@ [closed post]

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan has been having the dreams with greater frequency, lately¹: Narnia ablaze as the dying stars sink into the sea, giant lizards and dragons ripping every tree and rock from the earth and rending the last of Cair Paravel's ruins into so much rubble, laying all that devastation onto the blaze and then dying themselves as the mountains crumble and the seas rise and leave nothing behind but an empty, starless black.

Nothing, that is, save an open door, and her family standing before it, watching the devastation, and then the door swinging shut.

I've been doing better she tells herself firmly, rising from her bed before the sun has even started to think about peeking over the horizon. The waning moon is hanging low in the sky; the waxing one has already set. She turns on all her lights against the lingering dark and watches them blaze merrily in her vision until she has to glance away, dark spots dancing in their aftermath. She still feels cold as a lifeless, dark world, but at least there's no denying that she isn't in one.

Then, even more firmly, she makes herself get up. She dresses warmly - those thick woolen stockings that join up at the waist (she has since learned they are called tights; the Mansion has been supplying ones lined in a thick, fuzzy material remarkably suitable for winter), a dress similarly appropriate for winter, her woolen coat and leather gloves. Her hair she braids down, not up, so that it's easier to wear a hat against the chill that is resting both deep in her chest and sharp in the morning air outside.

She grabs her longbow and her quiver in addition to the latest of her pile of books - it's good to have contingency plans - but instead of heading toward the range or the woods to seek out a place to sport with Little John, she goes to where she knows Lancelot practices in the morning, stopping only to fill a thermos up with tea. It is, she thinks high time to make good on her threat to watch him.


¹Thanks, Aornis!

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I should like to see such a place," he says, with interest. "So all of you traveled to this palace -- what was the theme of the pageant? Labour?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"A dreadful topic for children," Susan says, lightly amused. "It was later in the year, and there's not terribly much to do at Syndenham Hill, where the Crystal Palace was located, but we had to switch trains in central London and that was terribly exciting for a six-year-old Susan. Much more exciting than a pageant - I quite forget the details, but the act about children dying horribly in mines and factories stands out. Britain had only enacted child labor laws the year before, you see." She pauses there, to see if he might have any questions, but does clarify, "The story does get more cheerful."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot absolutely does have questions, but he's not even sure how to ask them in this moment so he only pauses a little as he files some of that away -- he will figure more out later. It's easy enough to get the gist of what an ill fit such a pageant was for small children.

So in the end, he only gives her a thoughtful look and says, "That's well. Go on."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"There was a ballet," Susan says. "A fairly macabre one, in truth; as an adult I can recall that it featured a number of children dancing as if crushed under the weight of their employment. But I was a child, too, and at the time I wished dearly to become a ballerina and join a company and go off to see the world. Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta weren't used to children, you see, and so they didn't attend closely to me. They were distracted by Peter fussing about wanting more lunch. There had just been a satirical scene about the importance of children taking their places in the workforce, but I was too young and believed it to be said in earnest. And so I saw my chance to suit action to word; I ran off to try and join the dance."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, delighted, "Now, that I can imagine."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I got all the way backstage before they found me," Susan says. "I was too nicely dressed to fit in with the dancers, so I rather stood out."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thy dream denied! 'Tis most unfair," another laugh, "Though thou didst remain uncrushed."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I was bought off with eel pie and brought back with the threat that Alberta might tell my mother what I'd done," Susan says. "I did take a few lessons, after that, but it turned out I'm a dreadful ballerina, and then I moved on to other interests."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou'rt a fine dancer," he says, as if this is a clear statement of fact and not his own opinion. "But perhaps as a child...? I understand."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Ballet is quite different from a waltz or a courtly dance, sir," Susan says. She tucks her hand more firmly around his arm and gives him an impish look; it comes more easily now. "I much prefer a dance with a partner now."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I know not what ballet is," with humor, "but I agree with thee."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I hardly know how to begin to describe it," Susan sighs. She will not be demonstrating. Like she'd discussed with Laertes, she thinks it best to put her failures of skill firmly behind her. "Perhaps we can find a relevant book in the library later."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh, I shall."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

They're nearing the Mansion now. "I hope you found that a satisfactory story of six-year-old Susan," she says, enjoying the alliteration.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot resists the urge to tug her into another kiss. "Aye, lady, I did," keeping his jovial tone. "Thou wert just as much a knave as I, at six."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You, sir, stole a dog," Susan says. "I merely engaged in light breaking and entering. Infiltration, if you will. I haven't the foggiest idea why MI6 hasn't recruited me yet, actually."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He hasn't the faintest idea what MI6 is, but he laughs anyway. "Lady, 'twas a puppy -- quite small and of no use to anyone but me."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Luckily for Lancelot, Susan does have a fairly good sense of the cultural touchpoints he might not have. "MI6, by the way, is the foreign affairs-focused Secret Intelligence Service," she says. "Spycraft." She would be a rotten spy. She'd never even had the heart for commanding the spies they had in Narnia. A necessary evil, if you ask her. "They'd have sussed out your thievery immediately."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well it is, then, that my father had no such force."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

They're at the Mansion, and Susan's mood has improved somewhat. "Sir," she says, and gives him a warm look. "Perhaps we table the tales of being fourteen until after you take me to your room?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I think that is wise, aye," amiably. He holds open the door for her, then clasps her hand and leads her up the stairs and through the halls, to his door.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

And Susan backs up to the door, sure to leave ample space for Lancelot to reach the doorknob next to her, just in case he might be inspired to open it feverishly partway through ravishing her and half-carry her inside, before pulling him in for a kiss.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He kisses back, and is certainly thus inspired, and though it's not quite feverish (he is a bit chilled, and so he's careful not to lose his balance) he does sweep her inside and shut the door behind them, largely without breaking the kiss.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, drat and bother," Susan says as her bow clips against the doorway. She pulls away reluctantly to set it aside busily and to unbelt her quiver. Her hands slow down partway through unwinding the quiver's strap from her waist, and she looks at Lancelot consideringly.

Soon enough, though, the quiver too slips free and she lays it on the floor. Then she steps back up to Lancelot, takes his hands, and puts them on her waist. From there, she slides her own hands up his arms to his shoulders, really letting herself feel what she can of his muscles through multiple layers of cloth.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He slides his hands around to her back to pull her in. "Hello."