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Oftentimes, Susan forgets how old Narnia truly is.
She knows, realistically, that it existed a long time before Lucy found it in the wardrobe. It must have. If what she knows of Narnia's history is correct, then Narnia was already centuries or millenniums old. The White Witch had to have time to take over the world. Susan knows that.
Sometimes, though, she finds herself wondering if it's all a lie, and Narnia exists for only her and her siblings. If it's all fake. A trick or a dream. She wonders how Narnia was created—with a big bang? Or perhaps it was created with a pen and a piece of paper. Was it magic that brought this fairytale to life? Were they ever meant to discover it at all?
She'd ask Aslan, if he'd stuck around. If he was even real in the first place.
Sometimes, she wonders if this is a punishment. Introduce her to a perfect world just to spit her back out and force her to breathe in air that doesn't fit the shape of her lungs. Or England was the punishment and Narnia was real all along. A nightmare or a dream. Susan doesn’t find either of those options appealing.
She’ll set the thought aside for now. Susan gets caught up in her thoughts all too often that she finds it best, in the moment, to focus on something else. To keep herself grounded. She’ll linger on the possibilities when it’s night and she’s staring up at the stars.
Today, however, is the second day of their trek to Calormen—the first one since Susan’s return. They’re already halfway through Archenland. If Susan remembers correctly, the plan is to stop at a market today for more supplies that they’ll surely need during the time it will take them to cross the Great Desert.
It was, surprisingly to Susan, the Tisroc that had invited them. She doesn’t yet know his name, but she has hopes he is not like Rabadash.
“Not much longer now,” says Edmund ahead of her, far too confident for a man—boy—who hasn’t been here in centuries.
Their horses trot along a path in a somewhat wooded area. Edmund’s hair is slick with sweat, and his shirt sticks to his skin. His tunic is laid across the horse’s neck. Lucy, also on a horse ahead of Susan, is next to him. Her hair is pulled up off her neck with a ribbon and the sleeves of her dress are rolled up to the elbows. Her cloak has long since been forgotten, tucked just underneath her to give her extra padding (she always used to complain about how uncomfortable she finds saddles. She doesn’t complain like that anymore. Susan assumes it’s because she’s too grateful to be back in Narnia to care about something so simple).
Susan herself is uncomfortable under the sun. The humidity is oppressive, and Susan almost wishes she’d stayed behind. She’s wearing a thick blue dress not at all made for this weather. She’ll have to find a change of clothes at the market in Archenland.
Caspian and Peter are much further ahead than the rest of them.
(They’d argued about that before they set off on their journey, Susan remembers. Peter had wanted to bring up the rear—he’s much more used to staying further back and making sure everyone else is safe. Caspian had wanted to go in front. He claimed that it would be easier to “keep everyone safe” if they were the first ones to fall into a potential trap, or talk to a potential threat. Peter argued that he wanted to be able to see everyone. Susan doesn’t know the final reason they decided to go in front, though she’s not sure why they hadn’t just split up. It’s not like anyone was forcing them to both be either in the back or the front.)
Lucy gives a delighted sort of chirp in reply to Edmund’s observation. “Good! My legs are falling asleep.”
Susan doesn’t doubt that. Lucy had never been a fan of long journeys during their first reign, either. Sure, she enjoyed the action that came after travelling, but she never cared for the time in between. Susan can’t blame her. She supposes no one really likes the journey—Lucy’s just the only one to voice it. Susan admires that about her. While it’s not like Susan keeps her thoughts to herself, Lucy is simply far more vocal. People listen to Susan implicitly. Lucy has to fight to be heard.
They continue.
—
It takes longer than Susan would have liked, but they eventually reach a busier town in Archenland. They aren’t met with much of anything—Susan figures they don’t recognize them, or that they don’t care much about their presence. Susan appreciates that.
Peter offers to stay behind with their horses when they stop. No one bothers with an argument, as he seems set on it, and they dismount.
