snacky: (narnia vdt susan writing)
mr five dollar foot long's sweet caboose ([personal profile] snacky) wrote2014-08-16 07:59 pm

(no subject)

A little more of Susan Pevensie in Westeros, at the Wall with Jon Snow. This is for [personal profile] edenfalling who asked for Susan/Jon Snow, family. I posted this on tumblr last night, but it's a little expanded now.



Susan stares at the map that Jon Snow has spread out on the table, taking in all the details that she can, still trying to understand what it is she could do in this world, and why he called her here. "White Harbor, is that the capital?"

"No, King's Landing is the capital of the Seven Kingdoms." Lord Snow's voice is weary when he replies, and she can't really blame him for that ā€” she's been asking him questions since she woke up, which was about 2 hours ago. If there's one thing she's learned about this young man in black, who visited her dreams for so long, it's that he's not much for talking. His responses to her inquiries have been mostly short and quick, and when not, they come after long pauses, as if he's thinking of exactly how to answer in as few words as possible.

"King's Landing?" She peers at the map, but can't find the capital anywhere.

"It's in the south. That would be another map."

"Oh. Of course." This country is very large, the size of Narnia and Archenland and Calormen combined, and then some. "White Harbor is the largest city in the north, though?" It's a port -- it makes sense to her that it would be an important place.

"Yes, but..." Lord Snow points to a name on the map and there's another of those very long pauses. "Winterfell, I suppose, would be considered the capital of the north. It's the seat of the warden of the north." There's something in his tone that makes Susan look up. But his face is impassive, not revealing even a hint of the tension in his voice.

"And who is the warden of the North?"

"It was my father, your grace. Lord Eddard Stark."

She thinks of reminding him that he doesn't have to call her that, but the way he words his reply puzzles her. "Was?"

There's another very long pause, and Susan glances at his face again, which is no longer unreadable. She sees pain, sorrow, anger, all wash over it before he takes a deep breath and that mask of controlled calm slips back. "My father is dead."

For the first time since she's arrived in this world, Susan finds herself at a loss for words. Grief has been her only companion for so long, that she had almost forgotten she could feel anything else. But once she decided to follow the sound of her horn, to make the journey to this world and see how she was needed here, her grief had taken a backseat to determination. And then when she arrived and finally met the young man in black, curiosity about him and his world had consumed her.

But here is grief again. Not her own, but Jon Snow's grief brings hers back, and she can't think of any words of sympathy, of comfort, that don't sound hollow in her head. She glances down at the map, where his hand still lays, and impulsively covers it with her own. "My father is dead too. My whole family, actually."

She can feel him tense at her touch, and she's not sure if it's surprise, or that her touch is unwanted, but she doesn't pull her hand away. After a moment, he spreads his fingers, threading them with hers. And when he speaks, his voice is very soft. "I know."

Susan looks up at him quickly. Of all the things he's told her so far, this is the first that truly surprises her. "You know? How?"

"You were in my dreams too."

~~

He doesn't explain much about his dreams when she asks, though. All he says is, "I dreamt of you, and you were lonely and sad. And Iā€¦ I don't know how, but I knew you were coming here." He seems almost a little surprised when he admits that, as if he hadn't known until he said it to her.

Susan wonders if him sounding her horn was what connected their dreams, but Lord Snow just shrugs when she asks. "I don't understand it, but I've seen much lately that I can't explain. Mayhaps you and your horn are just a bit more of that."

It's clear that he doesn't want to answer any more questions though. Susan doesn't blame him ā€” she can't remember the last time she felt so exhausted, a true, bone-deep tiredness, not the lethargy of despair that she was so familiar with. She doesn't feel like asking anything else, especially anything that will cause him that kind of pain as well. "Is there a place I can sleep tonight?" she asks, struggling with an enormous yawn.

He chews his lip for a moment, considering. "The Wall is no place for a woman," he says finally. "You can't sleep amongst the men."

"No place for a woman, and yet here I am." Still, she shivers, and while she could blame it on the cold that's seeping into her bones, it's also the thought of being taken unawares, as she sleeps. Susan's not afraid, not exactly, but thinking of the men, and the way they looked at her when the Lord Commander brought her to Castle Black earlier, she understands his concern.

"Yes, here you are." He shakes his head, frowning. "You'll take my bed, and I'll have a pallet brought in, and sleep down here by the fire."

"I can sleep on the pallet. You don't need to give up your bed."

But he insists, and Susan is too tired to argue, letting him show her upstairs to the chamber. When he leaves, with a stiff, "good night, your grace," she's quick to shed the clothes he's given her, and climb under the pile of blankets and furs. It's an old bed, sagging and creaking, but it's comfortable enough. She doesn't have very long to feel guilty about putting Lord Snow out, before her tiredness overtakes her and she falls into sleep.

For the first time in weeks, she doesn't dream of a boy in black. Instead she dreams of Narnia, covered in snow, and her brothers and sister standing on one bank of the Great River, while she waits on the opposite. They wave to her, and she waits for them to cross the frozen river, to come to her. But instead they turn, and Susan watches them disappear into the woods. She calls for them to wait, but the wind takes her words and they don't hear her, and soon all she can see is their tracks in the snow. Susan runs across the river, trying to the catch them, but the ice cracks under her, and she's swept downstream, tumbled in tossed in the frigid river, yelling for help that never comes. Finally someone grabs her, and pulls her out, dragging her up on the snowy bank. When she looks up to thank her rescuer, she sees that it's a white wolf, with red eyes, and suddenly she knows she's not in Narnia, even though she can hear her horn, echoing through the woods around her.

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