A/N: So I'm going to cover a lot in this chapter because I am quite ready to get to Narnia and show you guys how her story shakes things up. Obviously, not a lot changes before they get there, and I want you to stick around for her super cool story arch instead of getting bored with basically just reading the story you know all over again. Also you should know that if you become a regular around here, I'll leave fun anecdotes about my life and my bunny, so that's pretty great. Please enjoy, review, and have a fantastic day.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

Chapter One

You always think you have more time. We had been hearing of evacuations of children out of the city for weeks, but I thought our part of South London was safe. I should've been mentally prepared for being sent to the country long before I was standing on the platform trying to choke out a goodbye to Mum. But, like the coward I am, I had refused to even think of it until my suitcase was in hand and Mum was hugging me. Thank God I was being sent away with the Pevensies. Even some families were being split up so it was a real stroke of luck that some professor in the country had a house big enough for all of us.

"Take care of the others, sweetheart," she said.

"I will," I promised, swallowing hard.

She held my face in her hands. I wondered if she was thinking about how much I looked like her—same blonde hair (though hers was just past her shoulders and mine hung to the middle of my back) and blue eyes, same high cheekbones and smile, though hers always looked elegant and mine a bit too toothy. The laugh lines starting to forma around her eyes made me sad. I hadn't seen her laugh in far too long, but I didn't blame her. With Dad gone and Mary…there hadn't been much to laugh about lately. I knew she was trying as hard as possible not to breakdown. I prayed she wouldn't. If she started crying, I would never stop.

"I love you, Mum. I'll write. Often," I said.

She just nodded. The train whistle blew urgently. She hugged me again quickly before smoothing my hair back and nodding again. I knew she couldn't speak without her voice cracking.

"Come on, Em." Peter caught my shoulder and pulled me gently toward the train. I paused only for a second to wave at Mum before getting on the train. She and Mrs. Pevensie were holding each other, waving and trying to give us one last brave look. I turned and didn't look back. I didn't want her to have to be brave for me any longer than she had to. She deserved to cry now.

The trip was relatively silent. None of us really felt like talking. I was next to the window with Peter and Lucy beside me. Susan and Edmund sat facing us. Even Lucy was putting on a brave face, and I figured at the age of fifteen, I could do the same. I pulled out some string from my pocket and played some cat's cradle with Lucy when I saw her tearing up. It seemed to help for a little while. She eventually dozed off on Susan's shoulder.

This gave me too much time to think as I stared out the window at the passing landscape, wondering when we would be coming home—if home was still there to come back to. Peter must have since my morose thoughts as he reached over and squeezed my hand for a moment before letting go. We hadn't held hands since we were children, but I was thankful for the reassuring gesture.

You see, we've all grown up together. Our moms have been best friends since they were little so it only made sense that they would live right next to each other and have kids around the same time. First, Peter was born, followed shortly by my sister Mary. Then came Susan and two short months later, me. That was us. The Pevensies and Clarkes, always together, we always would be. I figured if we could go through having our fathers ship off to the Army and loosing Mary, we could probably get through this.

Thinking about Mary caused another confusing wave of emotions to wash over me. She and Susan had been best friends, as close as Peter and I. She had fancied a boy who worked at the drug store down our street. Mum and Dad had a bad feeling about him about him and told her not to see him again. They had a terrible row about it, ending with her slamming her door and crying into her pillow for hours. When I tried to talk to her, she screamed at me to go away. The next week she disappeared. The only trace she left behind was a note she left for Susan saying she was sorry. We hadn't heard a word from her in a year.

I exhaled forcefully and shoved thoughts of Mary out of my mind. I scooted a little closer to Peter as my eyelids got heavy and, as I had done countless times over the years, I fell asleep on his shoulder.

OoOoO

"Perhaps we've been incorrectly labeled." Edmund said as we stood on the abandoned train platform. He fiddled with the piece of paper pinned to his shirt.

His statement earned a glare from Susan, but I thought it was funny. Susan was the wet blanket of the group, so none of us really cared when she shot us those looks. I was getting tired of standing and waiting for the mysterious Mrs. McCready to show up. I had started trying to draw a shape in the dirt at my feet, but got distracted when I heard a loud bird overhead. I swear sometimes my attention span is shorter than a snail's…or do they have really long ones? I'd always just assumed they had small ones because they're so tiny, but they go really slow so does that mean—

"Finally," Peter sighed.

