It occurred to me that I've never posted this story here... I wrote it for the Madness Round of the Narnia Fic Challenge 2013, posted on AO3, and never got around to posting it here. It was based on a prompt by WingedFlight, whose story The Reality of Adventures I've long loved, so when I saw this part of the prompt:

- I also adore crossovers so, while I know this one's a long stretch, it would be super cool to see a crossover with either the Swallows and Amazons series or the Thursday Next series (specifically Friday and Edmund's interactions).

I knew I had to do it.

It's a bit of an AU for both sides, considering the timelines and their ages, simply because I've always wanted to do it, ever since I read and fell in love with the respective books.

It may still, at some indefinite date, be followed on. "May" and "indefinite" being the operative words.

Captains and Kings

The tumult and the shouting dies;

The Captains and the Kings depart:

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

- Rudyard Kipling: Recessional

John took all the power the wind could give him to race to Rio. He did not need to hurry so much, but he enjoyed the speed and the feeling of freedom and mastership it gave him to sail the Swallow so expertly. He also knew the others might be watching him; Nancy probably would, because she and Peggy had retreated to the northern end of the Wild Cat Island earlier that day, practicing their part of the small impromptu theatre performance that they were planning to play for the Natives the following evening. Dorothea had come up with the idea; Nancy had undoubtedly only agreed to voluntarily cram because hers was a parody part and there was no danger of this coming out like theatre plays at school. While the younger occupants of the camp were busy with those various preparations, John took the opportunity to take the Swallow out for a ride and go to Rio for some of Susan, Peggy and Dot's shopping. (Dorothea was, under the other two's tutelage, apparently forming into another fairly competent cook.)

The wind was good and he arrived to the little town soon. He chose the one empty jetty to land; the others were occupied with various ships and boats waiting for the summer guests. Even though John could do this all on his own, it would be of tremendous help if someone on the jetty could catch the rope for him and tie the Swallow to the post. But the only person nearby was a boy about his age, or perhaps a year older, who had the distinctive look of a summer guest about him: he was sitting on one of the abandoned crates on the jetty and drawing in a sketchbook, presumably the surrounding scenery. John supposed it was picturesque. But people with sketchbooks who came to the lake to admire the scenery tended to be useless around ships; he probably could not tell a bowline from a slipknot.

"Do you need help?" the boy looked from the sketchbook to him.

"I can do this," John said, in a somewhat haughty tone that was mostly unintended.

The boy laid down his sketchbook and pencil and approached him.

"I can do this, too," he said. "Two are better than one."

John cautiously threw the rope to him. The boy caught it expertly and tied a knot that even Titty's Peter Duck could be proud of.

"Well... my apologies," John said. "You can do this; I took you for an inexperienced summer guest from London."

The boy laughed.

"No wonder," he said, "I am from London, and it is not the first time someone has taken me for someone more inexperienced than I am. My name is Peter, by the way," he added, offering his hand to John.

"John," John said, using the proffered hand in the manner in which it was intended, to draw himself up on the jetty. Then they shook their hands. Peter's handshake was firm, like Captain Flint's or Nancy's. "John Walker."

"Peter Pevensie," Peter offered his full name. "And now that we've introduced ourselves, may I say that your ship is a fine one? I've been watching you all the way from the island."

"She is not really mine," John said, but felt pride for the Swallow all the same. "She belongs to the Holly Howe, where we've been staying for several years in a row now. She must have been there for even longer."

"More recently refitted, though," Peter observed.

"Two years ago, I shipwrecked her," John admitted. "A friend of ours helped us have her repaired; I should be forever grateful to him, because I am afraid we could not afford it."

"That happens even to the best of us," Peter said reassuringly. "And good friends that cover our mistakes are certainly to be treasured."

"Do you sail often?" John asked, trying to deflect attention from the uncomfortable issue; although the way Peter had uttered those words made him think that he was not just comforting him, but speaking from his own experience. It actually made changing the subject easier.

"Not even remotely near as often as I would love to," Peter said. "We went to a country house nearby, some years ago, and did a lot of sailing on the lake there; but the owner's now living in a small cottage, so we did not go there again. It is a pity; I would have loved to come back. We had some marvellous adventures while there."

"Could you hire a boat while here?" John wondered.

"My brother and one of my sisters are working on it," Peter said. "He is the better negotiator; Father's giving in, but the other sister and Mother, unfortunately, think a rowing boat should be just fine for the time we are here. It was becoming tedious, and I was afraid I would lose my temper with either one of them, so I chose the way of honourable retreat instead."

John laughed softly, at the same time wondering how anyone could lose temper with their parents. But then, Peter would have actually shown wisdom in admitting he was capable of that and taking the necessary precautions against such an occurrence.

"What were you drawing?" John asked instead.

