#AFTER NEARLY A QUARTER OF A CENTURY. IT HAS HAPPENED. NARNIA FIC

[zannolin]

it's just like falling snow

“Ask your question, Susan.” He says her name as tenderly as when he first crowned her for the Sun and the South in Cair Paravel that spring so long ago. She can’t quite remember the last time he called her Susan, not daughter or dear one or Gentle or Queen. Susan wraps her hands around a chunk of mane each, feeling the warm weight of it settle in her palms, her bones. “Sometimes,” she whispers, “I feel like it would be easier if I could just—forget any of this wasn’t a dream. Don’t you think?” “That,” says Aslan very solemnly, “is not for me to say.”

(or, susan pevensie on losing narnia, herself, and her family—and perhaps on finding them again.)