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Chapter Text

You were never a King.

The words had been cruel, meant to tear her brother apart. Susan had not cared at the time whether she would have torn into his insecurities and his fears. All she wanted to do was hurt him, and she had succeeded.

Peter had stormed out of the house, weaving through the harsh snowstorm to get away. Get away from her. All left for her in their house was Lucy's confusion and Edmund's sad eyes. That was all that there seemed to be for her anymore. Confusion and sadness. They had never been able to accept her in this world, and well, Susan could reject them too. At least, she had tried to.

Only hours later did Peter returned home. He had apparently been caught in the blizzard that the storm had turned into. He did elicit a scream out of Lucy when he passed out in the foyer. After the initial panic settled and they had him conscious again, they were able to help shed his snow soaked clothes and bundle him in blankets and warm clothes.

Now, hours later, he was resting in his and Edmund's room. Lucy was trying to find medicine and ways to reduce the fever Peter was already developing. Edmund was getting anything to ease his pain.

Promptly, that left Susan to watch over him. Fiddling with the cloth resting on his forehead, she could not help the guilt that gnawed at her stomach. He had tried to get away from her after all.

All she thought she wanted was for them to leave her alone, but when they pried, she lashed out. They did not seem to understand. She wanted to be her own person here, not a shadow of the queen she was in Narnia.

A soft groan from Peter shook her out of her thoughts. He shifted in discomfort, whispering inaudible words at first, only to cough viciously.

"Water," he croaked out. He held a shaky hand out to her. Only when the violent cough subsided did she gently hand him the glass of water. The glass rattled against his shaking hand, but he managed to sip some water before he coughed more. Hastily placing the glass down, he finished his coughing fit before he moaned and laid back down. "Thank you," he whispered.

His weak voice made her feel worse. He had only gone into that storm to get away from her. That was all the two of them had been to each other lately: reasons to leave.

Once, they were partners against the world; now, the two of them just hardly could come together for anything. They were at each other's throats when it came to most things, especially about Narnia.

That was part of the problem of their argument earlier. She did not remember how it started exactly. She remembered the conversation was mostly Peter trying to talk to Edmund about feeling out of place with their parents because whenever any of the three of them had a problem, they only came to Peter, and their parents had nicely tried to get him out of the role of a parent.

But their parents could never understand the years they all spent together. How many times it was Peter who would comfort nightmares, have important talks, and protect them above all else? Susan understood that, for him, acting as a second parent was part of who he was to their siblings.

Susan respected that and understood it. She had tried to express that, or so she thought, but Peter did not want her support. Or maybe he did, but did not like that she insisted that he needed to move on to belong with their parents. It was not her fault that he would not accept it. She frowned, not quite sure the words exchanged. It had escalated quickly. Their conversation, well Edmund and Peter's conversation about their parents, had shifted to the same argument they had over and over again.

Peter wanted her to stop pretending that Narnia did not happen, and Susan just wanted to stop being beholden to their past as he was. All he wanted to do was be King again, to still be every bit of High King that he was in Narnia, and that was the worst part, he had succeeded.

Just as kind and brave as he was when he commanded thousands to when he ruled over none. Even here, where everyone treated him as less, he still remained every bit a High King in a place so dismal, and all she wanted him to do was stop. It was infuriating to see him embrace who he once was when she was so deterred from trying to resemble a faint memory anymore.

She was nothing of how she was before, and she wanted him to stop being it too. They were stuck in England. There was no point in trying to be Narnia's perfect ruler. They were never going back. She accepted that, and her siblings hated her for it.

She watched as Peter rolled over, hiding his face in his pillow, completely disregarding the cloth on his forehead. It was almost as if he thought if he just hid his face, he could hide how terribly sick he was.

Edmund came back in the room with Lucy close behind him. He held a cup of tea in his hand while she came in holding fresh soup.

"Pete, I have some tea for you," Edmund said. There was no response from him.

"Are we going to be able to get him to the doctor?" Susan asked as Edmund came to Peter's side, rubbing gently on his back to alert him that they were there. Peter muttered something into the pillow but did not move.

