"I guess I've always been good at pretending," Susan muttered to herself.

Robert had dropped her off over an hour ago, assuring her he would call to check on her in the morning. She had stumbled up the stairs to her room and fallen on the bed, where she now lay. After the kiss she and Robert had shared, Susan was starting to feel her entire life was a sham, one enormous pretense for who she was. Whirling confusion set in as multiple identities fought inside her. She had been Susan, Queen of Narnia. She had been Susan, London's social darling. She had been the queen men hoped to marry, the woman others wished they could be. "But who do I be now? Am I still queen without a kingdom?" she asked her ceiling as she stared up to it. Aslan's words rumbled low in her head, "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen."

"But you took us away from there. How can I still be queen when I'm no longer there? I can't keep pretending about Narnia," said Susan, her voice filled with emotion.

Her life in Narnia, with the exception of a few key moments, had been ideal and she had loved it. Immensely. But being taken away from it all, jerked away from the life she had fallen in love with, had crushed her, making her doubt her happiness with Narnia. Their return to Narnia was when the pretending had begun. It started with claiming she did not believe Aslan had returned, followed by pretending her feelings for Caspian had never existed. Both situations had left her feeling awful; embarrassed by her own selfish reasons that she had not believed Lucy, hurt when Caspian had chosen another over her. Susan had pretended that everything was alright afterwards, fooling even herself that she was still the happy woman she had once been.

"But I wasn't," she whispered, closing her eyes. She had not told anyone how she sometimes questioned whether Aslan was still watching out for them, how she cried herself to sleep nearly every night for a year, how she thought so many times that she wanted to leave Narnia. She had only wanted to be a normal person, able to love who she wanted to love, do what she wanted to do, and be who she wanted to be. Susan had spent her years in Narnia pretending she wasn't that person, that she was once again Queen Susan the Gentle, and now, back in her own time and home, she was pretending she wasn't a queen. Often times it had pained her to pretend she had thought Narnia was a silly childhood game, on occasion even making her unwell and unable to go to school. "But I had pretended it was better than facing my past," she said, fighting the tears which threatened her eyes.

Standing, Susan walked to her old bedroom and slowly opened the door. The room looked the same as it had for as long as she could remember, Lucy's side slightly messier than hers. She had not had the heart to clean up anything on Lucy's side, feeling it would possibly destroy the tiny remnants that were left of her little sister. Sitting on her old bed, she picked up the pillow, hugging it to her chest as she stared at Lucy's empty bed. She closed her eyes, pretending her sister was still with her.

"Susan, why are you acting like this?" Lucy asked, her voice filled with hurt.

"I don't know what you mean," Susan replied aloud, her eyes still closed. She could picture her sister exactly as she was that night they had argued, her honey blonde hair braided for bed and wearing her favorite light blue pajamas, a ghost of a memory standing before her.

"Yes you do. Why are you pretending Narnia doesn't exist? That you weren't queen?" asked ghost Lucy.

"It was all a game, Lu," Susan said quietly.

"No, it wasn't! Why are you fighting who you are?" ghost Lucy cried, walking to Susan and placing her hands on Susan's cheeks. She could almost feel the warmth of her sister's hands as they rested on her face. "Remember Susan! Remember who you are!"

"I can't, Lucy. I just can't," she whispered as she grabbed her sister's wrists firmly, opening her eyes as her hands grasped the air in front of her. "She's not here," Susan said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

She and Lucy had had that same argument the night before the train accident. Lucy had pleaded with Susan that night, hoping her sister would finally remember. She had seemed almost desperate for Susan to admit she remembered who she was. Lucy was always right. Right about the wardrobe, right about Narnia, right about Aslan, she thought, staring hard at where her sister should have stood for several long moments.

"No!" Susan cried, standing quickly and throwing the pillow at Lucy's bed. "You weren't right Lucy! Narnia took you away. It took you all away! I won't let myself be fooled again by it as well!" she yelled. Susan spun and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.


The next morning Susan woke lying face down, her head reeling from the champagne. Pushing herself up, she moaned from the jarring pain inside her head the movement had caused. She pulled on her bathrobe, tying the belt haphazardly as she walked slowly down the stairs, hoping she still had some coffee left in the kitchen. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, a piercing ring sounded in her ears.

"That damn phone," Susan muttered. She reached for the table where the phone sat and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Good morning!" came a cheerful voice from the other end.

