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Susan had tried, so hard, the months after Aslan said she and Peter would never return to Narnia. She had tried pretending it never existed, that it was just a game they used to play. When that didn't work - and only served to make Peter frown worriedly, Edmund watch her and Lucy cry - she tried being the perfect daughter. Everything their parents wanted. Went to America with them like America was a grand new adventure and not simply a leaky patch over the hole in her heart.
It didn't work. Nothing she tried worked. America was supposed to be golden and beautiful, the land of promise and music and experience. It had seemed to her that it was painted in shades of grey. The sky grey; the sea and the grass, grey: the people and the conversation and the music, all grey.
And when they disembarked back at Dover, the vibrant shores of their once beloved England were grey as fog too. Nothing but dullness where life used to live.
When Peter came home on holiday from University where he was struggling to force himself to go through the motions of life here, they all agreed. Peter and Edmund and Lucy. Even Eustace, who was strangely tolerable as of late. They felt like they were stuck in a black and white movie. Putting on a show for everyone else, feeling nothing inside themselves.
And then Aslan came - to Lucy first and then all of them. A roar of a lion on a rainy walk through Trafalgar Square. His majestic voice audible only to them. Offering them a chance to return, to go home again.
Narnia.
When they emerged from Aslan's iridescent portal, it was as if stepping from Kansas to Oz. It was as if the world had woken up. It was night, but the world had more colour than it had in months. The stars shone brilliantly, the moon hanging like a silver torch in the sky.
The sound of the water, the creak of the dock beneath their feet, the easy rolling of the grand ship behind them - all clearer, crisper than any sound heard in England or America.
Every breath felt nourishing. Every sight, sound, touch alive.
And Caspian.
The man she'd missed almost more than Narnia itself. Grown into the king he was always meant to be. And when he smiled and welcomed them home, Susan finally felt like she could breathe again.
Home.
Not merely Narnia. But Cair Paravel. Their glistening white castle. Where they'd lived half a lifetime hundreds of years and long months ago.
She stood, vivid against the night sky, twinkling like the stars in the heavens. As full of promise now as on the day of their coronation.
Caspian offered her his arm (promised her patience, implicit that they'd have the life they both dreamed), and led her inside where the future was waiting for them.
The first few days, everything was overwhelming. She'd grown accustomed to monochrome and everything she saw, touched, heard was vivid and deep. Rich in a way England could only dream. Caspian never pushed, letting them all resettle into their lives in their own ways.
Lucy threw herself into everything with the same fearless abandon as ever; making friends and talking to everyone, helping where she could. Narnia's love for her had not diminished and neither had hers for it. Lucy's shine grew brighter every day they spent back home.
Edmund and Peter would most often be found with Caspian, relearning the lay of the land; treaties, strength of numbers, allies, politics, the minutae of running a kingdom as they knew it best. Their fierce debates were often mediated by Glenstorm - not a product of clashing personalities or dislike, but a spirited playing of devil's advocate by one or more of the three to ensure every question was examined from every angle. And if they weren't to be found catching up on internal or external states or politics, it was rare that Susan didn't hear them on the training grounds; honing their fitness and training with the royal guards (who all sadly missed Reepicheep and his ever-sharp mind).
Eustace had found a friend in Dr Cornelius and his histories and maps. Barely a meal time went by without him commenting on some obscure piece of Narnian history or expressing a desire to see this place or that. Susan privately thought that he was shaping up to be quite the future ambassador, or explorer - she certainly saw him staring at Caspian's Dawn Treader with a longing look.
Susan eased herself back into life. Slipping out of bed early to train with her bow in the dawn light. Wandering the castle and learning the names and lives of the others who called it home. Watching Trumpkin grump his way through the day, fixing himself as Lucy's personal bodyguard. Relearning the feel of the castle, the sound of the Narnians, the touch of the sea air on her skin. Every breath was a balm to those grey months in England, every dawn archery practice and purposeful walk through the castle restoring something drained inside of her.
But the time she loved best was meals.
Caspian had repurposed one of the smaller sitting rooms into a private dining area. Behind those doors there was no need for formalities or title, just a family enjoying a meal together before going back to the duty of their days. Spirited conversation, laughter ringing off the walls - the truest feeling of home she knew: her family together, happy again.
On the morning of Caspian's first open council since they returned, Susan dressed in court clothes - only a slight finer dress than she'd wear normally - and left to join her siblings. Caspian had said they were more then welcome to join if they wanted to - the council was for the Narnians to see all their Kings and Queens - but there would be more if they weren't yet ready.
The council was already begun when Edmund hurried to meet them. His hair was in disarray and his deep green cloak hastily pinned on. Clearly time had gotten away from him on the training grounds. He smartened himself up in five seconds flat; his posture taller, shoulders straighter, eyes filled with anticipation. Open council had always been his favourite council day - the area where the Just King truly shone.
Peter ruffled his hair, ever the big brother. Gone was the haunted look from his eyes. Peter resplendent in his gold and red, sword hung on his hip where it belonged. The struggling university student replaced with the magnificent King. This was the man who'd negotiated treaties with Giants and spearheaded peace in Narnia. The brother they'd all missed.
Lucy stood calmly at Peter's side, dress fireflower red and modest. She needed no accents or embellishments to catch every eye. Her beauty came from her soul and the love she gave freely to everyone she met. Susan had worried, before their return, that her sister was fading, falling into the same despair that marked their siblings. She saw no sign of that now. Lucy was as vivid as Narnia, bright and sure, her valiant spirit undaunted.
