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be_themoonTitle: lovely in my sight
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Characters/Pairings: Susan.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Death, as this goes through LB.
Summary: Susan, from LWW through to LB. Things she refuses to remember.
Disclaimer: Not mine, they're Lewis'.
Author's Note: The title is from Mnemosyne by Trumbull Stickney, specifically the lines "I had a sister lovely in my sight: / Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre; / We sang together in the woods at night." Part of me now wants to write more Narnia, just so I can title it from the first line of the poem, "It's autumn in the country I remember." I've been working on this off and on for a lonnng while.
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Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Characters/Pairings: Susan.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Death, as this goes through LB.
Summary: Susan, from LWW through to LB. Things she refuses to remember.
Disclaimer: Not mine, they're Lewis'.
Author's Note: The title is from Mnemosyne by Trumbull Stickney, specifically the lines "I had a sister lovely in my sight: / Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre; / We sang together in the woods at night." Part of me now wants to write more Narnia, just so I can title it from the first line of the poem, "It's autumn in the country I remember." I've been working on this off and on for a lonnng while.
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Susan's crown is heavy on her head and her neck aches, but she glides across the floor with Peter in a fair semblance of poised and royal.
When she returns to her rooms, she dismisses the handmaidens that have mysteriously appeared and takes the crown off, rolling her head in relief. The crown glints in the moonlight, a promise and a threat, and she thinks what have we done?
In the morning, she stares at herself in the mirror and her face hardens in resolve.
"I can do this," she says to her reflection, and settles the crown firmly on her hair. "I will do this." By the end of the week, she no longer notices the weight.
+
She knows from the beginning that she will marry if Narnia needs it, not for love. She does not mind.
+
There are calluses on her hands, and she does not remember them forming.
"Not exactly queenly, I'm afraid," she tells Peter ruefully, in the morning over toast and marmalade and Calormene tea.
"Dance with me, Queen Susan?" Peter murmurs behind her, hands on her shoulders, and she lets him lead her down the stairs and whirls in the fire and starlight until she is dizzy and aching with laughter.
+
She skins her knees on the wood of the floor.
+
"Once a king or queen of Narnia," Lucy says softly for the twentieth time, and Susan's teacup crashes to the floor and shatters as she half-rises from her chair, face white.
"Stop it - stop it, it's not going to change anything!" she yells, and sinks sobbing to the floor, shards of china pressing into her legs. Peter crouches beside her and holds her and outside the rain falls monotonous and steady.
+
She finds London unbearably dreary, still caught in the same war and the same year, a sea of people dressed in grey and brown. Time drags by mostly, unless doors are slamming and mother is yelling at Peter, at Edmund, at Lucy, at her, as frightened and angry as they are and Susan remembers waiting when Peter rode to war.
She wants to break things and yell too, but she is a queen of Narnia, so she nods and smiles and soon it gets easier to fake.
+
"Walk like a king," she tells Peter.
+
At night she lies in bed and listens to the planes and Lucy's even breathing and wonders if they ruled Narnia for fifteen years only to come back to London, grey solemn London, and die because of a stupid war started by a stupid man.
+
She remembers - she remembers - she remembers, and breathes in time with the land.
+
"Everything feels upside down," Caspian says, and Susan smiles.
"It's magic," she says, remembering what it feels like to say that and actually mean it. "Narnia is remembering itself."
"I like it," Caspian says, a little drowsily, and his face is painted in the shades of the moon.
"Good," Susan says, and stands up. "This is your kingdom now."
"Will you - ?" Caspian begins, and Susan shakes her head.
"I need to be getting to bed," she murmurs, but hesitates for a moment. Caspian is so young and naive, so unsure of everything, and she knows the crown will be heavy on his head. "The crown gets lighter," she says, "but it never really gets easier." She's never been able to offer false comfort.
+
This is my land, she thinks, looking steadily at Aslan. This is my country, this is our place. We defeated its enemies, we spilled our blood, we broke our bones, we made ourselves killers for this land, we would have given our lives had it been required, and we would not have come back to life. You left it. You sent us away and you abandoned it.
