A/N: Okay, so I was never 100% satisfied with the way this chapter turned out the first time. I have updated it, for anyone rereading who may be confused. It still pushes it a bit on realism, but I'm much more pleased with this version. Thanks!
-
The years passed more easily this time, for the most part. Margaret knew in her heart that she would return to Narnia, and that knowledge sustained her, through the loneliness and separation.
Of course, that was not to say that those years were without hardship of any kind. But they were in no way comparable to the desolate hopelessness that had filled the last four years.
She finished school, and tried to search for a place to apply for secondary education, though nothing felt right, and so she stayed at home, with her grandmother.
Through it all, her grandmother had been a constant in her life, especially upon that tumultuous first return that had devastated her so. Her grandmother gave her hope for her next return, and encouraged her to continue drawing her memories of Narnia.
Margaret drew the How, and the Telmarine castle. She drew the river spirit, and Aslan. She drew Glenstorm's solemn face, and Peter, mid-duel with Miraz. And, more than once, she sketched Caspian. The details of his face would never leave her, that much she knew.
He lived in her heart, and on the pages of her diary, his face furrowed in concentration, bright with a smile, gentle with love...
With every drawing, she detailed all that she could remember about Narnia, the events, the people, how she had felt in each moment. It was her way of committing all of that world to memory.
Near the end of the third year, her grandmother's health began to fail. Old age, and nothing more, but it still brought grief to Margaret's heart.
Here, sitting at her bedside in the hospital, it didn't quite feel real.
"Such a sad face," her grandmother murmured. "All things have their time, my dear, you know that... My time has come, that's all."
Margaret laughed softly, sniffling despite herself. "That doesn't make it hurt any less... It seems as though I'm always losing everyone I love. I'm so tired of saying goodbye..."
"Oh, darling, this isn't goodbye, not really..." she said with a weary smile. "We'll see each other again. When the stars rain down from the heavens, at the end of Time."
Margaret's eyes widened, and she stared at her grandmother in surprise at the Narnian farewell. The exact farewell she had given to Peter and Susan.
"How do you--"
Granny gave her a knowing smile that bordered on mischievous.
"Who am I, Margaret?"
Confused, she slowly answered, worrying that perhaps her grandmother's mind was leaving her first.
"You're... You're my grandmother... I--"
"My name, Margaret... People seldom think of their grandparents by their names, I know, but you know what it is."
"Of course..." Margaret said slowly, still not quite understanding. "Your name is Susan Halloran..."
Granny's eyes glimmered, and it was then that Margaret realized.
"Su... my Susan?"
It seemed impossible.
"When I met your grandfather, I thought it was funny, how his name was Halloran. But I didn't think it meant anything. That is, not until your father... my son... introduced his father and I to your mother, I was struck by how familiar she seemed. You look just like her, you see." She chuckled softly. "I could swear you didn't inherit a thing from me." Then, she sighed. "But I had let myself forget Narnia, you see, prioritizing foolish things over the truth, until you returned from that first time. That was when it all came back to me..."
"That was why you believed me," Margaret realized. Her head was spinning with the revelation. "And why you had the same wardrobe."
Gran-- Susan nodded. "Professor Diggory left it to me..."
Margaret tried to right herself, but her thoughts were reeling.
"But-- Why have I never met the others? Surely they..."
Susan sadly shook her head.
"No. Long before I ever even married, I'm afraid... I lost them, in an accident."
For a moment, Margaret had entertained the idea of seeing Peter again, seeing him one last time in this life, but her heart crashed at Susan's words.
"Why have you waited until now to tell me?" she asked softly. "Now, when we're about to say goodbye again..."
"You're not the only one Aslan speaks to, Seer or not," Susan said. "When you returned that first time, He spoke to me in a dream. Not like the dreams you have, of course... It was just... Him. He's not a tame lion, you know... He has His reasons."
"I suppose it would have been strange to know before," Margaret murmured, clutching Susan's hand. She laughed softly. "Look at that... We really are family."
