gryff_of_grace

08:48 pm: What's In a Kiss, chapter 6 - part I
Title: What's In a Kiss
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter/Susan, non-incestuous
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He always leaves her with a kiss. This Chapter - When Narnia celebrates an anniversary for the end of the White Witch's reign, a few of the visitors cause Susan to look at her siblings differently.
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
A/N: Hi, guys! I apologize so much for the wait for this one. I rewrote it close to five times and even had it betaed. But hopefully it is worth it, because it is a long chapter. Honestly, I tried to downsize it, but it just wouldn't work that way. Therefore, this chapter must be divided into two parts - the link to the second part will be at the end of this entry. Futher author's notes will be at the end of the part as well.

Chapter Six - Good Mornings, Part I: The Ball

It is a good morning.

Susan wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window and the sun teasing at her through the curtains. She dresses, humming to herself all the while, and is brushing her hair when Lucy and Edmund come to greet her.

Lucy, who had been up since sunrise, babbles on about the events of her own morning, which had included spending time with their visitors. For a week, Narnia had played host to many people from different countries, all having gathered to celebrate the anniversary of the White Witch's defeat, and the end of the Hundred Year's Winter.

So far, Susan had only met a few of their guests - mainly Lords and Ladies, for they were all staying in the castle. There was Lady Anel, who was incredibly beautiful and kind, and Prince Brin, who was Peter's age and quite charming. Susan had only spoken to him once or twice, but he and Lucy got on fairly well. He had her energy and lust for life, and the two of them were often seen in each other’s company.

Lucy speaks now of all the people Prince Brin introduced to her this morning - Mr. Delen, a bear who was quite the juggler; and Miss Ariana and her four children, all of who were tigers.

"And Susan, you should have seen it! Prince Brin brought along his dog, Phillipe, and he was so scared of Miss Ariana! Poor fellow. Of course, Phillipe isn't a smart animal - that is to say, he can't talk - but he is so cute!" Lucy's continues, bashfully proclaiming that Phillipe is the reason why her lovely green dress is so dirty; she hadn't been able to resist rolling around with him in the grass and mud.

"Prince Brin tried to talk her out of it," interjects Edmund, "because he didn't want her to get hurt, I suppose, but she didn't listen. But that's Lu for you." He shakes his head, looking over at Lucy fondly.

Susan smiles at Edmund and chides Lucy gently, but inwardly is thankful for her sister's fun and lively spirit. It's what makes Lucy, well, Lucy, and Susan hopes that it will dwell within her as long as she lived. She never wants her sister to change.

Really, though, this is a naive hope, for all of her siblings are changing. It's hard to believe that once upon a time, they had been in school, frightened of the War and treated like little children. It was a time when Peter was pinned down by taking care of his family, Edmund was bitter and resentful, and Lucy was just a little girl.

Now, Peter doesn't see his family as a burden; his siblings no longer weigh him down, but give him strength. He rules over Narnia confidently, leading all the charges on the battlefield and putting his countrymen before himself. Thankfully, he is more willing to accept help when it is required.

Edmund is no longer bitter or resentful, but feels blessed by all that he has. He places his trust in others easily, willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. He's quieter and more serious now, but he's Edmund, not the scared, insecure boy who used to pick mercilessly on others. He's patient and kind, and has developed roads throughout all of Narnia.

And, of course, there are the physical changes. Peter's round, boyish face is gone, and his hair is much longer, a far cry from the schoolboy cut he'd had in England; Edmund's getting taller and taller, which is a constant source of annoyance for Lucy, who complains that it's becoming more difficult to hug him properly.

But Lucy is changing, too, perhaps more than all of them. Just six months ago, little Lucy had officially become a woman. She had been quite tetchy for several days, which alarmed all of them. Edmund embraced the newer, moodier Lucy, saying that he preferred her to the old Lu. Peter, however, was quite concerned, and came to Susan, moaning that Ed had finally rubbed off on their poor, sweet sister.

When Susan sat back and explained gently to Peter why Lucy was acting this way, the blood drained from her dear brother's face. "Oh, no," he said, burying his face in his hands.

