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Not Particularly Renowned for Faith

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Summary: “A wardrobe?” he repeated after the government official, feeling relatively baffled. Harry pushed up his glasses in an automatic gesture, and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks?" (HP/Narnia Crossover)

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories > Crossover: LiteraturesmolderFR1354,070073,95412 Dec 1312 Dec 13Yes

Part 5

Part 5

"Susan," Aslan strode beside her as they all walked towards Cair Paravel, noticing his lowered tone she casually separated slightly from the others. "It is the younger King and yourself that I ask the most of in helping these three - their faith is badly shaken."

"Aslan," the Elder Queen sighed gently, letting her hand drop to his mane, taking comfort in the solidness of him. She just collected her thoughts as she continued to walk beside the stately Lion, even taking a moment to glance over to where her sister was talking excitedly to their new guests (pointing out different locations and waving to friends she spotted along the way). And so it was with a smile upon her lips that she looked back over at him, pushing a bit of her hair that had fallen out of the way with her free hand.

"I think they have a fitting welcoming party in Lucy," she gestured to where she had been looking previously. "And although I - and Edmund as well, I know for certain, - would have no quarrel speaking with any of them and making sure their stay in our land is pleasant, neither of us particularly renowned for our faith," the twist of her lips was self deprecating.

"Their doubts will be great; your patience and logic will be what they need. And the red headed young man, Ron - you must ask Edmund to tell his story to him," he was insistent.

Again, Susan hesitated her hand tensing for a moment in the golden mane. "Edmund does not speak of that much," she said, not exactly a whisper but in a quiet, even, tone that attempted to mask her anger.

In matter of fact there was never a moment of daylight in which she had heard him talk of those things. Only on evenings after nightmares when he would knock on her door wide-eyed and biting his lip (they were all still so young and there was no Mother in Narnia to turn to) and she would make tea from a kettle, always kept over the fire in her rooms. Then cuddled on her couch, shoulder to shoulder - dark heads leaning against each other sleepily, they would both stare at the dying flames of the hearth with warm mugs in their hands and he would whisper about jealousy, captivity in the cold, guilt, and fear. Fears from the past, fears of the White Witch coming back, fears of just not being good enough - of doing something to let his siblings and Narnia down again.

She always felt so helpless in those moments. Susan the Gentle she is called - how worthless was that? Why couldn't she be Susan the Wise so she would know the perfect words to say? She knew she couldn't mutter things like: 'It is alright,' because most of these things already happened - and they hadn't been alright. They had been horrible. And she couldn't dismiss his fears for the future with a cavalier, "We shall be fine," because she had the same sort of worries.

So, she just made him tea, sat beside him and listened as he poured everything out in a stream until his voice was hoarse. And when Edmund was done and got up to go back to his room, she hugged him tight and whispered simply, "No matter what mistakes we make, no matter if we are King and Queen or just Pensives, you are my little brother and I am your big sister - and I love you."

So, it riles her a bit to hear Aslan asking so casually for him to bring, this which causes him pain up to a stranger.

"The Narnian's know his past," she says with steel in her tone, "but he fought for them against the White Witch, and has been a good ruler - there would not be one who would contest that. Why do you wish for him to dredge up bad memories?"

"Susan," he said soothingly, calming her ruffled feathers, "I would not ask this if it there was no point. I wish I could tell you my reasons - but it is not my place. Just as I make this request of your brother, it is still his decision. So to, I would never tell these three's story, it is theirs to tell."

She stared down into those deep eye, her trust for him warring with her protectiveness for her brother. Finally Susan gave a hard nod, looking straight ahead again, "I shall tell Edmund what you have said."

"That is all I ask," Aslan assured, in his deep rumble and suddenly her hand felt empty. Looking down, Susan found that he had disappeared into the forest (or just simply dissipated into the air - this was his land after all).

She gave a huff of frustration - Lucy was going to be quite cross that he hadn't said goodbye.

The End

You have reached the end of "Not Particularly Renowned for Faith". This story is complete.

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