You have no right. You have no right.
But she doesn't say anything, even when she steps through the tree, because it is not her right anymore either, and she has always been good at accepting the things she cannot change.
+
In church, she looks at the stained glass windows instead of listening to the sermon.
"If you can transcend worlds, where were you in Charn?" she asks the smiling statue of Christ, his hands outstretched, to heal or bear burdens. He doesn't answer, and she leaves with a quiet feeling of defeat in her stomach and does not come back.
+
Edmund's hands are always cold these days, and Susan can see the quiet desperation in his eyes when it snows, when he flinches at sudden movements and words come slowly and quietly. There is nothing she can do.
+
At the train station, she identifies each of the bodies calmly, without tears or recriminations or fainting. This is not the first time she has seen her siblings crushed and broken. It is only the first time she has known there is no way to heal them.
+
"My family believed in miracles," she says to the crowd at the funeral, and sits down.
It has to be the shortest eulogy on record.
When she returns to her rooms, she dismisses the handmaidens that have mysteriously appeared and takes the crown off, rolling her head in relief. The crown glints in the moonlight, a promise and a threat, and she thinks what have we done?
In the morning, she stares at herself in the mirror and her face hardens in resolve.
"I can do this," she says to her reflection, and settles the crown firmly on her hair. "I will do this." By the end of the week, she no longer notices the weight.
+
She knows from the beginning that she will marry if Narnia needs it, not for love. She does not mind.
+
There are calluses on her hands, and she does not remember them forming.
"Not exactly queenly, I'm afraid," she tells Peter ruefully, in the morning over toast and marmalade and Calormene tea.
"Nonsense," Peter says, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Hard work is befitting for a queen." His eyes are proud, and she smiles.
+
"Dance with me, Queen Susan?" Peter murmurs behind her, hands on her shoulders, and she lets him lead her down the stairs and whirls in the fire and starlight until she is dizzy and aching with laughter.
+
She skins her knees on the wood of the floor.
+
"Once a king or queen of Narnia," Lucy says softly for the twentieth time, and Susan's teacup crashes to the floor and shatters as she half-rises from her chair, face white.
"Stop it - stop it, it's not going to change anything!" she yells, and sinks sobbing to the floor, shards of china pressing into her legs. Peter crouches beside her and holds her and outside the rain falls monotonous and steady.
+
She finds London unbearably dreary, still caught in the same war and the same year, a sea of people dressed in grey and brown. Time drags by mostly, unless doors are slamming and mother is yelling at Peter, at Edmund, at Lucy, at her, as frightened and angry as they are and Susan remembers waiting when Peter rode to war.
She wants to break things and yell too, but she is a queen of Narnia, so she nods and smiles and soon it gets easier to fake.
+
"Walk like a king," she tells Peter.
+
At night she lies in bed and listens to the planes and Lucy's even breathing and wonders if they ruled Narnia for fifteen years only to come back to London, grey solemn London, and die because of a stupid war started by a stupid man.
+
She remembers - she remembers - she remembers, and breathes in time with the land.
+
"Everything feels upside down," Caspian says, and Susan smiles.
"It's magic," she says, remembering what it feels like to say that and actually mean it. "Narnia is remembering itself."
"I like it," Caspian says, a little drowsily, and his face is painted in the shades of the moon.
"Good," Susan says, and stands up. "This is your kingdom now."
"Will you - ?" Caspian begins, and Susan shakes her head.
"I need to be getting to bed," she murmurs, but hesitates for a moment. Caspian is so young and naive, so unsure of everything, and she knows the crown will be heavy on his head. "The crown gets lighter," she says, "but it never really gets easier." She's never been able to offer false comfort.
+
This is my land, she thinks, looking steadily at Aslan. This is my country, this is our place. We defeated its enemies, we spilled our blood, we broke our bones, we made ourselves killers for this land, we would have given our lives had it been required, and we would not have come back to life. You left it. You sent us away and you abandoned it.
You have no right. You have no right.
But she doesn't say anything, even when she steps through the tree, because it is not her right anymore either, and she has always been good at accepting the things she cannot change.
