Disclaimer: Thank you, C.S. Lewis.

Rated: T for intensity

***

Susan had resigned herself to seeing her brothers go off to war.

She had resigned herself to seeing them come limping home, victorious but battered, on the brink of death or merely exhausted. She had grown used to biting down her screams of terror if Peter lifted Edmund from his horse, only to have the younger King's head loll on his brother's shoulder in a faint. She had learned not to cry for mercy if a shaken Edmund felt it necessary to tell her in detail exactly why Peter had come home a delirious mess of dented armor and patched-up wounds. And she had certainly learned not to ask how such things had occurred. She had acquiesced to the realization that her brothers would risk far more than she would ever be comfortable with, and that faith in Aslan's protection, Lucy's cordial, and her own devotion to their well-being were the only things she could trust to take comfort in. She had learned. It had taken years, and Susan had learned.

But she had yet to learn what it was to see Lucy in battle.

***

Susan flung herself into her sister's arms, gasping with fright.

Not a minute earlier, an urgent shout from the courtyard had startled Susan. She went to the window in time to see Lucy – shaken and disheveled, her wine-colored cloak torn and streaked with mud - stumble on the pavement halfway between her horse and the Centaur guard, Delius. Muddied and pale, she fell into the Centaur's arms, while Delius looked aghast at his Queen's ragged state.

Susan had shrieked and run outside, grabbing at her sister as soon as she was in reach. Lucy looked even worse close at hand. Peter and Edmund, having heard both Susan's scream and Delius's cry of alarm, swooped upon them seconds later.

"Lu!" gasped Peter, anxiously catching his sister's face in his hands. "What happened?"

The younger Queen, although shaken, made it instantly clear that she was not badly hurt. "Minotaurs!" she spat angrily.

"Where? When? How many? Are you hurt?" Edmund demanded.

"On the near shore of Beruna, by the Great Bend. Not two hours ago. I don't know how many… too many!"

Peter grabbed her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Lucy actually managed a smile despite a painful bruise on her clear young face. "Not much, Brothers and Sister dear," she said, hugging Susan tightly. "My worst pain is that Mauris and Pellum died to protect me." She turned her face into her sister's shoulder, quivering.

The three elder siblings crowded around her, enfolding the young Queen into a single, defensive embrace. Susan snuggled her face into Lu's hair. "You're okay," she whispered, running her shaking hands over the crown of Lucy's head. "Thank Aslan, you're okay."

The Queen tried to ignore the fierce look that she knew Peter and Edmund would be sharing over their sisters' heads. It was the look Susan dreaded, for it meant her brothers knew and accepted the inevitability of battle. It meant that, while she had just gotten one sibling safely back by her side, two more were now to be put in danger. Susan hated that look, for it was one she knew she could do nothing to influence, no matter how she might wish otherwise.

Edmund backed away reluctantly. "We'll be off, then," he said, kissing first Lucy and then Susan.

Peter was a little longer in holding his baby sister, but when he pulled back his face was tight with resolve and pride. "Thank you, Lucy. You've been very brave today."

"I don't feel brave," the young Queen shuddered. "Just angry."

"Aye," Edmund nodded.

Peter dropped a kiss on each of his sisters' faces. "Take care of her, Susan."

"Take care of Edmund. And yourself," Susan insisted. "For if you don't, then so help me Peter…" Her voice trailed away, all pretense of sternness fading as she stared at her brother, hoping he could see and understand…

She needn't have worried. Peter's blue eyes softened for a moment, and his lips formed the words I know.

"Your Highness!"

Oreius cantered over the stone, bearing Peter's Rhindon. Behind him, Delius carried Edmund's sword and shield.

A flash the color of steel invaded the High King's eyes. Susan mourned it, the change from loving brother to wrathful warrior as he clapped a hand on his fellow King's shoulder. "Come, Ed."

"Be careful," Susan couldn't help reminding them.

"Shall," Edmund said, quirking his sisters a grim smile as he and Peter joined the Centaurs in preparation for battle.

Susan shivered, distracting herself by taking a moment to thoroughly examine Lucy's face. Her darling Queen was a good deal bruised and cut up, but appeared to be more exhausted and angry than much injured. The older sister sighed gratefully and kissed Lucy's forehead.

"Come, dear. You'll feel better after a good meal."

