Misunderstanding, a chronicles of narnia fanfic

Disclaimer: Not C.S. Lewis. And there is incest and slash in here fairly explicitly and mentions of a possible three-some so don't like, don't read.

Misunderstanding

At the very second that Susan was walking past their door, High King Peter the Magnificent was being thoroughly debauched by King Edmund the Just. She stopped at the curious sounds coming from the room. It couldn't be-. Susan shook her head and leaned closer.

Could it?

There was no one in the castle but her siblings, herself, some guards, and the odd lingering member of the court after the party. Most were either asleep anyway or passed out in the halls.

A groan came from inside. A bit too high-pitched to be fully masculine, but, then again, too rough not to be, she decided, briefly cataloging in her head who could have, and apparently does, make those kinds of sounds. Susan weighed her choices. In the throes of passion, really, anyone is capable of anything, even moans that at the moment sound far too animal to her ears to be human.

Centaur? She shuddered at the thought, but figured that she wasn't one who could pass judgment. Just last week she had- well, it gave her good reason not to, in any case.

No, whoever it was was probably human or at least the more human kind of Narnian.

The groans in the room were becoming more heated, and she was no closer to finding out who was making them. Susan let the thought pass through her mind that she should just move on and forget about the whole experience. And pass it did - rather quickly and without consideration.

This was the most exciting thing that had happened in weeks and she wasn't going to let the opportunity get away. Over the years, she and her siblings had established a relative amount of peace and only, from time to time, handled a legal dispute or diplomatic treaty. With no warring nation to fight and no arguments to settle, this situation proved itself to have the potential of being very intriguing. She decided to stay, the curiosity too great to allow her to leave.

It could be Peter, headstrong and generally innocent Peter who's perhaps a bit boisterous when he gets some alcohol in him. But who isn't? Peter, however, has made it painfully clear that he is not looking for a Queen or even someone to share his bed with every once in a while. She scoffs at the idea. They are ruling monarchs, after all, who at some point might be expected to produce heirs.

Can't be Peter. He was with Edmund the entire evening anyway, from what she had seen, which automatically ruled her other brother out as well. And besides, Edmund and romantic trysts?

Susan chuckled briefly at the idea. Her younger brother was even more level-headed and practical than the eldest of them. Someone who had the mind to set up, plan out, and painstakingly execute their legal system could not possibly make those kinds of sounds. Poor Edmund. It would do him some good.

That left Lucy, sweet, sweet Lucy that was sometimes too playful for her own good. She had been flirting with that man from Calormen, Duke Whatever-His-Name-Was: tall, dark hair, purple outfit, she knows she would recognize him if she'd only see him again. She thought slyly that maybe she'd get her chance if (and when, she was sure) he'd come down to breakfast the next day.

"Oh Lucy, you little fox," she whispered quietly when another throaty whine came from behind the closed door.

Susan shook her head, amused at her twenty year old sister's now painfully obvious behavior. The flirting, the new clothes, the secretive looks, and now this. Where had the time gone and how exactly did her younger sister grow up without her knowing it? She'd have to have a talk with her tomorrow.

For now, she silently tiptoed away to her own bedchambers much farther down the hall (for which she was glad) and tried to go to sleep. The wine helped. She hoped it would make her forget, at least, the more poignant details of the night.

"Fuck, Peter."

Edmund tries to muffle his groan by biting into Peter's shoulder blade, but that only elicits an equally loud moan from his brother and makes him arch his back into Edmund in the most delicious way. Beads of sweat roll along the downward lines of tanned flesh.

"Shh, Ed," he says a little breathlessly. Edmund hits a spot in him that makes Peter gasp and he closes his eyes, just barely pushing the words past his lips. "You'll wake the girls."

Edmund makes a vague noise that sounds a little like "Don't care," but Peter can't be sure. His brother is leaning his head on the back of his neck, dark wet hair plastered to his forehead, and the warm, welcome weight of his chest, heavy, on top of him.

Peter's hot. The air around him is scorching and Edmund inside of him keeps his body at a steady burn. He spreads his legs even further and angles his hips to meet Edmund's, hooking his feet around his brother's to keep him balanced.

He can feel Edmund chuckle into his skin. "Eager?" Edmund is too, and Peter twists himself enough to draw a low moan from him, just to remind him that, despite his little quips, he knows his brother wants it just as much.