"No," Edmund replied. "The roads are still too covered in snow. How is he?"

Miserable was the correct answer. But she could not say that. Her actions led to this, and she could not admit that aloud.

"He has been worse," Susan found herself saying. Her response earned her a glare from Lucy.

"It does not matter if he has," Lucy said. She brushed past Susan, placing the bowl of soup on the nightstand. She placed her hand on the barely exposed skin on his face for only a few seconds. "He is burning up still."

"What do you recommend we do?" Edmund asked her. Susan could not help the irritation that flared up in her. He always did that: asked Peter or Lucy for advice every time before ever settling with asking her. Just because Lucy had been the second best healer in Narnia did not mean Susan was not versed with knowledge of how to aid a sick person, especially in England.

"We need to get his fever down," Lucy instructed. "If you could get him to have some tea or soup, that should help reduce the fever and his coughing." She placed her finger to her chin, tapping it slightly as she thought. "I will get more wash cloths for him and better blankets."

Lucy promptly left the room to do so, leaving Edmund and her with their ailing brother. Peter had remained silent for a while, well after Lucy had gone, leaving Susan to assume he was asleep. His breathing was slow but shaky. He even seemed to cough a bit less.

Yet every time he did, it left Edmund moving to soothe him, rubbing his back and saying words of comfort. Then once the coughing finished, Edmund would sit back in his chair with his arms crossed and look at Peter as if he felt his very pain.

That was the best and worst part about her brothers. They always felt each other's pain and triumphs as if they were their own. Only to herself could she admit that she envied their ability to remain that close. Lucy and she were once that close too. A long time ago now.

Much closer to the surface was she angry that Peter and Edmund held onto their relationship in England too. It was just another thing that made her hate being near them.

"You do not have to look at him like that," she said before she realized that she had spoken. He remained silent before his attention slowly left Peter and went to her. He raised his eyebrows in questioning. "Like he is dying and you are somehow to blame for it."

Edmund carefully studied her before saying, "And you do not have to look like you do not care either." In a quiet voice, he added, "It is okay to show that you care still."

What more did she have to prove? She was here. She had helped him when he needed her, like now. Edmund's words struck her the wrong way, and she could not stop the annoyance that flared in her voice when she spoke next.

"I am here, aren't I?" she defended.

He remained quiet before returning his attention back to Peter. Only after a brief silence did he ask, "Why did you have to be mean to him? He was already having a tough time."

"He should not be so sensitive about these things," Susan insisted. She watched Edmund's jaw tighten. "If he just accepted that we are not going back, he would not have such an issue with our parents."

"Just because we are in England does not erase everything that has happened in Narnia. You know how much he gave up for us, how much he took on so we would not have to. He has every right to feel odd with our parents," Edmund quietly defended Peter, as he always did. In every instance, he always took Peter's side. He questioned her though. "How would you feel if you were him, practically raised your siblings only for our parents to tell you that you do not need to do that anymore?"

You forget how much I have done too, Susan thought to herself. She was a part of their raising too. She did not do as much as Peter, she knew, but she had taken over the role of an almost mother for fifteen years too. When things got too hard for Peter or if he needed help, she was always there without a complaint. She understood. But she accepted that she was not who she was in Narnia, and when she disconnected herself from that past, she could do the same with the parental entitlements.

"I have not forgotten," She reminded him. "I just do not want to pretend with the three of you that we are still anything close to what we once were. We are just a couple of children from England." In a sadder voice, she continued, "He cannot force me to pretend either. He is not High King anymore."

Edmund narrowed his eyes at her, but she had stricken him silent for longer than she expected. For a moment, she had thought that she had finally gotten to him. Instead, when he spoke again, there was almost ice in his voice.

"Whether the two of you get along, he is still our High King, and that will never change," his voice harsher than she thought it would be.

He opened his mouth to speak more, but she interjected, "Everything changed when we were barred from there, Edmund." She crossed her arms. "You just cannot accept that you were abandoned here, and no one cares what happens to you."

