Disclaimer: I am not CS Lewis, nor do I get money to write this.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: And thus, the story of Susan Benbow nee Pevensie comes to an end...

Susan couldn't keep the smile from her face as she watched Rose dress, the newly turned twenty-four year old was beautiful, and her wedding dress only emphasized that. An empire waist design like her mothers had been, Rose had favored Celtic knot work, to honor her fiancé's Scottish heritage. The under dress was made of a linen and silk blend, with a band of golden knot work at the waist and the hem of the skirt. The narrow sleeves were held close at her wrists with matching pieces. The sleeveless, sheer over dress was more like a robe, with a clasp holding it together just under her bust in the shape of a lion's head. The final, and most fitting, piece was the veil, held in place by Susan's crown.

"You look radiant," she said, "Lioness."

"Mum," Rose said, nearly wining, "you said you'd stop that."

Susan coughed, "I'm sorry, Rose. It's just, you're the Lioness, and I can't help but name you so."

"If I'm the Lioness, who are you?" Rose asked.

"The Gentle," Susan said, softly. She slipped her hand under the blanket that covered her lap, and pulled something out, "Look what I got from Jarrod today."

Rose picked it up, "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe," she read, "by C.S. Lewis. They published it!"

"Yes," Susan said. "They'll be publishing all seven books, actually."

"That's incredible," Rose said, she opened the book and flipped through it. "Why C.S. Lewis, though?"

"C for your father, Cristobel, and S for Susan; and Lewis for your brother," Susan replied simply.

Rose nodded and sat down, "Do you, do you think he would have been a good man?" She asked, softly.

"He is a good man," Susan replied, "In Heaven; I imagine he's one of the best." She touched her daughter's arm, "It's time, though. Daniel's coming to push me into the church."

Someone knocked on the door and it opened slightly, "Rose, Mum, it's time," Daniel said.

"Come on in," Rose said, "we're dressed."

Looking well turned out in his RAF uniform, Daniel strode in, and stopped, "Rose," he managed.

"What?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow with all the authority that being the oldest had given her.

"You look spectacular," Daniel managed; his eyes drifted upwards, "Is that…Mum?"

Susan smiled, "Yes, Daniel, that is the wreath I wore at my own wedding. It belongs to Rose now."

The siblings exchanged a glance, uneasy at the reminder that their mother didn't have much time left. Susan insisted she would see her daughters married, but as the disease stole her strength, and recently her legs, the rest of the family wasn't sure. Daniel caught himself and walked over to stand behind his mom, "If Rose gets your wreath," he began.

"Janie will have her own legacy," Susan replied, thinking of a black velvet box hidden in the attic; "when she's ready." Although it didn't seem that her fair haired daughter would settle down any time soon. Janie was a busy woman, studying at Oxford and seemingly destined to find her success without love.

As Daniel pushed Susan's chair into the chapel where Father Ryan would marry Rose and her Scotsman, Ari, Susan reflected on her family. Rose had become a teacher, and planned to continue after her marriage, at least, until the first baby was born. Then the pair would settle down at Ari's family home and Rose would raise children and Ari would help his father with the family's textile business. Edward was on his way to being a lawyer, much like the uncle he favored, and Eric worked for Scotland Yard, on his way to being, if not famous, then certainly one of the best. As joint heirs of Edmund, Susan thought they were well suited. Janie was determined to be a lawyer as well, although it was hard to find anyone to take her seriously; except Susan. Daniel had joined the RAF and took to the sky like he had been born there. He reminded Susan of Peter, right down to having the same golden hair and blue eyes.

As the wedding march began, Susan turned her attention back to the present and turned slightly to watch Phillip walk Rose down the aisle.

Susan did see Jeanie married, and had anyone asked, she would have been rather smug, after all, she had seen Jeanie and Peter, Emily's son, together years before anyone else. And if there was a bit of an age difference, it didn't bother the young couple. Jeanie wore her mother's wedding dress and a silver wreath nearly identical to Rose's golden one. Susan did not live much longer, however. She did meet the woman Eric eventually married, but never saw it happen. The wasting disease claimed her life as she slept, her breath slipping away from her with a single word, "Aslan."

She was buried with her family in the church yard, with a simple, but elegant tombstone bearing the epitaph, "The Gentle".

In another world, Susan stood in an orchard filled with the white blossoms of spring. She wore a wine red gown and in her hands was a familiar ivory horn. She took a deep breath, relishing in the ease she did so, and then blew the horn. Its clear ringing notes echoed over the orchard and expanded outward. All across Narnia, people stopped to listen, and then the celebrations began. Queen Susan had come home at last.