Now, Lucy stands only a few inches shorter than Susan. Her hair, chin length upon arrival in Narnia, stops halfway down her back and its color is a great deal lighter than before. Her cheeks are losing their baby fat, the tiny gaps in her teeth have almost completely disappeared, and her body is starting to develop soft curves.

Despite the new changes in her body, Lucy's heart remains the same - cheery, kind, and childlike in its innocence - but she is wiser now. She had developed a calendar for Narnia, which had been well received by all creatures of the country. Susan joked that a calendar would also help her to remember certain times of the month, a joke that Lucy, nor Peter, had appreciated.

Despite all of these changes - physical and not - the four siblings remain closer than ever. One thing that Susan relishes about their relationship is that they always tell each other everything, and are able to talk through any problem.

Lucy continues to ramble on and on about their visitors, Prince Brin in particular. Suddenly she stops, turning to grin at Edmund. "She's not even listening to a word I'm saying, is she, Ed?"

Edmund shrugs. "Well, you do talk an awful lot. That mouth of yours never stops moving, does it?"

Lucy responds in a very mature fashion - she sticks her tongue out at him.

Susan chuckles at the two of them, and draws her sister into a tender embrace. "Of course I'm listening to you, darling. I do love hearing you talk," she confesses. Susan glances over at her brother. "You, too, Edmund."

"But he doesn't talk!" exclaims Lucy.

"Perhaps not as much as you, dear sister, but I hope the two of you will always come to me."

Edmund rolls his eyes at the emotion in her voice, but Lucy squeezes her around the middle and laughs. "Of course we will, Su, of course."

Yes, Susan reflects, it is a good morning indeed.

--

When the ball comes, it is one of the most glorious Narnia has ever seen. The combined work of Susan and the servants of the castle can be seen in the decorations and the way the floor shines, and in the smiles that light up the faces of Narnia’s guests.

The chatter in the great hall echoes loudly off the walls, and the guests are split between eating and dancing. Susan marvels at the abundance of the food – heavy meats, chilled fruit, cheese, and plenty of faun’s wine.

As she eats, she looks out in front of her at the makeshift dance floor. Lucy is dancing merrily with Peter, whose cheeks are an unnatural rosy red. Susan wonders if he, like quite a few of their guests, has been affected by the faun’s wine. It is very strong, and Susan had learned a year ago that her tolerance for the alcoholic drink does not extend beyond half a glass.

Next to her, there is a glass of water, and she reaches for it. Then, she scoops up a handful of grapes, ready to pop them in her mouth one by one. But she hesitates. The presence of Lady Anel, seated at her right, is intimidating. The woman eats and drinks daintily, tiny bites and small sips. It has taken her forty minutes to eat a full slice of meat, and though Susan knows this is ridiculous, she wonders if she should pace herself in a similar fashion.

On Susan’s left side sits Prince Brin, who eats his food in a way that directly opposes Lady Anel. He tears into his meat with relish, and cares naught for manners; Susan, smiling, discreetly points out the bit of potato that sticks to his thin mustache. He wipes it away, laughing heartily. Then, he offers her a hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Queen Susan?”

Susan blushes in spite of herself, and folds her napkin to place it on the table. Just as she is about to accept his invitation, Lucy bounces over to the table and tugs Prince Brin’s ruffled sleeves. “Dear Prince, you simply must stop eating and come dance with me!” she says brightly.

Susan gives her sister a warm smile. Lucy looks simply lovely tonight, wearing a light blue gown that trails all the way down to the floor. Susan had helped her pick out the dress earlier, thinking that it brought out Lucy’s shining eyes. A silver sash is tied around Lucy’s waist to match her crown, and a darling necklace that Peter gave her on her last birthday against her throat. Her hair is in two braids, tied together by white flowers, and Susan thinks she looks nothing less than Queenly.

Susan exchanges a look with Prince Brin, and he nods knowingly. Then he takes Lucy’s hand in his own, says, “I was hoping you would ask me, your majesty!” and next moment, they are dancing.

Susan, chin resting on her hand, watches them for a short while, partly thankful that Lucy is the one dancing with the Prince. He is a lively dancer – the exact opposite of Susan – and Lucy is certainly able to keep up with him; they are in perfect sync, moving with each other as if they’ve been friends for years.

