Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia or Percy Jackson. At all.
Warning: character death, mentions of PTSD, one line of borderline suicidal thoughts, mentions of war.
A/N: Loosely inspired by "My Grandmother's a Queen?" by NarniaRoyalNavy123. It's amazing and you should totally check it out. Anyway, on to the story!
Susan had always thought she was nothing special. She was content to fade into the background; her siblings were expressive enough for all of them. However, she was always the responsible one – stick in the mud, a five-year-old Edmund had once complained – but if she wasn't, who would be? Peter was too reckless, and Edmund and Lucy were too young (or at least, in her eyes, they'd always be the tiny figures who creeped into her bed during thunderstorms). She would protect them from the shadows, try her best to make sure they didn't do something irreversible.
She failed, of course.
She ran to the train station as soon as she heard the news. Not that it helped anyway.
Her first reaction was to jump into the wreckage, try to find something – anything – that proved that maybe her family was there, maybe they were one of the survivors.
(There were no survivors.)
Susan buried nine bodies. She sat in the funeral, numbly, wondering when exactly everything had gone so horrendously wrong. It was one of her mistakes, but which one?
(Too many mistakes. Why didn't she know better?)
Her sadness after the talk during her second (and last) visit to Narnia? Her resentment when she got the letters detailing the third visit (which she wasn't part of)? The way she reacted? Eventually, she pinned down the problem. Acting as if she thought Narnia wasn't real.
It was real, of course it was real. It was real and she would never go back again. What was the use, then? Why should she put herself through that torture, a thousand icicles in her heart every time she spoke of it? Only, what she'd done was horrible too, but she fooled herself into thinking it hurt less. It was easy.
(Foolish, stupid, weak.)
She drifted away from her siblings, distanced herself away from the person she was. It would be easier on her, she told herself. Of course, she hadn't seen this coming.
She wondered what would have happened if she hadn't put on that act in the first place. Maybe she'd have been on that train. A part of her wanted to be on it too. Lucy would've called her an idiot.
Lucy wasn't there to call her an idiot.
So Susan did the next best thing. She threw away all the make-up Lucy despised (what do you need that gunk for anyway?), stopped going to the parties Peter thought weren't worth it anyway (do you have to answer every little invitation?), and donated the dresses Edmund used to wrinkle his nose at (you'd look much better in a garbage bag than that). She set up a table for four and cooked for four (and then she'd remember that there was only one person who was eating and give away the rest of the food to Mrs. Elsworth next door; she liked Susan's cooking).
She'd go to the graves after lunch, she'd stay there till almost dark, crying, getting lost in every what-if, wondering what she could've done. It became a routine.
It lasted a year.
Then, on a particularly bad day (Peter's birthday), Susan was there, at his grave. She wasn't crying – she'd exhausted all her tears – she just sat there. The bills were getting more difficult to pay now, her inheritance was almost over, since she wasn't working.
A shuffle of footsteps, and Timothy Edwards was there too. He was one of Peter's best friends, she recalled. He laid a few flowers, sat there for a while, and then he left.
He came back a lot.
One day, he spoke.
"Peter would probably tell us this wasn't healthy. Hit me with a book, if he could. Scold you a bit, I reckon. Too gentlemanly for anything else."
Susan chuckled a bit at the apt description. Belatedly, she realised this was possibly the first time she had laughed or even smiled in over a year. This had to be Peter's doing, meddling even from the afterlife.
She nodded.
But Peter wasn't there to scold her or hit him with a book.
They kept coming back anyway.
Then one day, Edwards started talking again.
"The man here says you come here everyday, stay here for hours. I doubt they'd want you to do that."
She snorted derisively. What else do you want me to do?
"My aunt says I should leave the country. She thinks it might help me move on."
There was a pause.
"He was my only friend. I got bullied a lot, back in school. He kept choosing me, kept picking fights with all the bullies."
Typical Peter. Too noble, too good.
"I told my aunt it wasn't that easy. She told me to give it a try. Told me all the wallowing in sadness was doing no one any favours."
She supposed family was persistent like that.
"I'm leaving for France next week. Thought I'd say goodbye."
She nodded in acknowledgement.
He snorted. "I knew you wouldn't reply."