"Robert," Susan sighed, the confusion she felt from last night returning.

"How are you feeling? Head hurting?" Robert chuckled.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Susan mumbled.

Robert laughed again, saying, "Well just take it easy today. I'll let you go rest."

"Thank you," Susan said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Robert said.

Susan heard the click of the receiver going dead and sighed, returning it to the cradle. She went into the kitchen and began making coffee, sighing again after scraping the bottom of her coffee tin. "Another trip to the store," she muttered as she placed the pot on the stove. She leaned against the counter, nibbling on a muffin, the reassuring 'ping, ping' noise coming from the coffee pot. When the coffee finished brewing she opened the cabinet and took a mug from it, filling it with the steaming liquid. Susan had just taken a sip when she heard a knock coming from the front door. Who in the world could be here at this hour? she thought, setting her mug on the counter and walking to the door.

Through the frosted glass of the door she saw the blurry form of a woman standing behind it. Pulling her robe tightly about her, she opened the door. Charity Clayworth was standing on the door step, her face streaked with tears. "Charity!" Susan said, surprised to see her friend so early.

"Oh Susan, it's awful!" Charity wailed as she pushed past Susan dramatically, entering the house.

"Come on in," Susan sighed softly, pushing the door closed. "What happened?" she asked, motioning to Charity to follow her to the living room.

"Mother wants me to spend the summer in France with my awful Aunt Bernice! Three whole months away from Marcus!" Charity cried, her tears falling harder.

"Well, that is awful to be apart for so long, but France! How lovely!" Susan exclaimed, hoping to help Charity see the bright side of her predicament. Susan knew Charity's aunt was extremely wealthy and lived on the coast of France near Monaco. She had met Aunt Bernice once before and, despite Charity's disgust (or jealousy as Susan surmised) for her aunt, had found her to be an extremely interesting woman who had led a fascinating life.

"I suppose you're right," Charity finally agreed. "And Aunt Bernice has promised me we could visit Monaco while I'm there."

"You see? I think that sounds like a wonderful summer!" Susan said, smiling widely at her friend, knowing her smile looked genuine, regardless of how she felt. This isn't so hard, Susan thought. I can easily be the woman I once was, better even.

"I'm glad you think so," Charity said, wiping her tears away with a lace handkerchief she had pulled out of her purse. "Mother and Aunt Bernice thought it would be a good idea for you to come with me. I don't want to be alone for the whole summer and Aunt Bernice is dying to see you again. You apparently made quite an impression on her. Say you'll go with me! Please!" She had been speaking so quickly she needed to take a breath after her last words. Susan smiled sadly and shook her head.

"I couldn't possibly go, Charity! There's no way I could afford it," she said.

"Nonsense! Your tickets have all been taken care of. Mother said to think of it as an early birthday present. Please, please, please say you'll come!" Charity pleaded, grabbing Susan's hand while she did so. Sensing she would not win, Susan smiled and nodded her head.

"Okay, I'll come. Maybe it would be good to get out of London for a while," she conceded. Maybe it will also help me to finally move on, she thought sadly, forcing a smile for Charity, who was practically bouncing on her seat in excitement.


"Isn't he wonderful?" Susan asked, a dreamy look on her face.

"Divine," Edmund said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his sister. The two siblings were sailing aboard their ship, the Splendor Hyaline, to Calormen so that Susan could visit Prince Rabadash in his own country. Edmund had been against the trip, as had Peter, but had consented to escort Susan after a week of tearful begging and pleading. Although if Peter had been home he would have put a stop to that the very first day, Edmund thought as he turned to lean on the ship's railing. Their brother had gone off to deal with a situation that had arisen with the giants of Ettinsmoor, leaving Susan, Edmund and Lucy behind.

"Just think, Ed, soon I'll be a wife! And hopefully then after, a mother. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Susan fawned, leaning next to her brother. Edmund sighed deeply and turned to her.

"Look Su, are you absolutely sure about him?" he asked concernedly.

"Of course I'm sure! How could you question that?" Susan cried, surprised at her brother's doubts.

"Susan, you've only met him for a week! How can you already accept that you're in love with him?" Edmund asked, feeling his anger rise.

"Sometimes you just know, Edmund. I've never known anyone like him. He makes me feel like a queen," Susan said, going dreamy again.

