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luffys · 4 years

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i. nylons Your chainmail is gone now, turned to rust and withered away, replaced by black stockings with a black heart to match that pumps anger and hate and defiance through every inch of your, now, unmarred skin, despite the wars you’ve lived despite the life you had. The gowns are gone now and blouses and skirts are all that remain, are all the rage and fashion of modern days, precariously protecting you from the wandering hands in the light when you walk though this land, the Shadow Land, built on deception and deceit with the Lion that stalks your every move in the shadows of glass buildings and still trees, with it’s claws and teeth drawn, waiting patiently, tail swinging, to sink them quick and deep in your flesh in the shadows of sleep once more. You don’t give Him the chance, there are no openings for Him, not anymore. ii. lipsticks Your eyes are painted black sharp and wicked as you paralyze any who dare step in your way. You smile with lips the colour of blood, as deep and dark as the arrows you once unleashed, teeth drawn, sharp and white and pointed, -Unnatural, you hear from behind. Deadly, you think to yourself.- waiting and waiting for any fools to open their mouths, wanting to feel the satisfaction when you rip them into shreds (like you have been, time and time again). You are more monster than girl now, more dark and wild than the gentle and obedient servant you were moulded to be. You know better than to give a knife to your friends and think you are safe. Not after He showed you the error of your ways, with body piled on body of your family, broken and bloody and beaten and gone, left behind for only you to claim. Even the little lioness, the favoured one. Brave and free and valiant, but left as cold and dead as the Witch you were called to fight, once upon a time, a lifetime ago, when He was done. Called upon like puppets dangling from strings, that you once believed reached the sky but opened your eyes only to discover they were being pulled taut into His bloodied and open red maw as he reeled you in, one by one, feeding off of your Trust and Devotion and Loyalty and Faith. Only you noticed, the blood that dripped from your skin from the teeth that bit and the claws that scratched under the guise of Affection and Love. Only you noticed, and only you found the Courage to break free of the strings that bound and cut at you, tearing yourself into pieces in the process. iii. invitations You face them now, a warrior, a goddess, a slayer of monsters and demons and Deception, going to battle any naysayers and disbelievers who tremble at your power, at your transformation, at your ressurection. You reach inside yourself to destroy the Lion that feeds on you, a parasite, tearing it out just as it tore you open when it settled itself inside your breast and dug its way into your heart, feeding off of your Youth and Naivety, insatiable. You pray to Gods, but Him no longer, not the beast hiding in the lion skin it wears, a trophy of an old conquest. You pray to the Gods, ones who take and take, just as you do in return. A circle of balance and peace and power, of beginning and end. Night watches over you, offering solace and anonymity in Her arms, taking, in return, your pain and tears and nightmares. Day peeks through every now and then, with Her warmth and protection and fire, taking your demons and feeding off of your despair. To Sorrow, who sits silently by your side in your grief, who provides comfort and companionship, you give your future to do with it what She will. Anger walks with you, side by side, Thrumming and flighty, giving you the ability to give a painful sting, to all the ones who have wronged you, taking, in return, the peace and calm of forgotten days. To Life and Death, the Ones who you’ve conquered time and time again, you give all that’s left without care. When He will see you again, you will grin, fierce and sharp and deadly, with a mouth painted red, a parody of the day He took them from you. He is forgotten now, just as you were. It’s time, my dear. To rise like the girl we know you to be, to shed that last life, another past life, and breathe again as you soar higher than any before you, higher than even He has dared to go.

— no longer a friend | m.g.

#userroh #userdorian #quecksilvereyes #usercharl #narnia #spilledink #chronicles of narnia #narnianetwork #mine #mohwrites #The Chronicles of Narnia #t. poetry #f. narnia #c. susan pevensie #r. aslan x susan #i reposted it #because it was a mess with the other way

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hauntedthief · 8 years

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The Chronicles of Narnia // Ben Cocks

And I'm just left alone to cry

(inspiration for this comes from these two posts)

(Feel free to delete my rambling if you’d like! I just have a lot of Susan feelings that I thought I’d try and put into words, especially after having read those two posts while listening to that song!) I find myself agreeing a lot with those two posts. “Susan is not seeking forgiveness”. It hurts to say but I can see Susan being unforgiving, not to her family, but to Aslan who took them and her parents all away from her in one moment. He who took them away from her just as much as he kept them away from her. She didn’t just bury one member of her family that horrific day. She buried them all. Her father, mother, brothers, and baby sister. But the betrayal she feels for Aslan goes beyond that.