A tap on the shoulder distracts her from her thoughts, and Susan turns to look over her shoulder at Peter, who has plopped down next to her. Susan knows immediately that the faun wine has affected him most definitely – for he sits backwards in his chair, something he would never do sober, as it is not befitting to his status as High King.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Peter asks her, so loudly that she flinches. Susan debates whether she should dignify his question with a response. How she hates it when he is drunk.

Susan looks him directly in his bloodshot eyes, sighing. His cheeks are red from the wine, and his blonde hair sticks out oddly beneath his crown. Her maternal feelings tell her to smooth down his hair, but her frustrated, sisterly feelings prevent her from doing so. “You are truly magnificent,” she tells him.

The sarcasm oozing from her voice is lost on Peter. “Thanks, Su,” he gushes, rocking his chair in her direction. “You’re magnificent, too.” He grins widely at her, and musses her dark hair, and she has to fight the urge to slap away both of his hands.

Someone giggles, and Susan doesn’t think she’s ever been more embarrassed. Lady Anel looks at her, and all sorts of apologetic words race to the forefront of her mind, then cease, for she notices that Lady Anel is grinning rather widely at Peter. Susan presses a weary hand to her head as Peter tilts his chair closer to the Lady.

“Hullo, there,” he says huskily. Lady Anel blushes; Susan rolls her eyes.

“Hi.” The Lady’s voice is shy and demure, though still rather giddy.

Several seconds pass. Susan, awkward as she sits between her drunken brother and a flirty woman, reaches for her glass of water. She takes a long drink, and then chokes – for it is Lady Anel’s faun wine that she has seized. She expects Peter to take notice, to ask if her if she is okay, but he pays her no mind.

Now he is staring at Lady Anel in a way that is most improper; his eyes bore so fiercely into her that Susan can feel the other woman’s discomfort.

“Pardon me,” says another voice, and Susan closes her eyes in relief. It is Edmund.

The sound of Edmund’s voice seems to bring Peter back to reality. He looks away from Lady Anel, his eyes now glazed over almost completely. Susan offers him a glass of water, and rests a hand on his forearm as a reminder to drink slowly.

“Would you like to dance?” says Edmund, and Susan smiles, happy he has asked her.

“Of course I will,” purrs another voice, and Susan is bewildered. Her brother has asked the Lady Anel to dance, not her. She wonders if Edmund is ill, because never has he asked a female to dance before – unless said female was one of his sisters. She deduces that the faun wine has gotten to him, too, for his cheeks are just as rosy as Peter’s.

Unlike Peter, however, Edmund seems to be handling his alcohol intake very well. He stands before Lady Anel, one arm folded behind him, the other extended toward her. His back is arched in a respectful bow, but his eyes are focused on the object of his affection. Two emotions run through Susan: pride, at the King her brother has become, so mannerly and refined, and utter horror at seeing her baby brother asking a woman to dance.

“I would be honored, your majesty,” says Lady Anel, fluttering her eyelashes at him and placing her hand in his. Susan’s eyes widen as Edmund brushes his thumb along the Lady’s knuckles softly, eyes gazing at her intensely as he does so. They move to the dance floor, and Susan slumps in her chair, popping grapes into her mouth without a care in the world for propriety.

A loud giggle disturbs the air around her, and she can feel Peter’s breath in her ear. “Eddy fancies Lady Anel!” he whispers secretly.

Susan, pouting, throws another grape into her mouth. “Bite your tongue.”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day to arrive?” says Peter, squeezing her shoulders.

“Oh, do hush,” says Susan, slapping one of his hands. “Edmund’s young.”

Peter plops back down in his seat and holds out a hand. Susan reaches for another grape, and drops it into his open palm. He doesn’t move his hand, and she gives him another one. He puts them both in his mouth, and while chewing, speaks. “Edmund’s thirteen. He’s not that young. It might be different for girls, Su, but we men start early.”

Susan asks him to keep his voice down. “Has anyone prepared Edmund for this? He was only ten when we came to Narnia. Do you think that father…” and she blushes so much that she can feel it on the back of her neck, “had a talk with him?”

“What sort of talk?”

Susan can’t bring herself to speak of it any further (she feels like she might faint), and Peter points at her face. “Your freckles are gone, your face has reddened so!” he laughs. Of course, this only causes her to redden even more.

