Susan Pevensie dies in a cold, brightly lit room, bloody lips a mockery of the lipstick she once wore so proudly; bravely; like armour.
Susan Pevensie dies silently, after cutting out her own tongue to prevent from betraying secrets, networks, lives. She broke her own hands before clever interrogators broke her mind.
Torture doesn’t give accurate results, but clever manipulation can. Susan knows it; the agents know it. Susan refuses to betray the other things she knows; the things she suspects; the things once hidden behind bright painted lips, tinkling laughter, smiles, sly or shy as a situation demanded; a thousand lies built around grains of truth.
Susan Pevensie does not die gently; with a lurch and a shudder.
Susan Pevensie does not die for Queen and Country.
Susan Pevensie dies for duty, justice, and love.
Susan returns to Narnia five years older than her mother ever would be, and with more scars than her siblings ever acquired, in either lifetime.
Susan had found Him by another name, by a longer, harder road. Her faith was not her sister’s faith; but Susan is not Lucy.
At first, she lies on the sun warmed grass, remembers gentle light and soft winds and not hurting; the soft murmuration of siblings, back when everything she needed and loved was there, right there, and her future was made up of golden dreams instead of smoke and fear and the heavy weight of other’s lives. A time before school and war and Narnia, before growing up twice over. Before leaving, finding, and losing.
Remembers being loved. Realizes she never was not.
Susan doesn’t know how long she lays there, before a Something drops down beside her. She knows that smell though; that warmth. She turns and burrows her unbroken hands in his soft fur, and is soothed by his rumbling purr.
Soon she will arise and follow Him to those she loves. For now, she will lie by the Lion that was also Lamb, in the soft, warm twilight, in the Silence that was Not, for prayer comes in hearts and Susan’s needed to heal.
Susan needed a song to overwhelm the screaming in her heart, and the warmth of the earth to remove the long chill from her bones. She needed the wind to whisper in her soul; and Aslan, who was more than Aslan, to drive away her pain and darkness that had lingered since she lost her whole world in one fell blow.
and Susan dreamed
and Susan healed
and Susan prayed
and Susan wept
and the lion did those things with her
and then the lion took her Home.