The first time he breaks her heart she doesn’t understand why. He took her, a grown woman, from the home she had painstakingly built through blood and tears with her siblings and sent her back, in a child’s body. Maybe he did have his reasons but she never fully understood why. First comes the ever growing impatience for the return that Susan is so sure will be just around the corner. ‘Today’s it! I can feel it!’ she repeats to herself, a mantra as she gazes back at the girl in the mirror, head held high and mind strong in her belief. She finds herself wandering the house looking for Narnia pretending she doesn’t see as her siblings do the same. As days fly past the self blame hits. ‘Did I do something wrong? Maybe we all did.' she thinks. She finds herself awake late into night, the questions swirling around and around in her restless mind. Lucy sleeps soundly in her bed, already having accepted her situation yet unaware the extent of the heartbreak her sister goes through night after night, trying and failing to find the logic in the situation. Her mother grows worried as the bags start to grow more prominent under her eldest daughter’s eyes. She seeks her other children out in a bid to figure out what has got into Susan. Lucy shrugs, not uncaring but unaware of how to explain it to her mother. ‘She misses home,’ Lucy finds herself almost saying but biting her lip back at the last second. How can she say that when to her mother this is home. Her mother never went to Narnia so she can’t possibly understand. Instead of answering, Lucy distracts her by jumping from topic to topic until Helen can hardly be blamed for not remembering what prompted this entire confusing conversation that she can hardly keep up with. Next thing she knows she turns her back on her youngest child for one second, just one, and Lucy’s gone having already seized the opportunity to find her escape. When Helen does remember, she stands alone in a room just barely able to hear Lucy’s steps the further they get from her. Helen, although hesitant, tries speaking to Edmund next. She still thinks of him as the impatient and angry young boy he was before he had boarded the train. Instead, Edmund gives her a look of understanding and compassion having carefully witnessed the affect that being back is having on his older sister. The look he gives her leaves Helen Pevensie reeling because ‘When did my little boy grow so much?’. ‘I’ll talk to her.’ he promises with a hug he reserves just for his mother, small arms wrapped tight around her waist. She’s surprised by the hug because he used to barely even let her pat his arm before fleeing but now he’s relaxing into the hug letting it linger in a way that brings tears to her eyes. His mother doesn’t realize he hasn’t answered her question until he’s already half way out of her sight on his way to find Susan. Peter is angry. He doesn’t seem to be able to pay attention long enough to hear his mother’s growing growing concerns. ‘Susan’s fine.’ he says impatiently waving the matter away. He stalks out the room before she can elaborate on how no, Susan is not “fine”. He’s grown so bitter and she finds herself unpleasantly surprised to find that it is Peter not Edmund that starts the fights in and out of the house now. Speaking to Susan gets her nowhere. ‘I’m fine mother. Just a bit under the weather.’ Susan responds even though it can’t be that’s she’s just sick. Susan has, after all, been like this for weeks now. She can’t seem to comprehend the toll this everlasting waiting and blame is taking on her body. Sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks greet her when she looks in the mirror now. Third comes the pleading. ‘Please Aslan. You said you would always hear us.’ she finds herself saying quietly as a lone tear escapes. ‘Please can we-can we come home now?’ she asks, her voice breaking as Lucy sleeps on, looking at the bright moon until it blurs. Lucy awakes the next morning to find her leaning against the window, another sleepless night evident from the slowness when Lucy gets her to move away. Then she breaks. All the tears she’s kept in, all the fears that had been so craftily left in the back of her mind arise in wave after wave of crushing defeat. She’s locked the door of her room now and collapses in the center crying out as she feels her heart break into a thousand pieces that she’s not sure will ever be fixed. When she’s finally comes to, she feels a piercing relief strike through the very core of her heart. She finds that the weight that’s been smothering her day after day has finally, finally somewhat slightly eased away. She finds herself by the window again, this time looking at the setting sun with tired weary eyes. She takes a breath as the acceptance settles in. She can do this. She can be strong. Her feet carry her to the door and her hand unlocks it only to find her younger brother tumbling in as soon as the knob is turned. ‘Edmund!’ she gasps out in a raspy surprised voice. He looks up at her somewhat sheepishly as he responds ‘Hello.’ from where he is on the ground. She finds her mouth quirking up somewhat as she looks down at him. ‘What were you doing?’ she questions, though she finds herself already knowing his answer. ‘I heard you.’ he says quietly looking her in the eyes. And again she finds her face crumpling when she realization of what he’s done for her hits her. He stayed with her until she was finally ready. Just like he jumped in when Peter was in another fight. Just like he listened again and again as Lucy would speak on and on of Narnia. Just as he’s done even though he’s been grieving along with them. He’s up in an instant, arms around her holding her tight as she clutches him, understanding why. When she’s got herself back in control again, she presses a kiss to the side of his head before letting him go with a small smile. ‘Where’s Lu?’ she finally asks. ‘Distracting mom,’ he responds quietly. And Susan is almost overwhelmed again by the affection that surges up for her baby sister. Edmund’s soft knowing smile becomes slightly blurred to her as her eyes fill with unshed tears. She smiles in return before following him out of the room. She and Edmund find Lucy in the kitchen with their mother and, judging from the sounds that arise, she’s talking their mother’s ear off again. Susan smiles a full smile when she enters even if her heart breaks a bit on the realization that the only one missing is their stubborn and hurt older brother. Peter who gave everything he had for Aslan and Narnia only to be sent home like them. It’s different for Peter, she muses to herself as she finds herself seated along with Edmund at the table with a cup of tea her mother sets down in front of her with a warm smile as the concern for Susan ebbs slightly away from her mother’s eyes. He’s the oldest and thus got it in his head that he has to protect them from any pain. But, she thinks, he’s feeling so helpless now because he knows he can’t protect them from this. Maybe he’s not okay now, Susan thinks as she recalls her days of heartbreak, but he will be. Helen Pevensie turns around and flounders as she finds Queen Susan staring back sitting regally in her chair, even though it’s not her throne, with her head held high and a familiar gleam in her eyes that causes Lucy and Edmund to share a knowing look as they find themselves subconsciously straightening in her presence until Queen Lucy and King Edmund look to her. ‘I can do this,’ she thinks as she looks back at them with a small gentle smile. This isn’t home yet but it will be she decides as she looks around.

