Susan stands upon the battlements as the storm moves over Cair Paravel.
In front of her the sea rages, the same sea that carried away Edmund little more than a day ago, for their need was greater than the danger. As lightning flashes, Susan almost thinks she can see his ship, though she knows he should have long reached Galma by now, to root out the assassins who almost killed Susan a week ago before the trail is too cold.
On Susan’s left are the mountains where Peter and Lucy are even now fending off Giants, risking life and limb to defend Narnia’s borders.
Someone shouts for her to come down, to come inside, but their words smothered by the storm.
How stupid would it be, Susan thinks, as cold moves through her drenched clothes and wet hair slaps in her face, if she dies here. What cruel irony, for her siblings to put themselves in danger to protect her, only to return to find her lost after all.
Susan almost laughs.
It is a fate she chose for herself, she knows. She chose a long time ago to stay out of battle, to be Narnia’s last line of defence, and she doesn’t truly regret that decision. The battlefield is not where she thrives.
Yet sometimes she cannot help but feel bitter all the same.
And of course she could not have gone with Edmund either, or in his place; it would be nothing less than foolish to throw herself into the arms of her own would be assassin just for the sake of her pride.
So Susan stays behind, as she always does. She allows her siblings to risk their lives for her and never risks the same for them in return.
The thunder claps again and Susan screams. She screams until her throat is sore and her head is aching and she is left panting and gasping for breath, leaning on the wall for support.
Susan rages at the storm (literally)
In front of her the sea rages, the same sea that carried away Edmund little more than a day ago, for their need was greater than the danger. As lightning flashes, Susan almost thinks she can see his ship, though she knows he should have long reached Galma by now, to root out the assassins who almost killed Susan a week ago before the trail is too cold.
On Susan’s left are the mountains where Peter and Lucy are even now fending off Giants, risking life and limb to defend Narnia’s borders.
Someone shouts for her to come down, to come inside, but their words smothered by the storm.
How stupid would it be, Susan thinks, as cold moves through her drenched clothes and wet hair slaps in her face, if she dies here. What cruel irony, for her siblings to put themselves in danger to protect her, only to return to find her lost after all.
Susan almost laughs.
It is a fate she chose for herself, she knows. She chose a long time ago to stay out of battle, to be Narnia’s last line of defence, and she doesn’t truly regret that decision. The battlefield is not where she thrives.
Yet sometimes she cannot help but feel bitter all the same.
And of course she could not have gone with Edmund either, or in his place; it would be nothing less than foolish to throw herself into the arms of her own would be assassin just for the sake of her pride.
So Susan stays behind, as she always does. She allows her siblings to risk their lives for her and never risks the same for them in return.
The thunder claps again and Susan screams. She screams until her throat is sore and her head is aching and she is left panting and gasping for breath, leaning on the wall for support.
Then, she picks herself up goes back inside.