Note: The Last Battle spoilers, albeit not terribly specific.

Disclaimer: I have no claim on the C.S. Lewis estate.

Ten Steps to Losing a Crown

1.) Susan laughed merrily as she grabbed for Lucy. Her fingers brushed fabric, but didn't hold, and she kept running, not much caring if she caught her—it was as glorious a day for a run as for a ride. One arm rose to protect her eyes from pine needles, and her fingertips brushed soft fur. A heavy foot squashed hers and she tumbled with the others in a complaining pile—out of the woods and into a room, with her riding habit replaced by scratchy, uncomfortable clothes, mind dulled by the realization of where they were and what they'd lost.

2.) The day after their return, Mrs. Macready had spoken sharply to Susan for something, and she'd looked at the housekeeper with such gentle astonishment and reproach that the woman had broken off, flustered, and backed down. But a mere three days later, Susan was already no longer used to being a queen, and the housekeeper shot her a glance, her eyes dropped and her shoulders sank defensively, and the woman's scolding over her dirty shoes seemed to last forever. She bit her lip and tried to gather that regal nonchalance that had been so natural—and found herself meekly apologizing.

3.) Susan hugged Edmund and Lucy and pressed her face into Peter's chest, unfamiliar in its youthful thinness, as unfamiliar as the two children in her unfamiliar arms. They were kings and queens, not children. These arms weren't hers—they'd never pulled a bow or notched an arrow, never lifted a horn to her lips, nor even a glass of spiced wine. This wasn't her. But the wardrobe wouldn't let them in. They'd tried it a hundred times, and finally the professor had caught them—he'd said they'd get back eventually, just not that way. But what if he was wrong?

4.) Susan met Peter's eyes and smiled in relief as Lucy drifted off, tears dried and apologies for leading them back through the wardrobe silenced as her breathing evened. Most of their wounds had healed over the years that no longer showed on their bodies, but this one was still fresh. He tiredly returned her smile and touched her cheek with one incredibly reassuring finger. "Okay now, Su?"

She nodded and took his hand, laying the back of it against her cheek, and then playfully kissing the knuckles. "My thanks, High King—sometimes you're the only one who can reach her."

5.) She couldn't sleep, and eventually realized that it was because someone was still crying. Not Lu or Ed or even Peter. She listened, confused, for a long moment before sitting up sharply, mouth forming the word, "Mother?" Quickly she rose and slipped out of the room, pausing outside her mother's door. She knew how to comfort her siblings, knew how to comfort subjects, but this was entirely new and frightening. She briefly considered going back to her room—and then straightened her shoulders, opened the door, and swept in, gathering up her mother in her arms and whispering wordless reassurances.

6.) "I miss you all so very much," her mother finally whispered.

"But, mum, we're back now," she said.

Clear, blue eyes so like Peter's, bright with tears, met hers, and her mother shook her head. "But you're not—you're not. You're all—I always wanted you all to be closer, I hoped—I hoped your time in the country, depending on each other would do that—"

"And we are closer," Susan said. "Ever so much closer!"

"Yes," her mother whispered. "And I'm happy—I truly am. I just didn't realize that when you got closer, you'd close me out."

7.) The next time Susan had a problem, she turned to her mother for help. Peter didn't seem to notice, and mum was so grateful, so eager and pleased to listen to her and offer advice. And when Edmund came to talk to her about something, she told him to ask Mum. His look of betrayal was so unexpected that he'd muttered a curt, "Never mind," and gone in search of Peter before she could explain she was willing to help, she just knew how desperately their mother wanted to. She'd tried explaining later but he waved it off without listening.

8.) It hurt to be the last one to see Aslan. It hurt more to know that she had believed Lucy—but thought it would be easier to follow Peter. When Aslan told Peter and her that they weren't coming back, she'd been so focused on being with him that she hadn't been able to think about it. It wasn't possible to think negative thoughts when your hand was in his mane. It wasn't until later that she'd realized it was because she hadn't seen him. Because she'd chosen the easy way. Because she was no longer Queen Susan the Gentle.

9.) She didn't refuse the invitation because she had a date, though she did. Nor because the conversation would, without a doubt, move to and stay on Narnia, though she was sick to death of talking about the dream she'd abandoned. It was because every time any of them talked to her, they looked at her as though she had betrayed them. And sometimes she thought she had. But Mum and Daddy watched them sadly, unable to understand or be a part of their closeness, and Susan couldn't regret her choice. The others had each other—their parents only had her.

10.) She hoped the cold, empty numbness would last forever. It didn't, but it lasted through identifying the bodies, through the ceremony, through the gathering afterwards. She stayed calm, though white as chalk, and politely thanked everyone who offered their sympathy. Only later did she break down, sobbing and screaming in her suddenly private home, having not only finalized the loss of her siblings and friends—but even losing the parents she'd given them up for. It hadn't been fair of them to make her choose—and it was even less fair that they'd all left her, every one of them.