They find themselves back in Narnia again, suddenly, as if they never left. Peter’s joy is tremendous as his face breaks out into a full blown out grin that she has rarely seen since they were sent back. Edmund grins because the brother he knew and missed has finally returned. Lucy is overjoyed but not surprised because she always knew, hoped, they’d come back. Susan grins as she breaths in the fresh Narnian air. Despite the fact that she was finally starting to feel at home in England being back was like greeting a long lost friend who she always remembered fondly and missed. ‘But this isn’t home,’ she thinks, horrified at discovering what has happened her home. It’s not her Narnia anymore. Her heart breaks when she finds that the trees remain silent to her queries until she finally trails off into silence. The animals don’t speak anymore either. They are vicious and cruel, not lively and happy as the ones she knew. There’s no Mr. Tumnus, Mr. Beaver, or Mrs. Beaver to greet her from a long journey home. No Cair Paravel to greet her eyes, only dust and ruins remain, an echo of a memory. She fights for this Narnia, though, because it was still home whether it remembered or not. She would not be so easily forgotten. When the story of the Telmarines is finally revealed she finds her gentle heart starting to pound fast and hard. Rage courses through her because they took her home and ruined it until it was barely recognizable. When they win and the Telmaries are pushed back from her Narnia and Aslan greets her, she can feel her heart drop as she looks at him. She knows, don’t ask her how but she just does, that they won’t be able to stay anymore. Her eyes seek her siblings out. Peter is at peace with a easy relaxed grin, Edmund is quiet but the corner of his mouth quirks up, and Lucy, brave ever-faithful Lucy, is smiling the biggest beautiful smile she’s seen in a while as she looks up at Aslan. Susan’s heart starts to beat quicker as she realizes that they can’t possibly know. Except, somehow, Peter does. He finds her eyes looking over them all and sends a small shrug and smile her way as in ‘What can we do when it’s already decided?’. Caspian’s coronation goes off without a problem and she finds herself relaxing in the joy and love she feels around her. ‘One last time,’ she thinks to herself as she finds herself pulled into an enthusiastic dance by her younger sister. Then Aslan comes and her and Peter find themselves walking with him. Peter’s the most relaxed as she’s ever seen. ‘He needed this,’ she thinks as she finds herself watching him from the corner of her eyes. ‘One last win.’ When her eyes turn back to Aslan, the protector, she finds his solemn gaze looking back. They speak at length, her and Peter, with Aslan. They have to go back. Narnia doesn’t need them anymore. He makes sure to stress that this will be their last visit and she feels her heart breaking all over again because now she won’t even have the flicker of hope to keep her going that someday she and Peter will come back for more adventures. She doesn’t let it show though. She won’t. She tilts her head higher and gives a single nod to Aslan in understanding. His head lowers a fraction in return. She won’t break from this, she decides firmly, as she watches Lucy ask Aslan why she and Peter can’t come back. ‘Did they do something wrong?’ No, she thinks, they did everything right and more. She feels herself finally feeling at peace as she takes one last lingering look before marching through the portal without a backwards glance. ‘Move forward,’ she thinks as she steps through, ‘No more lingering.’ she decides.