"We always would have been, blood or not," replied Susan, just before a sudden shortness of breath overwhelmed her, and the reality of the circumstances set in once more.
Margaret tried to hold back her tears.
"What am I going to do without you?"
"You'll be just fine, Margaret," Susan whispered weakly. "I have the strangest feeling you'll be going back to Narnia soon... When you see Aslan, you'll know what to do." She paused to catch her breath, her words growing softer. "I can only hope He'll deem me worthy to go to His Country... All those years I spent, adamant that Narnia was a fairytale, thinking that dismissing it as something so childish would make me more grown up... Don't get me wrong, Margaret, there is nothing wrong with wanting to grow up, or wanting to make a life in this world... But I did so at the cost of everything Aslan taught me in Narnia."
Margaret couldn't stop her tears now, though she offered what she hoped was a comforting smile.
"I know Aslan will be there at the Great Wave to greet you personally. Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. Even if you did get a little lost along the way. You are Susan the Gentle, High Queen of Narnia."
Susan gave her a peaceful smile.
"Thank you, Margaret... And when you come to Aslan's country one day, I swear to you that if I am there, I will be waiting there for you, to be the first to welcome you home."
She gave a contented sigh, and for a moment, Margaret could see the young Queen she had known in Narnia in her face once more.
"Goodbye, Susan... Tell the others that I miss them... that I love them more than words can say," Margaret said, her voice breaking.
And the Gentle Queen closed her eyes for the last time in this life.
-
"I'd like to talk about your grandmother, Margaret. Losing someone is always hard... especially someone you were so close with."
Margaret picked at a loose thread on the corner of the pillow she held in her lap. The cloth couch was terribly uncomfortable. She didn't want to be here.
"I've lost people before," she said, thinking of Tumnus, of the Beavers, of Haveron... of Peter. Even Caspian, to some degree.
"Of course, of course," said the doctor. The grief counselor. "Your father and mother, when you were young."
"Yes," Margaret said flatly, not bothering to correct her. "I'm just tired of losing people. And, I mean, we said goodbye, but..." But finding out that my grandmother was one of the people I loved as a sibling, the people I only ever got to see in a magical land, was a bit of a shock, though somehow it made things easier, and I'm completely fine now, so I'd like to go...
"That's completely understandable. You've still experienced a tremendous loss, and it's perfectly normal to let yourself feel that."
"I'm fine with it. I am. I... I know I'm going to see her again. It's just that I'm alone. For now."
The doctor nodded, making a note on her clipboard.
"I see... So your faith is important to you, then?"
Margaret hesitated. "In a manner of speaking."
"Spirituality, perhaps?"
"It's difficult to explain."
"Do you think you could try? I just want to understand how best to help you. Sometimes, the death of a loved one can bring up fears of a person's own mortality, but if you have an afterlife you'd like to discuss, I think that might help."
Margaret couldn't stop a dismissive laugh.
"I'm not scared to die. I've been there, to the Great Wave. I had the chance to move on to Aslan's Country. But I chose to stand and fight."
The doctor wrote something in her notes, and Margaret mentally sighed. How could she make this woman understand?
"Aslan's Country... Can you tell me more about what that is?"
Margaret tilted her head.
"What about the name Aslan?" she asked in return. "What do you think when you hear it?"
The doctor - what was her name? Margaret glanced at the placard on the desk. Doctor Harris.
Doctor Harris seemed to ponder the question, and Margaret wondered if she was really thinking hard at all.
"I suppose I think that it's made up," she said with a casual smile and a small shrug. "Why? What does it mean to you?"
Margaret sighed. "Aslan is... I don't even know how to describe Him. He's the real king of Narnia, for starters. He was there when it began, and He'll be there well after it ends."
"Narnia?"
It was tedious, having to explain things that were second nature to her, but Margaret continued on.
"Narnia is... Narnia is another world," she admitted. "And it's where I lived a whole life, until I returned here, and found it all undone. Twice now... Time is different there, you see. You can live there for fifteen years and have a twenty-eighth birthday, only to come back to find no time has passed at all."
