snacky: (narnia susan)
mr five dollar foot long's sweet caboose ([personal profile] snacky) wrote2014-07-18 11:48 pm

(no subject)

So I am totally not writing a Narnia/ASOIAF crossover where Susan Pevensie ends up in Westeros after the trainwreck.



Susan thought she was prepared for the Wood between the Worlds. She knew it made one sleepy and forgetful. She knew these things and still, when she arrived there, she forgot them the instant she stepped out of the pool.

It was quiet in the wood, so quiet. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing. And it was peaceful. She didn't know her own name at the moment, but that feeling of peace — it was something that she knew she had been missing. She wanted to lie down beside the pool and rest, let that feeling of peace wash over her, but there was something she was supposed to do here, she was certain of that, and she couldn't let herself give in. Not yet, at least.

The pool she had stepped out of, she noticed, was marked with a strip of turf, face up, the red dirt looking as fresh as if it was just cut moments before. To her surprise, she saw a guinea pig, snuffling among the grass, and she stared at it in wonder. It all seemed so familiar to her — like a story she heard long ago, and she kept looking around, hoping she might see a familiar face, someone who would help her remember. It wasn't until she looked down at her hand and saw the ring on her finger that it all came flooding back to her, and she knew, without a doubt, there would be no one familiar coming to help.

Susan slid the yellow ring off and dropped it in her left pocket of her winter coat. Then she stood in the quiet wood and listened. She didn't know which pool led to that snowy world, but she had been hearing the echo of the horn for days, feeling its pull. Sure enough, when she was still, she heard that familiar noise — she didn't know if the young man in that world was sounding it again, or if it was just echoing until she followed its call.

She walked among the pools, back and forth, again and again, and found herself drawn to one, pausing longer there each time. She could hear the horn loud and clear, feel the pull in her bones. It had to be the right one.

She peeled off one glove and put on another, then reached her bare hand into her right pocket for the green ring. She didn't bother to put it on, just touched it with her fingers, took a deep breath, and jumped into the pool.

The sensation of rushing down went on and on, until it seemed like it would never stop, and it left Susan gasping. Then suddenly she was on solid ground, and her feet were cold and wet, and she was gasping for a different reason — she'd never felt such cold before, not even that first time in Narnia, at the end of the Witch's cursed winter, and she remembered the fur coats they had taken from the wardrobe with a sudden longing. She blinked her eyes as her vision cleared. The snowy wood looked just like the one in her dream.

And standing in front of her was the boy dressed all in black, staring at her with eyes wide with surprise, and holding her horn in his hand.

Unbetaed, obviously.

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