Prompt #1: A King, Queen, or warrior of Narnia is forced to improvise a weapon.


"Look," said Susan, sitting with her back to the crumbling wall of Cair Paravel, "nobody's trying to say the Golden Age was perfect."

Lucy trailed her hand over the ivy covering it, as if she could peel back the years with the devastation. "Nowhere's perfect except Aslan's country," she said wistfully.

"Are you sure it exists?" was Susan's tired retort. Then she got up and walked away. "Never mind. I don't want to argue with you."

Lucy's dismay followed her, though, and the high childish voice irritated her. "Stay and discuss it with me! Come on, Susan. You can believe, you know, if you try hard enough."

"Are you saying that I just haven't tried enough?" Her voice was raised; she caught up the golden chess piece that reminded her of the best and worst time in her life and gripped it fiercely. "That I—" She wanted to say, You didn't know anything about my life then, but still didn't want Lucy to know. "Faith is hard."

"I agree," said Edmund quietly, from behind them. "Even though Aslan has done—everything for me." As they turned to face him, he smiled at Susan. It was a very kind smile. "The Golden Age wasn't perfect, even though everyone says it was. Lucy's right that nothing will be perfect until Aslan's country, but at the same time, faith isn't easy."

"But this isn't faith," said Lucy stubbornly. "We know, we see. Isn't faith about believing even when you don't see?"

"There was a long time without Aslan." She meant both in the Golden Age—oh, the aching years—and in the other place again—when they had come on a world shaped by no Lion's roar, in which the sunrise was not a tossing mane and religion was a severe church. "And he's still not here."

"He will be."

"I wish I had your confidence." Susan walked away, and this time walked alone.


They walked through the ruins of a beloved land. Every moment Susan was assaulted by memories, but not beautiful ones. These were memories of times long forgotten by everyone who mattered; and the land had forgotten them. She trailed at the back, following Peter, who followed Lucy, who followed Aslan. Or so Lucy said.

Susan did not want to believe that Aslan was hiding himself from her. Somewhere deep inside she knew it to be the truth, but she didn't want it to be. It felt like a betrayal. There had already been enough time without Aslan, while he had been attending to matters more important than Narnia: than her.

She was never going to be as important as anything else Aslan had to deal with. She was in last place, every time. Her brother was the High King; her other brother was the redeemed one; her sister was beloved of Aslan. And she, Susan Pevensie of England, was irrelevant. Queen Susan the Gentle, of the radiant Southern Sun, crowned by Aslan himself... to fill the fourth throne. That was all she was good for: and that, a mask she had donned through the years of the Golden Age. Beautiful, sought out, loved; but under the mask Susan had been brittle, broken, and she had never mended from that.

Return to Narnia was reopening those wounds: yes, the joys, but also the horrors.

Why are you hiding from me, Aslan? Am I not trying hard enough? Am I not loving enough? Am I not following you enough?

She was stumbling in the dark, reaching for a hand to hold, or a mane to grasp, and there was nobody there.

And then there was; there was Aslan, and there was boundless, endless love, and there was, "You have been listening to fears, child." And there was strength, Lion's strength, that flowed around and through her, and Aslan, not Susan, was enough for now.


Caspian, though a shy and awkward prince yet, felt more of a monarch to Susan than she herself had through all the decades. He would blossom into the leader she had never and would never have the chance to be. She did not grudge him that, nor did she grudge him his time in Narnia. He was no imposter, no usurper, but the rightful king of Narnia, crowned by Aslan.

Narnia was to be left in good hands; and she would never see it again. No more memories; no more golden joy, no more black despair. From now on her emotions would never be quite so high: or so low, if Aslan was kind to her.

Just before they left for the final time, she looked at the creatures and land that she loved, though she could not look at Aslan. He was too kind. One of the dryads offered her a long, straight stick; she took it and held it like a sword, as if she could attack anything and win. Then she knew she could take no such thing back to England with her, broke off a single twig and tucked it into her pocket, then handed the makeshift sword back to the dryad.

Then she left the land that had defined and torn apart her childhood, head high. Someday those she loved would return: but Aslan had barred her from Narnia forever.


Author's note: This wasn't exactly what I expected to write. I think the way I've changed Narnia is potentially an interesting concept to explore, and I might write a few flashback chapters to look at it later. Then again, I'd completely forgotten about the Adventures in Narnia until a few days ago when whoever it was posted the thing about it nearly being that. And then I had uni stuff to work on yesterday because I had put it off for months and suddenly it was the day of the deadline. Anyway. Yes, I intend as I have in the past to make this a single cohesive story... then again, I have no clue where this is going, so we'll see how it goes. Hopefully this year I'll get further through the challenge than previous years! You might also notice I haven't exactly been posting fanfiction, and that I'm rather vague on canon details. I haven't read the books for years; I'm in the middle of a reread currently, halfway through LWW.

If you want to read more stuff I write, I have the same username on AO3, and I post a reasonable amount of original content: though, fair warning, it's a lot of it about mental health, so beware the trigger warnings. In this particular story, I don't intend to go too deep into anything that requires trigger warnings. I don't even know where the darkness came from here. Hopefully it'll become less depressed. Sorry! Anyhow, I hope to get the next chapter out today to catch up.

(Fun fact: I wrote this chapter while listening to "Someday" by the Carpenters on repeat. I suggest you listen to it while reading, especially the last section.)

God bless and keep y'all.

—H