She’s back in England now and she’s thriving. She can’t go back to Narnia, not when this world needs her. This is her home now, actually, she corrects herself, this has always been her home too. She just hadn’t realized it yet. She’s doing the same as she once did for Narnia and fixing the world, fixing this world. Even as Peter looks at her now with judgement shining in his eyes when she goes out in skirts and dresses of the latest fashion, the armour of modern days, brandishing her lipstick like her old bow (though he doesn’t realize). He doesn’t understand and maybe he feels betrayed that she seems to be forgetting. But she’s not, not really. She’s just taking what she learnt and applying it to the new situation. Lucy’s confused, hurt, and disappointed all the time when Susan doesn’t listen or contribute to the talks of Narnia and Aslan. ‘What happened to Su?’ Lucy asks Peter quietly one night, not knowing Susan can hear them speaking. Edmund does though and he glances sharply at her to see if she’s okay. ‘She’s forgotten Narnia, she’s forgotten Aslan, and she’s forgotten herself.’ comes Peter’s brash response and Edmund wonders just why his older brother never could learn to be more subtle and observant because Susan’s right there, just as she’s always been. Edmund finds himself going in defense mode because this is Susan. Susan who worried whenever one of them got sick and stayed with them the whole time even though more often than not she’d catch it too. Susan who laughed and teased them with a smile on her face. ‘She’s still Susan!!’ he wants to yell at their obtuse older brother and disheartened little sister. But he stops because she just smiles when his eyes land on her, a small smile she reserves just for him. ‘They don’t want to understand.’ she says one night to Edmund when he wants to blow up at them for their judgement while she sits reading the latest happenings in the world. ‘It’s not fair,’ he bites out with hunched shoulders. She just smiles to him in response.

Then her world shatters into a million pieces to never be okay again. She’s running before she knows it, shoving people aside without apologies. She wants to get away from everyone. From anyone. She wants to scream until her voice grows hoarse, until her heart stops breaking, until the onslaught of memory after memory just stops. Brave and protecting Peter, the Magnificent. Gone. Clever and silent Edmund, the Just. Gone. And small tiny vibrant Lucy, the Valiant. Gone. Her mother, warm and loving. Gone. Her father, intelligent and stern. Gone. Gone. Gone. Ripped away before they even finished living. Gone in all ways but body. And that will be gone too one day. And she collapses. ‘This is it,’ she thinks to herself, as her body curls in on itself trying to shield her from the pain, ‘There’s no way past this.’. When she finally moves, it’s late. She doesn’t know how late and she can’t find it in herself to care. The pain fades in the face of her growing unyielding rage, lighting a fire in her and warming her in ways that she didn’t know could. Fueling her and getting her to finally move. ‘You did this,’ she thinks. Not at herself, no, because she knows without a doubt who it was who took them. ‘You did this,’ she repeats out loud, saying it once and finding her shoulders slump downwards at the crushing realization that she’s right. Once isn’t enough though, she repeats it over and over again until she’s yelling, screaming, angry tears streaming down her face. ‘YOU DID THIS!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, uncaring who else hears but the one who is to blame, as she snatches a vase from the table near her and flings it against the wall until it's in a million pieces. Just. Like. Her. Heart. She’s doing it again and again, picking up any and every object she finds and throwing it with deadly accuracy, hitting walls and mirrors, until her chest is heaving and her breath comes out in pants while she stands with broken jagged pieces all around her. ‘You did this.’ she repeats one last time slowly, her voice ringing out deadly in the quiet that comes in the aftermath of her reaction. The walls hold their breath, the quiet that follows is all-consuming, loud in the wake of her statement. She knows He can hear and see her. He always could. ‘I’m done,’ she states abruptly, disturbing the quiet. She won’t forgive, no, not for this. Not Him. Maybe Queen Susan could find it in her gentle heart to forgive, once upon a time. But that girl is gone just like her family. He did this. ‘I won’t forgive you.’ she says out loud again, clearly, in a hardened voice laced with steel. Queen Susan isn’t here anymore. She won’t forgive him unless he apologizes, she decides. ‘And until you do,’ she states as a sharp knowing realization pierces through her heart, ‘They won’t either, not fully.’ she finishes, her thoughts revolving to her family once again. While they may be happy to be in Narnia, they won’t be at peace. Not when they aren’t complete. Not until Susan’s there. Not until she forgives Aslan, not the other way around.

Queen Susan the Gentle, she thinks mockingly of her title, is gone like the rest of her family and Susan is all that’s left to take her place.

#narniaedit #mohedit #hauntedthief #narniansongs #mohwrites #The Chronicles of Narnia #The Last Battle #ch: susan pevensie #type: book #type: graphic #g: uneasy lies the head #g: pevensie family

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