"You know I am. It's been too long," Peter just manages to say before he releases a shuddering breath and his thighs quiver against Edmund's.

Edmund tries to roll his eyes, but the action is lost to the sensations of the rest of his body. It's only been three days.

He does manage, in a spontaneous, sentimental motion, to smile against neck and put his left hand over Peter's, lace their fingers, and bring the other hand to run teasing nails across his brother's stomach and lazily stroke his length.

"Missed you too. Missed this." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust that nearly pushes them both completely over. Oh Aslan, it has only been three days and here they are, desperate and hard and sweaty and-

"Perfect."

Exactly.

Susan sits down to breakfast with an extra bounce in her step. She piles eggs high onto her plate, but mid-scoop notices the strange looks her brothers are giving her and stops.

"What?" she asks with a shrug. Lucy has not yet come down and there's no sign of that Duke either, but she isn't deterred; in her mind, that's just a sign that she was right.

Edmund and Peter look at each other worriedly. When Susan gets into one of these moods, trouble and awkward silences are sure to follow. Just last week- well, who are they to judge, in any case.

Edmund trails a hand up and down Peter's thigh, smiling innocently when Peter nearly tips over a glass and coughs into his hand. "Nothing. Just wondering."

Judging by the self-satisfied smile on her face and the expectant gleam in her eyes as they flick to the staircase, door, and back to her plate, Edmund guesses that they're not the only ones feigning innocence. It's only a matter of time before they know exactly who and for how long this has been going on.

"She knows." Peter says and captures Edmund's reddened lips in between words. "That look she was giving us over breakfast, which was your fault by the way, clearly meant that she somehow found out about us."

"Doubt it," Edmund returns, with a kiss of his own. "Besides, it's Susan. She was probably having the same kind of fun we were having last night."

He gives his brother a wink and pushes him deeper into the alcove before turning his head in either direction of the hall, deeming it safe, and proceeding to attack his neck with teeth and tongue and letting his hands roam under his shirt.

Peter just leans against the wall and lets Edmund make him forget he ever brought the subject up.

Lucy sighs deeply when she sees her older brother pulling Peter along with him to some darkened corner of the castle. Honestly, how Susan doesn't notice the illicit goings on of both her brothers is beyond her.

They couldn't be more glaringly obvious what with the touching and the kissing (that they think is secret but really isn't because they do it absolutely everywhere) and the affectionate glances when they think no one's looking.

She runs a frustrated hand through her hair. Practically everyone knows that the two Kings of Narnia share more than just blood, and they've all had ample time to accept that. Aslan has not yet intervened, and Lucy knows that if he saw the need, he would, so she takes that as a good sign (if not even a blessing).

She hears a satisfied moan echo through the hall. Oh lion's mane, they're loud too. That way to the kitchens is definitely out of the question.

Lucy wrinkles her nose in contemplation, trying to picture Cair Paravel in her head, before heading down the opposite hall.

Susan finally spots Lucy looking a bit lost and fairly disoriented. She nearly claps her hands together in glee at having found the perfect opportunity to both meet with her sister in a discreet area and find a way to work the topic into the conversation.

"Lucy!" She steels her resolve and trots after her sister. She calls again "Lu!" to which Lucy turns around and gives her a relieved look. Finally. Someone's come to help her get out of the maze that is Cair Paravel's corridors.

"We missed you at breakfast," Susan says after catching up. She figures it's best to get straight to the point. Maybe this is going to be easier than she thought.

"I know. I overslept," Lucy responds with a shrug, craning her neck around and trying vaguely to locate some indication that this part of the castle is familiar. "Say, do you know where the kitchens are? That's why I was heading down here, but I went a different way than usual and now I'm lost."

"Why?"

"I was avoiding someone." She wavers and rocks impatiently on the balls of her feet. "Someones," Lucy amends and pays no mind to the way Susan's eyes widen. "Kitchens?"

Lucy was involved with more than one person? And in the same night? The Duke was still a very real possibility, and this was all but a confirmation of that fact. But then who else since there must have been two (hopefully, only two)? And why was she avoiding them? An argument perhaps.

She mentally starts checking off her lists of plausible suspects and doesn't say anything to Lucy, merely stands there while her sister looks at her expectantly, taps her foot, and waves a hand in front of her face.