“Oh, jolly for me,” she snaps. “I’m so pleased that you find all of this so funny. You know perfectly well which talk I mean. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you. I’d prefer to have this conversation with Peter.”

Peter looks confused. “I am Peter, aren’t I?”

Susan scowls at him. “No. Peter would understand how important this sort of talk is – and how wrong it feels even to be having this conversation because Edmund is still young. But you can’t comprehend this, because you are not the logical, sensible Peter I know. You’re a slobbering mess, you reek of wine, and you’re behaving like a silly, ordinary boy.”

Peter looks highly offended at being called a ‘boy’ and crosses his arms, pouting down at the tablecloth. Susan glares out at the dance floor, waiting for her stare to fall on Edmund and Lady Anel, but Edmund is no longer dancing. Her heart starts to pound and she dearly hopes that he hasn’t taken Lady Anel somewhere to… and then her heart slows as she sees Lady Anel dancing with Oreuis.

Eager to know where Edmund is, she stands and walks away from the table, leaving Peter to mope by himself. Her feet lead her out of the great hall, and she steps outside. Sometimes, when the merriment of the Balls and parties gets to be too much for Edmund, one can find him sitting on the castle steps, lost in his thoughts.

Susan feels a surge of happiness when she sees that he is by the steps as she had suspected, but footsteps falter when she discovers he is not alone. In the moonlight, she can make out the black beard of Prince Brin’s face, and she retraces her steps as she recognizes they are deep in conversation, discussing something in low tones. She fully intends to leave them be, as she is not one to eavesdrop, but then she hears her name.

“I have to say that if you wish to court her, the decision is not mine. It is Susan’s.” Edmund taps the heel of his shoe on the stone steps, a sign of nervousness. He has never been good when it comes to her suitors.

“Queen Susan has a reputation for turning down any man that comes to call on her,” says Prince Brin, sounding troubled. “I should like to think that your majesty would put in a good word for me?” he ventures, patting Edmund on the shoulder.

“Any word I give will not be as convincing as your heart, sir. Treat her the way she deserves to be treated, and I am certain that if she shares your feelings, she shall say yes.”

“I see,” says Prince Brin, and then he falls quiet.

Edmund clears his throat after a long pause. “While we are on the subject of courting, I have something to confess.”

Prince Brin arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I – erm, I was entertaining the notion of – well, you see…”

“You plan to ask my cousin, the Lady Anel, the same question I plan to ask your sister, eh?” says the Prince with a light chuckle. “You mean to court her?”

Edmund nods, and Susan feels her chest tighten. Suddenly, she no longer desires to hear another word of this conversation. The very thought of Edmund courting someone is just too much to take.

She walks slowly back to the great hall, lost in memories. She can still remember the first time she laid eyes upon her brother – such a small baby he was, underweight, but even then his head was covered in thick dark hair. She remembers touching that hair, so soft on her fingertips. “Just like yours, Su,” their father had said, and, oh, how she smiled.

“Susan!” says a loud voice, and she jumps in shock. She has reached the great hall, and now Peter is making his way toward her, walking in an off-balance kind of way. She represses the urge to smile when she glimpses the clueless, awkward expression on his face as he attempts to avoid those dancing wildly around him.

He wore the same expression when he met Edmund for the first time. After father had announced that Edmund and Susan shared the same hair, Peter had pouted, thinking he had nothing in common with the baby. Their mother had to pull back Edmund’s cloth diaper and show him exactly how they were similar.

“What is it, Peter?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I have been searching for you all over,” he announces, slurring his words slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about Eddy – Edmund.”

Susan waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. You were right, after all. He’s just asking Prince Brin permission to court Lady Anel.”

Peter looks at her dazedly. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Well,” he grunts, “good for him. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I certainly didn’t talk to him about…well, you know. And I have no idea if father did, because he didn’t exactly sit us down at the same time. Eddy must have heard about it from someone else, because we simply don’t discuss those things.”

Susan is amazed at how sobered Peter seems to be as he speaks; the only indication of his inebriated state is the old nickname for their brother. He moves closer to her. “Susan?”

“Yes, Peter?”

