like that time she had woken the dryads from their hibernation during the night.
Lucy stopped twirling and skipped lightly to the cabinet where she knew all the wind-instruments were kept. It wasn't locked since no one expected young ladies to steal, so she had access to all the instruments she could ever want. She pulled out one of the tin whistles.
Now, one thing Lucy was a little disappointed in, was the fact that they had no old-fashioned instruments, like Mr. Tumnus's favourite pipes. However, the tin whistles were a close enough substitute. She'd even tried playing the piccolo once or twice, though she wasn't as good at it. But the tin whistle was just like her wooden flute back in Narnia and she had no problem playing it.
She moved back to the centre of the room, bringing the whistle to her lips, and blowing a few experimental notes. The music came out shrilly on the first, but the second was steady and strong. Smiling around the mouth-piece, Lucy closed her eyes and brought forth the memories. Now, she could get lost in them and revel in the past - her one guilty pleasure.
And so, Lucy Pevensie allowed her fingers to dance gracefully over the holes of the whistle, playing the very first melody she had ever learned - a Narnian lullaby. It was a haunting melody, full of secrets and sweet sorrow, and she allowed her body to sway in time with the notes. The music washed over her senses, and instead, she wasn't barefoot on polished wood, but dirt and leaves and grass, surrounded by her people and dancing yet another evening away.
Suddenly, feeling unaccountably sad, Lucy abruptly switched to one of the dryad's favourite melodies; a joyful, wild piece full of trills and quick notes.
If anyone were to poke their head through the door of the music room at that moment, they would have seen a rare sight. A young girl, looking almost intangible in light and shadow as the sunset bathed the room in soft yellows and oranges, dancing wildly along to the vibrating notes.
The flute left her lips, but the tune still played in Lucy's head and she danced on, spreading her arms and twirling across the floor, eyes still closed. In her memory she was joined by all manner of creatures. Why, even Susan appeared, emerging from the trees, a small smile upon her lips and holding her long gown in one hand while the other touched the trees softly as she moved. Her sister came closer, weaving gracefully through the dancers to the centre.
Lucy…
Lucy laughed joyously. Come, Susan, dance with me!
Dear sister, you know I do not dance like this! Susan was smiling though and got briefly caught up with two dryads who twirled her around. She loosened her hands on her gown and flung them up, twisting gracefully and sensuously. Lucy danced closer.
Susan the Gentle. She laughed again, throwing her head back, her crown almost slipping off.
Lucy the Valiant! Susan laughed too.
They danced together, Susan forgetting herself, as she was wont to do every once in a while.
Lucy…
Susan was calling her again.
Lucy brought the flute back up to her lips, joining in with the music and letting her spirit free.
Lucy…
She spun even more wildly.
"Lucy!"
Lucy opened her eyes. Susan was still calling her. She turned in the almost-twilight and saw her sister there, framed in the doorway, dressed neatly from head to toe, a scandalised expression on her face. Lucy felt too free to wonder at what her sister was doing there, or even if she was upset.
"Come join me, sister!" she exclaimed. "We will dance like the dryads and remember the old days!"
Susan quickly moved into the centre of the room, trying to block Lucy's wild movements. Lucy slowed down slightly, but kept swaying.
"Lucy, what are you doing? This is unacceptable. And there will be no talk of that, thank you very much." The elder sibling tried to reach out to smooth down the younger's hair.
Lucy danced out of the way and smiled mysteriously. "No talk of what?" she asked.
"Of...of…"
Lucy stilled and looked at her sister sadly. "You were such a beautiful dancer. Why won't you join me? No one has to know. It will just be the two of us."
Susan looked away, clenching her fingers around a fold of her dress. Her gaze landed on the harp. Lucy followed it and grinned impishly.
"I know you played the harp, Susan," she cajoled.
Susan's eyes darted to Lucy's.
"I…" She trailed off.
Lucy raised the whistle to her lips again and blew the first few notes of what she knew was Susan's favourite Narnian tune. Susan's eyes glazed over, clearly remembering it. Slowly, she moved towards the harp, touching it hesitantly before sitting down in the seat next to it and plucking a few strings experimentally.
"It's been so long," she whispered.
Lucy knew what she meant.