That was the last time she saw Timothy Edwards.
A few days later, there was a one-way ticket to the United States for next month in her mail, with an accompanying note.
Peter told me you liked it there.
Well, there wasn't much else for her to do anyway. She had a month to pack.
New York was a bustling city. It was loud and crowded and it was alarmingly easy to get lost. Susan liked it there.
There would be times she'd see little girls with Lucy's spirit or children with Edmund's godawful pout or boys with Peter's sense of chivalry. It was even worse because she was a teacher. She had to see them everyday.
Eventually, it got better. The pain dulled. It was there, a throbbing, pulsing sensation, but she was able to keep herself grounded. Where before it was easy to believe every pair of blue eyes were Peter's and every blonde pigtail was Lucy's and every rat's nest of dark hair was Edmund's, now she no longer made that mistake. She would know, without a doubt, that they were one of the students and not her siblings returned from the dead.
(It wasn't easier.)
She could live like this.
(No, she couldn't. But she did anyway.)
The first time she saw James Jackson, he was moving into the apartment next to hers.
She had just come back from grocery shopping.
"May I help you, Miss?" someone asked. He looked about her age, with slightly ruffled hair and clothes that really needed to be ironed properly. Absently, she thought he looked a bit like Caspian.
(She'd heard Eustace and Jill say Caspian was dead. One more grave.)
"Thank you…?"
"Jackson. James Jackson." He smiled. "You, Miss?"
"Susan Pevensie."
The next day onwards, she began hearing random things crashing or thumps of what she assumed was someone falling. The walls were increasingly thin, unfortunately. Two weeks later, she came back from grocery shopping, to see Jackson leaving his apartment in a uniform, covered in bruises.
The past few days had been increasingly annoying, possibly being the cause of her reaction.
"Could you honestly be any louder?"
"Well, princess," Jackson began mockingly, "I can't help it if I keep tripping on everything."
"Be a little more observant," she snapped.
"What, did my incessant clumsiness ruin your beauty sleep?"
"Yes, in fact. Not to mention, I have difficulty grading papers."
"Perhaps you should try rereading your material, princess."
"Stop calling me that."
Jackson made a frivolous bow. "As your highness commands," he said, as he left.
The next day onwards, the tripping got louder. Susan decided that she despised James Jackson.
Soon enough, it became apparent that she'd started something of a cold war with her neighbour.
He made sure to be as loud as possible. She decided to respond in kind. He made sure to leave his slippers haphazardly outside his apartment because he knew it annoyed her. She specifically cooked dishes with garlic because he hated the smell (the walls were very thin). He bought her a bouquet of pink geraniums every month purely because she despised them. She constantly got him three-piece suits because they made him uncomfortable.
Ten months passed like that. At some point, she'd decided to keep the pink geraniums in a bright yellow vase and replaced them every month when Jackson bought new ones. Occasionally, she saw him going to work in the suits. She developed a habit of rearranging the shoes every day, until he stopped keeping them outside in the first place.
One day, she took a little longer to open the door. It was the second anniversary of the train crash, and thankfully, she had a holiday. She was in bed, back in her mourning.
Still, she opened the door when the doorbell rang a second time. Jackson was there with his monthly delivery of pink geraniums.
"Princess," he greeted. Another thing that annoyed her, and the only way he addressed her.
Looking at her, however, he blushed and turned away. Susan looked down at herself. Ah. She had opened the door in her nightclothes in her lack of attention.
She snatched the bouquet and slammed the door in Jackson's face.
She didn't leave her house for the next week (it was spring break, to her eternal gratitude). Eventually, she had to leave, for fear of starving to death. So she did.
It's like their first meeting all over again, she reflected. Susan had grocery bags, and Jackson offered to carry them.
She eyed him distrustfully, but gave in.
"So, princess," Susan's eye twitched, "What was that about?"
"What was what about?" She made sure to keep her voice carefully controlled.
"Don't act dumb with me. We both know you're smarter than that," he seemed insulted. "Last week."
"I was asleep," the lie rolled off her tongue far too effortlessly.