He places a hand on her forearm, as if to brace himself. His blue eyes are protective and worried when she peers into them. “I…you know, those things? How Eddy and I don’t discuss them? Do you – do you ever talk about them with Lu-lu?”

Susan shakes her head avidly. “Certainly not! I would never - I doubt seriously that Lucy dwells on the subject. By the Lion, Peter! She's still so pure."

Peter puts a hand over his heart. “ Oh, thank Aslan.”

They laugh, though it is short-lived, for at this moment, Edmund enters the great hall. His face is pale, and his jaw clenched, as are the hands at his sides. His eyes look darker than ever, and even his hair seems to spark with anger. Susan exchanges a troubled glance with Peter, and wonders if they should go over and see what’s bothering him. Had Prince Brin denied Edmund his request to court Lady Anel?

The Prince is right behind Edmund, straightening his ruffled sleeves, and makes his way directly over to where Lucy is dancing with Mr. Tumnus. Lucy grins brightly at him, and accepts his proffered hands, but as the next song begins, Edmund swoops in. He grabs Lucy, pulling her across the floor in a most ungentle way. Something inside Susan flares, and decides to intervene, but Peter grips her shoulders, preventing her.

They watch as Edmund releases Lucy, and begins talking with her. The two of them seem to argue, ignoring everyone around them (which is fitting, for no one around them seems to notice their unusual behavior). Edmund crosses his arms, but is not allowed to stand this way for long; Lucy places one of his hands around her waist, taking the other in her own, assuming a dance position.

They begin to move around the floor, but their movements are slow and disenchanting. The entire time, Edmund glowers at Prince Brin over the top of Lucy’s head.

--

The festive party runs well into the next morning, and Susan is overcome with tiredness. Her whole body aches: her feet from dancing, her bosom from corset she’s been wearing for hours on end, and even the crown on her head, heavy upon her imperfect, uncurled hair.

Most of the guests in the hall, no longer dancing, are seated at their tables, fast asleep, having not made it back to their rooms. Susan notes that a few people are engaged in light conversation, not appearing tired in the slightest.

Edmund and Lucy are nowhere to be seen, having left shortly after two unenthusiastic dances. Peter had gone to search for them, but when he did not return, Susan went looking for him, only to find that he had fallen asleep outside Edmund’s locked door. Knowing it would be unsightly for any of their guests to see the High King in such a state, Susan attempted to carry him to his chambers. She half-carried, half-dragged him down an entire corridor before a kind guard offered his assistance.

“If you see King Edmund or Queen Lucy, please inform me,” she had told the guard, returned to the great hall, needing to keep up appearances for the sake of their kingdom.

Now, as the Ball dissipates, she can see that she is no longer needed. She decides to step outside for a few moments, and then take up searching for her younger brother and sister. She wants to find out why Edmund was behaving so strangely, so infuriated.

A voice catches her attention and she recognizes it as belonging to Prince Brin, who is hurrying toward her with a wide smile etched upon his face. Clearly whatever had happened between him and Edmund isn’t affecting him in the slightest. This doesn’t seem odd to Susan – for Prince Brin seems a happy fellow all the time.

“Where are you off to, Queen Susan?” he asks.

“I’m taking a walk.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she says, a little nervously. Susan is aware that he means to court her, but she hopes that he waits a while before asking her. She has always been particular about the men who come to call on her, and though she thinks she could like Prince Brin, she wants to get to know him first.

She also wants to know what happened between himself and her brother, though she really knows it should have no bearing on her relationship with Prince Brin. And if she asks Edmund about it, he would shake a finger, informing her that it is none of her business.

Susan leads the way out of the castle with a small sigh, the Prince not far behind. She lifts her skirts slightly as she descends the steps, smiling at the sight before her – a lone tree stands green and firm a few yards from the castle, and Edmund and Lucy are leant up against it, sleeping soundly.

Looking at the two of them makes her feel so relieved that she suddenly finds herself beaming. The sun on her face is warm and soft, the air so clear. Smiling at the Prince, she crouches down to take off her shoes, and he gives her a look that is most amusing.

Susan smiles up at him, not at all surprised by his expression. She doubts that he often sees Queens running around barefoot, but there are times when she simply cannot help herself, when she has to feel blades of grass against her heels and sand in between her toes. It’s silly, but whenever she is barefoot, something inside of her loosens, and she feels free, closer to Narnia.

