Author's Note: Yes, this is now complete - after more than a month, too! Sorry I took so long. I'll post this entire peice on my blog as soon as I format it right.

So what's next for me? Well, I'm still posting segments of my old SG-1 fics, and I have a LOTR one I need to post... but more importantly, I have a Narnia epic in the works! Or mini-epic, rather, but I'm still excited about it. Hopefully I'll be able to post chapter one next week!

Happy reading - and reviewing :)


And what of me?

My family is gone, taken from me in one cruel blow of fate.

What will I do now? How can I go on?

I stare at the portraits on my dresser. I'm the only one left.

Father, Mother, Peter, Edmund, Lucy, even Eustace, Jill, Professor Kirke, and Aunt Polly – all gone.


I see other pictures there, too – my friends from school, and Johnathan – dear Johnathan!

I pick up the picture and run my finger over the print of his handsome face. I know he's outside now, waiting for me to come out, wanting to whisper words of comfort and love in my ear.

But how can I let him? What could he do? He never really knew my family – no one did. He knew Peter as a classmate, not as High King. He knew Edmund as a friend, not as the wise counselor and ruler of Narnia. He knew Lucy as a younger sister, not as the valiant, truth-seeking Queen that she was.

And he knows me as Susan Pevensie. Does he really know me as I am?

I cry as I remember who I was, once upon a time.

I was Queen Susan the Gentle, yet I was not afraid to use my bow in battle for the sake of my family and friends. I was loved by my countrymen, and I loved them too.

What happened to me?

I know, deep down inside.

I stopped believing.

I lost faith in miracles, in magic, in Narnia, and even in Aslan himself. I couldn't accept that it had all been real.

But now I have to.

I can't believe that they're dead and gone. I know they've gone somewhere – because I know Aslan couldn't have let this happen without a reason.

I have to believe.

As I look at the portraits on my dresser, the faces blur beneath my tears.

But now they are tears of joy.

I know they're with Aslan. I can feel his Lion's strength entering my veins.

I am Queen Susan of Narnia, and suddenly – for the first time in a very long time – I want to go back there.

To touch the Lion's mane and tell him thank-you.