Further Up & Further In

Flowers For Her Grave: Chapter 2

Susan could never make up her mind on the hardest part of returning to England. For one thing, it was a bit of a culture shock, returning to the age of cars and phones and electricity. The abnormality of these things and her lack of understanding made her feel even more like a child. And that, in itself, was a whole other matter. What bothered her most about her age was that grown-ups didn't take her seriously anymore. Even as a child in Narnia, she was respected as a Queen, but in England she was always expected to be seen and not heard. When she offered her opinions on politics, the adults would shut her down. "Pretty girl," they'd chide her, "you can't be expected to know anything about this. Go play with your sister and brothers. This is not talk for children's ears."

And then there was that. Pretty. The word made her feel tiny. Being pretty was the most useless thing she could be, and it meant nothing. Pretty. They meant to be kind, she knew, but "pretty" was an insult after princes had literally gone to war for love, (or, as she knew, lust) for her. Susan didn't want to be the pretty one. She wanted to be beautiful. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted boys to buy her gifts and offer her kingdoms for the radiance of her smile. She wanted to be unstoppable.

But lastly, upon returning home, she finally remembered all those things she had forgotten: birthdays, months, anniversaries, names, places, and, most importantly, her parents. Her own family had faded from her mind when she was Queen Susan, and she hated herself for it. How had she let herself forget? She should have pressed harder to make her siblings go to the lamppost that second year, and all the years after. She should have talked to them more often about life back in England. She should have fought for those memories.

Which is why, during that first year in England, she spent every moment she could with Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, talking about Narnia. She tried not to focus too much on what must have been happening there in the present, for she couldn't bear to think of the Narnians who missed her, or how they may be struggling without their royal family. Instead, she held firm to the memories.

"Do you remember that afternoon with the Beavers?" She'd begin, and the others would join her, laughing at their adventures, both homely and otherwise.

Peter would say, "How about our journey to visit the giants?" and Lucy would tell the others all over again how funny they were.

Then Edmund would goad Susan, saying, "Do you remember when Rabadash attacked Archenland? I must say, Su, I never did understand what you saw in him as a human, but he did make a rather fine looking donkey!"

Finally, Lucy would sigh, "Oh, Susan, do you remember when Mr. Tumnus took us to dance with the fauns? Oh, and the trees! It was such a beautiful night."

Susan wouldn't forget. How could she?

So when, nearly a year later, they found themselves being whisked away by magic once again, the memories were still very fresh in her mind. Perhaps this made it worse to find Narnia in disarray. Though she never said it out loud, Susan had often hoped, in her heart of hearts, that they would return, and it broke her heart when she discovered she'd never see Cair Paravel, or the Beavers, or her other friends again.

For this reason, even once Narnia was largely renewed with Caspian as its king, it no longer felt like home. Susan Pevensie did not belong in Narnia anymore.

Which, as fate would have it, was exactly what Aslan said to her. "You've grown up, my child," he told her, his voice like sunlight. "You've learned all you can from this world. It is time you returned to your own."

Though she felt this in her heart, Susan still argued. "But Aslan, what if they need me again? I'm a queen here. They need me. Narnia needs me." She didn't tell him that she needed Narnia, because she hated to think that it might be true.