She reaches up to take off her crown as well, an action that is decidedly more shocking. It is an action that only her siblings ever see, and it transforms her from Queen Susan into just Susan. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like Prince Brin can understand this.

She stands, shoes in one hand, crown in the other, saying nothing to him. He raises his eyebrows, and then she responds in kind, which makes him laugh. “I thought you had a reputation for following proper etiquette,” he says.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. No one has ever spoken of you taking off your shoes in front of men, or daring to remove your crown in public.”

“Public?”

Prince Brin points in a direction to Susan’s far left where the fauns are gathered, playing their flutes and dancing merrily around a fire that’s been crackling for hours.

“Well, I am Queen. I shall do whatever I like,” she says airily, only partly believing her words. In truth, Prince Brin is right – normally she prides herself with following the proper etiquette, but something about being around the Prince makes her feel different. He is so carefree, so much like Lucy, that it is contagious. Indeed, he even looks young. His black beard and mustache are marks of a man, but his face is still round. He’s also not particularly tall, standing only an inch taller than her, and his face is still round. His brown eyes are not hardened with age and responsibility, but shine with happiness.

She tells him this and he chuckles. “I am perhaps not as carefree as you might think,” he confesses. “I think I am only this way because I am here in Narnia. It is such a beautiful place.”

Susan nods again, looking up at the sky. The sun is rising, and the sky is a mass of bright pink and orange. The trees dance in the wind, their movements causing a distinct humming sound in the air. Birds flitter about, joyous in the sky, looking black and beautiful against the sun. As she takes her gaze away from the sky in front her, she sees fields of green to her left, their borders marked by vast forests; to her right is the sea, blue and sparkling in the morning light.

“You speak rightly about my country, Prince Brin,” says Susan after a long moment, glancing back at him. “It is beautiful.”

He says then, in a low voice, “As a boy, I heard of Narnia’s beauty, before the long winter, but I didn’t believe it. And just months ago, I heard of your beauty, but I didn’t believe it, either. No woman could be that beautiful, I thought. But I stand before you now, and I see that I was mistaken.”

Though Susan is still not ready for the Prince’s proposal of courtship, she is flattered by his compliment. She blushes in spite of herself and smiles up at him. Then, the smile falls from her face.

“What happened?” she asks, concerned, touching his cheek. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but now she sees the large, blue-purple bruise. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, it is nothing, nothing, just a trifle,” begins Prince Brin, and Susan touches the bruise gingerly – then, someone is tugging hard on her arm.

The firm hand has wrapped itself around her wrist in a strong and unbearably tight grip. Confused, she looks up to find Edmund, who glares fiercely at Prince Brin. Next moment, her brother has dragged her far away from the Prince, and in the direction of the dancing fauns.

Once he releases her, she rubs her arm. “Ouch, Ed, how dare you grab me in such a way! What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” demands Edmund, pointing down at her shoes. “Put those on. And why aren’t you wearing your crown?”

“What are you - ” she says, as Edmund practically shoves the crown on top of her head

“Stay away from Prince Brin,” he warns, his expression dark.

Susan narrows her eyes as she stares up at him; though he towers over her by a foot, Edmund is younger than she, and he will not order her around. She can speak to whomever she pleases.

"King Edmund," she begins, using his title since they are within earshot of several fauns, "I am a free woman and you best to remember that.”

Edmund contemplates her for a long moment, and then says, "I don't like him."

"You hit him last night, didn’t you?” she says angrily. “The bruise on his cheek – that was your doing!”

Edmund’s only response is a leveling glare, which tells Susan all she needs to know. “Why would you do that?” When he still doesn’t answer, Susan adds, “What did you quarrel about last night?”

Edmund kicks up some dirt angrily, but does not break their eye contact. “I will not speak of it. Just believe that my actions were warranted.”

“No, I will not.” She shakes her head. “If you don’t wish to speak of it, that is your choice. Either way, it as nothing to do with me. It is between the two of you.”

Edmund simmers. “Susan,” he says, and she can tell he is struggling to maintain his patience, “I am asking you to stay away from Prince Brin. Grant me this.”

“You are not asking. You are demanding. I will not be demanded.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” says Edmund.