She heard Edmund take an audible breath. She knew her words were harsh, probably crueler than she had intended. He just did not understand. How was she to get him to see the truth? If kind words did not get through, was the answer to be cruel about it? It seemed like the only way to get them to see her perspective.

He actually looked away from her, furrowing his eyebrows as if trying to hide his emotions. Had she really cut him that deeply?

Before he could form a rebuttal, Peter's hand sluggishly reached for Edmund's.

"Ed," he croaked, and Edmund took his hand. His angry gaze only remained on her for a few more seconds before his attention went to their brother.

"I am here, Pete." Edmund's voice was gentle, much gentler than it had been to Susan in a very long time. It was kindness she knew she had lost from him.

There was a cord struck in her, and she did not like how lonely it made her feel. It was not any words that Edmund had said that hurt her; it was witnessing how much he still cared for Peter, just as strongly as he did in Narnia. Susan and he had lost their relationship almost entirely. That realization made her feel hollow.

She hastily left the room, because with her two brothers, she was only reminded that she no longer had a place among them.

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Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this! This is a three part story, and I will post the remaining two chapters tomorrow night.

I would like to give a shoutout to my wonderful prompt giver for providing me with an excellent story idea and having such great patience for it to be written!

Thank you everyone!

Chapter Text

Susan sat outside the door, resting her back on it, as she counted the seconds with the clock in the hall. She knew she should be doing more. But she just hated how she felt.

It did not seem to matter what she said to them nor did it matter how distant she was. Even as harsh as she was to Edmund, which now she was feeling guilty over, she had not gotten him to see her perspective; all she had done was hurt him.

She hated how awful that made her feel. They were abandoned in England. Why was he not angry as she was? Why did he just not understand?

After she had left her brothers, she heard Lucy return to them, and all that vibrated against the walls were their soft voices and Peter's coughing. She had heard Edmund and Lucy moving around upstairs to help him whenever it got too bad.

Eventually, the footsteps upstairs subsided, and after about an hour of no one leaving the room, Susan ventured upstairs. She had wanted to check in, maybe even offer an apology to Edmund, but found herself unable to even knock. Therefore, the next best option was to sit by the door. She did not know what exactly she was waiting for.

Would they call her name for help? For some indication that they wanted her there? Would she finally gather the courage just to walk in?

None of those things came, and that only made her feel worse.

She did care, yet after speaking with Edmund, she knew her efforts were futile. They did not see that she did love them. That was why she wanted them to stop pretending. They did not see how much she wanted them to understand her, who she was here in England. They did not understand how much she wanted them to forget Narnia too. There was only pain in that place.

Why cling onto a place that still left her with nightmares?

For that, she was no longer one of them. Right? They still acted loyal and kind to each other, but she already lost that right with her words and distance. She just wanted them to understand where they could not.

What was the point of even trying to be near them anymore?

They are your family, and they love you, her mind tried to reason, but she bitterly refused to believe it. If that was the truth, they would have accepted my decision to stop reliving Narnia. Her heart constricted in her chest because as much as all of that was true, she did not want to be alone.

Without a warning, the door behind her opened, causing her to almost fall backwards. She hastily clambered to her feet with as much grace as she could muster before facing a surprised Lucy.

Lucy merely glanced behind her at their brothers; Susan caught a glimpse of Edmund helping Peter drink some tea. Lucy reached back, closing the door behind her as she took a step into the hall.

When her attention returned to Susan, she gave her a curious look that soon shifted into one of pity.

"You do not need to sit out here," Lucy said.

Yes, I do, she thought to herself. She may have barred herself, but the idea of going in there with her siblings felt as suffocating as if her siblings had banned her from there themselves. Just merely their glowing presences were enough to shut her out.

"You are welcome next to him too."

You do not mean that, was Susan's first thought. She had to force herself to take a pause though. If there was anyone who never lied, it was Lucy.

Instead, she said, "I do not think he wants me there. Neither of them do."

Lucy crossed her arms, giving her a puzzled look. She studied her for a moment before saying, "Peter was asking for you."

"I doubt that."