Doctor Harris had a patient smile on her face, but to Margaret, it felt hollow.
"You don't believe me."
"Well, no one has ever heard of any such place... Can you blame me for being a little skeptical?"
Margaret shrugged.
"In any case, I don't see anything wrong with discussing this "Narnia". I am a firm believer in exploring whatever coping mechanisms work best for each patient."
"It's not just a coping mechanism," Margaret protested. "Narnia is a real place. I've been there, and lived there, for years. Su... my grandmother knew. She was the only one who did."
The doctor paused, then wrote something on that clipboard again.
"Margaret, would you say that you were close to your grandmother because she indulged your imagination?"
She sighed. "Sure, let's say that."
A long moment of silence stretched as the doctor continued writing in her notes.
"Margaret, I'd like to see you again this same time next week."
"What?" Her head snapped up, fully focused now. "But the requirement was only one session."
"I really think there are more issues that need to be addressed. As such, I can't give you clearance yet."
Margaret ran a hand through her hair. "This isn't what I need."
"You broke a window, Margaret."
"I was grieving. My grandmother had just died. Am I not allowed to be upset after a funeral? And it was my window anyways."
Doctor Harris watched her with a patient, sympathetic look that bordered on patronizing.
"They just want me to be certain you're not a danger, to yourself or to others."
Margaret grabbed her bag, her jaw tense.
"Well I'm not."
-
It continued on that way for a while. Margaret would speak honestly of Narnia, only to be met with disbelief, but she never backed down, much to the growing irritation of the doctor, who seemed to take Margaret's unwavering resolve as a personal slight against her professional skill. In turn, she was met consistently with another added weekly session. Part of her suspected that if she were to play the role of the contrite delusional, that this cycle would end. If she "admitted" Narnia to be a falsehood, then Doctor Harris would deem her fit to continue unmonitored.
But then she thought of Susan, and their final conversation; of how her sister of Narnia had so deeply regretted denying it, and she couldn't bring herself to say it, even in pretense.
"It's funny, you know," she mused during one such session, "I've fought wars, and I've led armies - I've even died, mind you - and the thing that's finally going to cage me is some psychologist in good old, non-magical Bristol."
"No one is going to put you in a cage, Margaret," said Doctor Harris, and it grated on Margaret's nerves, the way she said her name.
"You already have," she replied, much more calmly than she felt. "What exactly do you think these weekly meetings are?"
"There are no wars, Margaret. No armies to have led. You need to accept that Narnia isn't real. It's only serving to fuel your grief, don't you see? If you could just let go of this delusion, you could move on with your life."
Anger rose up in her chest at the doctor's words, but some still, small voice calmed her, and replaced that anger with peace. It almost felt like...
Aslan?
No response came, but the peace remained all the same. She sat up a little straighter and looked the doctor in the eye.
"I am Margaret the Resilient, Queen of Narnia. I am the Oracle of Aslan and Seer of Narnia, Patron Lady of the Centaurs and the Red Dread of Calormen. You can push and prod me all you like, doctor, but I know who I am, and that is something you can never take away. So you can refuse to clear me, force me to keep coming back here every week, and I will bear it. But it isn't going to change the truth. Narnia is real, and so is Caspian, and my siblings, and most importantly, so is Aslan. Go ahead and schedule me for next week, Doctor Harris, because I know the truth. I'll see you then."
Having said her piece, she stood, took up her bag, and left, leaving the doctor in silence.
So caught up in the moment, she failed to notice that her diary had slipped out from her bag and been left behind...
-
"It's good to see you again, Margaret."
The doctor still used her name far too often, but today, something felt different.
"I wish I could say the same, doctor."
"Please, sit."
She did.
Ever since she had felt that brief moment of Aslan's presence last week, she no longer dreaded this hour to be spent defending the existence of Narnia. She couldn't explain it, but she knew everything would be alright. Still, she couldn't help but notice some confident change in the doctor's demeanor...
"Now, Margaret, I wanted to have a conversation with you," said the doctor, settling in behind her desk. A deviation from the usual chair across from the couch.