Peter picked up the sketchbook and showed him. There were several drawings; some were the scenery, but most were just the ships and boats, with a remarkable eye for construction detail. Peter clearly could tell what was important about a ship. And he had not bothered drawing any of the motorboats.

Several drawings were of the Swallow.

Before they knew it, they were discussing the various pros and cons of different kinds of ships. Peter did not have such a vast first-hand experience as John did, but it was not too surprising; not many boys their age had led a cutter to Holland, if only unwillingly.

As John began to wonder how much longer he could entertain the conversation with Peter before really having to go to the shop, a girl of Roger's age ran onto the jetty, with her hair in plaits just like Dot and with a noticeable spring in her step.

"Peter, we've got it!" she shouted. "We can have the sailboat! It's the Charlotte; but the owner says we can call her whatever we like."

Behind her, an older boy about as old as Titty followed, more composedly. Based on the dynamics in his own family, John supposed the second sister was about Susan's age. John also recalled the sailboat; it was one of those seen fairly regularly on the lake during summer, under the painfully inexpert hands of various summer guests.

"That is a good ship, too," he said. "If one knows how to sail her, that is."

"We shall try to do our best," Peter said. "John, these are my younger sister and brother, Lucy and Edmund."

John introduced himself and said Pleased to meet you, and so did they.

"Peter, try to convince Lu not to call her Splendour Hyaline or Dawn Treader, please," Edmund said then, entreatingly.

"I did not even suggest it," Lucy objected.

"Yet," Edmund said wryly. "It was only a matter of time."

Peter laughed and shook his head.

"I believe the privilege of naming her should go to Mother," he said. "Seeing as she clearly did not get much say in the matter in the end."

"Oh, that is a decision worthy of a just king!" Lucy said. "No offence meant, Ed."

"None taken."

All three of them laughed; it seemed to be some sort of family joke.

"But I am so glad we will not be rowing," Lucy continued. "You did not let me row that one time with DLF, not to mention ever with Caspian; and it would be hateful if I just sat there and did nothing all holiday, while you three would do all the work."

John recognised the youngest sibling's complaint in her voice; she was just like Roger and Bridget in that respect. But her argument was more considerate of others' needs; it was something John himself would object to in her place.

"Maybe you could do it now," Ed said thoughtfully. "But it is infinitely better to sail, anyway. I think Susan is already sold on the idea as well."

So the other sister's name was also Susan? Interesting.

"Well, of course she would be," Lucy said. "She loves it just as much as we do; she just wanted to be reasonable. I suppose someone had to, or Mother would be all alone. Oh dear, Peter, do you think we should have-?"

"No, I think you did well. I would have gotten too forceful myself, but you did it just right. I think Mother will come to enjoy it, too."

Lucy nodded, satisfied.

"I really hope they will let us sail on our own, though," Peter added. "We have not had a chance to recall our adventures in a long time."

"Oh, yes!" Lucy said. "But I am afraid I must have forgotten most of what I learned at the Professor's house by now. It's been so long!"

"How many islands do you think there are?" Edmund asked thoughtfully, looking at the lake. "I took a look at the map in the guidebook, but there are all those little ones that were definitely not there. Some map."

"It was a hiker's map, wasn't it?" Peter said. "Not a sailor's map."

"If it was, it did a bad job of it as well," Edmund replied. "Almost as bad as we did with the Rush. The village seemed half as big on the map, and the path we took yesterday was not there."

"How old was the map?" Lucy asked suspiciously.

"It did not say," Edmund shrugged.

"I have yet to find a really good map of this area," John said. "We have to make our own maps."

"Good idea," Edmund said. "Pete, I hope you still have your compass."

"Always in my pocket," Peter said, tapping the pocket.

"I really have to go," John realised. "Before they close the shop."

"We should go, too," Peter said. "Not to let our folks wait for us too long."

"It was nice meeting you. Have a good time sailing," John said. "Listen, we are camping on the island – you saw me, Peter – me and my family, and our friends. I would not normally do this on my own, without the others; but I would like to invite you to come visit. We could do something together, if Nancy agrees – Nancy is our friend from here and she is always full of ideas for what we should do."

"That would be splendid," Lucy said enthusiastically.

"Thank you for the offer," Peter said. "I guess our parents will want to sail with us tomorrow; but if all goes well, could we come the day after tomorrow?"

"If all goes well, sure," John said, and offered Peter his hand. It was the first time he had met a boy so close to his age with whom he could converse so freely and with a dignity that allowed them to shake hands without feeling self-conscious about it (people like Dick did not count, and Dick was much younger anyway). He was determined to enjoy the opportunity while it lasted. "If you come, go to the eastern shore of the island; there is a landing area. We do not have any plans for the day after tomorrow, so I will try to persuade others that you are worth meeting. It was worth it meeting you, Peter."

"The honour is mine," Peter replied.