"He was. He seemed awfully sad when we told him you had gone," Lucy answered gently.

"He is still mad at me, I am sure," Susan reasoned. Edmund, too, for that matter, she reminded herself. He may have had Peter to focus on, but she knew her words had hurt him too.

"It does not seem to matter," Lucy said. Susan was taken back. How could it not? Susan was the reason Peter went into the storm in the first place. To get away from her. How could it not matter? Lucy had paused, leaning in before quietly saying, "He is not well. He just wants his sister there with him."

Susan shook her head. "He already has you two taking care of him."

"He wants you too," she replied. Very softly did she add, "We all do."

That was when Susan knew it was all too much. She felt the pressure build up in her eyes. She wanted to cry right there, yet she did not know why it hurt so much to hear Lucy say those words.

Susan pulled away from her, staggering back as she did.

"I am going to put on some tea." By the way Lucy's face dropped, Susan knew she was disappointed. Again. Susan turned away, afraid of what her own face might reveal. "I will bring some up to you three when it is ready."

As quickly as she could, she disappeared down the steps.

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Susan never brought them their tea. Instead, she hid away, busying herself with any task she could. After several hours, she could say that the fireplace, the kitchen, and living room were clean.

It was late in the night by the time that Susan had ventured back up to Peter's room, only after she knew that it was vacant of her other two siblings. She could not deal with them too, Edmund most of all. She just wanted to make sure Peter was all right, and then she would let them handle the rest.

She had heard the door to the bedroom that Lucy and she shared squeak closed, and she could presume Lucy had entered it. It was not long after that Edmund had come downstairs and busied himself in the kitchen.

She crept upstairs, and suddenly, she was concerned that Peter could be awake. How humiliating would it be to explain herself? He would probably ask her why she was there at all. Demand that she leave. Call for the other two. She could not handle that kind of embarrassment.

She had almost walked right back downstairs when she stopped herself right at the edge of the top step. In their quiet house, her deep breath was audible. She could not shake the nagging concern that wrapped around her stomach, pulling it in knots. It was so much stronger than her fear of humiliation

He just wants his sister there with him, Lucy's words echoed through her mind. She really did hope it was true. She wanted to be there too.

She could do this. All she was going to do was check on him. She would be in and out.

As she opened his door and went in, she felt the flush reach her cheeks in anticipation for explaining herself. Luckily, the explanation never came. Peter was lying on his side, asleep as far as she could tell.

She went over to him, reaching over and feeling his forehead. Still warm to the touch, but not nearly as feverish as it had been. She hoped that he was getting better. But they still had a while before they could be sure he would be alright.

She removed her hand from his forehead. His face was scrunched up, almost as if he was in pain. She hoped whatever was causing him pain would pass soon. Her shoulders settled when the tension left them.

He was fine enough, and therefore, her check had been successful. Edmund could handle the rest for the night.

She went back over to the door with the intention of leaving when she heard him mumbling inaudible words. She froze in her tracks. She was afraid they were directed at her.

But when she turned around, she saw that Peter was still laying down, still very much asleep. His face still scrunched in pain, and he turned his head to the side.

Nightmare, she realized after a few moments. She went over to him, not understanding a word he was saying.

"Peter," she whispered. "It is just a dream." When he still seemed distressed, she touched his arm, shaking him slightly. "You are alright. It is only a bad dream."

What she thought he was going to do was simply roll over with his nightmare subsided. What he did caught her entirely off guard.

He bolted straight up, nearly knocking heads with her. She jumped back, almost shrieking in fright. He looked panicked, backing himself away from her. When she began speaking to try to ease him, she took a step closer to him. He just shook his head, retreating back further.

"Please, don't come closer." His plea was short and harsh in his sick voice, but his tone was sharp, frightened even. Perhaps, in another instance, she would have thought it was a reflection of how he felt about her specifically. Instead, she remembered that tone.

She was awfully reminded of their time in Narnia. Reminded of the nightmares that never truly went away and the traumas that could not fully heal. It had taken him years to reduce the amount of nightmares he had of the White Witch. He still looked and sounded the same age he was with her too.