Lucy throws up her hands, muttering something about everyone in this castle being crazy, and starts walking away from Susan who is still deep in thought and consequently ignoring her exasperated sister. Her eyes suddenly snap up from staring blankly at the floor.

"Who?" she calls (though she doesn't really expect an answer) after Lucy who is all ready half-way down the hall (going the wrong way, Susan later realizes, but doesn't say anything).

Lucy's skirts swish about her as she stalks away. With a renewed vigor and an angry huff (because she was reminded that they were the reason she was down there in the first place) she shouts back "Our brothers," over her shoulder.

She was a disappearing dot into the darkness of the corridor before Susan realized and shuddered at the implications of those two words.

Lucy. Peter. Edmund.

Lucy, Peter, and Edmund.

No, that wasn't right.

Lucy and Peter and Edmund. Together.

That wasn't right either. In all actuality, it was fairly wrong, but the logistics of it were correct (or so she had gathered).

Susan doesn't think she would have a problem with it if it was just Peter and Edmund, who had naturally clung together since childhood and were always closer to each other than the rest of them. In a way, that made sense.

But Lucy? They had no business involving her in any other kind of relationship than the one they shared as a family, and Susan would make sure of that.

Her younger sister was right about one thing, though - this castle had gone crazy, and apparently, the whole world had chosen to do so as well.

Lucy emerged from a rather dusty path, covered in cobwebs and picking things out of her hair. It felt like she had been lost for hours before she had finally recognized that one statue and knew she was safe.

A bit more flustered and a lot more frustrated, she strode purposefully to Peter's (and Edmund's, though that room was never used) bedchambers. They were at the very end of the hall, framed by heavy ornate doors that Lucy carelessly and effortlessly pushed through, shouting "Peter! Edmund! I need to- Oh my God!"

She quickly averted her eyes with her hand and half-turned away from the sight before her - a very naked Edmund doing very dubious things to an equally naked Peter.

Peter gave a loud gasp. Edmund's hand had slipped a little in its motions, but Lucy hoped the sound was from genuine surprise and not anything else. There were some things she just didn't want to know.

"Lucy! Don't you knock?"

"Well, apparently she doesn't," said Edmund with a cheeky grin, still continuing his strokes before Peter pushed his hand away.

Peter was already making efforts to locate his trousers when Lucy told them exasperatedly to "Get their clothes on." Edmund made no motions to do so, obviously hoping to begin where they had left off as soon as Lucy was done with her conversation. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and covered his lap with the bunched up sheet, folding his hands and peering at her curiously, as if he hadn't just been caught in bed with his brother.

"I need to talk to you. It's about Susan," she said.

Edmund twisted himself around to look at Peter and raised his eyebrows. Peter gave him a pointed look and clambered over to sit next to him, trousers already on (to Edmund's great disappointment). "I told you Susan knew," he whispered lowly.

Lucy turned back around after deeming them both decent and put her hands on her hips. It made Edmund uncomfortable; she looked like their mother (or what he could remember of her).

"Knew about what?" Lucy cocked her head to the side and Peter motioned between himself and Edmund with his hand.

"Us."

"It's Susan," Lucy said bluntly, giving him her best patronizing look. "She hasn't the vaguest idea about what's going on between you two."

Edmund allowed himself a triumphant smirk in Peter's direction. "And even with Peter being so loud." He whistled in mock surprise. "Imagine that."

Susan was walking towards Peter's room (because Edmund's was empty, the bed perfectly made, and everything in order with a fine layer of dust coating the surfaces - curious) when she heard the conversation. She stepped quietly, carefully lifting up her skirts so as to not make any noise.

The door was ajar, large enough that she would have room to hide behind it should either of them come out, but she opened another door to her right just in case.

"And even with Peter being so loud." Edmund whistled. "Imagine that."

Her attention turned to the conversation. Peter loud? But Peter was rarely loud, and the only situations that could eventually bring out a louder side of Peter were the amorous ones (as she and another girl had the misfortune of witnessing), and somehow she had a hard time picturing anymore of those (not that she wanted to).

She peeked around the side of the door. From where she was standing, she could see Peter on the bed and clothed in only trousers that didn't even look buttoned and Edmund next to him who looked completely devoid of clothes. The sheets were mussed around them and Susan couldn't help but wonder what they had been doing beforehand and what was presently distracting them from continuing.