Standing outside the throne room, Susan felt much more like herself. She didn't know if it was the silver and blue cloth draped over her, the fading fear of being sent back, or being surrounded by the love of her family - of Caspian, always there, ever patient. Whatever it was, the prospect of returning to be the Gentle Queen Narnia needed didn't feel so unattainable.
Side by side as in ages gone by, the Kings and Queens of Old entered the throne room. A fawn was stood before the middle of the five thrones (Caspian's added to the middle), but he stopped, bowing as the Narnians all did. Caspian, regal in a purple that sparkled in the light, stood too, offering a half bow of welcome.
They took their thrones, Susan feeling a sense of rightness seeping into her bones. Yes. This is where they belonged. In front of their people, in service of them and of Narnia.
Caspian's dark eyes turned to Susan, silently checking they were ready. She nodded, Caspian's smile lit up the room.
He turned back to the fawn, voice soft and kingly. “Please, continue.”
The council session ended, hours and hoarse throats later. The grievances had been minor, little things easily fixed. Disputes solved after listening to both sides. Edmund had been in his element, Peter too. No problem was too little to be beneath their notice or care. Caspian, indeed, had seemed to revel in letting their guidance come forth, encouraging Lucy to add her own voice to the session. Susan had spoken little, but her words were always listened to - no need now to be quiet and demure without a brain in her head. When she spoke she made sure her council was right, agreeing with Caspian or her siblings, putting forward her own solution. A section of forest free from hunting for the dryads, suggesting a different stretch of river for a beaver couple to dam. Small things perhaps, but important.
When the last of the Narnians filed back out into the afternoon sunlight, Lucy darted off to find Trumpkin. Peter disappeared with Glenstorm toward the war room: he was worried about the mutterings coming from Calormen, promising an update at dinner. Susan lingered, not quite ready to leave. Caspian was halfway out of the side entrance, surrounded by Drinian and a few of the Telmarine nobles who had remained with the regime change.
Edmund remained perched on his throne, cloak tossed over the back, fingers tapping on his breeches. “We did good today,” he said, staring out over the empty throne room.
“We did,” Susan agreed, smiling at her younger brother. “I had forgotten how enjoyable opening the council to our people was.”
Edmund hummed, a low sound that vibrated with a contentment Susan hadn't seen in him since the Golden Age. He looked at his hands, then back at the sunbeams cutting through the high windows of the hall.
"In London," Edmund said softly, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, quiet space, "everything felt like a distraction. A way to kill time until the day was over. Here..." He gestured to the empty benches where the petitioners had sat. "Even a dispute over a river dam feels vivid. Like it actually matters. Like we actually matter."
“We've come home.”
“Yes, we have,” Edmund grinned, shaking his head at the absurdities of their lives. “And I wager this time Pete and I won't have to throw suitors out on their ears anymore.”
Susan laughed, “Is this your way of telling me to marry Caspian?”
Edmund inclined his head, getting to his feet. “It's my way of telling you to be happy, Susan. This is our third chance. We deserve happiness.”
“I will try,” Susan promised, rising to her feet as well. “Just as long as you do the same.”
Edmund's cheeks pinkened, but he didn't deny Susan's implication. The castle gossip mill was even better than Caspian's sources in the other kingdoms. He'd never teased her about Caspian - not too much, anyway - she would return the favor this once and ignore the temptation to tease him about the beautiful Ambassador Liliandil.
“Let's not mess it up this time, huh?” Edmund quipped, walking slowly backwards out of the chamber. “I'll see you at dinner, Susan!”
And her little brother was gone, one of Glenstorm's sons clopping quietly after him. A friend more than a bodyguard for show.
On her way back to her chambers, Susan took a wrong turn - or perhaps the right one. The corridor outside Caspian's study was empty, but the door stood ajar, and through it she could see him at his desk, head bent over parchment, the afternoon sun casting warm light across his features.
She paused. Watched. Remembered another Caspian, younger and more uncertain, standing before her in the moonlight and asking her to stay.
As if he felt her gaze, he looked up. His face softened into a beautiful smile, years wiped off his face.
"Susan." His light accent, all but gone now, traced her name adoringly.
She blushed, hovering still in the doorway. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You never could." He set down his pen. "Come in. Please."
She did, lingering by the desk. "You work too hard."
"So I'm told." Caspian's lips curled into a wry smile. "By Trumpkin. By Lucy. By Peter. By Eustace. By Dr Cornelius. By Edmund, who seems to think I should sleep at least some hours of the night."
Susan laughed softly, perching on a seat. "They're right."
"Probably." He leaned back in his chair, studying her with that quiet attentiveness she remembered from the civil war. "But I find it hard to rest when there's so much I want to build. So much I want to be worthy of."
The weight in his words settled between them. Susan understood. She felt it too - the need to prove herself worthy of this third chance, of Narnia, of him.
"You already are," she said softly. "You always were."
Something flickered in his eyes - hope, longing, patience all tangled together. He didn't rise. Didn't push. Just nodded, accepting her words like he always had. “So are you, my Queen.”
Susan stood, smiling at the half finished letter he was penning. To Archenland, if she recognised the fluid language well enough. “I shall let your get back to work,” she teased, smiling at the gentle glower he sent his papers. “See you at dinner, Caspian?”
Caspian nodded, smiling as he chivalrously rose to his feet. “I wouldn't miss it for the world, Susan.”