Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, or The Five Students. Belongs to all people who own them.

A/N: This idea came to me during an English lesson, a chapter for each verse of the poem The Five Students by Thomas Hardy. Please leave a review to tell me what you think :) All concrit is welcomed, but not flames. The world's going green, and flames aid Global Warming. Really, not good.

Enjoy:

The sparrow dips in his wheel-rut bath,
The sun grows passionate-eyed,
And boils the dew to smoke by the paddock-path;
As strenuously we stride, -
Five of us; dark He, fair He, dark She, fair She, I,
All beating by.

(The Five Students, Thomas Hardy – 1st Stanza)

XxX

When I shut my eyes I can Narnia. I can feel the wind on my face, tugging at my long hair, drifting over my face. There is peace throughout the land, the trees are dancing, the fauns are playing, the centaurs are galloping; everything is where it should be in Narnia, the magical world beyond my own. The sun is beaming onto the land like a mother looking onto her child, there isn't a cloud in the blue, flawless sky. I can see the flowers alongside the path which I am standing on blooming, the colours and shapes radiating life into the world. I walk along this path, the gravel under my feet not disturbed by my movement. Here, in this dream I can run, I am free from pain, I can see the world in its best light.

Then I see the castle, the castle that stands proud on the cliff-top, its marble walls gleaming in the sunlight, the proud walls telling all who look upon it that the rulers of this land are ready to protect its peace, its ambience, and the life that resides within its borders.

I imagine myself inside the castle, and I am instantly there. This is how I know it is a dream around me, just a wonderful creation and not reality. In this castle, I can see the high vaulted glass ceiling, and the flowers that adorn the walls in their baskets. There are many people rushing in and out of the corridors, attending to their duties. However, it is not the magnificent scenery around me that catches my attention, but the four people sitting on the thrones.

There was a dark haired youth sitting on the throne to the left, next to him was an imposing figure with blonde hair. On the right, was a young, fair haired girl, and left of her was a dark haired woman. They all wore crowns of precious metals on top of their heads, the sunlight glittered off them, diverted into thousands of different directions.

I walked up the hallway, towards the four people. Nobody seemed to notice me, it was as if I was a ghost in their world, a wisp of air an nothing more. My feet did not make a noise as I walked along the stone floor. Surprisingly, I was able to walk as well as I had done when I was young, my aging bones not constricting my movements. However, my hands, and the rest of me, still showed the signs of aging, the wrinkled skin and the grey hair reminding me that I was still old, as if my sub consciousness was not allowing myself to be confused by the dream.

I walked up towards the dais. The four monarchs were unmoving, unblinking, like statues of a former age. I peered closely at the woman with brown hair, my brain trying to fit the recognition and a name together. She had a calm, almost gentle expression that radiated peace to all who looked upon her, even if she wasn't moving. I gently put my hand up to touch her, to see if she would respond to my movement. My wrinkled hand reached out towards her face, but just before I could touch her I withdrew my hand again in fright as my eyes witnessed the impossible.

It was like I had touched a still lake. Ripples were starting to radiate outwards, warping the scene around me, the colours all merging into a vibrant swirl as I stayed ridged with shock. I wanted shut my eyes to the confusing array of colours and images before my eyes – the monarchs' were starting to distort, their images pulled and twisted until they too were part of the colour around me. I couldn't however, as the gaze of the brown woman held me in a stare. I could feel my heart beat faster and faster as panic coursed through my veins. The tornado around me increased in tempo, the swirling panic causing me to feel dizzy; but I could not avert my gaze.

Then, before she too was consumed in the colours, she uttered one word that struck like a knife to my heart.

"Traitor."

My eyes snapped open as I tried to calm my breathing. I had endured another nightmare, another dream of that foreign land, that Narnia. My old hands were still shaking from the panic induced from the nightmare; I was unable to stop them.

It was then I recognised the face.

I recognised the brown hair, the brown eyes, the kind composure, the throne, and the life.

It was me, before the accident, before the time I had been told I could never return; before I had lost all hope.

My name is Susan Pevensie, the girl who lost belief.