Recalling those times, she remembered that a method to get Peter out of his disorientation was to tell him where he was.

"We are in London, Peter," she said gently. "We are home." He shut his eyes. She continued with her words in hopes to remove that fear from him. "Edmund and Lucy are just down the hall. I promise, you are safe."

Safe with me, her mind finished where she could not verbally.

Only at her final words did he peek out from under his closed eyes, slowly scanning his surroundings. It took a few moments, but his shoulders eventually relaxed, and he began to take deep breaths until he seemed to calm down. He sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"What was it?" She asked. Her throat was suddenly dry when she inquired, "Was it the White Witch?"

He shook his head.

"Ettins." He shivered, moving his arms to hold himself across his chest. Susan grabbed one of their spare blankets and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered.

Peter had never talked about all that happened in his northern expedition. At least, not with her. All she had known was that they had succeeded in driving back the Giants. They had only lost a small amount of soldiers in their efforts, yet when they returned home, Oreius scarcely left Peter's side for weeks, and it took Peter far too long to adjust being back at home without jumping at the slightest whim. Susan knew it had been a trying experience, but he had not opened up about it.

She had not pressed him then. He had eventually opened up about the White Witch in his own time, and she had figured this would be the same.

It was not.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He coughed briefly, opening his mouth to answer her, only to cough more. Susan fetched the glass of water from his nightstand, offering it to him. He gladly took it from her once his coughing subsided enough for him to do so. He drank slowly, and when he was done, he placed the glass on the nightstand.

"Maybe, when I feel better," Peter offered softly. His voice was hoarse and quiet from his coughs.

He could have just said the answer was never, her mind thought. She could not help the frown that reached her face. It was just going to be another thing he shut her out from.

"What is wrong?" He asked. He pulled the blanket closer to his chest.

"Nothing is wrong, Peter," she said. Her attempt at keeping her voice monotone was successful, but he did not seem to buy her lie.

"I am just confused."

"You have a fever," Susan said. She crossed her arms. "It will mess with your mind a bit."

"No, about you," he corrected. She raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Every time I have tried to talk to you, you never want to talk about Narnia with me."

"It is painful to," she answered before she could stop herself.

"It is?" He asked not unkindly.

She was immediately angry at herself for exposing herself to such vulnerability. He will just use it against me in our next argument. Then she paused. He was not like that either. He did not use confessions of trust against people, not in Narnia and not here. Still, she hated that she had been so honest, especially with his look shifting from one of uncertainty to one of sympathy.

"Of course, it is. You are still you, and I am not," she answered. He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was trying to understand. "You are still the same as you were in Narnia, and I do not want to be-" His face turned sad. "I am not- I-" Her words cut short in her throat. She looked away from him. She could not stand to see the kind of sadness that rested on his face. "You would not understand," she said bitterly.

"No, I do not think I do," he admitted after some time for thought. She still stared at the wall, not daring to look at him. "Are you angry with me because I am still me?" He said the words carefully and slowly, almost like he hardly understood them himself.

"Like I said, you do not understand."

"Explain it to me," Peter pleaded softly.

He coughed violently, doubling over in the effort. She finally looked at him, watching him struggle from illness with nothing to do to help him. His face was a flushed red color when he was finished. He drank some water from the glass on the nightstand, waiting for her to speak.

He looked at her so gently. He had not looked at her like that in a long time, and she hated it.

"There is nothing to explain to you," she said. When he kept looking at her, waiting, she snapped. "I hate being near you."

The color drained from his face, but he did not offer a rebuttal. She had thought that declaration would be enough.

"I hate that when I am with you, all you do is remind me of the pain I feel towards Narnia, and all you do is make matters worse here for me." The more the words poured out, the more she thought he looked like he might cry. "I do not want to relive my days in Narnia here. I want to make a life here without all of that." She gestured to all of him. "I just want it to stop."

He was absolutely silent. He did not move and did not make a sound. His face stabbed her heart. His eyes were wide; tears were brimming in them. Almost in defeat, he looked down at his lap, breaking eye contact. His shoulders slumped, and she did not know what to do with all of this.