"And a bath," Lucy grimaced, trying to brush a smear of mud from the sleeve of Susan's new dress. "Dear me… I've made such a mess of you…"

"Better you make a mess of my gown than my heart," Susan returned, her voice low as she smoothed straggling hairs away from her sister's face. "You've come home safe, and by Aslan's grace Peter and Edmund shall too. I ask for nothing more just now."

The younger Queen shook her head. "Mauris and Pellum," she quavered, her voice slurred with emotion. "Susan, if I could wish anything right now…"

The elder Queen hugged her, finding it impossible to speak. Impossible to be as grieved as she should be over the deaths of the good Faun and Gazelle who had sacrificed themselves to save Lucy's life. Impossible because she still feared for the young woman who now stood in the safety of her arms. So Susan said nothing, just held her sister for a long moment and then drew her toward the castle.

At the top of the steps they heard a booming noise, and they turned to see a flurry of red and gold streaming over the drawbridge, shouts and the clanking of metal providing a ringing accompaniment to the rhythm of clattering hooves on thick wood. Near the front of it all, Edmund and Peter were riding close to one another, their heads tilted together. Discussing strategy, no doubt, Susan thought grimly. She gripped Lucy's arm and started to pull the younger Queen inside. But her sister stood rigid. Susan turned her head. Lucy stared after the army, her eyes wide.

"Lucy?"

Lu shook her head slowly. "I should go with them," she whispered.

"Lucy!"

"I should have offered to lead them…"

"Peter wouldn't have let you," Susan said firmly. "And you've told them where to find the invaders."

Lucy shook her head and made as if to go to the stables, her steps uncertain. "They might have changed camps by now."

"Which means you won't know precisely where to find them, either!" Susan countered, not loosening her grip on her sister's arm. "Peter told me to take care of you, remember?"

The younger Queen stood irresolute, rocking lightly on the balls of her feet as she considered. Then the motion set her off-balance, and the matter was decided as she staggered wearily against her sister's shoulder.

Susan caught at her, silently thankful. "Let's get you to bed."

***

"Lucy?"

"Come in," her sister called from the other side of the door.

Susan pushed the door open with her hip, a tray balanced carefully on her fingertips. "I brought you some tea, I – Lucy!"

The tray – and the promised tea – hit the floor, and Susan gasped in fright at the sight of her sister down on her knees, huddled over the tub.

The younger Queen straightened up hurriedly, tossing her sopping hair over her shoulder with a wet smack against the back of her robe. "Calm down Susan," she said patiently. "I was just trying to get the rest of this gunk out of my hair… I didn't realize it was so matted when I washed it."

Susan took a deep breath and picked the now-dented tea tray up from the floor. She willed her heart to slow, trying to banish from her mind the false image of an injured Lucy collapsed on the floor. "Let me see what I can do," she said, turning to go into the bedroom. "Maybe I can get the knots out."

"You're an angel if you can," Lucy sighed, sinking down onto a hassock. "I've been at it for ten minutes now."

The elder Queen picked up a comb from Lucy's dressing table, a heavy one carved from polished pink-and-green-mottled stone. Peter had found a large chunk of the material and had it fashioned into a comb, claiming that the two colors reminded him of Lucy. Susan knew what he meant; the sweet green was the color of Lucy's spring-like hopefulness, the fiery coral-pink was indicative of her ardor. It was a color combination that the younger Queen delighted in, and she had taken to using it in her suite and even her clothing. The dressing gown she wore was bright pink, with green birds and flowers embroidered at the sleeves and hem.

As Susan drew the comb through Lucy's wet hair, the familiar motion caused a soft smile to touch her lips. How many years had they sat like this, the older sister behind the younger, gently smoothing away the tangles? She had always loved the repetitive motion, and the sensation of her darling sister growing relaxed and sleepy against her knee. As a little girl Lucy had sat in Susan's lap, a tiny thing bundled in snuggly robes and cradling stuffed animals. In later years she knelt on the bed in front of her sister. And as she grew taller, her hair long and rippling, Lu found it necessary to sit on a hassock at her sister's feet while Susan sat in an armchair. But always there remained the constancy of the older Queen and sister caring for the younger.

The comb caught in a tangle and Lucy winced. Susan quickly put her hand on top of the younger woman's head and began working the comb free. Lucy held perfectly still, her arms wrapped tight around her knees.

"It's worst on the bottom," she muttered. "Aslan only knows why. Most of the snarls on top came out easily enough."