When they reach the market, Lucy is practically vibrating with excitement. She’ll likely spend the money on her person purchasing items she won’t use, at least not immediately—or maybe she’ll trade for it. Susan’s not sure if it’s trade or money anymore. She brought both tucked in her satchel just in case.
And of course it’s Lucy that skips in ahead of the rest of them. Caspian trails behind her closely and laughs along with her. They’re speaking loudly, but not loudly enough for Susan to make out what exactly they’re saying. Caspian keeps a hand on her shoulder as she leads them through the crowd. Susan loses sight of them.
“I don’t imagine they’ll be getting supplies,” Edmund says with a fond sigh. He’s fallen in step next to her. “No, Lucy will probably get more jewelry and trinkets than she’ll ever need, and Caspian will be too busy indulging her to buy something useful.
Susan gives a small hum of agreement. “We shouldn’t spend too long here if we want to reach Calormen in a timely manner.” She pauses for a moment as someone steps on the hem of her dress. A deep frown appears on her face. “Though I do need new clothes.”
Edmund snorts good-naturedly. “Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find some.” And then Edmund pauses, his eyes flickering past the side of Susan’s head. “ I’ll go find some food, you get a change of clothes, and we’ll meet back over there,” he says, gesturing towards a wooden oval gazebo with a nod. Susan spares it a glance, nods, and Edmund leaves.
Once Susan is alone, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. She straightens herself and turns away from the crowd, gaze scanning over the tops of heads for any vendors selling clothes. It’s not too hard to locate one, then another, and another. Susan takes off towards the one closest to her.
She used to stop here or places like here every time she visited Archenland and Calormen during her first reign. It’s easier to connect with people in places like this that may not necessarily know her as a Queen. They know her as a customer here—a well paying customer at that.
She approaches the vendor with her eyes scanning the shirts hanging up on the back of the little cart. What catches her eyes in the white one in the right corner. It looks loose and opaque, but not thick; perhaps made with silk. The sleeves hang limp by its sides. They’re longer sleeves, but they puff out a bit because of the cuffs at the bottom. Susan tilts her head to the side as she observes it. The sewing is a bit sloppy, but not bad. Not amateur.
“Hello,” she greets the vendor warmly. He’s an older man with no hair on the top of his head, but some on the sides of his head. He’s rounder and stands up from the stool he’s been sitting on when Susan greets him. “What would you like for that shirt hung up right there on the right?”
He gives her a shirt in exchange for the ring on her middle finger. She doesn’t mourn its loss—it was a simple solid gold band, nothing too interesting about it. There was no special meaning to it. She could easily have another made (and it’s that thought that makes her realize exactly how privileged her life is here. In England, her mother probably would’ve had the same reaction to the ring as the man had. In England, Susan herself would think of the ring as a treasure).
She buys a pair of pants from a different vendor with money instead of an item of hers. They’re very loose at the top, but more fitted at the calves and ankles, made with brown canvas fabric. They’re men’s pants according to the vendor, but they’ll do well enough. Susan isn’t looking for something to wear to court—she just needs something practical for this journey and ones following.
The clothes hang over her forearm while she pads over towards the gazebo. Edmund hasn’t arrived yet, so Susan decides to kick off her boots and leaves them by the steps. She sets her satchel and belt down next to them, then pulls her new pants on under her dress. She pulls her dress off fully next, somewhat thankful for her undershirt despite how it sticks to her skin, then puts the shirt on next.
It doesn’t surprise her how much cooler she feels in lighter clothes. She doesn’t look forward to carrying her dress on her arm for the rest of the time they remain at the market, but she decides that it’s worth it if she no longer has to wear it.
She slips her boots back on and tucks the cuffs under the leather. Her belt and satchel are next. Once she stands back up, she’s greeted with the sight of Edmund moving towards her.
There’s a bag on his shoulder with a few things poking up against the sides. In one of his hands is a new waterskin. In the other, he holds an apple. He doesn't warn her before he tosses it, but she catches it easily anyway.