"Shut up, Ed," Peter said but without any real malice and a smile on his face. "No louder than you." He shoved Edmund, who swayed a little but, laughing, scooted closer to Peter so that they were touching, shoulder to shoulder. He put his hands up in quiet surrender.

"You're both loud. The whole castle can hear you. I'm surprised no one has said anything."

Susan nearly gasped. Lucy. That was Lucy's voice.

Edmund gave Peter a sly grin. "Perhaps they don't mind." And he looked back to the figure in front of him defiantly. "I don't hear you or anyone else telling us to stop. Not that we would."

The words "Not that we would," rang in Susan's ears. Did this mean that Lucy was not a willing participant of whatever Peter and Edmund decided to include her in?

They were,all three of them, somehow involved together or at least they all knew about it. She was sure of it now. Why else would they be discussing it so openly and with so few clothes?

She didn't want to hear any more.

Listening to vague sounds from behind closed doors was one thing but hearing the same people involved (Was it just the two, or was it all three last night?) talk about the experience was something completely different.

Before she turned away, she heard Edmund breath a seductive "In fact," (to Lucy - oh Aslan, she hoped not - or Peter? Both?) "we still haven't finished-" He trailed off and Susan set her mouth in a grimace. Is this what her siblings did when no one was looking? She felt like she didn't know them at all.

This new side of them, this whatever-it-was, she decided that she had to speak to them about it, and soon.

"Oh honestly, Ed. Is that all you can think about?" she says, to which Edmund gives a wide grin and looks Peter up and down. He's just about to reply when Lucy closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She looks tired and much older than the twenty she is.

"Don't. Don't answer that. We're here to talk about Susan. Have any of you noticed her behaving a bit strangely? Last night and this morning when I've passed her in the halls or whenever she's seen me, she's given me these looks like she knows something and she's concerned about it but doesn't know how to talk to me. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly."

"Knows something about you? Hiding something we should know about, Lu?" Edmund gives her an innocent and encouraging smile, the effect of which is ruined by the slipping sheet that he has to clutch harder to himself. He knows he shouldn't have allowed Peter's romantic tastes to win - satin just slides off of skin. Wholly impractical.

Peter brings up the corner of the sheet from the floor to rest it at his side, his touch through the material, feather-light. Edmund remembers now - that's why they got it.

Peter strokes his thigh absently, and the satin is cool and smooth against his skin. He looks at Peter who's telling Lucy something (Now that you mention it, Lu. There was something odd about the way she was acting at breakfast. She seemed really anxious. Kept fidgeting and looking around. Looking for someone, I guess. Do you think-) all the while resting the entire surface of his palm on Edmund's leg and brushing his thumb back and forth.

Edmund nearly gives him a choked sob. He was all ready painfully hard from before and now - he doesn't want Lucy to see any of this.

Edmund brings his hand to rest on Peter's, stopping the motions and earning himself an inquisitive glance that clearly worries about if what he was doing (so blatantly in front of Lucy) is okay. Edmund swallows, hard.

"Lu? Can we talk about this sometime later? Tonight at dinner maybe?" She looks skeptical and opens her mouth to protest, but Edmund, known for his thoughtful planning (cunning, Peter calls it) has already thought ahead. "We'll see Susan and then, all four of us can talk about whatever," he pauses and runs a hand through his hair - it's a nervous habit, "scruples you may have."

She tries to speak again, but Edmund's already standing awkwardly, the sheet flapping uselessly at his sides and ushering Lucy out with a final "Bye, Lu! See you at dinner." She squeaks indignantly from behind the door as the lock clicks into place.

Lucy pouts, rather childishly, and crosses her arms, grateful that no one is there to see the ruling monarch at one of her less-than-proud moments. "One of these days, there's going to have to be some compromise, and I'm going to make you take responsibility. You can't always get what you want, Edmund Pevensie," she yells back to the door, still seething at the callous manner and split-second decision-to-actions based on her brother's wants.

Inside, Edmund lets the sheet fall away and eyes Peter hungrily. "Oh, but I already do."

If there's one thing Edmund loves about Peter, it's how he knows so intimately his thoughts and needs. And right now Edmund needs more of that tight heat of his brother, and he needs deeper.

