pieces of stories that will never be written

fallen queen // susan pevensie (narnia)

A/N: This was actually an audition I wrote for a roleplay group on Instagram, but I think it's passable enough to post here.

It was late at night - or perhaps early in the morning when the call had come, the wind blowing cold through the window to her right, and the blankets kicked haphazardly to the floor sometime in her sleep. She awoke to pitch black and icy winds and the infernal ringing of the telephone. Swinging her feet over the side of the bed and pulling herself out, Susan walked lightly over to where the telephone was sat on the wooden shelf in her apartment, careful as not to wake her neighbours below.

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The handset was cold and hard against her palm, and she cringed slightly as she brought it to her face. "Miss Pevensie?" The voice on the other end was all business, monotone and emotionless. "This is she." Susan managed, groggily. "I'm sorry to inform you that there has been a rather awful train accident. Your family didn't make it." After those words she only vaguely registered the man saying that he was sorry - though he didn't sound sorry at all - and the clicking sound as he hung up on the other end.
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And there she stood for a good few minutes, phone pressed to her ear, dial tone sounding and wearing next to nothing beside her dressing gown at some ungodly hour of the morning. She felt nothing, only a numbness, disbelief. Slowly, shakily, she put the handset back down.
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Then the reality came crashing down and the pain hit her all at once. Her brothers, her sister, her parents, her annoying little cousin - they were all gone. The pain was unmatched by anything she had felt before, and the weight of it sent her crashing to the hard, wooden ground, tears streaming from her eyes. That was where Susan stayed for who knows how long, until the light began to shine through the windows, and the birds began to chirp in their trees. 

Wiping her eyes, she stood tall and cursed Aslan for his callousness. Any last bit of faith she had left in the lion - or the God, whichever he claimed to be had disappeared.

One deep breath after another, she managed to calm herself down, and walked into her room, eyes trained on the simple necklace lying on her desk. Consisting of a slim little chain and a lion's head pendant, it had been a gift from Peter - to keep Aslan close to her always, he'd said. Closing her fist around the cold silver of the pendant, she tossed it in the direction of the small trashcan in the corner of her room. She would never again need Aslan.