(no subject)
In one fluid motion, Susan nocked the arrow into the bow, raised it, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew to its target - the bulls eye at the end of the courtyard sidewalk.
It was early morning, and she stood in grass still wet with dew. The wetness would ruin the hem of her gown if she did not brush it out immediately upon returning inside. The gown was hunter green, long and flowing, much like one of her favorites from her days in Narnia. She'd sewed it herself, but she only wore it for archery practice.
She worried she oughtn't do this, this dressing up. It was yet another way for her to keep pretending to be someone she wasn't.
The next arrow went wide of the target, a most unusual thing for her.
She was no longer Queen Susan the Gentle.
She was no longer Su Pevensie, absorbed in nylons and lipsticks and invitations an dreams of America.
She was no longer Susan Pevensie of London high society.
Who was she, exactly, and what was she meant to do?
She was in hiding in this lovely, magical house, with her dead family. She knew this. And yet, she didn't want to leave, not really. She was happier now than she'd been in... well, since she'd been in Narnia.
It would be Christmas soon, and Susan loved Christmas. She always had. Even in the past few years, it had been a jolly time, what with the parties and goodwill (even if it was only for a short time) and kisses stolen under the mistletoe. And the presents...
”Susan, Eve’s Daughter,” said Father Christmas. “These are for you,” and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. “You must use the bow only in great need,” he said, “For I do not mean for you to fight in the battle.”
No, she wasn’t meant for battles. She was meant for looking lovely and finding a kingly husband and raising a fine family. As queen, she’d yearned for that future. She daydreamed of the joys of hearth and home, and named the children who’d not been born.
Then she’d no longer been a queen; she’d been plain old Su, but she still enjoyed looking lovely, and oh, how she’d longed for that white dress and veil and the ring sparkling on her finger.
For a few fleeting months, she’d had that within her grasp, or so she’d thought.
That had been nearly three years ago, and she’d tired to bar the thought of her knight in tarnished armor and the little one who’d lived within her for too short a time.
She looked forward to this Christmas with her family. But lurking at the back of her mind, as it often did these days, was the wish for a family of her own. Not that she didn't love her siblings, but they were dead. They were here now, but would they be forever? Or would they fade and pine for Aslan's Country, as Alain and his friends had done? The thought saddened her, but it didn't make her so sad she could not imagine it. It was the natural order of things.
She'd received a great gift finding her family in this place. But there were realities she must face.
She would age - they would not.
She could bear life - that was beyond them now.
She yearned for life, for that which she might bear and for that which she might live.
Susan set down her bow and walked to the target. Practice was over; she'd lost her focus.
She'd lost many things since she tumbled out of the wardrobe, a woman in a girl's body. In the past months, she'd gained more than she'd dreamed possible, and where she once had been empty and bitter, gentleness flowed and filled her again.
There would come a time when she'd have to stop hiding. But perhaps not yet. This Christmas would be the jolliest in years.
Arrows back in their quiver, Susan returned her family apartments in the House of Arch with a soft smile on her face. Tea and porridge would be just the thing about now.
It was early morning, and she stood in grass still wet with dew. The wetness would ruin the hem of her gown if she did not brush it out immediately upon returning inside. The gown was hunter green, long and flowing, much like one of her favorites from her days in Narnia. She'd sewed it herself, but she only wore it for archery practice.
She worried she oughtn't do this, this dressing up. It was yet another way for her to keep pretending to be someone she wasn't.
The next arrow went wide of the target, a most unusual thing for her.
She was no longer Queen Susan the Gentle.
She was no longer Su Pevensie, absorbed in nylons and lipsticks and invitations an dreams of America.
She was no longer Susan Pevensie of London high society.
Who was she, exactly, and what was she meant to do?
She was in hiding in this lovely, magical house, with her dead family. She knew this. And yet, she didn't want to leave, not really. She was happier now than she'd been in... well, since she'd been in Narnia.
It would be Christmas soon, and Susan loved Christmas. She always had. Even in the past few years, it had been a jolly time, what with the parties and goodwill (even if it was only for a short time) and kisses stolen under the mistletoe. And the presents...
”Susan, Eve’s Daughter,” said Father Christmas. “These are for you,” and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. “You must use the bow only in great need,” he said, “For I do not mean for you to fight in the battle.”
No, she wasn’t meant for battles. She was meant for looking lovely and finding a kingly husband and raising a fine family. As queen, she’d yearned for that future. She daydreamed of the joys of hearth and home, and named the children who’d not been born.
Then she’d no longer been a queen; she’d been plain old Su, but she still enjoyed looking lovely, and oh, how she’d longed for that white dress and veil and the ring sparkling on her finger.
For a few fleeting months, she’d had that within her grasp, or so she’d thought.
That had been nearly three years ago, and she’d tired to bar the thought of her knight in tarnished armor and the little one who’d lived within her for too short a time.
She looked forward to this Christmas with her family. But lurking at the back of her mind, as it often did these days, was the wish for a family of her own. Not that she didn't love her siblings, but they were dead. They were here now, but would they be forever? Or would they fade and pine for Aslan's Country, as Alain and his friends had done? The thought saddened her, but it didn't make her so sad she could not imagine it. It was the natural order of things.
She'd received a great gift finding her family in this place. But there were realities she must face.
She would age - they would not.
She could bear life - that was beyond them now.
She yearned for life, for that which she might bear and for that which she might live.
Susan set down her bow and walked to the target. Practice was over; she'd lost her focus.
She'd lost many things since she tumbled out of the wardrobe, a woman in a girl's body. In the past months, she'd gained more than she'd dreamed possible, and where she once had been empty and bitter, gentleness flowed and filled her again.
There would come a time when she'd have to stop hiding. But perhaps not yet. This Christmas would be the jolliest in years.
Arrows back in their quiver, Susan returned her family apartments in the House of Arch with a soft smile on her face. Tea and porridge would be just the thing about now.