When Queen Susan enters the throne hall of Anvard, all eyes turn to her. They rove over the ruby and crimson of the dress, made with the finest of fabrics and the greatest of care, and linger on meticulous embroidery.
With a golden thread there are depictions of mountains and rivers, flowers, trees and Trees; naiads and Dryads make their home there, as well as Beasts in all shapes and sizes, roaming and romping and rearing. At the waist of her dress Fauns sing, Satyrs dance, Dwarfs craft and Centaurs gaze ever upwards, not to the stary night but the Gryphons and Birds that soar and glide along her neck and shoulders. And when she walks past, a golden Lion prowls on her cloak, roaring and leaping with every step she takes.
Susan watches the Archenlanders watch her, watches as their gazes linger and move ever upwards until they finally find her gleaming crown, bestowed upon her by the God they, too, worship. She sees them understand and smiles.
Narnia won’t be dismissed any longer.
...
The room is a buzz of activity as all the girls in Susan’s dorm get ready together.
Hair is coiled and clothes are straightened and rumples smoothed out. Lipstick is put on meticulously. In the corner, one girl helps another put make up on, and another trio clusters in front of the mirror, doling out advice and compliments in equal measure.
The world will look at them and expect weakness, expect flaws, and they will give the world nothing. In this, presentation matters.
Susan smiles and joins them.
It is a beautiful sunny day, clear skies and soft breezes all around, and yet Susan is inside, bent over her desk as she draws up a letter with unwavering concentration.
She writes a few words, pauses, then scratches them out. She’ll have to copy it all again later, but better find the right words and get them in order first. She can make no errors in this.
After all, this could determine the future of Narnia, for better or for worse. And almost as importantly: this could determine the course of Susan’s life. It is a dangerous, ambitious goal she is attempting to reach, but should she succeed it would all be worth it.
Susan takes a breath and starts again: ‘My dear Rabadash…’
...
A curse comes from the next room, followed by the ripping of paper and stomping feet. A moment of silence, and then the typewriter starts clicking again.
From her place on the couch Susan continues to read her newspaper. She sent the bulk of her own application letters in last week, most for secretary posts here and there. Anywhere where they need someone with good organization skills and high work ethics is good enough for her, at least for now.
Mary Ann, on the other hand, is aiming for her dream position, which is to be a nurse. This obviously increases the pressure for her and on top of that Susan’s friend is quite the perfectionist. Susan is proud of her, truth to be told, and she thinks that Mary Ann would be a good nurse, but she also wishes her friend would cut herself some slack, once in a while.
But Susan can hardly pretend to be the wiser woman in that respect, even if she has learned to relax a little more since… Well. Since she was younger.
Another curse comes from the next room.
Susan stands up and puts the kettle on.
Susan smiles as the Birch girl rambles on, talking about anything and everything, from the new members to the Squirrel family who live near to her to the rising unrest among the Dryads of the Shuddering Woods as a nearby settlement of Dwarfs almost encroaches on their territory. She brushes and braids Susan’s hair with expert skill as she does so, and Susan can’t say she regrets taking her on as a lady in waiting.
The newest member of her household is chatty, that is certain, but there is a wealth of information in what she says, passed on by friends and family and even the wind and leaves themselves.
Susan’s eyes fall on the Rat who sits in the corner of the room, the lady dwarf on the stool next to her, and the Magpie in the window, all of whom are listening as well. She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing back into her chair.
...
Gossip, Susan learned a long time ago, is a treasure trove of knowledge and information. Oh, it should be carefully parsed and certainly not be blithely believed, but once one’s got the hang of it, it’s a most valuable resource.
Susan thinks she might be the only one of their siblings who ever truly learned this. Even Edmund, for all his intelligence networks and secret informers, never completely stopped dismissing gossip off hand.
So when one of Susan’s new friends visits and immediately starts talking about this rumour or that, he usually just rolls his eyes and leaves the room.
But Susan just think of the chatty Birch Dryad she once knew, and the many other good friends besides, and she listens with rapt attention.
Rabadash smiles constantly, Susan has noticed.
He smiles as he shows her his home and he smiles as he asks her to dance and he even smiles when takes a step back and says she will retire to her rooms now, even as his eyes tell a different story.
