The Deeper Magic

Susan's Troubles

"Lucy," Susan whispered. Her dress pooled around her feet in waves as she crouched over her hunched up sister. The light was still dim and her toes curled in her stockings from the cold air. The fire had burned out during the night, and everyone had been too spent and too asleep to feed it.

"Lucy, wake up." Her hand slid to her sister's shoulder, which slowly rose and fell. She shook her gently. 

One thing notable about one's first few days back in Narnia was that, once asleep, you were never quite sure whether or not everything had simply been a fantastical dream. The world pulled you in with no delay, but your mind pulled you out with the logical insinuation that it was just too good to be true. As such, your mind was in a stalemate until you were shaken awake by some foe or announcement or breakfast or sibling. And, you could be certain that that was exactly the case for Lucy.

Susan nudged her again, softly. She was hoping to convey that there was no current urgency, but in reality, she found herself feeling quite out of place without her. She had been in Narnia just as many times and just as long as her by that point, but the displacement she felt was quite unnerving. 

Susan herself didn't know it, but rather than it being simply the fish-out-of-water sensation that she was assuming it to be, it was actually the kind of uncomfortable feeling one would gain when they knew they had done something wrong and were feeling ever so embarrassed about it. The last thing on her mind at that moment was how she had previously, essentially, denounced Narnia, but really it should have been one of the first. People often prioritize seemingly more important struggles, such as big wars or conflicts or a broken sink that was leaking all over the place, but in actuality the thoughts in your own head more than likely ended up being the real issue. 

Susan watched her sister for a moment. She was the perfect image of peace. Her hair was spread in soft waves around her cheeks and her face was clear of any lines or worry and it was suddenly for a moment as if they were right back in their Golden Age, where there was just so much fun and joy and adventure. Other things too, of course, less fun things, because there were indeed battles and hard times, but in Narnia, nothing was simply ever the same. Good and bad could coexist and you would still never be left to doubt how wonderful your circumstances still were, compared to what they could have been. 

No matter how many times Lucy left and came back again, Susan knew that she would always belong in Narnia, and for that she felt slightly jealous. Why did it only seem to be so easy for her?

Susan slowly lowered herself back to the floor and rested her head on her arm, where her spot was now cold. Mr Tumnus's carpet was indeed very nice and fairly thick, but when you weren't moving it was quite easy for a chill to creep up on you. 

Around them, everyone else was spread out across the floor in a thin, disassembled half circle in front of the fireplace. It was now mostly dark save for a few swirling, humming coals that crackled and turned a deep orange and then back to black, depending on how close they were to the hearth and how much air they managed to grab from the rest. Thin lines of smoke arose in slow, whistling fumes up the chimney and the smell was now certainly embedded in their clothing, but it was much better than the lonely scent of a cold, damp winter. 

She and Lucy had ever so kindly been allowed the closest spot by the boys, and after moving the small little tea table and the two chairs they laid down on the left end. Peter took the spot closest to the door after fighting it away from Edmund and Caspian, and he lay now on his back with no signs of waking. Caspian was lying next to Peter, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, he too asleep. A sword was positioned between the two of them in case any unwanted person were to enter, since of the three of them they were the two best sword fighters. It was not Peter's sword, for Caspian had wisely come to the conclusion that two of the same sword would raise questions, but it was adequate nonetheless. A foot or so to his left Edmund clutched a pillow between his arms and his head. A soft snore sounded from his lips and his legs were sprawled out as much as the small space would allow, and a fleeting smile curved Susan's lips as she saw that despite the circumstances, he had no trouble getting comfortable.