Jackson scoffs. "You wake up at the crack of dawn everyday. You never change your schedule. Your eyes were red-rimmed, so either you were unwell or you were crying. You have this horrid habit of cooking soup by yourself when you're sick instead of asking someone to get it for you, and you make sure the soup has garlic in it. I didn't smell any garlic. Ergo, you were crying. And you didn't leave your apartment for a week – don't look at me like that, princess, I can hear every time you open and close your door because of the ridiculous walls."
She was crying.
Susan goes on the defensive. "I don't see how that has anything to do with you."
"You don't usually act like that."
Was Jackson… concerned?
"What happened to being neighbourly enemies? Shouldn't you be rejoicing?" she asked, a little more cattily than she should have. Susan didn't care.
"I don't actually pray for your downfall, you know."
"Then what exactly were we doing for the past ten months?"
"Whenever you get annoyed, your eye twitches. You also have a competitive streak. This leads to you wanting to annoy me back. Whenever you manage to annoy me, you get this triumphant gleam in your eyes and I find it cute. Also, I feel it's prudent to mention that you've single-handedly made me able to stand garlic, something even my mother wasn't able to do."
Susan blinked. "So all this time, you kept this charade because you thought the look on my face when I retaliated was cute?"
"Pretty much."
She wouldn't ever say it, but she has developed a sort of liking towards pink geraniums these days.
"Also," Jackson said, "I was wondering if you would like to go for dinner."
"You're the most idiotic creature I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."
"So… Tuesday?"
"Tuesday," she agreed. "Seven."
Lucy always did say one must try new things.
Around two months later, they were at the door of her apartment again. They had gone for lunch.
That was when James (they were on first-name basis again – somewhat) brought up that day.
"You never did tell me why you were crying."
Susan bristled.
"I understand if it's personal – I won't pry if you don't want me to – but I am worried, you know."
Susan didn't reply to that. Instead, she said, "Come inside."
He obliged.
"Would you like tea?"
"Not really."
"Alright."
They settled on her couch in an awkward silence. She hadn't told anyone about this, it was too personal, too painful, too difficult to speak about. Edmund would call it a particularly unwise move.
Edmund wasn't there to call anything she did 'a particularly unwise move' (once, back in Narnia, he'd told her his obsession with the phrase was due to its slight reference to chess – in his mind).
"I grew up in Finchley, England." Best to start light. "I was the second of four children, two boys and two girls. My father served in the army. During the Blitz, our mother sent my siblings and I to the countryside."
James nodded. He was listening intently, as if paying attention to her was the sole most important thing in the world right now. It warmed her heart a little (a lot), even if she wouldn't say it.
"My siblings and I were always very close, and while we were in the countryside-" when we were in Narnia "-we grew even closer."
She didn't think she had the courage to speak of Narnia.
"A few years later, because of a fight, I grew apart from them." Too much of a coward to say you betrayed them, aren't you? A scornful voice in her head whispered. She banished it away.
(Stupid, foolish, weak.)
James nodded, never once speaking in-between.
Susan took a deep breath. She could do this.
"Two years ago, there was a train crash. My parents, a few family friends, my cousin, and my sibling were on that train."
When it was clear that that was all Susan would be able to say, James hugged her. It was a little awkward, considering they were sitting side by side and Susan was crying. When had she started crying?
"I had a little sister, Alix. She was in London during the Blitz, with my mother. They'd gone to visit my Aunt Anna. Their neighbourhood blew up. It doesn't get better, not really. But we have to accept that they wouldn't want us to put our lives on hold for them. We have to understand that, while they may take a part of our heart with them, we have to try our best to stay happy with whatever of our heart that's left."
"You're wise for a moron."
James laughed. "I try, princess."
"Don't call me that," she mumbled. It's half-hearted.
She tells him Lucy's name first.
They were having a picnic, and she mentioned how Lucy loved picnics. She used to adore lying in the grass and her favourite kind of music was 'the birds chirping'. Her favourite flowers were white lilies.
She gets a bouquet of pink geraniums and white lilies from then onwards.
The next name she discloses is Peter.
They were walking along the street, before something occurred to James and he switched their positions – with him next to the road and her near the buildings. It's a move that is so unflinchingly Peter that Susan laughed.