"That's because you are a queen," Edmund muttered in exasperation as he pushed himself off the railing and turned to leave. He had only taken a step when something ran into him, nearly knocking him off balance. He looked down at a young boy, who fallen backwards onto the deck after colliding with Edmund, groaning in pain as he hit the hard wood.

Susan turned and exclaimed, "Prince Corin! You shouldn't be running on the deck. A young boy like you could slip and fall overboard into the ocean and then where would we be?" Edmund rolled his eyes and leaned down to pick up Prince Corin by the scruff of his neck.

"Susan, don't be such a wet blanket," he shot at his sister before dragging the young prince off. Susan pursed her lips at her brother in annoyance and shot her eyes heavenward as she turned back to lean on the railing.

Susan stood on the deck, the salty sea air blowing on her face, her hands clasped on the rope rail that surrounded the sleek yacht. She had been in France a month and was having the time of her life. Well, this life anyway, Susan thought. Aunt Bernice had shown both her and Charity off at the dozens of parties, picnics, beach trips and dinners they had gone to, excited to have two "such lovely young ladies" to point at the "handsome young men" as she liked to say. Susan quickly learned that Mrs. Clayworth's idea of sending Charity away for the summer was not to test the strength of her daughter's love for Marcus (which had turned out to be slightly wavering, Susan had realized) but to allow Aunt Bernice to find Charity a more suitable match among her highly affluent French friends. Aunt Bernice had also taken it upon herself to push Susan towards the young men, pressing her to find a match. "A pretty thing like you is bound to be scooped up quickly," she had gushed during Susan's first week in France. The men that Susan was introduced to seemed perfect: wealthy and handsome. Living on the French Riviera, or the Cote d'Azure as Susan loved to hear them say, the poetry of it rolling off their tongues, had made them all tan, many of them having dark Mediterranean features. Exactly the type of man I like, Susan smiled. A pang of sadness quickly washed over Susan.

Unless they have eyes the color of the Narnian sea, she thought as she remembered the friend she had left behind in London. Robert had been unhappy that she had decided to spend the summer in France, arguing that she had already put enough distance between them by canceling their past few coffee dates. "You don't need to distance yourself physically," he had said, his words echoing in her mind. Susan had claimed that wasn't what she was doing, stating that she just needed a break from her life in London, but deep down she knew she needed space away from Robert to become the woman she had been, before the train accident. Before the heartbreak. Before Narnia had ruined her life. Susan shook her head as though she was trying to jostle her thoughts of Robert and Narnia away.

"Susan, dear! Don't stand so close to the edge. You may slip and fall overboard and then where would we be?" Aunt Bernice called from where she was sitting in a wooden lounge chair. Susan giggled at the familiar words as she turned away from the rope rail. Charity and her aunt were both lounging on the deck wearing bathing suits, Aunt Bernice sporting a wide-brimmed straw hat and looking very stylish. Despite her age, she had kept a trim figure and was always seen in the latest fashion. Susan admired her greatly, commenting once how she hoped to be similar to her when she grew older. Aunt Bernice had laughed and warned Susan of wishing she was someone else. "Too much time wishing is too much time wasting," she had gently scolded, laughing gaily. "You should be content trying to be who you are, not who someone else is."

Walking to an empty lounge chair next to Charity, Susan sat and pulled her white sarong around the top of her legs. She glanced up to see Charity rolling her eyes at her.

"Susan, you're not in stuffy old England anymore. Nobody cares if you show a little leg," she said dramatically. Susan had been teased about her modesty relentlessly by Charity during their month in France. While they lounged on Aunt Bernice's private beach or swam in the ocean, Susan had no problem wearing her navy bathing suit. It was only when they were in public or, as they currently were, sailing around on the yacht (which was owned by a very close friend of Aunt Bernice) did Susan feel too exposed wearing only her suit. She had been aware of her affect on men for quite some time, having been referred to as the beauty of the family for years and felt perfectly alright when men turned their heads as she passed by. But she was always fully clothed then, covered up by her more conservative, yet stylish, dresses. Her effect on men wearing just her bathing suit was a new experience for her, one she did not relish. Charity, however, loved the attention and had quickly adopted the new French bikinis, as they were called, after they arrived. I really am a wet blanket, Susan thought, smiling over Edmund's favorite phrase for her.

