Title: Practical
Author: victoria p. [victoria @ unfitforsociety.net]
Summary: Susan learns to be practical.
Pairing: Peter/Susan implied. If that squicks, don't read.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Narnia characters belong to the Lewis estate etc.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Achromatic.
Feedback: Would be most appreciated.
Notes: Thanks to mousapelli, angelgazing, and fox1013, who listened to me wibble.
Word count: 1,040 words
Date: December 18, 2005

~*~

Practical

It is easy, Lucy finds, to let the wisps of memory slip away, to relinquish life beyond the lamp post, back in Spare Oom, to believe that she has always been a Queen of Narnia, with her brothers and sister at her side.

It is easy to slip into the daily routines of the court, lessons with tutors and dancing masters in the morning, appointments with seamstresses and swordsmen in the afternoon, breakfast and luncheon and high tea all served in the courtyard beneath the trees on fine days, and by a roaring fire on cold or rainy ones, and then there is dinner in the great hall, filled with laughter and music and dancing.

It is a good life, and a beautiful one, and with it, Lucy is content.

*

Even in a castle as beautiful and secure as Cair Paravel, winter nights are cold and dark. Lucy trails along the dim corridor beneath torches flickering in sconces, wrapped in wool and velvet to keep her warm. She has had a nightmare, and the images -- Aslan bound to the Stone Table, the White Witch's white hand bright with his blood -- linger in her mind. She shivers and hurries to Susan's rooms, brushing back a fleeting memory of a small dark room they used to share, a city where death fell from the sky in flames.

When she pushes open the door -- no doors are locked to a King or Queen of Narnia -- bright moonlight meets her eyes, guides her gaze to the bed. Susan is curled snug at Peter's side, and Lucy hurries in, concerned.

"Did you have a nightmare, too?" she whispers, easing her way onto the bed so as not to wake Susan.

"Something like that," Peter replies, and there is sadness in his eyes as he gathers her in with his free arm.

When she wakes to bright winter sunshine, Peter is gone and Susan is smiling, but her lower lip trembles when she thinks Lucy is not looking. Lucy hugs her tightly, because no sadness should touch them here.

*

Susan has always been pretty, but as they grow up, Lucy notices she glows sometimes, a special beauty that's somehow edged with sorrow no one can touch. Only Peter can chase that sadness from her face, and yet sometimes Susan watches Peter as if he's also the cause of it.

*

Suitors flock to Cair Paravel to court Queen Susan the Gentle and also, to Lucy's surprise, herself. Lucy cannot imagine marrying and leaving Narnia, but there are those who think it would be wise for at least one of them to do so.

Lucy finds this discussion of foreign relations tedious, and most of her suitors, tiresome; when she has had a surfeit of their fulsome compliments about her eyes and her hair, she seeks out Susan, who had earlier escaped with her bow and quiver, the chime of her laughter and the fresh scent of her hair lingering in the air.

Susan is not in the practice field, nor is she on the bench beneath the trellis, where the roses grow yellow and sweet, though her bow and arrows lie there, forlorn without her. Lucy wanders through the garden, and out by the cherry trees, she hears voices.

"But I don't want to leave," Susan is saying, and her hands are tight and bloodless on Peter's broad shoulders, her eyes bright with tears.

"And I don't want you to go," Peter responds, cupping her cheek gently. "But it would be wise, and being a King or Queen of Narnia means we must sometimes put what is best for Narnia above what we want for ourselves."

"Then I don't want to be Queen anymore," Susan cries.

Peter brushes his thumb over her trembling lower lip, sweeps away the first of the tears slipping down her cheek, sparkling in the summer sunlight. "Susan, we must be practical." He presses a kiss to her forehead, and to her eyelids as they flutter closed.

Susan takes a shuddering breath and pulls away. She gathers her skirts and runs back towards the castle. Lucy hides behind a tree, but she doesn't think Susan would have noticed her even if she hadn't.

*

Susan is quiet when they four are alone together, but in company she sparkles so brightly Lucy fears she may shatter like glass into a thousand jagged shards even her cordial couldn't heal.

Susan laughs and dances and flirts with her suitors, and Peter grows silent and grim. Lucy follows him out of the ballroom onto a wide stone terrace. The moon hangs like a glowing white pearl, turning the sea to silver.

"Are you unwell?" she asks softly.

"My heart is sore," he answers. "I fear we will lose Susan."

"She doesn't have to go," Lucy says. "There is no reason for her to leave Narnia."

He opens his arms and she steps into them, his embrace warm in the cool night air. "My dear Lucy, kings and queens must marry. It is sound policy to strengthen ties with our allies, and should be cause for great happiness."

"I know," she says, resting her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, "but must it be so soon? And will I be sent away as well?"

His arms tighten around her. "Perhaps. Not for many years yet, I think." He drops a kiss on the crown of her head. "Come, let us return to the dancing, or your suitors will think I've stolen you away."

She laughs and lets him lead her back inside.

She shivers at the look Susan gives her when she returns to the ball on Peter's arm.

*

Long after they have left Narnia for what they believe to be the last time, Lucy brings out the memories like precious jewels, sharing the stories of their adventures with her siblings on cold nights over the winter holidays.

Susan sniffs and her lips tighten. "We must be practical, Lucy," she says. Peter goes pale and still, but Susan ignores him. "We live in the real world, not fantasy land."

Lucy thinks of Susan's fascination with boys and lipstick and fashion magazines, and hopes she never has to be practical. She doesn't think she'd like it.

end

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