Peter gives, freely, hair falling across his face, clinging to his cheekbones (which Edmund later gently sweeps away) and with a heat that threatens to engulf them, they both come: Peter, biting his lip and growling low in his throat, and Edmund, with a moan that really does sound too loud to be confined to the room. He thought his sister'd never leave and now he can finally express just how glad he is that she did.

They collapse, or rather, Edmund falls on Peter refusing to move himself from his chest (not that Peter would want him to). He gives a contented sigh and wraps his arms around his brother, one kiss right above his heart, and murmurs "Sleep now," into the still-wet flesh.

He's had enough of the emotions of the day, and if he knows Susan and Lucy (and he thinks he does) they'll be at their discussion for hours, and both he and Peter (who won't contribute much anyway) will be forced to make exaggerated yawns at the table until their sisters notice and let them leave at some ungodly hour when the morning sun'll just start to peak out over the horizon and sleep will be impossible.

"But we promised Lucy that we'd-"

"I know," he reassures and adds lovingly, "I'll wake you up." Even if they miss the beginning of the discussion- well, Lucy can always summarize.

Peter does sleep, right after he catches his brother's red and bruised lips in a sweet kiss.

Edmund just watches his Peter, painted gold in the afternoon sun, and asks himself (and Aslan), what he ever did to deserve this. He doesn't know what it is but seeing every one of Peter's fluttering breaths makes him thankful for it nonetheless.

Susan paces the thin piece of carpet before the dining table while Lucy twangs the ends of her fork, hoping that Susan will stop clenching her hands together and sit down. The silence between them is awkward and uncomfortable (like it usually never is) and Susan keeps glancing back at her sister and turning away, eyes shifting everywhere but at her.

Lucy's annoyed. That Peter and Edmund, she grumbles to herself; for Kings, they're sometimes such cowards.

The doors burst open as she idly begins twirling the fork around and the said brothers come rushing in. Late.

Lucy and Susan's eyes both flick upward at the same time to notice them (standing a bit too close to be discreet, Lucy notes) walk the short length to the table.

Lucy clears her throat and looks pointedly at Edmund, tapping a finger to her own neck, just where shoulder meets throat. Edmund understands and quickly covers up the red mark with his collar.

He grins widely at Peter who, with an equally large smile, not at all apologetic, says "Sorry we're late. We overslept." He at least has the decency to look sheepish.

Susan freezes. We? Overslept? Wasn't this the same excuse that Lucy was using just this morning? She looks from Edmund to Peter and back again, noting their flushed faces and haphazard clothing. It's just a confirmation of what she had earlier supposed.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion (is it just Peter and Edmund now?) and she brings a hand to her forehead, sighing resignedly "Fine," and sitting down with her back to them.

Over her head, Peter mouths ominously "She knows". And Susan can't be bothered to turn around when Peter gives a soft groan after Edmund elbows him in the stomach and pushes him towards his seat.

If only all of Narnia could see them now, Lucy thinks. This is certainly going to be an interesting dinner.

Most of the meal, however, passes in silence, and Edmund revels in it, happily munching on his chicken while the others stare down and pick at their food. Silence means no family discussion which is generally something he likes to avoid.

Susan abruptly puts her fork and knife down and rests her hands on the table. She stares ahead of her, collecting the thoughts and questions that have been milling around in her head. When she begins, her voice is harsh, as if saying the words pains her.

"Pete. Ed. Let me get straight to the point." She sighs deeply. "I don't care what you do behind closed doors as long as you keep it to yourselves and leave Lucy out of it."

"What? We would never-."

Susan waves an impatient hand. "Spare me, Peter. I know what the three of you do together. I heard you all talking this afternoon." She turns to Lucy, all soft voice and sympathetic eyes.

"Lucy, dear, just because they're your big brothers and Kings doesn't mean that you have to go along with whatever they say." She places what she hopes is a comforting hand on Lucy's arm. "You can feel free to tell them to stop, even though, apparently no one else will," the end nearly a growl directed at her brothers.

Edmund can barely hide the roll of his eyes as he looks at Lucy who chokes back a laugh. Dear Aslan, Susan really is that oblivious.

"And you. Both of you should know better than to involve Lucy in whatever you're doing. She's young-"

"I'm twenty!"

"-and impressionable and, most importantly, your sister."