I looked up and saw a lone buggy coming our way. It pulled up to us, and I saw that it contained a middle-aged woman.

"Mrs. McCready?" Susan asked.

"I'm afraid so," the woman answered.

I was afraid so, too. She looked even less fun than Susan. By the time we arrived at the house, I was starting to think that it would be likely for Susan to run across the lawn of Buckingham palace naked than for Mrs. McCready to crack a smile.

But the house. The house. It was beautiful and elegant and historic, but in a very inviting, not at all stiff way. It was the kind of place where you knew you could have an adventure, but that would be a safe place to explore. I felt my fingers itching for pencils already. I had to draw this place. I couldn't wait to get my sketch book out of my bag.

I was honestly impressed with Mrs. McCready's ability to suck the warmth out of everything. The second we walked into the house she began rattling off rules about where we could be (in our rooms), what we could touch (nothing?), and what to do when tours of people came to see the house (hide).

Peter leaned over to me. "and here I was worrying she'd try to play Mum to us the whole time we're here," he whispered.

"We've got Su for that," I whispered back. As if on cue, Susan shushed us.

OoOoO

That night, Peter turned on the wireless. I came to sit beside him, eager to hear any news of the war that had once seemed so far away.

"You ever wonder if our Dads are together?" I asked, not sure if I expected an answer.

"I like to think they are," Peter said. "I think they take care of each other."

I looked at him. In the dim lamp light, he looked much older. I thought he looked a lot like his dad when he wrinkled his forehead like that. His jawline had hardened over the past year as his shoulders got broader. But he still had the same laugh I remembered from the time I hid frogs in Susan's shoes and waited for her to try to put them on. The thought made me smile.

"Hey Peter, remember that time—" I began, but stopped when Susan abruptly turned off the radio. She gestured toward Lucy who was looking more upset than I had seen her all day.

"The sheets feel scratchy," Lucy said.

Peter and Susan both immediately went into parent mode to make her feel better. I wanted to help, but there was nothing more for me to say. They both hugged her. I walked over and kissed the top of her head.

"Goodnight, Lu. We'll have a good day tomorrow, I promise," I said.

She gave me a little half-grin. I was impressed she could muster even that.

"Emma, are you going to bed?" Susan asked. "You should, you know."

I raised an eyebrow. I wanted to ask her who exactly she thought she was and why she suddenly became my mother.

"Yes, I am," I said instead. The tension between us was pretty new. I mean, sure she'd always bossed me around (or tried to), but that was just Susan. But ever since Mary…well, ever since Susan lost her best friend, we'd fought a lot more. But I was trying hard not to cause problems. Everyone was stressed and tired. I said a quick good night and left the room.

"Emma," Peter called me.

I stopped in the hall. "Yeah?"

He stared at me for a second. "It's going to be all right." He was using the same tone he'd used on Lucy.

"Peter, you don't have to be my dad." It came out harsher than I'd meant it to. He looked hurt. "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "That wasn't fair. I know you're doing your best." I cursed myself for snapping at Peter instead of Susan. He didn't deserve that.

"It's okay. I'm sorry," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. " I just wanted to check on you."

I smiled. "I'm fine, Pete. Really. I mean I'm tired and sad and…a lot of things."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you sound fine."

I hugged him. "It's all going to be all right," I repeated back to him.

He hugged me back, and went to our separate rooms.

OoOoO

"Gastro vascular. Come on, Peter, gastro vascular," Susan said.

She had brought out a dictionary and was attempting to interest us in a game while it poured rain outside. I was praying that the laws of everything right and good would stop her.

"Is it Latin?" Peter nearly groaned.

"Yes." Susan flipped the page.

"Is it Latin for worse game ever invented?" Edmund scoffed.

I had to agree with the kid even if he had been a real pain lately. Susan slammed the book shut.

"Well what do you suggest?" Susan asked.

I raised my hand. "Ooh! Pick me! I have an idea!"

Peter and Lucy smiled, but Susan looked less than amused.

"Yes, Emma?" She said through clenched teeth.

I smiled sweetly at her. "We should play hide and seek. This house is huge!"

"But we're already having so much fun…" Peter said sarcastically.

"Yes! Please?" Lucy chimed in.

"One….Two…." Peter began counting with a thankful smile at me.

Everyone ran from the room. I looked around frantically for a hiding spot. I had not realized how breakable everything seemed before. I spotted a cabinet and tried to fit in before I remembered my recent growth spurt of about three inches. Under a bed seemed too obvious. Behind the curtain was taken.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Peter called.