Susan rolls her eyes. “Because there’s nothing to listen to! If you told me why I should stay away from him, I would consider it. Saying that you don’t like him isn’t good enough – I need a reason.”

“Of course!” bellows Edmund, throwing up his hands in the air. “A reason! I don’t know; let me think – how about the fact that I’m your brother? For goodness’ sake, if it were Peter asking, you’d listen! Why can’t you have faith in my judgment? Everyone else does.”

“I have faith in your judgment, Edmund,” says Susan, “when it is fair and just. You are far from that right now, and I do not wish to discuss this any longer.”

“Susan!” says Edmund desperately, grabbing her wrist again. She flinches, for it still hurts from the first time he grabbed her.

“Let go!” she shouts, and he releases her at once, no doubt shocked by her raised voice.

“Edmund,” she grits out, “I will say this once, so please listen. It would do you well to remember that Prince Brin is a guest in this castle and should be treated accordingly. Secondly, if you want someone to listen to you, or have faith in you, use your words. Only barbarians use force, and it is never warranted. I am your sister, your older sister, and will not be manhandled. You are a King. Act like one.”

Edmund looks properly ashamed, and lowers his eyes to the ground. He kicks up the dirt, more softly this time, and glances back at her. “Susan, I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology. I understand your temper, for it is the same as mine. Just don’t do it again, and don’t ever do it to Lucy, the way you did last night. That is unforgivable.”

She watches Edmund, waiting for a reaction, but all the fight seems to have left him. Susan ponders whether she was too hard on him. She longs to reach out and comfort him, but she feels this might diminish her words – words that she needs him to understand. Finally, he nods, his expression even more shameful.

“I know,” he says, face pale. Softly, Edmund takes her hand and examines the underside of her wrist. Susan stands quietly, letting him. His fingers tremble as he touches the light purple bruise starting to form, and he gives her a somber look that makes her heart ache. “There are a lot of things I’ve done that are unforgivable,” he adds.

He drops her wrist and walks away, head bowed, and Susan watches as his frame become smaller and smaller against the horizon. Her bare feet are sunk in the grass, and her hair blows in the breeze, but this matters not, for her heart has never felt heavier, and she suddenly feels very, very tired.

--


She tells Prince Brin that she needs to rest, and he nods in understanding and goes on his way. Susan, too tired to walk all the way to her chambers, curls up next to Lucy by the tree.

When she wakes later in the morning, Lucy is gone. Susan straightens, wincing at the pain in her back and her wrist. There is pain in her head, too, a headache shaping near her right temple. The sun’s rays, bright and biting now, are of no help. She blinks, trying to adjust to the light, and then picks out of the bits of bark in her tangled hair.

She stands, leaning against the tree for support. Her legs are shaky, reminiscent of sea legs, and she picks up her shoes. She knows she should go inside and clean up – what a sight she must look – but instead, she chooses to go the beach. The beach is a place where Susan has always been able to clear her mind and gain perspective – and how she needs perspective, for now she has no idea how to go about things with Prince Brin, or how to speak in front of Edmund.

She is surprised to find Lucy on the shore, sitting alone with her feet buried completely in the sand.

"May I join you?" she asks, and Lucy looks up at her. But she says nothing.

Susan next asks her if she knows anything about Edmund’s quarrel with Prince Brin, but Lucy gives an uncaring shrug. Susan frowns.

She sits down next to her sister, asks if something is wrong. Lucy shakes her head, and quietly says that everything could not be more perfect.

But Lucy was not one made for lying, and Susan can see right through her. Lucy is hiding something from her, something distressing. Her bright eyes are sorrowful today, and the glow that normally surrounds her, that lights her up from the inside out, is missing.

"I only wish to help, Lu,” says Susan, her voice nearly breaking. Things are bad enough with Edmund – she cannot have things bad with Lucy, too. “Talk to me, dear one, the way you've always been able to."

Susan gives her hand a light squeeze, but Lucy doesn't squeeze back the way she normally does. Instead, she stares out at the ocean, looking much older than her years, and says, "You wouldn't understand, Susan. Just let it lie."

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Tags: chaptered fic, fandom: chronicles of narnia, peter/susan, rating: pg-13