"This is why I did not want to talk about it," she said. Her voice was shaky and seemingly loud in the quiet room. She got up from her seat, still waiting for some reaction from him, yet did not want to wait to see what it was. She knew her candor had been sharper than it needed to be.

He had wanted the truth, right? It was not her fault he could not accept it. She tried to convince herself of it, but she knew her words were mean.

He said nothing to her. Did not even look at her. She shook her head. She left him quickly, afraid of what his response possibility could be.

Chapter Text

After her talk with Peter, she had crept into her own room. She laid in her bed, listening to the clock tick, unable to stop her thoughts from swirling in her mindd. Even with Peter sick, she could not have a conversation with any of them that did not turn cold. She felt hollow after leaving him. There was no triumph in hurting him, and she felt so lost.

It was not long after she left him that she heard Edmund re-enter his room. Her brothers' hushed voices were heard through the walls, yet she could not make out a word. She knew Peter was upset, but she did not understand what he wanted from her anymore. She had told him the truth, and she did not know if it was her best option.

Was carving deep wounds into her brothers worth the attempts at distancing herself from Narnia?

That was the question that plagued her thoughts as she tried to sleep. Eventually, she had entered a restless slumber. By the time she woke up early the next morning and went downstairs, she could feel the tension in the air. When Edmund passed her in the kitchen, he looked disappointed at every glance at her and did not utter a word to her.

Peter must have told him what I said, Susan realized when he practically stormed past her. Lucy had only spoken soft words to her, giving her an update on Peter's condition, but even she raced away too.

Being trapped in their house with the three of them was becoming unbearable by morning's end. Susan did not know how to make it better, or if it was worth trying. All she was doing was hurting them and herself.

Why should I keep doing that? she asked herself.

"Susan," Lucy's voice startled her out of her thoughts. It had only been an hour since she had last spoken with her. She had not expected her to return so soon. She blinked up at her in a daze. Lucy looked away from her before she continued, "Peter is asking for you."

Susan knew she could not do another round with him. She did not think she had the strength to. He had the whole night to build a response, she knew it could be lethal.

Instead, she elected to say, "I will be up to see him later. He should be resting now anyway."

"Are you sure?" Lucy asked. "He really wanted to see you." Susan nodded. Lucy looked disappointed but silently went back up the stairs all the same.

Only once Lucy went upstairs did Susan return to her seat on the couch, choosing a book to pretend to read as she allowed her mind a chance to think.

It could not have been more than ten minutes later that Edmund came down. Still as stormy as he was earlier, he asked, "Could you come upstairs? Peter wants to talk to you."

Susan knew what this would be. He must have told their other siblings how much she had hurt his feelings, and they would all be against her. She could not deal with all three of them.

She refused.

"Susan, it is important," he insisted, some of that fire in him reached his tone.

But whatever was important for Peter to say to her was probably only going to make her feel worse.

"He and I will talk later," she replied sternly.

Surprise was evident on his face, but any other emotion was unreadable. He reluctantly returned to the stairs before lingering at the bottom one for a few moments and then climbed the steps. As she watched him leave, she could not help but wonder if she was becoming more of a burden to them than an actual sister.

Maybe, we would be better without each other. They constantly made her feel inferior to them just by their presence, and she knew she tore them down. She was not one of them anymore.

It was not long after Edmund returned upstairs that she heard a stumble and then the hushed voices of her brothers. To her concern and surprise, Edmund was aiding Peter down the steps. She immediately went over to help.

They are going to get themselves hurt doing this, she thought as they nearly tumbled down the steps.

"Be careful," Lucy urged after one dangerous stumble. She watched anxiously behind them, still too small to really help Peter anyway.

"He should be upstairs resting," Susan scolded Edmund.

"I know that," he said in a sharp voice as the two of them reached the bottom stair. "But you were down here."

She found herself frozen in fear of what could possibly be so important for him to come all the way down to her. The two of them skirted past her, and Edmund plopped Peter down on their couch.