Panic made me run to the closest room and shut the door. It was empty. I thought that maybe he just wouldn't notice me….the only bit of color in the room…But then I saw the only thing in the room—a wardrobe. It stood in the center of the back wall. It was so beautiful I completely forgot about our game for a moment. The designs carved into the sides were so delicate I knew whoever had made it had loved the wood, as strange as it sounded. I touched the the carved leaves, heart pounding with adrenaline. I swear I felt a small breeze against my face in that windowless room.

"Emma," A deep voice came from nowhere in my head.

I jumped and jerked my hand away. I was breathing hard and looking around. No one was there. I must have imagined it. I must have. Then I heard Peter coming. I knew I didn't have another choice, so I cracked open the wardrobe door and was met with a shock.

Lucy knocked me over.

"It's all right! I'm back! I'm all right!" She cried.

I rubbed my head where it had hit the floor.

"I'm glad you're okay." I grumbled.

Peter walked in. "Found you," he said. "I'm not sure you've quite got the idea." He looked so proud of himself.

"I'd just like to say, Lucy-" I began in my own defense.

"Does this mean I win?" Susan said as she entered the room with Edmund.

"I've been away for hours!" Lucy exclaimed. That shocked the room into silence.

"Batty," Edmund said. He tapped his forehead. "She's gone quite batty."

"What do you mean, Lu?" I asked her.

"Well, it was just after breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I've been away for hours and hours, and had tea, and all sorts of things happened."

We all stared at her. I wasn't sure if we were meant to laugh or not. This wasn't her usual sort of game. She told us her story about a land called Narnia and a faun. Feeling a bit curious, we checked behind the wardrobe.

"Sorry, Lu, the only wood back there is the back of the wardrobe." Susan said.

"It was a very good hoax, Lucy," Peter laughed. "You even had me convinced for a second."

"But it wasn't a hoax! It was real! Emma," She turned and appealed to me. "You believe me don't you?" The others stared at me.

I thought about how strange the wardrobe made me feel. I hesitated too long.

"I do," Edmund told her. "I mean, didn't I tell you about the football field in the bathroom cupboard?"

"Edmund! Why don't you just stay quiet!" Peter shouted.

"Shut up! You think you're Dad, but you're not!" Edmund ran out. Lucy was still looking at me.

"Lucy," I began. I couldn't believe she was taking the joke this far. "I want to believe you, I really do, but it can't be real." I may have been talking to myself, too. "It's impossible."

Lucy ran from the room, crying.

"Well done, Emma. You've just made it worse." Susan shot at me as she went to follow Lucy. That left me in the room with Peter, who looked as if he had a sword in his chest.

"What actually just happened," I said.

He didn't have an answer either. I was glad to shut the door on the Wardrobe Room, though it felt wrong at the same time. I kept telling myself it was just the strain of being away from home, away from Mum that caused my strange reaction to the piece of furniture. Maybe it was simply the artistry that had gone into carving it. Whatever it was, walking away from it was a relief.

We had a few days of sun after that. We went swimming in the small pond on the grounds, though Susan and Edmund were no fun to splash and Lucy refused to play with us at all. I spent a lot of time drawing. I was still finishing my picture of the house when Peter walked up behind me.

"Wow, that's actually not bad," he said. "When did you get good at this?"

I snorted and replied without glancing up. "Around the time you got taller than me. Barely."

"I'm half a foot taller than you!" He said with feigned indignance.

"In your dreams, Pevensie, and I'm still growing, so I'll catch back up."

I could practically feel him rolling his eyes. He sat down next to me in the grass.

"What's that one?" he asked, pointing at my drawing on the next page.

I blushed a little. "Nothing. Just…I had a weird dream the other night so I was drawing it."

Actually, I'd had the dream three nights in a row, ever since we found the wardrobe and Lucy began her intensity about some other world. In my dream, everything burned. Not with physical flames, but everything felt so cold it burned my skin and yet so hot I felt myself sweating. I could always see a castle in the distance, obscured by trees. I had tried to draw it when I woke up, but the image faded too quickly. What I had was nothing close to the picture in my dream.

That night, I had the dream again, only the castle came a little more into focus. I could see the ocean behind it, but the burning only got worse the more I could see. I was just waking up, confused and anxious, when Lucy came crashing into the room.