"Now then, the whole point of our little sessions is to determine that you're mentally well, and to ensure you're not a threat to anyone."
Margaret hummed in response. "Yes, and even though I'm not, you're misusing your power to keep me coming here until I bend to your will."
The doctor seemed to ignore the majority of her remark.
"Oh but I rather think you are, Miss Halloran. And I'm afraid I have no choice... I'm legally obligated to report this sort of thing." From behind the desk, she produced an all-too-familiar booklet.
The diary.
There was something smug in her smile, as if this had been a game of wills, or a wrestling match of wits, and she thought she had won.
"Now falling in love with an imaginary prince would be no cause for concern in and of itself, but these vivid descriptions of death... both your own and that of others..." She sighed, and it sounded hollow and false. "I'm very sorry, but you leave me no choice."
Margaret's blood ran cold.
"You had no right. You have no right to look through my diary! This is illegal."
"Diary?" Doctor Harris feigned innocence. "But Margaret, you told all of this to me verbally, in our sessions. That's what the official report will say, anyways."
A dry laugh came from her throat, surprising both herself and the doctor.
"Does my belief in Narnia anger you that much? That you would stoop so low as to punish me, simply for refusing to say what you want to hear?"
Doctor Harris pressed on, ignoring her.
"I'm afraid I have no choice but to recommend that you be committed, for your own safety and the safety of others. Now please, don't make this harder than it has to be."
This wasn't Narnia. She knew she couldn't just fight her way out. Now was the time to be clever, clever and resilient.
She feigned a sigh, letting her shoulders slump, casting her face towards the ground, though her gaze subtly catalogued each and every exit.
Second floor office, a window with no screen...
"Alright..." she whispered, trying to sound small and defeated. "Please... Can I just have my diary? I'll go along... I just... I need it. Please..."
Doctor Harris nodded, seemingly satisfied, and wholly smug.
"I'm glad you understand."
She held out the diary, watching Margaret cautiously, as if expecting something drastic. Margaret had no doubt there were medical officials standing by. If they believed her to be violent because of the doctor's lies, they wouldn't simply let her alone.
Slowly, keeping herself as meek as possible, Margaret took the diary. She stood still for just one moment, and when the Doctor Harris turned to call whoever was to escort her, she darted for the window.
Though she didn't possess the strength she had trained to in Narnia, she felt a fire in her gut, as if she were there in spirit.
In one swift motion, she leapt over the desk, unlatched the window, and threw it open. She had survived much higher leaps than that in Narnia, but that had been in Narnia, where she had been trained for it. But there was no time for hesitation now, fueled purely by instinct, as she heard the doctor shouting behind her.
And so, she leapt.
The impact hurt, but nothing felt broken.
Margaret rolled to her feet, and took off running, as fast as she could, desperately praying that Aslan would choose this exact moment to sweep her away, back to Narnia. She hadn't dreamed this time, but that prickling in her skin had felt an awful lot like magic. And above all else, she was not going to let that wretched doctor win by locking her away.
She ran, through the city, down the streets, all the way home. Without her grandmother, without Susan, there was nothing of real importance there, but some money might be needed to get as far away as possible.
Quickly, through the house, she grabbed whatever she could carry and shoved it into her messenger bag. This would be the first place those officials would look for her, and if that Doctor Harris told them she had just admitted to killing someone... There might be law enforcement involved. Although she had full faith that Aslan would be able to bring her into Narnia no matter where she was, she would certainly prefer not to spend her time til then in an asylum.
She took up a couple of photos she had found in Susan's things. One, of the four Pevensies as she had known them, together and smiling. Another, of her parents. The wardrobe, unfortunately, would never be able to be transported. But all the magic had gone from it anyways...
Far too soon, a heavy knock sounded at the door. Margaret had the most unpleasant feeling she knew exactly who it was.
What to do, what to do?
She realized she had left her bag on Susan's bed, and ran to get it.
The knocking grew louder.
Margaret looked around the room wildly, searching for some way out, until something drew her gaze.