“Got some fruit,” he says, “and nuts. Haven't searched for much else, though. Can't quite remember what foods spoil quick in heat.”
“Fruits and nuts should be fine,” Susan says, then sinks her teeth into the apple. A bit of juice from it drips down her chin, so she wipes it away with the back of her hand.
Edmund gives a nod. He steps forward and walks up the small stairs into the gazebo, then takes a seat on the bench in the middle of it. Susan joins him after a moment.
Edmund studies her for a moment. “I like your outfit,” he says sincerely.
“Thank you,” Susan replies.
—
It takes a little while to catch up with Caspian and Lucy, but when Susan and Edmund find them, they have a matching set of grins on their faces.
Lucy has several things gathered in her arms and new jewelry on her person as she’d forgotten her bag on her horse. Most of what she holds are trinkets, but she seems to have a new pair of boots as well. Her dress is hiked up, one side of the hem tucked up under her belt so it doesn’t drag and gives her more room to use her legs. Caspian trails slightly behind her with a new waterskin that matches Edmund’s almost exactly and nothing else. He’d certainly been too busy keeping an eye on Lucy to do much shopping of his own. His hair is now braided as well. Susan doesn’t ask about that bit.
“Did you have fun?” Edmund asks either Lucy or Caspian, perhaps both, with an amused glint in his eyes.
“We had loads!” Lucy exclaims.
Caspian heaves a dramatic, heavy sigh. “I nearly lost her about twenty times,” he moans. It makes Lucy giggle.
Susan’s lips twitch up into a small smile, though she doesn’t contribute yet. They’ve turned around in the direction they left Peter and the horses in. The thought of Peter makes her a bit guilty, and not only because they’d left him alone with the horses.
He’s the reason they’re here. He’s the reason they stayed. He’s the reason for everything. Susan resents him for it, somewhat. This is tearing him apart and it’s tearing her apart because they don’t quite belong here, just like they don’t belong in England or in that world entirely. He crumbles, and she notices, and it makes her angry because it’s his own fault. And it’s his fault that Susan crumbles, but Susan can never tell if Peter even realizes it.
It’s complicated, her feelings as of now. She’s relieved to be home and she wouldn’t trade it for anything, but she’s still upset. This hadn’t been her choice, not fully. It was Peter who had argued with Aslan. It was Peter who had refused to leave. It was Peter who Aslan took aside to talk to privately. It was Peter’s fault that they didn’t leave. And sure, Susan could have left—Peter wouldn’t have stopped her. No one would have. She could have walked through the magic and returned to England without him or Edmund or Lucy. She could have gone home alone.
But where would that leave her? What would she tell her parents? Would the world even remember her siblings, or would they just be vague memories? Would she even remember them? Susan can’t bring herself to think about the idea of forgetting them, and she doesn’t want to entertain the possibility of being without them at all.
So Susan could have left, and she could have left easily, but she would never have been able to live like that. It’s Peter’s fault.
She can’t help but blame him and be thankful for him all the same. She’d only just gotten used to the idea of living in England again, but then she’d been uprooted, and now she has to get used to the idea of living in a Narnia she doesn’t recognize.
Perhaps it truly is a punishment, or a nightmare. Perhaps this is Hell.
“Susan! You’ve changed!” Lucy says cheerily, pulling Susan from her thoughts. They’re away from the market now. It’s quieter away from the people.
“I have,” Susan agrees with a smile, though she isn’t talking about her clothes.
When they reach Peter and the horses again, he looks half asleep while sitting in the grass with a book open in his lap. He perks up at the sight of them. They drift into a quiet and easy conversation as they put away their new items. Lucy deposits her spoils into her bag and mounts her horse again, and Edmund follows suit. Susan watches them carefully.
She understands Lucy well and Edmund less. Lucy wears her heart on her sleeve and Edmund holds his so close to his chest it’s hard to remember that it still exists. And yet they are both still loud. They are both still proud and stubborn. They are both still children.
Susan finally mounts her horse after Peter and Caspian do, and they begin to travel again.