Susan looked up at her little sister - a girl of nine, yet with the heart and mind of a wild Queen from the days of lore. Lucy had stopped being nine fifteen years ago...and Susan had stopped being thirteen an equally long time ago. She closed her eyes and plucked out a simple melody.
It had indeed been so long. Half the time, Susan felt like she had been in a dream and had been forced to awaken to the cruel reality of the world. She had dreamed of a beautiful Queen who was gentle and graceful and ever-so sought after. If she could only attain that dream again…
But it couldn't have just been a dream, could it? Some memories were still so vivid. And she knew so many things she never had before.
Susan's fingers picked up the melody; a lullaby. A soft flute suddenly joined in, harmonising her notes and creating a beautiful melody.
The once-queen closed her eyes and imagined she was back in her dream-world - back in Narnia. Her fingers automatically found the right strings, without having to look, and instead of sitting in a darkening classroom in the middle of war-torn England, she was sitting in a stone room in a beautiful gown, plucking the strings of a gilded, wooden harp as twilight blanketed her land. As Queen again, she enjoyed the last vestiges of daylight in the welcome company of her sister.
"Dance, Susan," came the whisper.
Dance? thought Susan. Her fingers left the harp and she stood, opening her eyes to regard her younger sister, who was still playing her whistle while swaying and twirling slowly. Without realising it, she was already taking off her shoes and stockings. Susan discarded them absently by the harp, mesmerised by her sister and flashing back to all those times she had joined her in the woods.
She had never admitted to doing it on purpose. She always told herself that she was simply looking for Lucy and happened across her when she was being wild. And how could she not join in eventually? It would have disappointed the dryads. But she wouldn't admit to doing it on purpose.
One bare foot stepped forward and arms came out automatically to twist with the lilting strains of the magical melody. Her hips twisted and swayed like they'd been so practised at doing, her other arm twisting and fluttering like a swan's graceful neck.
Lucy opened her eyes again and watched her older sister begin dancing. Even though she was so much younger than she had been, Lucy could still see the beginnings of her later grace and beauty in her movements. Smiling, she began to pick up the pace, forcing her fingers to work faster and her breath to come quicker. She twirled faster, and Susan also adjusted automatically, beginning to hum along with the melody.
Moonlight began to spill into the room from the glass windows and cast a luminescent glow on the two dancing girls. Lucy forgot all her troubles and Susan forgot that she had come there seeking Mr. Trébour - she just danced and sang wordlessly. Neither girl realised that Susan had left the door open, or that Mr. Trébour had come to investigate the faint sounds of music.
They still didn't notice when he peered through the crack left by the open door, or watched in awe. Even when he was joined by his partner, Marie, they kept on dancing and singing. They seemed like visions of nymphs he'd seen in paintings. He didn't quite understand what he was seeing either. Both Pevensie sisters seemed like something out of a world of fantasy - a world far removed from England and all its ugliness.
"What is that?" Marie whispered, eyes wide in shock.
"I don't know," he murmured, "but from what I've seen, there is something about Susan and her sister that just doesn't fit. It's a mystery."
"It's like a dream," Marie said.
"Yes, a dream," Trébour agreed.
He touched Marie's elbow slightly and they both drew away from the door, the haunting music following them down the hall.
Lucy and Susan carried on, oblivious to it all until, finally out of breath, Lucy stopped playing, letting the final note die away into silence.
Susan stopped moving, panting slightly. She turned to Lucy and looked at her with bright eyes and a smile, whimsical smile on her lips.
"I haven't done that in…"
"I know," Lucy cut in. She reached out and grasped one of Susan's hands in her own. "Promise me you won't forget? That you'll keep Narnia alive in your heart until the times comes for us to return?"
Susan faltered, trying to draw her hand back.
"We're never going to return, Lucy, it might not even have been real." She hated to break her little sister's heart, but the words had to be said.
Lucy shook her head furiously. "No! Never think that! Narnia was real! Aslan was real! We were Queens, Susan! Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. So don't forget!" She dropped the whistle and it clattered away out of sight. Using both hands this time, she grasped Susan's and tugged her into a wild twirl.
"That is Narnia," she said. "Wildness and dancing and magic beyond anything here - happiness and laughter and memories we can never forget! As long as you can still dance and be happy, you will always remember Narnia."