Frowning, the older sister pushed the top layer of Lu's hair away to reveal a mass of knots and dried stickiness at the base of her neck.

"Dear me," she murmured. "No wonder you couldn't get this all out." As lightly as possible, she began work on the mess. But judging from her little sister's grunts and squeaks, Susan's attempts to be gentle weren't quite enough. "Am I hurting you?" she asked worriedly.

"Go on," Lucy said through clenched teeth. "Must be a beast of a knot to sting so."

Susan pressed her lips together and was about to try the comb on another side of the tangle, when a soft gleam under the layers of Lucy's hair caught her attention. She pushed the tangled auburn tresses up off of the base of her sister's skull. A thick trickle of blood spilled down Lucy's neck.

"Lucy! You're bleeding!"

"What?"

Susan parted her sister's hair to reveal a deep gash just above the bottom of her hairline. Fresh blood seeped over the dried stuff around the wound, seeming almost eager to escape the knotted mess that had caused it to clot in the first place. Susan grabbed up a damp towel, ignoring Lu's gasp of pain as she pressed it against the wound anxiously.

"How did that happen?" she demanded, pulling the now-soaked towel away.

"I don't recall," Lucy winced. "Too much happened all at once."

"Something must have struck you. This is no sword or arrow wound…" Susan examined the injury with a practiced eye, staunchly ignoring the jolt in her stomach that the sight of blood always caused.

"I… I did fall off the horse," Lucy murmured, her face pale with pain. "I suppose it happened then…"

"You hit your head?" Susan took a long worried look at her sister, then got to her feet. "Where's your cordial?"

"Surely it's not that bad!" Lucy protested, her fingers seeking the wound hiding in her wet hair.

"It's bad enough," Susan countered, silently chastising herself for not having seen the signs earlier. Lucy, falling from her horse, losing her footing on the pavement, stumbling against Susan's shoulder… acting dizzy, sleepy, slurring her words… as if suffering from injury…

The elder Queen yanked the pillows from the head of the bed, recalling that Lucy always slept with her cordial in reach, just as Susan did with her gifts and their brothers with their swords. A reassuring bottle of red-and-gold lay under the pillows, and Susan snatched it up.

"Susan!" Lucy protested. "Honestly, you needn't-"

Her sister already had the stopper off and the bottle tipped against her mouth. A drop of liquid fell on Lucy's lips. "Swallow," Susan commanded, capping the bottle.

Sighing, Lucy licked her lips and swallowed. A little bit of the paleness left her face and the tension seemed to go out of her. She leaned back against Susan, pressing a hand to her face.

Shuddering, Susan pushed her sister's hair back with her hand, both relieved and sickened to see a healed-over scar mingled with still-fresh blood. "Thank Aslan you had me comb your hair," she murmured. She picked up the comb and went back to working diligently at the remaining knots. In the end, most of them came out. Susan was surprised to see that the short locks of new growth at the base of Lu's neck curled right up, until she recalled that, once upon a time, Lucy's hair had been curly…

… delicate strands of auburn, soft and silky… baby curls on little Lucy's newborn head…

Susan abruptly dropped the wet mane of hair and pressed a kiss to the back of her sister's head.

"Susan?" Lucy stopped fiddling with the tassels on her robe and peered over her shoulder.

"It's nothing, dear," the elder Queen said quietly. "I'm only glad you're safe."

Lu dropped her head back against her sister's knees. "I pray the same for Peter and Edmund." She hesitated. "Susan, I do wish you would have let me-"

"Hush," Susan interrupted. "No, Lucy."

Her sister closed her eyes and sighed.

They sat quietly for a time, Susan running the comb through Lucy's hair. Lu grew more and more relaxed with the familiar sensation, just as the Queen intended her to, and seemed less inclined to speak of impossibilities. Susan bit her lip. She didn't want to speak of this. She had hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Lu was a sensible girl, but…

Better safe than sorry.

"Lucy," said Susan, "I want you to promise me something."

The younger woman opened her eyes slowly. "What is it?" she murmured in a drowsy voice.

"It's something I've been meaning to talk to you about…"

Her little sister lifted her eyebrows questioningly.

"Promise me you'll never join our brothers on the battlefield."

Lucy sat straight up in surprise. "Why, Susan!"