A painting hung on the wall, of a ship on the seas. It seemed to call to her.
She had seen it hundreds of times, growing up, but now, it seemed almost alive, thrumming with magic.
"Aslan?" she whispered.
Just as she thought it was all over, with no way out, the door to the room slammed shut of its own accord. She heard the front door crash open. People called to her, trying to sound comforting, but their voices faded into the background.
A breeze came from nowhere, carrying with it the salty scent of the Eastern Sea... and a small trickle of water dripped from the corner of the painting.
All commotion in the background vanished. Water began to pour from the frame, filling the room.
Margaret grabbed the bag that held her most prized possessions and held it tightly by the strap as the water rose over her head. She swam with all her might, breaking the surface after what felt like an eternity.
And when the door to the bedroom opened, they found nothing but an empty room.
-
Caspian dove into the water without hesitation when one of the crew members yelled man overboard. He didn't know how it was possible, so far from any land, but he certainly wasn't about to let anyone sink beneath the waves when he had the ability to help.
One of the figures slipped under the waves, and he pulled them back up.
"It's alright!" he called. "I've got you!"
"Caspian?" the young lady asked in surprise, and it was then that he realized who he had just rescued.
"Lucy!" he declared.
"Edmund!" she called to the other swimmers. "It's Caspian!"
Edmund stopped in his retreat, and looked back at them.
"It's alright boys," said one of the crewmen, "You're safe now."
"Are we in Narnia?" he asked.
"Yes, you're in Narnia!" Caspian said with a laugh.
He looked around for Margaret, hoping to find her fiery hair somewhere in the water as well, but the third castaway was a young boy whom he did not recognize, who was yelling and splashing, and creating quite a fuss.
Caspian, though somewhat disheartened by her absence, pulled Lucy over to the ship. The crew lowered a platform down to them and, two by two, hauled them from the sea. Warm blankets were brought for them at once.
"That was thrilling!" Lucy said with a laugh.
Caspian put an arm around her, pulling her close. "How in the world did you end up here?"
"I have no idea," she replied.
"Caspian!" Edmund called, and the king turned to greet him with a bright smile.
"Edmund!"
"It's great to see you."
"And great to see you."
Lucy looked thoughtful. "Didn't you call for us?"
Caspian shook his head. "No... Not this time."
"Well," said Edmund, "Whatever the case, I'm just glad to be here."
"And I am glad to have you," Caspian said. Then, after a slight pause, "Tell me, where is your sister? Did Margaret not arrive with you?"
Lucy sighed and shook her head. "No... but she never does, really. We always seem to find her a little bit later. But if this is anything like the last time, she'll have arrived at the same moment as us. Though, perhaps a different place..."
Just then, a scream came from that third figure from the water, and a rather wet Mouse landed at their feet.
"Reepicheep!" Lucy exclaimed.
"Oh!" said the Mouse. "Your Majesties!" He bowed.
"Hello Reep," said Edmund happily. "What a pleasure."
"The pleasure is all mine, sir! But first, what to do about this- this... hysterical interloper..."
"That giant rat-thing just tried to claw my face off!" shouted the boy.
Reepicheep, looking indignant, replied, "I was merely trying to expel the water from your lungs, sir!"
The boy gasped in shock, and reeled back. "It talked! Did you see- Did anyone just hear that? It just talked!"
"He always talks," one of the crewmen said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And of course, to Narnians, it was.
"Actually," Caspian added jovially, "It's getting him to shut up that's the trick."
"The moment there is nothing to be said, Your Highness, I promise you, I will not say it," Reepicheep said amongst the laughter.
The boy, however, took no notice of the laughter, and continued to shout. For the most part, Caspian and the crew found it amusing, though he couldn't help but wonder why this boy had come to Narnia.
When he fainted at the sight of Tavros, Caspian shared a look with Edmund and Lucy. The two of them seemed largely exasperated, though not unused to this sort of thing.
"See to him, will you?" Caspian asked the Minotaur.
He turned and addressed the crew.
