Disclaimer: Not C.S. Lewis. Don't own Narnia.

A/N: I've been trying to write a Narnia piece for so long. This is just a stepping-stone hopefully. Susan PoV, Pre-Last Battle. Read, enjoy, let me know what you think.


Lucy had been valiant.

Edmund had been just.

Peter had been perfection itself, the magnificent.

As for herself she had been gentle, graceful, beautiful. She had been everything a woman was suppose to be, even when she had been only a young girl, a newly acquired crown on her head and homesickness in the pit of her stomach. But she had adjusted, taken it all in stride, because it was needed. Because even as the high kings and queen of Narnia the others still looked to her for motherly direction in the absence of any other source—yes even Peter, Narnia's golden king needed assurance and comfort from time to time.

Perhaps compared to battles and affairs of state it was little, but it was her role within the inner workings of their kingdom, and what she had to do she did flawlessly. Always at ready with a kind smile and a careful hand.

She grew comfortable in her role, and it became a part of her, as deeply rooted the gardens of Cair Paravel. Perhaps that was her mistake.

But it was torn from her, taken with all the abruptness of a stumble and a fall, and she found herself shaken on hands and knees at the base of a wardrobe.

Then it was time to adjust once more, only now it was a rather absurd matter of adjusting to the ordinary. It was a matter of not being effected when mother was there to tuck Lucy in at bedtime and no longer having to fuss about Peter and Edmund, who talked more often now of sports and friends rather than battles and treaties.

It was a matter of pushing aside the homesickness that resided in the pit of her stomach and trying to be girl when she had already been a woman.

It had been a struggle of course, there had been detours and stumbles but she learned.

She adjusted.

She learned to ignore the homesickness that was always present, learned to live with the constant feeling that something was missing from somewhere within her.

She learned to dance and dress and laugh, came to accept what was offered. Because Lucy was brave and Edmund was reasonable and Peter would always be wonderful but now there was no need for kind smiles or careful hands. Not in a world where there was someone else to play mother and millions more to personify beauty and grace and all the other things they entailed.

She was without a role in this day that came after waking and as such, she could not begrudged for trying to create one.

Perhaps that was her mistake.



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