She told him how Peter was overprotective (sometimes to the point of manic) of all his siblings, how stupidly chivalrous he insisted on being, always the gentleman. Back in the countryside (back in Narnia), he insisted on bringing back blue irises for her and Lucy whenever he went somewhere. Edmund complained about being left out, until finally, Peter got him blue irises too.
The next time, Susan's bouquet had pink geraniums, white lilies and blue irises.
She tells him Edmund's name last.
They were playing chess, and she'd won – again. She told him that after years of playing against Edmund, who happened to be some sort of chess prodigy, much to all his siblings' chagrin, her chess skills were simply far better than James.
She told him how Edmund was a bit of a sore loser, but bribing him with home-cooked food was enough to make him forget about not winning. He had a tendency to grab Peter by the collar before he did something stupid and reckless (which was very often). The two of them had the kind of debates that usually caused everyone else to steer clear out of 'sheer boredom' (as Lucy once said). He had an interest in law.
He always said he didn't like flowers, but he had a particularly soft spot for red chrysanthemums (I simply want to study them!).
Susan's bouquet became a combination of four flowers: pink geraniums, white lilies, blue irises, and red chrysanthemums.
They've been together for six years when James tripped in the corridor of their building. A ring fell out of his pocket and landed at Susan's feet.
"Not how I planned it," he groaned in pain, "But will you marry me?"
"At least hold the ring in your hand first," Susan said, but she was smiling.
"As your highness commands," James managed to get up and get on his knees (she did not ask him to do that, especially with new, unchecked bruises!) and holds the ring in his hand.
"The first time I saw you, it was nothing special. You were nice, and I – naturally – behaved like the perfect gentleman. When I realised that the way you looked when you beat me in anything was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, I made it my life's mission to annoy you. I'm rather certain I succeeded. In the years that I've known you, you've shown me that you are the most resilient, kindest, and smartest woman I've had the privilege of knowing. I may be an idiotic, moronic creature, but I'm your idiotic, moronic creature. So, will you marry me?"
She said yes, of course.
Their marriage was a quiet affair. They have a few friends from work, some mutual friends from the area, and that is about it, recluses that they are.
Still, it was a happy marriage. He still bought her those bouquets and she still got him three-piece suits. He has a habit of becoming a mother-hen when she gets sick, not letting her leave the house, cooking her soup and buying her medicine. They had a daughter – Sally Lucia Jackson.
The next one was going to be Alice Edwina or Michael Peter. But James died in a plane crash when he was going to visit a relative in Los Angeles and there was no next one.
Susan was left to answer a five-year-old girl why her father hadn't come back yet.
Susan raised Sally by herself. It was difficult, but Susan was no stranger to grief.
(One more grave.)
Sally was a wonderful girl, promising, bright, kind. She reminded her of her namesake so much.
Sally brought home a boy named Poseidon when she was nineteen. He left, but not without a parting gift.
Her daughter cried on Susan's shoulder and explained everything.
"He offered to build me a palace under the sea," she sniffled. "But that meant letting someone else do your work. You raised me better than that. And I didn't want to leave you."
Susan only hugged her tighter.
Perseus Alexander Jackson was born on August 18th, just a few minutes after midnight. He had his father's sea green eyes and Mediterranean tan. His hair was a jet black rat's nest just like Edmund's and he cried just as loudly as Lucy used to.
He was four when Sally married Gabriel Ugliano. Susan understood why she would do such a thing, but that didn't mean she had to like the man. Often, she tried to get Sally to divorce him, but the girl remained firm in her conviction. Percy's safety was their first priority. Susan had to admire her for that, and eventually, stopped asking.
Maybe she shouldn't have.
Sally died when Percy was nine under mysterious circumstances. Susan didn't need proof to know that Gabe had something to do with it.
(One more grave.)
Thankfully, Susan was able to take full custody of her grandson, and whisk him away to the old apartment which she'd shared with James.
Of course, Susan wasn't able to hide him away forever. He found out one day, and she had to send him off to the Camp. Only, there were… complications in their journey.
Being a hostage, she mused, was utterly boring. Funnily, there was no fear, just constant boredom. Maybe she was going senile in old age. Or maybe she had just been part of much more dangerous situations.