Susan doesn’t let that stop her of course, but she does become a little more careful in his presence, smiles a little less, tries to keep her distance.
In the end, of course, it doesn’t matter.
...
Susan pushes her way through the crowd to reach the corner of the room, where she leans against the wall and closes her eyes for a second. After having danced non-stop for nearly an hour, she needs a breather.
When she opens her eyes again, they catch on a pair standing a little way to the left of her, far enough away that she can’t hear what they are saying over the tumult of the party, but close enough that she has a clear view of them.
Like a huntress who has never unlearned her trade, Susan hones in on the body language of the girl, which screams uncomfortable. The says something to the man leaning, almost looming, over her, clearly forcing a smile, but he grabs her arm and steps even closer to her.
Susan takes a step towards them without thinking, but before she can do anything the girl rips her arm loose and stalks off, the man laughing at her retreating figure.
Susan’s eyes track the girl as she leaves the room, making sure no one follows her. Only when the girl is safely out of sight does Susan relax again.
Then she moves towards the door, not feeling like partying anymore.
Susan paces through the halls of Cair Paravel, unable to sit still as she waits for news that should have come hours ago. She can’t say she isn’t used to it by now, isn’t used to stand by patiently as her siblings make war, but it never really gets any easier.
Of course, there are preparations to be made, as there always are: rooms to be prepped for the wounded, supplies to be stocked and ordered, healers and menders and cooks to be organized, messengers to be sent and information to be received and decided on. Even the walls need to be manned, or ready to be manned, and the castle secured, in case the worst should happen.
Susan is well versed in this and so are her people, which means things are running smoothly. A relief, to be sure, but it also means that there is not much for her to do anymore.
So Susan does what she always does: she prepares and she prays and she waits.
...
It is always a bit of a frantic, jittery chaos when the post comes. The girls in her room rush this way and that: the cupboards are organized and the rooms cleaned many times over, tea is made and set to the side and the doors and windows are checked continuously. Anything to keep their hands, and minds, busy.
It doesn’t get any easier here either. No one wants to receive bad news.
So Susan holds hands and soothes fears and she takes care of the girls as best as she can. And then they wait.
no subject
When Queen Susan enters the throne hall of Anvard, all eyes turn to her. They rove over the ruby and crimson of the dress, made with the finest of fabrics and the greatest of care, and linger on meticulous embroidery.
With a golden thread there are depictions of mountains and rivers, flowers, trees and Trees; naiads and Dryads make their home there, as well as Beasts in all shapes and sizes, roaming and romping and rearing. At the waist of her dress Fauns sing, Satyrs dance, Dwarfs craft and Centaurs gaze ever upwards, not to the stary night but the Gryphons and Birds that soar and glide along her neck and shoulders. And when she walks past, a golden Lion prowls on her cloak, roaring and leaping with every step she takes.
Susan watches the Archenlanders watch her, watches as their gazes linger and move ever upwards until they finally find her gleaming crown, bestowed upon her by the God they, too, worship. She sees them understand and smiles.
Narnia won’t be dismissed any longer.
...
The room is a buzz of activity as all the girls in Susan’s dorm get ready together.
Hair is coiled and clothes are straightened and rumples smoothed out. Lipstick is put on meticulously. In the corner, one girl helps another put make up on, and another trio clusters in front of the mirror, doling out advice and compliments in equal measure.
The world will look at them and expect weakness, expect flaws, and they will give the world nothing. In this, presentation matters.
Susan smiles and joins them.
It is a beautiful sunny day, clear skies and soft breezes all around, and yet Susan is inside, bent over her desk as she draws up a letter with unwavering concentration.
She writes a few words, pauses, then scratches them out. She’ll have to copy it all again later, but better find the right words and get them in order first. She can make no errors in this.
After all, this could determine the future of Narnia, for better or for worse. And almost as importantly: this could determine the course of Susan’s life. It is a dangerous, ambitious goal she is attempting to reach, but should she succeed it would all be worth it.
Susan takes a breath and starts again: ‘My dear Rabadash…’
...
A curse comes from the next room, followed by the ripping of paper and stomping feet. A moment of silence, and then the typewriter starts clicking again.
From her place on the couch Susan continues to read her newspaper. She sent the bulk of her own application letters in last week, most for secretary posts here and there. Anywhere where they need someone with good organization skills and high work ethics is good enough for her, at least for now.
