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This version of Susan is based on an idea I had to explain why she 'forgot' in the books. The fic can be read here, but the main facts you need to know are a) Susan didn't actually forget Narnia because b) Aslan told her to pretend to so she would be able to carry out great change in her home world and c) none of her siblings are meant to know Aslan told her this.

Think that's it! Comment or PM if there's any questions. \o\

below

The King of Narnia is heading home from a battle when his daughter is brought into the world.

He had been so good about staying close to home, as his wife had gotten closer to the time when Rilian and Errian were to enter the world. And they had both believed that this trip away, this close to their third child's birth, would be a brief one. Neither of them had anticipated he would have gotten caught up in a battle with dark creatures that had crept their way into Narnia. Neither of them had thought he'd be forced to stay away for two weeks to ensure the danger had passed.

Neither of them had thought she was quite so close to the her due date that he was so entirely at risk of being able to be there for her as he had for their previous children.

But the world, apparently, had gone pear-shaped for this particular span of time. He's at least close enough that a fast-flying griffin is able to come to the front, tell the king the queen is giving birth and that things don't look good for her or the baby. He won't get there in time to welcome the child.

But he'll get there. And, when he undoubtedly bursts through the door, he'll be relieved to see that-- at least for the moment-- both Queen and babe are alive, if not quite entirely well yet.

Susan, sweat-slicked and paler than she's ever been, can barely force her eyes open to see who slammed the door wide with such force. Still somehow manages to call a smile to her face at the sight of him.

"Caspian. We-- we have a-- a daughter."

She doesn't let them have time alone together, usually. Always makes sure there's some sort of crowd nearby-- her family or the Friends or the people attending the party she's dragged him off to.

Because if she's with him, then the memories she tries to keep buried fight all the more harder to remember, and when she's alone with him, things get even worse.

But she can't stop it. There are simply moments when they can't help but end up alone together-- like this one here, with the two of them almost touching hands as he walks her home. The moonlight makes the park they're cutting through look almost like another world, and she can't be angry, at this moment. Can't not let the love she still feels-- towards the man at her side, towards the land they've both left behind, even towards the Lion that brought them here-- bubble forth.

Her hand lifts to touch his elbow softly,"Caspian. Can we stop a moment?"

All of Narnia is home. More than England ever will be, more than England ever can be. Even after a thousand years, Susan still can't help but love the land; feel entirely like she's where she belongs.

It's just that some parts of Narnia feel more at home than others, and this place in particular is one that always felt the most like it.

She's always looked upon it with wonder, and it's not something that changes now, the words escaping her lips in a soft, somewhat-awed breath.

"Cair Paravel."

When Aslan had called her and Peter aside to speak with Him after lunch one morning, Susan had felt her heart drop to her stomach in dread. She knew-- or suspected, really-- what the Lion was going to say, and she didn't want to hear it. Wanted to flee from him as though not hearing the words would make them any less true.

But she and Peter had agreed to the meeting nonetheless-- easily and calmly, in Peter's case; hesitatingly in hers. She'd avoided meeting Caspian's gaze the rest of the time up to the meeting, afraid of what her eyes may say. Afraid of what his might.

She couldn't help but ask as soon as she and Peter and Aslan were alone if this was the end. If He was sending them back for good, this time. The Lion had looked at her with a knowing expression as Peter's breath had caught beside her-- Her elder brother clearly had not thought of that possibility, or at least had not let himself think it.

When Aslan said yes, she thought she was going to break in half. When He clarified that it was Peter's last time, she couldn't breathe for the shock of it. Peter had asked why, and the Lion had informed her brother that he had learned all he could, but that she had an opportunity here she would not be able to have in their home.

More was said, then, both to Peter and herself, and she absorbed it as well as she could. Her heart ached for her brother, and she'd embraced him when the conversation ended before letting him go be on his own for a time to process the news and figure out how to break it to their siblings.

She was sorrowful for the fact that she would lose him, and likely not see her other two siblings again for some time, if at all, and the tears that filled her eyes at the thought of it made her a little blinded as she made her way to think on her own.

But at the same time, the tears in her eyes were also ones of relief. She was going to be allowed to stay, to be home.

To love as she had been trying to hold herself back from.

For all she had learned in both her lives about the signs and symptoms, in the end it was-- of course-- the most worrying of signs that revealed the truth.

The first dizzy spell hit after a day of riding and going out to visit some of the nearby towns, as she was wont to do. It's been busy, and she'd neglected to bring a waterskin for the ride back. So, when the wooziness hits as she gets off her horse and she finds herself needing to support herself on a now very concerned-looking stable boy, she brushes it off to him and her guard as dehydration. It's a perfectly acceptable reason, one with past basis, so they all part ways perhaps a little shaken but largely comforted.

The second hits three days after that, when she's gets up too quickly off the ground after an early-morning bout of nausea drives her to the bathroom. It nearly gives Caspian a heart attack, but she tells him it must be some kind of bug-- she has been feeling a little off, lately-- and promises she'll take care.

Two more queasy and vertigo-filled days, and then she passes out while hurrying to a meeting with some Lord or another. The healer tells her with a tsk of her tongue when she awakens that it was likely due to the quickened pace and heat, and really, Her Majesty ought to know better than to expose herself to either when in her 'condition.'

That, of course, leads to Susan asking what exactly her 'condition' is, which has the healer beaming as gleefully as a Cat can and informing her that she was carrying the heir to the Narnian throne. She nearly passes out again at the news, recovers herself, and is asked by the healer if she wants her to tell the King when he gets back from his ride out to Littlehollow.

"No," Susan says, shutting her eyes and rubbing her temples unconsciously, "Don't tell His Majesty. I want to break the news myself."

Naturally, Aslan would will it that Caspian walk into the room-- early returning from his ride, but likely word travelled that she'd collapsed and he'd rushed back-- just as she speaks the words.

By the time dawn breaks, the Splendor Hyaline is well away from Calormene shores. Though she knows that the more time passes following the sun's rising, the more likely it is someone will come to look for her, but Susan doesn't want to deal with feeling the eyes of the crew on her, with sensing the tension she knows will be in the air from the concern that they'll be followed, and so she remains holed up in her cabin. There's a nook she can sit comfortably in that allows her to stretch her legs and lean her face against her window, and anyone who enters would be able to tell from the stillness of her posture and the untouched nature of her bedcovers that she hasn't slept a wink.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she should go out and face the day. But she can't quite bring herself to move from where she has been contemplating all that's happened and all that may come to pass.

She'll not notice, at first, when Edmund knocks.