"I am too old for this," Edmund muttered with some amusement. A small smile reached Susan's lips, yet dispersed when she saw Peter. His face was still flushed, probably from effort and his fever.

"You should be resting, Peter," she insisted.

"You would not come talk to me," Peter pointed out. Lucy came over to him, offering him some water and placed a blanket over his legs. His voice was quiet yet grave when he spoke again. "But you had said it hurt when we talked, so I understand why you did not want to."

She noticed both Lucy and Edmund's attention were on her, awaiting a reaction. They seemed a bit taken back too. Maybe Peter had not told them everything. Yet again, he always had been a great person to tell problems in confidence in the past.

There was a silence in the air. She did not know what to say to him. It was the truth. Talking to him could hurt her so deeply, even if no harsh words were exchanged, but she also hated that it was that way. She was constantly back and forth about how much she wanted them a part of her life and how much she despised their efforts to be in her world.

He took a deep breath, to steady himself.

"If it hurts you less, I understand why you would rather we did not try to have a relationship in this world," Peter said. At first, she thought he was just confirming what she had implied, until he continued, "I have thought a lot about this, and I realized that there is not anything I would not do for you, or for them."

He gestured lightly to Edmund and Lucy.

"And I will do what you need me to. Because I love you, Susan, more than you believe, and even if you want me to stop talking to you, to stop being a reminder of your pain, I can do that. I will do what you need, but just know, that love will never change, no matter what you ask of me."

She stared at him in disbelief. To stop being a reminder of your pain, hearing him say those words felt like a slap in the face. He was trying to help her, trying to discover what she needed from him. He looked awfully sad about it though, like the mere suggestion was ripping his heart from his chest.

"You would stop talking to me if I asked you to?" Susan asked, unable to comprehend his true offer.

"I want you to be happy," he said sadly. "Even if it means I have to not be a part of it."

She could not believe what he was saying. His willingness to remove himself from her life at the chance it made her happier. She felt her heart constrict in her chest.

How could he still love her like this when she was not who she once was? She thought he had hated her, but his love remained.

How could he even be offering this? Was it actually what she wanted from him? She had thought she wanted to be left alone by all of them, but the actual offer seemed too terrible to consider. She wanted him to stop being magnificent here, but that was not something he could control. She wanted to stop feeling the pain from not being the Gentle Queen she once was, yet she did not know how to do that either.

"I do not want you gone, Peter," she admitted after a long while of consideration. She looked at her other two siblings. "I do not want any of you to leave. I just want to stop being angry with you all the time."

"Why are you angry?" Lucy asked gently.

"You all still embrace Narnia, and I do not want to anymore," she confessed, looking down in shame. "How could I not hate the mere idea of that place? We were cast out, yet the three of you still act the same."

"Not without effort," Lucy pointed out. "We each strive every day not to lose ourselves here."

"But I do not want to keep trying to be who I was. I just want to be me as I am now." Susan sat on the couch across from Peter. She looked at her hands as she fiddled with them. "I cannot keep living in the past," she told them. The words thick in her throat as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. "I loved Narnia with all of my heart. I really did."

"We know," Lucy said softly, taking a seat next to her and taking a hold of her hand. It was probably the first time in almost a year that she had.

She continued on, hoping that she could explain this. "I do not want to lose the three of you." She paused. "Anymore than I already have." She could not help but glance at Edmund, knowing she had pushed him away often with her words, especially yesterday. "I just cannot keep living, in hopes of returning to Narnia. We were told to live our lives here, and that is all I want to do. Have a life here without Narnia's shadow blocking me."

They were quiet for a long while.

"Why did you not tell us before?" Edmund asked carefully, taking a seat next to Peter.

"I thought I did," Susan admitted.

"I never heard you tell us that," he replied. She looked at Lucy and Peter, and they both nodded heads in agreement. In a grave voice, he continued, "My concern is I do not want to keep being torn down because we still remember, even if you do not want to. We grew up there, and you cannot change those years."