Mary Ann, on the other hand, is aiming for her dream position, which is to be a nurse. This obviously increases the pressure for her and on top of that Susan’s friend is quite the perfectionist. Susan is proud of her, truth to be told, and she thinks that Mary Ann would be a good nurse, but she also wishes her friend would cut herself some slack, once in a while.
But Susan can hardly pretend to be the wiser woman in that respect, even if she has learned to relax a little more since… Well. Since she was younger.
Another curse comes from the next room.
Susan stands up and puts the kettle on.
Susan smiles as the Birch girl rambles on, talking about anything and everything, from the new members to the Squirrel family who live near to her to the rising unrest among the Dryads of the Shuddering Woods as a nearby settlement of Dwarfs almost encroaches on their territory. She brushes and braids Susan’s hair with expert skill as she does so, and Susan can’t say she regrets taking her on as a lady in waiting.
The newest member of her household is chatty, that is certain, but there is a wealth of information in what she says, passed on by friends and family and even the wind and leaves themselves.
Susan’s eyes fall on the Rat who sits in the corner of the room, the lady dwarf on the stool next to her, and the Magpie in the window, all of whom are listening as well. She sighs and closes her eyes, relaxing back into her chair.
...
Gossip, Susan learned a long time ago, is a treasure trove of knowledge and information. Oh, it should be carefully parsed and certainly not be blithely believed, but once one’s got the hang of it, it’s a most valuable resource.
Susan thinks she might be the only one of their siblings who ever truly learned this. Even Edmund, for all his intelligence networks and secret informers, never completely stopped dismissing gossip off hand.
So when one of Susan’s new friends visits and immediately starts talking about this rumour or that, he usually just rolls his eyes and leaves the room.
But Susan just think of the chatty Birch Dryad she once knew, and the many other good friends besides, and she listens with rapt attention.
Rabadash smiles constantly, Susan has noticed.
He smiles as he shows her his home and he smiles as he asks her to dance and he even smiles when takes a step back and says she will retire to her rooms now, even as his eyes tell a different story.
Susan doesn’t let that stop her of course, but she does become a little more careful in his presence, smiles a little less, tries to keep her distance.
In the end, of course, it doesn’t matter.
...
Susan pushes her way through the crowd to reach the corner of the room, where she leans against the wall and closes her eyes for a second. After having danced non-stop for nearly an hour, she needs a breather.
When she opens her eyes again, they catch on a pair standing a little way to the left of her, far enough away that she can’t hear what they are saying over the tumult of the party, but close enough that she has a clear view of them.
Like a huntress who has never unlearned her trade, Susan hones in on the body language of the girl, which screams uncomfortable. The says something to the man leaning, almost looming, over her, clearly forcing a smile, but he grabs her arm and steps even closer to her.
Susan takes a step towards them without thinking, but before she can do anything the girl rips her arm loose and stalks off, the man laughing at her retreating figure.
Susan’s eyes track the girl as she leaves the room, making sure no one follows her. Only when the girl is safely out of sight does Susan relax again.
Then she moves towards the door, not feeling like partying anymore.
Susan paces through the halls of Cair Paravel, unable to sit still as she waits for news that should have come hours ago. She can’t say she isn’t used to it by now, isn’t used to stand by patiently as her siblings make war, but it never really gets any easier.
Of course, there are preparations to be made, as there always are: rooms to be prepped for the wounded, supplies to be stocked and ordered, healers and menders and cooks to be organized, messengers to be sent and information to be received and decided on. Even the walls need to be manned, or ready to be manned, and the castle secured, in case the worst should happen.
Susan is well versed in this and so are her people, which means things are running smoothly. A relief, to be sure, but it also means that there is not much for her to do anymore.
So Susan does what she always does: she prepares and she prays and she waits.
...
It is always a bit of a frantic, jittery chaos when the post comes. The girls in her room rush this way and that: the cupboards are organized and the rooms cleaned many times over, tea is made and set to the side and the doors and windows are checked continuously. Anything to keep their hands, and minds, busy.
It doesn’t get any easier here either. No one wants to receive bad news.
So Susan holds hands and soothes fears and she takes care of the girls as best as she can. And then they wait.