I read 'The Last Battle' again and I just wondered...Well, you'll see.

High Queen of Narnia

I'm dying. I know it. People do not say it, but they can see it. My hair has faded into grey, my face is old and worn, my eyes have no shine. I can barely walk. It may be years, or maybe only minutes to my death, but death will come. It comes to all. Too soon some say. Too late for me.

Who am I, you may ask. I used to know. I do know, but I am not proud of who I am now. I do not want to tell you, but I will, soon. I will tell you who I was then, so long ago.

I was Susan, high Queen of Narnia, Lady of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands. I ruled Narnia with my brothers, Peter and Edmund, and my sister, Lucy. We defeated evil, we were Aslan's chosen. We were fair, noble and wise, but we could not remain in Narnia and returned home.

I returned once more, but Aslan, dear Aslan, bade me to stay in my own land, along with my brother Peter. It was at this time all changed. I was foolish, bitter that others could return to Narnia and to Aslan and I could not. I forgot the true Narnia, making it a story in my own mind to stop my jealousy. This was worse than my jealousy though. The others were faithful, I became a betrayer. I wished to turn back, to believe once more, but I could not, not until it was all too late.

It all happened at once. They went on that journey because something was wrong with Narnia. I felt it too, but fooled myself once more, telling myself it was just a game carried too far. I was sitting by the fire when the news came. Father was dead. Mother was dead. Peter, Edmund, Eustace and Jill were dead. And Lucy. Dear, sweet, pure Lucy. She was dead.

Lucy had always been the best of us, never wavering for a second in her innocence and belief. Peter had been noble, so noble, and brave. Edmund had been wise and so true to Aslan. And Mother and Father. My parents. My shelter. Gone. My cousin, Eustace, had been transformed into a kind and caring boy and Jill, his friend, was so young and confident and full of such life.

Only now, she wasn't. None of them were. It was so strange, being an orphan. Being an orphan was something that happened to other people, not oneself. It was almost as if you were born an orphan. The Lady Polly had always said I'd wanted to grow up too fast but now I had to. But that part of my life is not important now.

I married. My husband died so soon afterwards though, I don't think it hurt so much. That sounds dreadful, but it's true. I had one child, born after he died. A girl. I named her Mary. She was so pure, so beautiful. I told her of Narnia, hoping against hope that she might find it. She never did. I told her everything. I told her she must never stop believing and she never did. She was so perfect. Almost like Lucy.

I'm old now, so very old it seems. The light leaves me gradually. I remember, in the summer holidays, Lucy once complained she had a Narnia deficiency. That is what's killing me. A Narnia deficiency. I feel I would almost like to see the white witch I miss it so much. Mary helps me, retelling me the stories I told her. It hurts her to see my dieing. I remember her last words to me, for I may not see her before I die. It is what she always says, each visit, before she leaves. "You've got to smile with all your heart and soul, and live with all your heart and soul. You must do it, for Narnia and for Aslan." She is right, but it is so hard to smile.

Every day of my life I have prayed for mother, father, Peter, Edmund, Eustace, Jill and dear Lucy. I pray to Aslan they are in his green, fresh country beyond the wave and beyond the sun. I pray they are happy.

Time is passing.

Life is slipping away from me now. So soon it seems, yet so long. Soon. All times are soon. Aslan said that.

And then Aslan is with me, filling the room, golden, shining. A thousand words cannot describe him, or what I am feeling. I can walk, and I fall on my knees before him, crying. He is talking, but I cannot here his words through my tears. He calls me child and I cry harder. He breathes on me and I look up and his large, beautiful eyes are full of the same tears. He gives me life. His paw is soft and velvety still, I note as he takes my hand. He guides me away from the room, from everything old and dead, and suddenly I am in Narnia, only the real Narnia, not the shadow of Narnia I had seen before. It is brighter and more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. Aslan leads me to a garden, so rich and full of life I feel grey in comparison. I am grey in comparison. I feel as though I cannot enter. I do not deserve this. He nudges me inside gently. I stand in the gateway, watching.

A young dark haired girl is playing cricket. As I watch she is caught out by the younger of the three boys on the opposing team. The younger blonde girl says something along the lines of hard luck. The mouse on her team is jumping up and down, waving a sword furiously. The dark haired girl shakes her head, a good sportsman. She turns with the grace of a queen-

Seconds later she's flying towards me across the grass and I'm running too, my age falling away with every step I take until I'm a child again. And my arms are around her and hers around me and we're laughing and crying and talking all at the same time as the others come up and they see me and recognise me start laughing and crying too. It's Lucy, my sister, and I can feel her, she's real and alive.

Peter and Edmund join the hug and we're the four children again, the four who found the wardrobe. I hold them so tight and they hold me, murmuring about missing me and times called soon and long and distant and near. The Lord Diggory and Lady Polly are there too, and Eustace and Jill, and Caspian, Rillian, Reepicheep, simply everyone is there to greet me. I can't stop crying, for I can see them and I have never been happier, never. All I can think of is Mary though, and I hope she understands where I am. She is smart, she will guess, I am sure, and she will be glad for me.

Aslan is still there and Mr Tumnus, dear old Tumnus, brings me two things I thought I should never see again. My horn and bow and arrows. They tell me of the end of Narnia and I weep for it and weep with joy that I have entered the true Narnia. They tell me how they feared I would never join them, that I would never believe again. I feel so glad to know I do believe.

Then there is a rumble and Aslan is purring, a purr like and earthquake. "Come," he says, "it is time." I stand, knowing where to go, and Peter leads us.

We go to Cair Paravel, the true Cair Paravel. The four, two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve, fill the thrones once more. And Aslan's roar of triumph echoes through all worlds.

And so begins the first chapter of the Great Story that nobody is ever told

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