She only felt true terror when Percy, Grover and the blonde girl – 'daughter of Athena', Hades had said – had that exchange with the Lord of the Dead, and even then, it was for him. She didn't think she could bear it if something happened to Percy.
His quest was successful, and she was transferred back to her apartment. Percy visited, and told her he'd stay in Camp for summer.
"Come back home," she said, feeling her voice show the frailty of her age instead of its usual steel.
"I'll come back during the school year," He promised.
Percy always kept his promises.
He went to Camp for his second summer, and came back with stories of monster-infested seas and vomit-inducing taxis. He brought the blonde girl with him – Annabeth.
Around winter, he asked her to drive him, Annabeth, Grover and another girl he introduced as Thalia, his cousin, to Westover Hall.
"If I don't come back in a day, my luck probably interfered." Percy told her.
Annabeth snorted. "His luck is the worst."
"Mine too," Thalia piped in, "It's probably a Big Three thing."
Susan allowed herself a small smile at their antics, before fixing Percy with a serious stare.
"Come back home."
"Always."
Percy's luck did interfere. He came back home much later, with haunted eyes and a grey streak in his hair. He told her everything.
It wasn't fair. He was too young to have to go through this, but this was what the demigod life was like. Susan hated it.
The next year was even tenser. Percy jumped at every little sound, woke up screaming more times than she could count. Susan laid his head on her lap and told him stories of Narnia. She had never spoken about Narnia to James or even Sally, and she was content to keep it a secret close to her heart, and yet, here she was. Percy believed her, not that there was any doubt he wouldn't.
The stories calmed him, made him happier. So she told him every story she could. She even told him about his mother, and about her and James, and when she'd exhausted them all, he asked her to repeat them. So she did.
He went to Camp the fourth summer already with a heaviness to his shoulders.
"Come back home."
"Always."
Then, some time later, Annabeth came to her door, with red-rimmed eyes and shaking shoulders. She told him he'd blown up that volcano to prevent Kronos' Scythe, probably dying in the process.
Logically, Susan had known that this could happen. His very heritage granted him dangerous enemies, and he was involved in what was essentially a war. Percy was too much like Peter; too brave, too chivalrous, too reckless, always ready to put his life on the line for everyone else. That didn't mean she truly expected it to happen. Hadn't she been stroking his hair just yesterday, telling him about the time Lucy adopted a talking panther or how James proposed?
Percy had told her he would always come back home.
Percy always kept his promises.
(One more grave.)
Percy came back. Grover told her he crashed his own funeral, much to her grandson's embarrassment. James would have laughed at the timing. She was introduced to a young boy, Nico di Angelo, who was one of Percy's friends, and Susan immediately took a shine to him. Sometimes, Thalia would visit. It felt like having three grandchildren instead of one, and she couldn't say she didn't like it.
But, if possible, the tenseness became worse. Now, they were officially in a war, and he'd been involved in a battle already. Percy began going on missions, and Susan worried.
Then, one day, Rachel told her that he'd gone on another mission, and was then going to go to Camp right after.
When Nico and Percy came to her for her blessing, she gave it freely. Percy would be strong enough to survive whatever the two of them had planned. He had to be.
"Come back home," she said, knowing that it was entirely possible that he wouldn't.
"Always," Percy replied anyway.
Percy came back from the war, cried in her embrace, and asked her to narrate the story about Peter and the talking squirrel that had an awful habit of following him everywhere.
His nightmares got worse before they got better. They did get better, though, and Susan was thankful for that. He began dating Annabeth (she should've seen that coming), and her home was visited by no short number of demigods. She became somewhat of a safe place.
Well, Susan always did like children.
A few gods visited Percy, and by extension, met her.
When Poseidon visited, with a god who looked like Hermes from what Percy had described, she slapped him.
"Now that that's out of my system, how may I help you, my lords?"
Percy scrambled in.
"Grandma, did you just slap a god?"
"Just your father, Perseus."
"To be fair, I deserved that," Poseidon acknowledged.
Hermes just stared at the three of them in horror, with some amount of fear directed at her.
Good times never did last in her family.
One morning, she woke up to Annabeth's frantic banging at her door.
"Di immortales, Percy, answer the door- Mrs. Jackson?"
"I thought Percy was in Camp."