Susan stared hard at her sister - at the words coming out of the mouth of her little, nine-year old sister and couldn't help but believe her.
"But, sometimes it's so hard," she whispered.
"Think of it as simply another adventure. The kind of adventure where you get lost along the way home and don't return for a very long time, but eventually you always find your way back." Lucy smiled, letting go of Susan's hands and doing another twirl in the moonlight.
Susan didn't have the heart this time to tell Lucy that she was never going back. Aslan himself had told her and Peter there would be no more adventures, so how could she still believe? It was so unfair. But soon Lucy's time would come as well. Would her sister turn bitter then? When she finally realised that Narnia no longer wanted her? Susan hoped not. Lucy wouldn't be Lucy unless she was being carefree and spirited.
She watched her spin around silently and smiled. Lucy was really still a child at heart, and she would most likely continue to be for a long time yet. But she, Susan Pevensie, had to move past all that. It had been fun, dancing and reminiscing, but it couldn't happen again. If she didn't move on, she would be stuck in the past and never be able to become like she had been before. If she wanted to become Susan the Gentle again, she was going to have to set her mind to the future.
"I've got to go, Lucy," she whispered.
Lucy stopped dancing and turned, pouting slightly. "Are you sure, Susan? Surely we can have some more fun first? There are more dances. Maybe a ballroom one?"
"I'm taking classes, did you know?" Susan diverted the topic.
"That's wonderful, Su!" Lucy exclaimed, eyes sparkling. "I'm sure you're the best in the class."
Susan laughed modestly, though it was true. "Mr. Trébour doesn't quite know what to think of me, I'm sure."
Lucy's face lit up. "Oh, is that that handsome man I've seen around. He's the dance teacher?"
Susan blushed and nodded. Lucy sighed wistfully.
"If only we were older again...I'm sure Mr. Trébour wouldn't be able to resist you!" She giggled, only to suddenly stop, realising that maybe that hadn't been the best thing to say. She knew how much those kinds of things had mattered to Susan. "I'm sorry," she offered.
"But it's true," Susan bit out bitterly, staring off to the side. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, feeling bad.
"Just a few more years Susan, that's all. It's a new chance - you can re-do any mistakes you made, wouldn't that be exciting?"
Susan looked at her younger sister and thought that perhaps Lucy should have been the one more bitter. After all, she was even younger - nine! At least at thirteen, Susan was taken more seriously than a nine year old.
"I've got to go," she finally repeated, not answering the question.
"But…" Lucy began.
Susan knew that if she wanted to escape now before she relived any more painful memories, that she had to leave, and leave before Lucy drew her into yet another conversation.
"Bye," she murmured, turning around quickly and exiting the room without looking back once. She felt bad about leaving her sister like that, but knew that there was no way she could keep talking to her without shattering her dreams and whimsical thoughts. Lucy still lived in her own imagination, and Susan wasn't going to be the one to break her. It was the least she could do.
Silently, she re-affirmed her promise to forget the past and move forward. If that meant talking less to Lucy, then so be it. The younger girl would probably benefit from not hearing Susan's cynical thoughts. It was only when she was almost back to her room that she realised that she'd forgotten her shoes and stockings.
Susan stopped in the hallway and almost went back, but decided against it. She would get up early the next day instead and go fetch them. Feeling irritated with herself for more reasons than one, Susan pasted on a smile and entered her shared room.
In the music room, Lucy had watched her sister leave with a heavy sadness. She was loosing Susan, she knew. She wasn't sure why, but it was obvious that the elder girl was forgetting, or just in denial. It was upsetting, truly it was, but her earlier beliefs still held true. After all, her sister was still Queen Susan, and she would never stop being Queen Susan. One day Susan would return to Narnia, and it would welcome her back with open arms.
Lucy smiled, feeling better, and picked up the tin whistle. She turned it over in her hands and admired how the moonlight reflected off its metal surface. Perhaps not quite the same as a wooden flute, but it had its own charm. She put it back in its cupboard, after using a corner of her dress to clean it and gathered her shoes and stockings.
It was only when she glanced back at the room once more that her eyes caught Susan's own pair of footwear sitting abandoned by the harp. She walked over and picked them up, grin threatening to split her face. Apparently, Susan had been more affected by her little sister's words than she had thought if she could forget her shoes and stockings.
Lucy had to laugh.