"I know, and I am sorry-I am sorry about yesterday," she blurted out. She looked at both of her brothers. "To both of you. I know I was crueler than I had to be." She paused. "You did not seem to understand when I did not want to talk about it. I thought- I wanted to make you feel as awful as I felt."

"You need to talk to us, Susan. Like Peter said, we just want you to be happy," Edmund suggested. He looked thoughtfully at her before asking, "Lashing out only made you feel worse, didn't it?"

"How did you know-?" she started.

"I used to do it all the time," he answered calmly. A delicate expression was on his face. "You remember. Before Narnia, all I did was try to make others feel worse to feel better. It never worked." Years ago, at the mere mention of his past actions, he would panic and feel shame. She was glad that he was still able to talk about his past here as he had been able to in Narnia.

"I supposed I do that a lot lately," she realized. She looked at them carefully. They each looked at her with different expressions: Lucy was thoughtful, Edmund was understanding, and Peter was kind.

"How can we help you, Susan?" Peter asked. His voice was soft and gentle. He still wanted her to be happy; she felt tears brimming in her eyes.

"I need your forgiveness, Peter," she said. He looked a bit surprised. She continued on, unable to contain her thoughts. "I do not hate you, and I should not have been so mean yesterday- or even the other day. You have every right to feel out of place with our parents, and I should not have said any of what I did." She paused. "Will you forgive me?"

With a gentle smile, he said, "I always will." He paused before pointing out, "But I do not want to keep being a reminder of your pain. I do not want to do that to you."

"That was cruel of me to say," Susan said. "I just hate how angry I feel towards Narnia, and being near any of you reminds me how much I miss being a queen."

"We miss it too," Peter said, and for the first time in a long while, a look of understanding passed between them.

She smiled gratefully before she looked around to all three of them. She loved all of them so much, even when they had grown so apart. She missed them, missed being their sister.

"I just want us to be siblings again. Please, I know we cannot be as close as we once were, and I know that I have been rather awful of late, but could we try?" Susan asked.

She hoped they wanted to do as she did. She could not contain the eagerness and hopefulness that swelled inside her.

"I do not think I want to ever really talk about Narnia or even think about it more than I have to, and I know that must be difficult for you to accept, but you need to know, what we have endured, the pain you still feel, I will never forget it. I will always be here. I will always help you through your fears and everything in between. Just please, give me a chance to be your sister again, just not as a former queen but just as Susan."

They each carefully considered her offer. It was Peter who was the first to speak.

"As long as we have each other," Peter started quietly, "then if you need me to not talk about Narnia to you, I will do my best not to."

"And I promise, I will try to talk to you three instead of just lashing out," she promised, hoping they understood how much she rathered this alternative. She could not lose them any more than she had.

Edmund was the next to speak, saying, "I will respect your wish to stop talking with you about Narnia, but you cannot keep being angry at us for remembering. We do not want to forget, and you will need to let go of that anger."

"I will try," she swore

Lastly, they all looked to Lucy who had remained quiet for a long while.

"Aslan had told us we needed to find him in this world," Lucy said. Susan looked away, readying herself for Lucy's faith to outweigh everything else. "But I suppose that he would also say that we all must take our own journeys, and I will accept that yours is not like mine."

"Thank you," she found herself saying. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Lucy hugged her for the first time in such a long time. She could not contain the love she felt.

"We love you, Susan," Lucy said. "And I have missed you."

"I have missed all of you for too long," Susan admitted, holding Lucy closer.

While their problems were not all solved, this was a start to a long journey of healing the wounds the last four years left. After that day, they came away with an understanding, a recognition that their relationship as siblings stretched beyond the wake of Narnia, and for the next few years of their lives, despite their struggles and the longing for Narnia, the four of them remained close, as close as they could be.

The four of them became siblings again. After many struggles, Susan had been able to release her anger, and she embraced how wonderful her siblings were in both Narnia and England. They allowed Susan to feign ignorance about Narnia to anyone who asked her of it because they understood how painful it all was for her, and they knew that in their darkest hours, she was still there for them.

Because the most important thing they received after being trapped in their house together was that they had each other again.