"Now, now Charity," Aunt Bernice laughed. "Leave dear Susan alone." The three women laughed before she continued. "Susan, Charity and I were just discussing a bit of fun I have planned for you two tonight. One of my very dear friends is throwing a party for you young people and I told her that I would of course send my two most favorite girls to it! She is madly interested in introducing you to her nephew, who is, I'm told, quite a catch."

"Well, that would be lovely," Susan said, smiling at Aunt Bernice.


Later that evening Susan sat on the edge of her bed as she pulled on her stockings. There was a quick knock on the door before it flew open and Charity rushed into her room, wearing a robe and her hair up in rollers.

"Oh Susan, isn't this just going to be wonderful?" she asked excitedly. Susan laughed and nodded in agreement. "And really, stockings? Why not just go without? I think most girls here do anyway. I know I am!" Charity exclaimed. Susan looked wistfully at her stockinged legs, knowing Charity was right. They were one of the banes of her existence, especially in the heat of southern France. Charity sensed Susan's reluctance and rolled her eyes, saying "Oh, come on Susan! Live a little! Be daring, be bold!"

Susan laughed and said, "Alright, alright. I'll take them off." She rolled off her stockings and tossed them on the bed. I feel a bit freer already, she thought, smiling.

"There, you see! Better, isn't it?" Charity boasted. She spun quickly and walked to the door, turning to look at Susan before she left. "Aunt Bernice says we're leaving in an hour, so you may want to hurry! We don't want to be late!" she said before walking out of the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

Susan looked down at her stockingless legs, wiggling her toes in freedom before hopping off the bed and hurrying to her closet. After pulling out nearly a dozen dresses (and rejecting each one) she decided on a silvery blue dress, a color she had loved a lifetime ago. Aunt Bernice had taken them to Paris one weekend after they arrived, claiming their "stuffy British clothing simply will not do." Susan had seen the dress in a shop window and fell instantly in love. The moment the soft billowy fabric touched her skin she felt like a queen again, a feeling she had not felt in ages.

After she had dressed, Susan stood in front of a tall mirror that sat in her room, admiring her reflection. She twisted this way and that to see her reflection from all angles, loving the way the fabric felt against her legs. She could vaguely hear Edmund and Lucy's shouts of laughter, teasing her for her silliness. She snorted at Peter's reddening face, knowing he hated knowing the way she looked often attracted scores of men.

"Mother would turn in her grave if she knew I wasn't wearing stockings!" Susan exclaimed to the empty room, laughing at her mother's sometimes prim ways. If there was one thing she had inherited from her mother, it was that. Thinking of her mother made her frown slightly at the woman in the mirror. A queen wouldn't behave like this, she thought sadly. Rolling her eyes at herself, she said, "But I'm not a queen. I'm Susan. Average girl." Even before she finished her words, she heard the outraged cries of her brothers, the dejected pleas of her sister.

"How can you say that?" Peter yelled.

"Please remember, Susan," Lucy cried, tears forming in her eyes.

"You are Queen," Edmund said forcefully.

"I'm not! I'm not!" Susan exclaimed angrily, turning away from the mirror, ashamed of the woman staring at her in it. She stomped towards the door, grabbing her purse from where it sat on her bed. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and walked through, slamming it closed behind her.

Susan sat down, breathless from the vigorous dancing, the cool marble of her throne refreshing under her overheated arms. It was definitely a mistake to wear this heavy dress! she thought. First thing tomorrow I'm designing dresses to wear during our Narnian dances. She laughed as she watched her younger brother attempting to perform some of the more difficult of the dances, stumbling over his feet with a huge grin on his face. Edmund had never feared the dancing but had not quite gotten the hang of it yet. Lucy was dancing with Tumnus the Faun, who was her favorite dancing partner. He never commented on her atrocious dancing and sometimes imitated her poor imitations of the Narnian dances so she would not feel bad. He has such a soft spot for her, Susan thought. But of course, who doesn't for Lucy?

"Tired of all your admirers?" Peter asked sarcastically as he sat in his throne next to Susan.

"I'm only taking a break. I got a little hot," Susan replied stiffly, casting an annoyed look at her brother. "Besides," she added. "I think you have just as many here tonight as I do. Look at them." Susan motioned slightly with her head towards a large group of girls who seemed to be staring at Peter, giggling as he glanced their way.

"It's pretty great," he said, slightly arrogant as he sent a stunning smile their way.

