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Despite what Edmund would probably later tease, Susan wasn't snooping. She wasn't. There was just so much correspondence and paperwork that went into running a kingdom - even one as blessed as Narnia - and she'd just wanted to help. Caspian took more on himself than he let his fellow rulers know, she knew. Susan worried her seafarer was burning the candle at both ends: up at dawn for sword practice with her brothers, awake later finishing off correspondence or reading reports.
So, while Caspian was occupied in his usual afternoon conference with Peter and Edmund (and lately Eustace, eager to learn more about foreign relations as he called it), Susan let herself into his office.
She wasn't sneaking around. Caspian said Cair Paravel was their home, no room (save private quarters of course) was off limits. Susan was welcome in his office anytime. Caspian wouldn't be angry: he rarely was, and never with her.
So she turned her attention to the correspondence. Missives from the farthest reaches of the kingdom. Nothing urgent, of course, but it warmed Susan just the same that Caspian was the kind of King that wrote just to ensure his people knew they weren't forgotten - no matter how far from Cair Paravel they might be.
It was in a drawer. She'd opened it to look for fresh ink. Caspian wrote all his correspondence in a deep black, Susan had always preferred blue - and it helped differentiate the correspondence of the Narnian royalty. No delicate pottles greeted her eyes, instead a simple leather folder, tied shut. Dusty as if it had been shut away and forgotten about.
Formal submissions. Pleas for Caspian to consider this woman or that in marriage. Princesses of Archenland. Tarkheenas of Calormen. Daughters of Telmarine nobility. Several beseeching him to think of Narnia and wed Ambassador Liliandil.
Dozens of pages, dating back to Caspian's coronation. The latest as recent as two days before Susan and her siblings returned. None since.
Each and every one bore Caspian's hand at the bottom. A simple notation. One word. No. No explanation, no empty promises to consider, just a simple no.
Setting the folder on the desk, Susan closed her eyes. Tried to ignore the stab of pain lancing through her heart. Not for herself. She had no cause to feel slighted. As far as either of them had been concerned, she had left Narnia never to return. But for Caspian. Her prince. Her king. Ruling had been lonely back in the Golden Age, 1300 or more years ago, and she had had her siblings there every moment. Caspian had borne the burden of rule all alone. Had refused all attempts to share that weight.
Susan could not imagine the weight of it. Even trapped in the colourless wasteland that England had become, she had had her family by her side. To endure alone was unfathomable to her.
Familiar footfalls echoed in the stone passage outside, Susan's heart dancing a little in her chest. As it always seemed to these days, just knowing he was close. The knowledge eased the pain in her heart a little. She was aching for the past, not the man who shared his rule so effortlessly.
There was no need to bother hiding what she'd found away. No conversation could come if Caspian didn't know she knew.
Caspian's dark eyes lit up to see her. Joy as bright on his face as it ever was. “Susan!”
Susan was helpless but to smile back, her heart full. “Caspian.”
His eyes sparkled, he'd clearly enjoyed his afternoon with her brothers and cousin. The sparkle dimmed a little - like a wisp of cloud covering a star - as his eyes dropped to the folder on his desk.
“Susan-”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
She could tell by the sadness that flickered in Caspian's eyes that the answer was no.
“My Queen…” Caspian took a step forward, concern shining from him. His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I was never going to say yes. They sent them anyway. It was a formality. Absolving them of responsibility. To show they tried and I remained the stubborn king refusing to see sense. It means nothing.”
Susan closed her eyes, aching for the position he'd been in. “I never wanted you to be lonely.”
“I wasn't,” Caspian replied simply. “I'm not. You're here. And Edmund, Peter and Lucy. Even Eustace. I am not lacking anything.”
“You could have married any time you wished,” Susan said, just the same. She stood, crossing in front of the desk. “I would not have held it against you.”
Caspian's eyes softened, his smile following. “But I would. Susan. A king cannot be faithful to his people if he cannot be faithful to his heart. Narnia deserved better. As did you.”
He reached out, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek.
“You are here now. I am not alone. And Narnia is not wanting for leadership. Whatever my councils asked of me in the past, whatever I rejected, surely it holds no import now.”
Perhaps it did not. Yet Susan still hurt for him. “You were lonely.”
“I was.” Caspian chuckled gently. “But I have not been since you returned, my Queen. Not for a moment. And I would have been still, Susan, if I'd agreed to one of those proposals.” He stroked her cheek again. “I would not trade a moment of it away, would endure it all again and worse, just to have you back again.”
They were taking things slow. They were taking things so very slow. Getting it right. Had barely done more than holding hands and hugging, the occasional kiss on the cheek aside. She hadn't kissed him since the day of his coronation, when it had been a goodbye as much as a promise.
Standing here, in the face of Caspian's honest devotion, she could not have stopped herself. Not if Aslan appeared and told her she mustn't.
She stepped forward, touching his cheek just as he had hers. Caspian's head tilted, leaning in to the touch.
She kissed him then. Soft and as gentle as her name. Answering the devotion Caspian gave but never asked of her in return.
Susan pulled back, a breath or two away. So happy she could float. “I would not have said yes, either.”
Caspian caught her hand, holding it over his heart. He kissed her again, just as soft and chaste. “I know.”
They stood there for a long moment, hands intertwined, hearts beating together. Swaying a little in a dance just for the two of them.
The folder on the desk, the refusals and all they represented - all of it faded into the background. What remained was just the two of them, perfectly content in this moment together.
Outside, the sun was setting over the sea, casting the world in iridescent tones of gold and rose. Somewhere in the castle, Lucy's laugh echoed with Eustace's, and Edmund's answering groan, and the sound of Peter's steady voice. Their family, waiting for them.
Susan smiled against Caspian's shoulder. "We should go to dinner."
"We should."
Caspian didn't so much as step away.
She didn't either.
“We've got time,” Caspian hummed, holding her just a little closer.
Susan smiled, in no hurry to move at all. “Lucy hasn't come to find us yet.”