Disclaimer: I do not, nor never will, own the Chronicles of Narnia books, movies, video games, or action figures.
It's discouraging how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit – Noel Coward
As the weeks passed, Susan Pevensie was found in the small bookstore more and more often. The boy and her were often seen flirting, her giggling over the counter as she pressed closer to him. He didn't seem to mind, and eventually she would leave the store with smeared lips and messed up hair. Every evening when she crept back into the house, heels in her hand, her siblings would quietly peek out of their doors, glancing at one another with sad frowns and sighs.
One afternoon, she was sitting in the store, waiting for her lover to walk through the door and start his shift. Sitting on a small stool, her purse in her lap, her eyes prowled over the different volumes, stacked on shelves around her. She remembered reading some of them, years ago, but nowadays she had very little time to herself. The novels enticed her, whispering stories long untold. Fidgeting in her chair, Susan sighed and turned her eyes elsewhere.
However, the books didn't stop. The plots began to swirl in her mind, and remembered Mr. Darcy and Tom Sawyer. Enjolras was fighting in one of those books, she thought. Te girl was about to get up, until she scolded herself. No. You can't read. Any minute, Joseph will walk in. Curiosity is unbecoming for a woman, after all. Smiling to herself, she took out her lipstick and a small mirror. Yes, curiosity is unbecoming. Joseph will dump me in a second, and call me loony. And he's such a lovely man. The reassurances satisfied her mind, but didn't stop her heart from aching. Clicking the mirror shut, a line deepened in Susan's forehead and she frowned.
A minute passed, and she stared longingly out the window. Maybe only for a second. He's probably just running late. She got up and straightened her green dress, heading towards the rows of bookcases. Walking into a random section, she looked over the titles emblazoned on the spine. A particular title caught her eye, and she eagerly slid it out of the shelf and plopped herself down a stool nearby.
Hours passed quickly, and by the time she was nearing the middle, the sun was beginning to set. The golden rays illuminated the page, and Susan squinted as she glanced towards the window.
"Oh great!" Grabbing the book, she ran to the counter and paid for it, walking quickly out of the store.
It was nearing dinner when she arrived at the small house. Only as she was about to round the corner into her street, did Susan remember why she was in the bookstore in the first place. He never showed. For a strange reason, she didn't really mind. Instead, her mind turned to how chivalrous men used to be, so kind and polite. The girl didn't question her discomfort at the change in men over history. After all, she had just devoured half of a book on medieval history.
Apologizing to her family for returning so late, Susan ate dinner abnormally fast, to her siblings' confusion. Her parents berated her for doing so, warning her of an uneasy stomach. Merely nodding politely, the girl slowed down somewhat, but was still the first to finish her meager dinner of soup.
Curling up in her bed, the only light in the bedroom was the soft lamplight shining down on the print Susan read. Her eyes took everything in, and for a moment, she resembled something of a memory. In her white nightgown decorated with roses and her locks slightly damp from the shower, Susan didn't notice the beauty she had for that one second, a beauty she didn't appreciate. There were many instances during the day when the young woman seemed to be herself. When she was alone, with nobody to critique her as to what to do, Susan had no support, and was forced to stare at what she had become.
Edmund Pevensie was just preparing to go to bed where his sister and brother were waiting for him, when he noticed faint light streaming from the crack under the door. Strange. Susan usually went to bed earlier than the rest, so as to maintain her young face. He never understood why she couldn't just wake up later, but didn't question her. Edmund had learned long ago to not question Susan's odd quirks she had made several years back.
Stepping closer to the bedroom his sisters shared, the boy opened the door slowly, so as not to startle his sister. Putting his eye to the crack, his brown eyes stared in shock at the sight. Susan was...reading. About medieval history. She looked completely at peace, as her fingers absent-mindedly stroked her hair. She used to do that when she was lost in thought, Edmund recalled fondly.
The next morning, during his morning walk, he came upon his weeping sister, her body curled up into a ball on a park bench. Immediately, his hand went to his side, until the young king realized no sword was there. He had no weapon with him besides his pocketknife to hurt anybody who hurt Susan.
"Susan?" he said sadly. Her bright blue eyes were wet and glazed with tears, red rimming the edges. Noticing who it was, she went back to her sobbing, although he noticed the volume had increased.
Sitting down beside her, Edmund's hand gently stroked her back. Susan flinched away from him, almost as if she didn't know who he was, as if he was a stranger. Nonetheless, he sat down closer.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
After a minute, she pursed her lips and glanced up at her brother. "He-he didn't show." Edmund immediately knew who the boy in question was. He was always uneasy about him, especially after hearing stories of how he courted two girl in the same week.
"Well, perhaps today was his day off," he answered, trying to reassure her.
She shook her head, the ever immaculate curls in disarray. "No. He," she stopped to let loose another sob. "He didn't show yesterday." Her body racked with sobs again, and Edmund waited for the volume to lessen so that she could hear him.
His brows furrowed, a deep crease forming in her forehead. "Why didn't you tell me? Or Peter? You looked fine during dinner." He knew why she didn't say, and was merely wondering if his elder sister would tell him herself.
Sadly not. "I didn't want to bother you," Susan stammered, wiping a tear off her cheek. Itching her nose, she stared blankly at the different hedges and the people who walked past.
His heart fell, although in the back of his mind, the young king knew this would happen. "I see," he replied sadly.
Susan expected him to scold her for talking with Joseph, but instead the two siblings just sat in silence, only the singing of the birds heard. Edmund kept rubbing her back, though. Although she knew she shouldn't have lied, Susan didn't want her brother start to go in a frenzy, telling Peter and Lucy. They would all be in delight, she knew, and start saying how happy they were to 'have her back' and how delighted they were to be able to talk of 'Narnia and Aslan and all the adventures.' Yet, as she watched the birds peck at old bread crumbs on the dirt path, Susan felt slightly guilty. It was obvious Edmund was disappointed that she didn't trust him with her problems. But what problems did she have? I have none, she thought, and smiled despite the tears rolling down her face.
Edmund noticed how the next Friday, Susan was off applying her make up again and prancing off to one of her many parties, waving goodbye quickly without a care in the world. As he walked back into the parlor, his brown eyes caught on something gold glinting in the fireplace. Inspecting it, Edmund frowned sadly. He had noticed the object. The book wouldn't be missed, he knew. After all, curiosity is unbecoming in a woman, he thought to himself before joining Lucy in the kitchen.