"You're ridiculous," Susan muttered, aggravated with her brother's behavior. When she turned her eyes back to the dancing, she saw the most handsome man she had ever seen walking towards her. From the tan color of his skin, she knew he was Calormen. He was clean-shaven, his sculpted face surrounded by dark black hair. On his head he wore a stark-white turban, a deep ruby inset at the crown. When he reached the dais where Susan and Peter sat, he bowed low before them.

"O High King, you honor me with your invitation to your glorious palace of Cair Paravel. I ask, O High King, that I may have your permission to ask this lady for the honor of a dance," the man asked.

"Prince Rabadash," Peter began, his voice tight. "You will have to ask Queen Susan for yourself. My sister knows her own mind." Prince Rabadash turned to Susan, beginning to open his mouth when Susan quickly said, "Yes!"

"Susan!" Peter hissed, outraged by his sister's behavior.

"Peter!" she hissed back, giving him a look that could have stopped the White Witch in her tracks. Turning back to Prince Rabadash she said, "I would be delighted to dance, Prince." She placed her hand in his offered one, turning quickly to glance back at her brother, inwardly giggling at the look of rage on his face as he watched his sister move to the dance floor.

"Susan, dear!" Aunt Bernice called, waving her hand at Susan. Susan walked towards her, seeing a middle-aged couple standing next to her. When she reached where the three were standing, Aunt Bernice put her arm around Susan's shoulders and said, "Dear, these are my friends the Montroses. And this, dear friends, is the girl I have been telling you so much about, Susan Pevensie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Susan said, shaking the Montroses' hands.

"You were absolutely right, Bernice! She is quite a beauty," Mr. Montrose said, smiling warmly at Susan.

"I have been simply dying to introduce you to my nephew, Susan. He is visiting us this summer and has been quite lonely, the poor dear," Mrs. Montrose said dramatically. Susan smiled widely, inwardly groaning at the idea of spending the evening with a lonely man who had to be set up by his aunt. "Philip! Come over here," Mrs. Montrose called, waving her hand.

The man who turned at the sound of his name nearly took Susan's breath away. If a man could be designed specifically for me, he would look like him, she thought happily. There's such a familiarity to him though. Philip walked closer, flashing a beautiful smile at Susan. "Philip, this is Susan Pevensie, the young woman I've been telling you about," Mrs. Montrose said when he stood next to her. Philip reached out to shake Susan's hand, taking it gently in his hand when she offered hers and pressing her hand to his lips.

"My aunt has done you no justice," he said smoothly, his voice lightly tinged with an accent. Susan blushed slightly and nodded her thanks, speechless over his gallant gesture.

"Perhaps Miss Pevensie would like to dance?" Mrs. Montrose urged.

"Of course, Aunt," Philip said, smiling warmly at her. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, turning to Susan.

"I would," she replied, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

The evening passed quickly for Susan, who now found herself seated in a wooden lounge chair on a large stone terrace that surrounded the house where the party was held. The view overlooked the ocean, which was illuminated by the full moon. Philip sat next to her, the two quietly getting to know one another. They had snuck outside, escaping the watchful eyes of Aunt Bernice and Mrs. Montrose, who both had been nearly unable to hide their glee at seeing how well Susan and Philip had hit it off. Philip had been telling Susan about his job as an investor working for his father's firm when he glanced at her leg as she crossed one over the other.

"No stockings?" he asked slyly, smiling at her. Susan blushed and laughed nervously. "How… modern," Philip said, picking up her hand and kissing it again. Susan smiled slowly, her heart racing as Philip leaned in closer, pressing his lips gently against hers. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered familiar kisses from her past.

"Philip!" called a voice from inside.

Sighing, Philip broke their kiss and muttered, "That damn aunt of mine." Susan cocked an eyebrow at his reference to his aunt, earning her a winning smile from him. "I enjoyed meeting you tonight, Susan. Perhaps I can call on you another day?"

Susan nodded and stared at him as he walked back towards the house, leaning around her chair to watch as he went through the large glass doors. Turning back in her chair, she sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair. It had grown out over the years, no longer in the modern style she had loathed, and now fell in gentle waves below her shoulders. She still felt Philip's lips on hers, the kiss fair enough.

But I've had better, she thought, a spark of passion igniting in her as she remembered Robert's kiss, the only kiss that had truly set her on fire.

AN: I hope you are enjoying this so far... I'm feeling a little discouraged with it to be completely honest. Or maybe it's just this chapter; it was hard to write! Reviews might make me more excited to write (hint, hint)!