Annabeth's eyes widened in surprise. "He was there until yesterday, but he hasn't been there since before morning. We thought he came here."
"He didn't."
Percy Jackson was missing.
It took them months before there was any indication towards where he was. One day, Thalia brought a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy around Percy's age, but perhaps a little younger.
"This is Jason, my little brother," she said. "He says he might know where Percy is."
He tells her about the Roman camp, about Hera's plans and what they were doing so far. It would still take a few more months.
No one even knows if he is still alive. He has to be. He promised her.
Percy always kept his promises.
One day, she got a ghost of a telephone call from him. She sat down, and for the first time in years, prayed to Aslan for his safety.
Another war, another Great Prophecy. Hasn't Percy done enough, given enough?
He comes back, though. His eyes are sunken in and there are shadows from lack of sleep (nightmares, so many nightmares) and there are even more scars and there's a haunted look in his eyes. It's like her brothers coming back from war all over again, and Susan can do nothing but hold him in her arms.
It takes him time to tell her everything, he gives her the truth in bits and pieces. Susan doesn't push him. He trusts her enough to tell her in the first place and that is enough.
Annabeth visits the Jackson household far more often, with the same haunted look as Percy. But they feel more comfortable near each other. Safer. Happier, as much as they dare to be.
Susan offered her a room to stay permanently.
She refused at first. She has yet to complete her education at New Rome. Susan didn't begrudge her. Percy went to New Rome too, but he IM'ed her daily and visited frequently.
Susan develops contact with Annabeth as well, and they grow closer. They found a kinship in being the few people with common sense, as well as the fact that they both fell for a Jackson. James and Percy were hilariously similar in their idea of romance.
Annabeth liked purple asters.
The next month, Annabeth told Susan that Percy had a celestial bronze knife forged for her. Its hilt had carvings of purple asters and the blade itself had Σοφία (Sophia) written on it.
Not flowers, but something she would appreciate more. Susan had to commend him for that.
Then, the monthly bouquet of purple asters started coming in. Susan only laughed.
"I want to marry Annabeth."
"When are you going to ask, then? I'd like to be there for great-grandkids, and I'm not going to be around forever!"
"I'm going to propose tonight but-"
"But what?"
"What if she says no?"
Susan stared at him in disbelief.
"She searched for you for, what, seven months without stopping. You jumped into the equivalent of Hell for her. You've been living together for four years. Do you need me to give you more points? Besides, I've been dying to plan a wedding. You wouldn't deny your grandmother in her old age, would you?"
"Thanks, Grandma!"
Of course, if she forgot to mention that she'd seen Annabeth try out the ring he had bought for her with the largest smile, it was just her old age making her forget things. That was her story and she would stick by it.
She did get to plan a wedding, in the end.
Percy and Annabeth's marriage is more than happy (she always knew it would be) and they have three children together. First there is a blonde-haired, green-eyed girl, Anthea Sarah; then twin dark-haired, grey-eyed boys, Theodore Loukas and Lysander Jason. Susan was the first one to hold all three of her great-grandchildren after their parents.
But she couldn't hold them forever. She was dying and Susan knew it.
However, no part of her was truly afraid. She'd known this was coming; she had lived and she had loved and she had learned. She had seen her daughter and grandson grow into someone she was proud to call her own. She had her fair share of playing with her great-grandchildren.
It was time to go.
Aslan's country was even more beautiful than she thought possible. Susan was reunited with her siblings, and she begged them to forgive her. They said they'd forgiven her long back. She met her old friends, her husband and her daughter again. She met Aslan, who guided her to Cair Paravel and sent her to sit on the empty throne between Peter and Lucy.
"Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia."
And many, many years in the future, Percy and Annabeth would come here too, because this was Percy's home too, because Susan had told him to come back home.
Percy always kept his promises.
to be fair, i always knew this story would have a lot of angst in it but i didn't expect so much of it - not lying, at one point, i paused and asked myself what was going on with me. susan is one of my favourite characters and i've always wondered what happened to her after the train crash. this story idea had been running around in my head for a while, so here we are! i'm also pretty sure. this is one of the longest oneshots i've ever written, so cheers to that. anyway, do review and tell me what you think!
~ Arty