Title: Battle
Day/Theme: 21. Gurgle
Series: Chronicles of Narnia
Character/Pairing: Susan Pevensie
Rating: PG13/R for battle, implied violence



He made a terrible sound as he died, wet rattle of final breath in his throat.

She was already reaching for the next arrow, the bow loose in her palm, the string's hum nearly audible. Deep breaths. Slow breaths. Don't panic, don't tense, don't clutch. Pick them off. A brutal term, but it was what she did.

Better this than slitting their throats with those same arrowheads. Nock, aim, release, her finger tucking into the corner of her mouth, pressure settling up her arm, the song of displaced air to the ugly background cacophony of war.

A Telmarine died close enough to touch, rolling at her feet, and she had to jump away, skirts swirling, breath coming in fast, harsh gasps. His sword skittered out of his hand, the bright length of steel stained unpleasantly dark.

England isn't like this. England never could be like this. The deep-chested bellow of minotaur trembled in the air, and a gryphon gave a fierce, vibrating scream of rage and elation. The next arrow was already nocked, the bow singing with tension, her arms humming with it, the world moving slow and yet narrowing to breathless skipping seconds.

The arrow, released. The ground rumbled.

"For Narnia," Susan whispered, taking in reeling unsteady breaths.

She didn't miss England, even now, though each falling Narnian scarred her heart. Battle beat in the marrow of her bones; a fierce knot rose in her throat. I am a Queen.

Some part of her still just a girl, the part that was eager to settle back into England, because there she was allowed the selfish mercy of valuing her family above land and duty and throne, cried LucyEdmundPeter and a last snapshot whisper of a new name, Casp--

I will protect my people. The next arrow was already between her fingers.

Susan did not flinch.