Narnia Preferences and Imagines

The Pevensies~2/5

Susan Pevensie

Not perfect Susan. There's no way Susan, who seems flawless in every respect, could hold any jealousy in her heart towards this innocent girl. Not the gentle Queen, whose compassion is a staple of her identity.

But yes. We all have secrets and this is hers. Queen Susan resents how put together the girl is. How she always looks stunning no matter where she is. She could be run over by a train and still look gorgeous. And Susan, though her looks far surpass most of those around her, is so blinded by her jealousy that her intricate dresses, hairstyles, and makeup are never enough to make her feel worth something when she's around Y/n.

She hates how composed she is in every situation. She takes compliments with gratitude and the worst of criticism with the upmost grace. It's never a tear or a jubilant laugh, but a simple smile or an otherwise unreadable face in the presence of the court. Susan, on the opposite hand, can't hold her poker face to save her life and simply has to hope no one can see the twitching corners of her mouth.

But to find out she's a Princess, that would change things. Susan hid behind the white lie she would love for her friend to be Queen. That she deserves this kingdom, if it is indeed her own. And while that is halfway true, a little voice reminds her that once she gets rid of her competition she'll be the fairest in the land again. No drastic measures. No rivalries. Just a simple memory to tell her so.

And so, Susan volunteered to go first. Once her friend has been lulled to sleep by the powers of the potion, she stepped forward and took her hand. After an inordinately long amount of time of seeing nothing, she opens her mouth to express her confusion, when she's sharply drawn into a scene that can only be described as a hidden memory:

The young looking Y/n sits alone in the parlor. Young as she was when they first met. Staring out the window in the direction the Pevensie's had left earlier that morning. She sits as daintily as one can in a chair as large as Peter's. Her frame being swallowed by worry that makes her seem small and frail.

They said they'd be back for lunch. That they could go onto the beach and have a picnic with all their favorite foods, but they never came. And when dinner rolled around, they still were nowhere to be found. Leaving her to sit and watch the slowly darkening horizon for any sign of movement.

She played with the lace of her dress as she impatiently awaited. She sat straight, with the weight of the world bearing down on her shoulders. She felt selfish upon wondering whether or not the Pevensie's would return or if she'd be the ruler. She knows it was decreed, by the high king himself, that if something were to happen to them, she would take control. But she didn't feel ready for that. And she could only hope that they would return to her and to their country before long.

Search parties came and went all throughout the night to no avail. It seemed there was no hope. And indeed it was all lost when a servant came to relay the news their horses had been found near a lamppost, but the Pevensie's were gone.

Throughout the telling of this story, that the servant did not seem to understand the full implications of, she sat perfectly still and stared. And for a while after the servant took his leave, she sat perfectly still and stared. For a while through the night, she sat perfectly still and stared. Even as the castle buzz went silent, she sat perfectly still and stared.

It was nearly sunrise when it hit her. Her friends, her family, were gone forever. Grasping her head in her hands she stood suddenly. Stumbling this way and that, as the entire room spins in her view, she knocks over Peter's stack of books and her unfinished chess game with Edmund. She let all her emotions well up inside, quickening her breath and misting her eyes. The realization she was alone. That she had to lead as if nothing was wrong. That they were gone forever and she'd never see them again. Her loves. Her friends. Her family. It all came out in one heart wrenching scream.

She stumbled back into the wall, accidentally ripping the curtain Susan slaved over picking out on her way down to the ground. She brought her knees up to her chest and sobbed. She cried and cried...and cried until she was empty inside and could only sit and stare.

And the next morning she squared her shoulders, wiped her puffy eyes, made her face as stony as she could, and forced herself to go meet her new subjects with optimism. Deciding that she had to be put together for their sake and that she would force herself to do so. No matter what. She would close herself off. She would close herself down. She wouldn't allow herself to get hurt again. And if she did, she wouldn't allow anyone to know. She would be a closed book.

There were tears pricking her eyes when Susan's vision faded. And though Lucy asked her what was wrong at the sight of her sniffling older sister, Susan could only move out of the way.

Her heart was torn for the girl in front of her and her jealousy was diminished. It was her who made this necessary. Her who made her feel as though she had to be perfect during every moment of her life. And for that she only felt guilty. She sat next to her oldest brother, burying her head in his neck to cry. Cry from heartbreak for her friend and cry from shame. Susan would no more be jealous of her dear friend without feeling guilty for being part of the reason she is the way she is.