"Emma! It's real! Narnia's real!" She shrieked.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me from bed.

"Come on! I'll tell you all!" Lucy said.

She practically flew to the next room, the one Peter and Edmund shared. "Wake up!" She shouted again. I noticed Edmund wasn't in there, just Peter, then Edmund entered behind us, along with Susan.

"What's going on?" Peter asked as he woke up.

"It's real! Narnia's real!" Lucy laughed.

"Lucy, you've been dreaming." Susan told her.

"No I haven't! This time, Edmund went too!" Lucy said.

All of us stared at Edmund.

"Uh, sorry," Edmund said after a moment. "I was just playing along, you know? I'm sorry, Peter, I shouldn't have encouraged her."

Lucy looked stunned, or rather, betrayed, really. She ran out crying.

"Kids these days." Edmund said smugly.

I didn't know what was going on, but I knew Edmund was a beast to Lucy for no reason.

"You're turning into a real bully, you know?" I said.

Peter accidentally shoved him onto the bed as we all ran after Lucy. She was running down the hall and not paying attention to where she was going. The three of us could only watch in horror as she ran straight into the Professor.

"Oh dear," he said not unkindly.

"Professor!" Mrs. Macready said as she walked upon the scene. "I apologize if the children—"

"No, no, no harm done," said the Professor. "Though a think a bit of hot chocolate might be in order for this one."

Mrs. Macready nodded. "Come along, dear."

She and Lucy walked away. Susan, Peter and I tried to slip away unnoticed.

"Wait, you three, I think we need to talk." The Professor said. We followed him to his office.

"So tell me," The Professor said as we all sat down. "What is the problem?"

"Well, sir, it's our sister." Peter said.

"The weeping girl?" The Professor asked.

"Yes, she was upset." Susan told him.

"Hence the weeping." The Professor mused.

I smiled a little. I liked his sense of humor.

"So, what made her so upset?" he asked.

"She thinks she's found a magical world." Peter sighed.

The Professor smiled.

"In the upstairs wardrobe," I added.

The Professor's smile vanished, and he suddenly looked very interested.

"What exactly did she say?" he asked.

So Peter and Susan told him the whole story. I was content to sit and listen for once. The Professor sat back and was silent for quite a long time.

"How do you know that your sister's story isn't true?" He asked.

"It-it can't be." Susan stammered.

"But Edmund said they were only pretending." I said.

"That is a point," said the Professor, "which certainly deserves consideration, very careful consideration. For instance, if you will excuse me for asking such a question, does your experience lead you to regard your brother or your sister as the more reliable? I mean, which is the more truthful?"

"That's just the funny thing about it," said Peter. "Up till now, I'd have said Lucy every time."

"And what do you think, my dear?" the Professor looked to Susan.

"Well, in general, I'd say the same."

The Professor turned to me. "And you?"

"Oh," Susan spoke before I could. "She's not our sister."

Ouch.

"Hmm," the Professor leaned back in his chair. "Well, a charge of lying against someone who has always been truthful is a very serious thing indeed."

"But it just doesn't make sense! I mean, logically-" Susan began.

"Logic! What do they teach at these schools? If Lucy is not mad—and, I assure you, she isn't—then there is only one other explanation." The Professor declared.

"She's telling the truth." I said quietly, still not believing it myself.

The Professor nodded at me. "Quite right."

But it couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

OoOoO

"Just bowl it!" Edmund told Peter. We were playing Cricket outside, and the weather was beautiful. Peter did his wind up and threw the ball to Edmund, who sent it flying—through a window.

"Well done, Ed." Peter said as we surveyed the damage inside.

"You bowled it!" he exclaimed.

"Listen, we can set up the armor again in front of the window, and you won't be able to tell." I suggested.

Susan scoffed. "I'm impressed, Emma, you already figured out how to cover up the problem."

See, it's things like this that seem unnecessary to me.

"The Macready's coming!" Lucy said suddenly. And sure enough, we could hear her footsteps coming. We immediately ran off, but every staircase we ran to, we heard her there too.

"Oh, hang it all," Peter said as we ran to the last place available. "There's nowhere else!" And we all ran into the Spare Room. The Wardrobe Room. The handle of the door began to turn.

"You've got to be joking." I heard Susan say as we all crammed into the wardrobe. My heart was racing, my hands tingling.

"Why is it so…cold in here?" I asked. And wet, too. How strange.