+
In church, she looks at the stained glass windows instead of listening to the sermon.
"If you can transcend worlds, where were you in Charn?" she asks the smiling statue of Christ, his hands outstretched, to heal or bear burdens. He doesn't answer, and she leaves with a quiet feeling of defeat in her stomach and does not come back.
+
Edmund's hands are always cold these days, and Susan can see the quiet desperation in his eyes when it snows, when he flinches at sudden movements and words come slowly and quietly. There is nothing she can do.
+
At the train station, she identifies each of the bodies calmly, without tears or recriminations or fainting. This is not the first time she has seen her siblings crushed and broken. It is only the first time she has known there is no way to heal them.
+
"My family believed in miracles," she says to the crowd at the funeral, and sits down.
It has to be the shortest eulogy on record.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-10-14 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 01:32 am (UTC)"Hard work is befitting for a queen."
This really interests me suddenly - I guess I never really thought about it, but it happens in fic: the Pevensies be hard workers and really active in the physical labor that the WWII English would see as necessary but royalty wouldn't. But they transpose it into a "it's kingly to serve the people" idea. Which is so progressive, like SO progressive and egalitarian - moreso than the English then. TBH it makes me think of how Che instituted the volunteer worker program in Cuba and then set the record for number of hours contributed, even though he was head of the Bank (and screwed that up). Anyway. I think this is deserving of notice in light of the movement movement :)
Interesting play between her being upset at Lucy's repeating "once a king or queen of narnia," but also repeating it to herself - that she's a queen so she should act like one, Peter should walk like one, etc. Does she ever lose that crown? Does she give in to despair, or hold out against it in an ultimately more effective way than her siblings, who escaped into death? this fic does a good job of raising those timeless unanswerable Susan questions in ways without making them painfully obvious, and real, really human.
Her thoughts about no Christ in Charn!!! dang, Lewis, whatcha gonna say to that? I'd like to know what he was thinking there - a doomed world, but why?
The way you deal with her in the end is, wow. That eulogy HURTS but it's true and beautiful at the same time.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 02:59 pm (UTC)and yes! she does not like Lucy's constant reminder of it but she can't pull it away from herself either. she is a queen and Peter is a king and this is just who they are. there is no escaping. oh yay, thank you! this wasn't something set specifically to be about the problem of Susan, it's just about Susan herself. which means that naturally, the problems associated with her leaked in, because well, they're about her. :P
exactly! there was no rhyme or reason to dooming it, and no real reason behind it, and I think Susan would have noticed that. XD
it's the thing she loved most about them. :(
no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 10:15 pm (UTC)there is no escaping.
oh man, wow, yeah, that's it! which is exactly in line with Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, the phrase around which this whole fic turns :D
no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 06:50 am (UTC)She skins her knees on the wood of the floor. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. It's so perfect that this section is just this one line.
She remembers - she remembers - she remembers, and breathes in time with the land.
This is not the first time she has seen her siblings crushed and broken. It is only the first time she has known there is no way to heal them. T_T
and the last section! THE EULOGY. oh oh oh
<333
GOOD STUFF, SIR.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-15 03:45 pm (UTC)yay I'm so glad that worked!
thank you! I'm glad you liked it. <33333 AND YES, THE EULOGY. I spent a long time just staring at the paper thinking about how to finish it.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-16 01:23 am (UTC)"My family believed in miracles," she says to the crowd at the funeral, and sits down.
This line! I cannot get over it! I get the feeling that when Susan says "my family," she doesn't include herself, and honestly Susan does not seem like the kind of person who believes in miracles. She believes in hard work (and making Peter proud! *loves*) and acceptance and bearing your own burdens AND IT JUST MAKES ME SAD. OH SUSAN.
Once again, I am in awe of your ability to take these tiny little fragments and make them come alive as one big story. It's AWESOME. :D
Great, great job, bb! This is amazing.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-03 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-01 07:14 am (UTC)Oh, wow. Beautiful. Sad.
I have to go and cry now, 'k? Or read fluff, at least.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 09:48 pm (UTC)