"Promise me, Lucy!" the Queen insisted. "It's bad enough that Peter and Edmund almost get killed every other day, but you…"

"Susan! You've had to fight for your life before!"

"But it was always because of surprise attacks or some such thing… self-defense. I've never willingly gone on an attack and I don't want you to, either. I don't think it's our place."

"Why?" Lucy demanded. "Because we're women?"

"Partly," Susan admitted. "Father Christmas did say we weren't meant to be in battle-"

"He meant that particular battle!"

"- and Aslan has kept us two out of the wars ever since," Susan continued. "Don't you see, dear? I don't think he wants us to fight."

Lucy sat staring at her for a moment, a deep frown on her face. "Susan," she said finally, "Do you think the titles Aslan gave us mean anything?"
"Why, of course," Susan exclaimed, confused.

"I do, too," Lucy replied, nodding. "I think that Aslan meant to encourage us to act in accordance with the names he gave us. Peter, magnificent. High King and high example of Aslan's wish for us all. Defense of his country is his calling, Susan. You know he is not a violent man and hates war, but he will do what he thinks is needed. Edmund, just. The one who must consider if a punishment is too harsh or not harsh enough. He's told each of us, I think, how he wishes there was another way. I don't envy him his duty, sister, and can only be thankful that Aslan helps him in this."

Lucy smiled and reached to brush her fingers over her sister's perfectly smooth hair. "And you, Susan. My Queen, my gentle one. It is your quality that I love most. It is your title that I think most personifies Aslan's desire for every Narnian. It is natural that you would desire peace. Natural that you would abhor violence in thought and deed. But Susan…" Lucy gently caught one of her sister's hands in her own and locked eyes with her. "Sister, what is the meaning of my title, of valiant?"

Susan shuddered, knowing where this was heading.

Lucy remained silent, waiting for her sister to accept what had been a long time coming.

"Valiant," Susan finally said miserably, "Means to act with bravery."

Lucy nodded. "To act with bravery," she repeated. "Not just to be brave in my heart… perhaps not even to be brave, but to follow the path of bravery. You say you don't think we are meant to fight. I should have liked to believe that as well." She knelt in front of the elder Queen, tilting her head back to stare into her eyes. "Susan, dear. Aslan has spoken of this to me."

Susan gave a small cry of distress.

"I didn't want to heed him," Lucy said quickly. "It has never been my wish to be in battle, and I didn't think it was his either, but…" the young woman gave a wry smile. "I've always wanted to be brave enough to do whatever Aslan asked me to do. He has asked me to do this."

"Oh Lucy…"

"I can't deny him, Susan. You and our brothers have done your duties well and in accordance with your titles." Lucy caught Susan's face in her hands. "Now I ask your blessing to do mine."

"Lucy, please don't!" Susan felt tears pushing at her eyes.

"Shhh…" the younger Queen rubbed her small fingers gently against her sister's cheek. "I'm sorry Sister. I never want to cause you pain. I thought of speaking to Peter first, but…" Her eyes widened a little. "You are my sister. I wanted to talk to you."

Susan shook her head, unable to speak. Little Lucy… her innocent baby sister, a soldier! It was unfathomable, unthinkable… and unfair! She had always been as peace-loving as Susan. Susan knew that Lucy was no fool. She had never been interested in doing anything for show, nor had she ever acted as if she had anything to prove.

But as ever, if something was requested of her by the Lion, she would do it.

Susan shook her head, stroking her sister's damp hair back behind her ears. "Lucy, I cannot give you my blessing until I have spoken of this to Peter. And I ask you not to - to act on Aslan's… request… until then."

Lucy sat staring up at her sister. But then a small smile touched her lips, and she reached to embrace the Queen.

"Of course, Susan dear," she said softly.

To Be Continued

***

Hello Everyone! This was originally going to be just a one-shot, but it grew to such a length that I think it would be best to make it a three chapter story... I intend to have the other two chapters up by the end of next week at the latest. This is probably the most heavily edited fic I've written yet, and I'm still writing and revising the other chapters. Isn't it funny how writing works? I wound up cutting a lot of elements that I though were essential in the beginning, only to find that they were getting in the way of the story. The original inspiration for this fic actually doesn't even make a cameo appearance! I must say, I have very much enjoyed playing with Susan ever since I wrote her chapter of "After the End." Peter and Edmund will also get their say in this story, but Queen Susan shall continue to be the main presence.