Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia or the characters. Only the plots and ideas are mine.
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first ever story, that is not canon-compliant. Apart from a couple itty-bitty things, I have never strayed away from the canon. However, this idea would not leave me alone, so I had to write it. Also, I know basically nothing about war and battles and how long people stay in service and all that stuff, so if some of the details about Henry are wrong, I am very sorry. There are a couple things you should know and remember before jumping into the story: (1) The Pevensies have been ruling Narnia for six years and (2) time is not moving back on earth. Also, the kings and queens won't show up for two or three chapters but they will have a large role, and this will probably be a very long story so you might want to follow it, because I won't keep a regular schedule. Prepare for chapters to pop out at irregular intervals. Fair warning: The children will not show up until Chapter 4 so please don't skip this story just because of that. I swear to you that I will not abandon this story. Even if I'm dying, I will still post.
Please read, review, and enjoy. Love, Ninja!
Somewhere in British Army territory. At the professor's, miles away, four children are piling into a wardrobe.
Henry Pevensie, who had just finished writing a letter to his wife, walked outside his tent. There he stood, breathing in the wet, chilly air. Even the land and air seemed cold and dismal, just like the war he was fighting in. He longed for the war to be over. He wanted to return home to his children and wife; to the warm, summer evenings spent outside. If only war sped by faster and with less pain.
He thought back to before he had left. The children had still been very small, and Lucy had not even been born yet. She would be nearly 10 by now. Susan would be 14. The last time he had seen her, she was only 4, but was already learning to read. And his sons. Peter had been 5 and was already learning to look after his 2 year old brother, Edmund. He vividly remembered one of the last nights he spent with them. He and Peter had been rolling on the floor, playing, when Edmund had suddenly jumped in and had begun tickling his father and brother. The memory brought a smile to Henry's face. He desperately wished that he could be there with them, but the war would not let him go.
As he watched the setting sun fade away, and the soldiers walk to and fro between tents, he saw something he had never seen before.
In the middle of the campsite, there was another tent. Something about it seemed . . . different. Not the size or the shape, because those were almost precisely the same as the other tents around it. It was almost as if there was something special about it. Normally, he never would have entered the tent without orders or permission, because anything could be in there, but, for some reason, he was drawn towards it, and without really thinking about it, began moving his feet. He stopped about six inches outside the opening, then swept the flap of canvas aside with his hand. He looked in and it was empty. There was no desk or cot and it was devoid of anything relating to a person. He made to take a step inside, then glanced behind him, making sure nobody was watching. Everybody was minding their own business, so he turned back to the tent and walked inside.
All at once, a flash of light blinded his eyes and he felt as if he was spinning. He began to feel dizzy, then suddenly it stopped. The light died away and he lowered his hands, for he had blocked his eyes and squeezed them shut. The spinning had also stopped and he no longer felt dizzy. As he opened his eyes, he fell to his knees in shock.
All around him were trees and grass and sunlight. It was warm, like a sunny spring day back home, so different from the dismal, cold weather he had just vanished from. He looked around, taking in the sweet smell of distant flowers and distant call of birds. It was perfectly still, except for a slight breeze that ruffled his hair every now and then.
After another few minutes taking in the sights and smells, Henry looked down at himself, only then noticing he was on his knees, and gasped, for he was no longer in his mud-stained uniform and worn down boots. Instead, he wore a beautiful, soft pair of sleek, black pants and a comfortable suit. His shoes were also black, shiny, and very comfortable. He stood up, brushing a couple small leaves and blades of grass off his pants. He turned around, looking back where the tent flap should have been, but there was just more grass and trees. He heard running water, and knew there must be a small pond or river somewhere nearby and, realizing that he was extremely thirsty, started following the sounds.
When he reached the bank of a small stream, he knelt down, splashed his face, and cupped some water in his hands to drink. He was bringing the water to his mouth when someone spoke.
"Henry?"