Fic: The Archer Queen Reproached
So, I was going through a bunch of old private posts, looking for something, and I came upon this. Apparently, at some point, I had a long-ish Narnia fic about Susan Pevensie plotted out, but I never got much of it written beyond the first little section. It was, according to the outline, going to treat of Susan's deteriorating relationship with her siblings, her reaction to her family's deaths, her real growing-up, and an eventual return to Narnia. Happily, these subjects have been dealt with by much better authors than myself (see papersky's exquisite poem and The Queen's Return by honorh if you don't know what I'm talking about).
However, like I said, I did get the first (very) little bit of my Narnia fic written before I abandoned it. I don't really remember writing it, and it's in second person, which is not at all my usual MO, but...I sort of like it. I don't think I've ever seen Susan and Jill Pole put in the same room by anyone else, and I was pleased with the character voices. I think it stands well enough on its own to post, and can't think of a good reason not to share it, so:
Title: The Archer Queen Reproached
Author: kalquessa
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Genre: Gen, character study
Word Count: 452
Characters: Susan Pevensie, Jill Pole
Season/Spoilers: Takes place after The Silver Chair and before The Last Battle.
Rating: G
Warnings: Unbeta'd, second person narrative voice.
"You walked with him the night he died."
Halfway up the staircase, you turn and find that you are being addressed by Jill Pole.
"I don't know what you mean." You try to be calm and civil, but after the argument with Peter it's no wonder that you sound a trifle exasperated, even to your own ears.
"Lucy told me. The night Aslan was sacrificed on the Stone Table. The night the Deep Magic was broken. Lucy said you and she walked with him while Peter and Edmund slept." Jill's face is set in a stormy frown that you find particularly nettling, for some reason. You can't understand why your siblings have suddenly begun to enjoy the company of your tiresome younger cousin, but why they should also encourage visits from Eustace's mousy school friend is even more baffling. The girl isn't even as old as Lucy and her manners can only be described as uncongenial. Yet the others seem to prefer this shrill little creature's company to your own, lately.
"Lucy and the rest of them talk a great deal of make-believe people and events," You reply loftily. "You can't expect me to remember every game we ever made up to amuse ourselves."
"How can you deny him like that?" The question is sharp, a zealot's demand. "How can you deny him after everything? You walked with him, touched his mane, rode on his back." Jill's voice quavers ever so slightly as she says, "He called you 'dearest'. Lucy told me."
More than a little disconcerted, you stare at the younger girl for a long moment in silence. Realization, when it hits, is so startling that you laugh before you can stop yourself.
"Good Lord! Are you actually jealous?" The sheer madness of it all, of arguing with Peter, of Edmund and Lucy's wounded gazes, of this girl-child's harping reproaches, wrings another gasp of laughter from you. "Has everyone really gone completely mad? What are you jealous of? It's all pretend, a game for when we were bored!" And then, because you asked Peter the same question an hour ago, and received no satisfactory answer: "Don't you understand how ridiculous you all are?"
Jill Pole regards you wordlessly for just long enough for the silence to grow taught and oppressive. Then the younger girl drops her eyes, her jaw tight, gives a nod that could mean anything, and walks away. Feeling unsettled and harried, you continue upstairs, where you wash your hair and mend the hem of a skirt you hardly wear. The small rituals of sanity calm your nerves, and you begin to feel a little better. Later, you sleep and dream of weeping into warm golden fur, the weight of a bow in your hand, but you remember nothing upon waking.
However, like I said, I did get the first (very) little bit of my Narnia fic written before I abandoned it. I don't really remember writing it, and it's in second person, which is not at all my usual MO, but...I sort of like it. I don't think I've ever seen Susan and Jill Pole put in the same room by anyone else, and I was pleased with the character voices. I think it stands well enough on its own to post, and can't think of a good reason not to share it, so:
Title: The Archer Queen Reproached
Author: kalquessa
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Genre: Gen, character study
Word Count: 452
Characters: Susan Pevensie, Jill Pole
Season/Spoilers: Takes place after The Silver Chair and before The Last Battle.
Rating: G
Warnings: Unbeta'd, second person narrative voice.
"You walked with him the night he died."
Halfway up the staircase, you turn and find that you are being addressed by Jill Pole.
"I don't know what you mean." You try to be calm and civil, but after the argument with Peter it's no wonder that you sound a trifle exasperated, even to your own ears.
"Lucy told me. The night Aslan was sacrificed on the Stone Table. The night the Deep Magic was broken. Lucy said you and she walked with him while Peter and Edmund slept." Jill's face is set in a stormy frown that you find particularly nettling, for some reason. You can't understand why your siblings have suddenly begun to enjoy the company of your tiresome younger cousin, but why they should also encourage visits from Eustace's mousy school friend is even more baffling. The girl isn't even as old as Lucy and her manners can only be described as uncongenial. Yet the others seem to prefer this shrill little creature's company to your own, lately.
"Lucy and the rest of them talk a great deal of make-believe people and events," You reply loftily. "You can't expect me to remember every game we ever made up to amuse ourselves."
"How can you deny him like that?" The question is sharp, a zealot's demand. "How can you deny him after everything? You walked with him, touched his mane, rode on his back." Jill's voice quavers ever so slightly as she says, "He called you 'dearest'. Lucy told me."
More than a little disconcerted, you stare at the younger girl for a long moment in silence. Realization, when it hits, is so startling that you laugh before you can stop yourself.
"Good Lord! Are you actually jealous?" The sheer madness of it all, of arguing with Peter, of Edmund and Lucy's wounded gazes, of this girl-child's harping reproaches, wrings another gasp of laughter from you. "Has everyone really gone completely mad? What are you jealous of? It's all pretend, a game for when we were bored!" And then, because you asked Peter the same question an hour ago, and received no satisfactory answer: "Don't you understand how ridiculous you all are?"
Jill Pole regards you wordlessly for just long enough for the silence to grow taught and oppressive. Then the younger girl drops her eyes, her jaw tight, gives a nod that could mean anything, and walks away. Feeling unsettled and harried, you continue upstairs, where you wash your hair and mend the hem of a skirt you hardly wear. The small rituals of sanity calm your nerves, and you begin to feel a little better. Later, you sleep and dream of weeping into warm golden fur, the weight of a bow in your hand, but you remember nothing upon waking.