"Men!" he declared. "Behold our castaways! Edmund the Just, and Lucy the Valiant. High King, and Queen of Narnia."
The crew knelt before them, and paid respects. Once that was said and done, Caspian brought Lucy and Edmund aside, leading them to his cabin.
"Now, Lucy," he said, "I'm afraid we've no women aboard. The most I can offer you both is an extra set of my own clothes each."
"We've made do with much less, back in the Golden Age," Edmund reassured him.
Lucy nodded. "I don't mind at all, it's very kind of you."
"And you must take my cabin," Caspian insisted as well, as he handed each of them a set of dry clothes.
"Oh, are you certain?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nonsense," he dismissed. "I can share quarters with the rest of the crew. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I trust that we shall soon find your sister, and the two of you can share it then."
Lucy gave a soft smile at the thought of reuniting with Margaret.
"Very well..." she said. "Thank you kindly."
Caspian nodded. "Then I shall leave you to change into something dry. Edmund, I shall show you to the crew's quarters." He paused. "I'm afraid my things would not fit the boy who came with you..."
Edmund snorted.
"Eustace probably wouldn't accept them anyways."
"Who is he, if I may ask?" Caspian inquired.
Lucy sighed. "He's our cousin... And... as you may have noticed, he can be... difficult."
"Difficult is rather kind, if you ask me," said Edmund.
Caspian nodded. "Well, I shall offer nonetheless. And we shall do everything we can to help him adjust to Narnia."
When Edmund and Lucy had both changed and settled in, Caspian took them once more into his cabin, where he kept the maps and relics.
"Aslan," said Lucy fondly, gazing at the golden image of the Lion.
The walls of the room were painted with scenes, myths of the Golden Age, and images of great Narnian tales.
"Look... Susan's bow and arrows." Lucy walked over to them, amazed. "And Margaret's..."
Caspian reached into a glass paned cupboard and withdrew a small box.
"Lucy," he called softly, presenting it to her.
"My healing cordial," she realized, "And dagger!" She reached out to them, but stopped herself. "May I?"
Caspian chuckled. "Of course, they're yours."
"Peter's sword," said Edmund, walking over to it.
"Yes," said Caspian, following him. Their amazement at seeing their things brought great joy to his heart, and he thanked Aslan that he'd had the instinct to bring them along on the voyage. "I looked after it, as promised. Here, hold it if you wish."
But Edmund refused with a chuckle. "No, no, it's yours. Peter gave it to you."
Caspian grinned, a sudden thought occurring.
"I did save this for you, though..."
He went to another glass cabinet and withdrew the odd, flameless torch that Edmund had left behind, tossing it to him.
Edmund caught it, and set it alight, blinking in surprise.
"I thought the battery would've run out by now," he said.
Caspian chuckled. "No one has quite had a need to use it, really."
Absently, his hand found Margaret's compass, which had not left his belt since she had parted with him, that Fateful day.
Lucy, taking notice of the movement, gently touched his shoulder in a comforting gesture.
"We'll find her, Caspian."
He smiled, but he knew there was a sadness to it.
"I can only hope that she will be as happy to see me as I am at the very thought of her..."
"Anyone with eyes knows that she loves you, Caspian," Edmund laughed.
He let a silence linger, debating...
"She says I'm destined to marry another," he admitted.
"What?"
He explained to them the vision she had told him of, though it pained him to relate, but Edmund frowned, looking troubled.
"I don't know," he said. "It doesn't sound right. She's never had a vision that wasn't a dream. And if she didn't consult the stars, she can't really know for sure."
"I think the only way to know is to ask Aslan," Lucy said determinedly. "Whenever we next see Him... He'll set the matter straight."
Caspian gave them both a smile.
"Thank you Edmund, thank you Lucy. I shall take your words to heart."
"But for now..." Edmund said, "Perhaps you might like to tell us more about this voyage we've stumbled upon..."
"Ah, yes," said Caspian. "Welcome, my friends, to the Dawn Treader."
-
A/N: So what did you think? Be sure to let me know! I love hearing from everyone! Polite suggestions and all questions welcome!