"Susan," Edmund says gently when he feels his older sister has finished, "did the incident last week give you these-." Peter's cough interrupts his thought. Right, they weren't supposed to talk about that.

Susan's eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything. She does seem a little out of breath, but that's probably from her vehement rant, Edmund thinks.

"What I mean to say is," he begins again, "that I think there's been a misunderstanding here. Lucy's in a very lov-" He stops when Lucy shakes her head vigorously behind Susan's half-turned back, but when Susan looks back, she smiles and shrugs innocently. Edmund begins more carefully. "Lucy's very happy with her current situation and Peter and I - I'm guessing you already know about that?"

Peter's hand gently touches his own in reassurance under the table. Edmund's rarely hesitant like this, always quick with words. Susan nods slowly.

"Do you think it's wrong? What we do." Peter's gentle hands press firmer into the pulse at his wrist. He's rarely tentative either.

Susan's almost afraid to ask. She's gotten so many things wrong today. Just seconds ago she had assumed and accused all three of her siblings of somehow being involved with one another.

She inclines her head and asks softly "Is it just the two of you?" to which Edmund nods emphatically. Peter slips his hand fully into his own. Susan can think what she wants. At least he'll always have this.

Susan allows herself a little smile. "It'll take some getting used to, but I think I can accept that. You're still my brothers, right?"

Peter exhales a visible sigh of relief and slumps a little in his chair, bringing his and Edmund's joined hands onto the table when Edmund affirms with a soft "Right."

"Did you think I was going to be angry?" Her eyebrows knit together in hurt. "Is that why all this was hidden from me? You told Lucy."

"We didn't tell her anything. She figured it out a long time ago," Edmund shrugs and gives his little sister a fond smile that she returns. 'I guess it just took you longer to notice."

Susan laughs and shakes her head at the events of the day and all of the signs over the past few years that she didn't recognize but have since become increasingly clear. She suddenly remembers how this all started.

'If they're together then, who are you with, Lu?" she asks, turning to Lucy. "Surely, there was someone at the party. I was walking past a room in the West Tower-"

Peter and Edmund exchange guilty grins, and Susan asks them hesitantly "That was you?"

They all burst out laughing when they nod their heads before Susan asks again, teasingly "Now that we've established that. Is there anyone for you, dear sister, or needn't I have worried?"

She doesn't expect a response. How could she have ever thought of her sweet little sister to be involved in anything of this nature? Her brothers, maybe. Her younger sister, no.

But Lucy merely raises her glass to her lips, pauses for a moment, and says "I'm not telling," before taking a long sip of the wine.

"Well, that went well," Edmund says while undressing for the night.

"It could have gone a lot worse."

"But she heard us. She heard us doing things that no sister should ever hear us doing." He lifts a corner of the sheet up and climbs into the bed, sliding next to Peter, their warm bodies coming together naturally.

"Just be glad she didn't see us."

Edmund shudders, his dark hair brushing lightly against Peter's shoulder. "I don't think I could ever look at Susan again if I knew that she had," he says, to which Peter chuckles.

He places a light kiss to Peter's collarbone, closes his eyes, and settles himself deeper into his warmth. "Night, Pete."

"Night, Ed. Love you."

Edmund gives a contented sigh in response and curls his hand around Peter's waist.

They don't sleep much that night and hours later, when the sheets pool around them and slide like a river to the floor, and they lay tangled up in each other, Edmund breathes into Peter's skin. "Me too."

Susan follows the clomp of hooves down the hall (odd at this hour of the night). Her subconscious mind chimes that this was exactly how her problems started the last time, but she figures that it can't hurt; she's already walking.

They make a turn and then another until the way starts looking familiar enough that Susan realizes they're headed for the eastern wing of Cair Paravel - Lucy's quarters.

She knows she should turn back now, that the knowledge isn't worth the trouble, but before she can finish her pivot back the way she came, a ray of light hits the stones beside her. Susan leans her back against the wall and closes her eyes, the happy sighs of Lucy ringing in her ears.

The hooves sound again and she knows this is her last chance. Now or never.

She peeks around the corner just in time to see the legs and tail of a very familiar faun (Mr. Tumnus, Susan affirms) disappear into the room and Lucy peer out into the hall, a barely contained satisfied smile on her face, before she closes the door and locks it.

Despite everything, somehow Susan thinks he didn't come for tea.