there and back again.

by atalantide

author's notes:

A lot of people write the Pevensies as returning to London to live before they catch the train to school that leads to Prince Caspian, and I've looked and it doesn't say anything in the books. As the Pevensies are evacuated in 1940 and leave in Prince Caspian a year later in 1941, it seems unlikely that they are returned home between then as most evacuees were only returned home at the end of the war in 1945. So that's what I wrote in, anyway.

This is more of an interlude than anything, and so is shorter than any chapters will eb that cover Narnia.

2: a very english interlude

Living in the Professor's home was both peculiar and somewhat of a relief. She had forgotten, in her sparse memories of the land she had spent her first nine years in, about the war that was ongoing and thus her and her siblings' brief stay at the Professor's house, and had rather assumed she would be returned to London and to her mother and father. However, this was not the case. This was rather a relief, as not only was the countryside rather more like Narnia then London was, but she had also been forced to confess to the Professor (a remarkably wise and trusting man) why her three siblings had seemingly disappeared. He, in turn, had told her that he and his friend had also ventured to Narnia, at the beginning of her creation when they were much younger (and were in fact guilty of bringing Jadis with them, he was afraid). Thus, they had sorted out her siblings' deaths, and during these discussions a kinship had struck up between the old Professor Kirke and his nine year old evacuee.

Mrs Macready was rather baffled by this kinship that seemingly arose from nowhere between a preteen and an old man, but as she was a steadfast women who took most things in her stride she continued on without much notice. A slightly harder thing to take in her stride was the disappearance of three healthy children – from pneumonia, apparently, but they had all seemed in fine health just the night before they disappeared. Still, who really knew what sicknesses children in the city were exposed to growing up? She decided to leave it well enough alone, though perhaps it could be said that her following actions to the surviving child over the next year were more kindly then previously.

As for Lucy, she found it rather disconcerting being nine again. Just the physicality of her nine year old body in comparison to her twenty-four year old body was alarming. Every now and again, she would stumble and fall over on flat ground after expecting her legs to be a great deal longer than they were. Her strength, built up over years of yielding the hefty weight of Rhindon, was replaced by that of a young child, and this often took her by surprise when she went to lift, push or pull things – in particular, the heavy gates on the Professor's drive. Her coordination was no longer what it used to be – she found it harder to draw anything better than stick figures, which was particularly distressing as drawing was once the only art she could grasp (to her sister's consternation), and catching tennis balls was almost beyond her.

However, it was the social side of things that was truly troublesome. Lucy had gone from being a High Queen of a well-respected country, its sole and successful ruler who had fought and won many wars, to a child evacuee who had no say in the dinner she ate, let alone the country she lived in. There was only one man in the whole world who treated her as an adult, and that was the dear Professor – but even he occasionally struggled as he himself had of course never seen her as any older than her current self. Her opinions and ideas were at best laughed at and dismissed and at worst ignored completely. Privately, she thought that the transition would have been easier had she had even one sibling with whom she could act like herself with – but, as with everything else now, she was alone in this matter.

However, by far the most unnerving realisation that Lucy faced was that slowly her mental perception was slipping back into that of her old English self. It was how she imagined facing Alzheimer's would be, whilst fully aware of the grip on reality you were losing day by day. First, it started as simply forgetting the name of far off foreign countries to Narnia and their rulers – for the life of her, she just couldn't remember the name of the Ambassador of Galma – but then she began forgetting more important things, such as Mrs Beaver's first name (Danicla? Damclea?), and the name of her first boat on her maiden voyage.

She was terrified beyond words of ever forgetting any of her siblings.

Not only that, but her mannerisms were slipping. You get treated like a nine year old girl for long enough and you become one. More and more of her twenty four year old self was fading, to let the nine year old shine through. She tried staving it off, somewhat successfully, but she feared what would happen to both her memory and her sense of self if she stayed too long in this country.

Lucy had decided to write to her mother herself to explain the deaths of her siblings – or rather, to explain the story the Professor and she had thought of. Her mother had replied much later with an incredibly distraught letter, and Lucy felt a pang of sadness for this woman she didn't really know – she had evacuated her children to keep them safe and had spent her energy worrying for her husband. Instead, he was alive but three of her beloved children were dead. Indeed, she had nigh on demanded that Lucy return to London into her care, but Lucy had reminded her of the ongoing Blitz and her mother had eventually agreed it was safer in the countryside.

And so Lucy spent her mornings exploring the surrounding countryside and convincing the farmers to let her help and trying desperately to get the wildlife to talk and she spent her evenings in the Professor's library, reading, or comparing stories of Narnia, or discussing the shortcomings of this world, or just sitting quietly. And she suffered from the farmers' dismissal of her and the animals' failure to talk and her conversations by letter with her mother whom she had almost forgotten, but she enjoyed this easy, carefree life in the Professor's house as well. And sometimes she'd curl up on her bed and weep for Cor and Aravis and Mr Tumnus and most of all for Peter and Edmund and Susan who were out of her reach more than ever, far from Aslan as she was. And sometimes she'd pause and a feeling of brokenness and not belonging would sweep over her, for this was not her country, would never be her country and she could pretend she was on a foreign visit but it was going on for too long.

But she coped. She had bad days, and she had good days, and she had days where she could barely get out of bed, but she always did and she squared her shoulders and put it behind her as much as she could.

And she clung onto the Professor's words – words that unknowingly mirrored Aslan's.

"Yes, of course you'll get back to Narnia again." He had said. "Once a Queen in Narnia, always a Queen in Narnia, don't you know?" And she had known of course, but it was still a relief to be reassured.

And so she lived and smiled and cried, but most of all she waited. Waited until she would be called back, back to the land that had claimed her siblings but also her heart.

It was in June, nine months after convincing her mother to let her stay with the Professor for the time being, that she received a letter telling her of her enrollment in Clapton Girls Academy in Wiltshire from her mother – a school that she would be expected to attend at the start of September. At first she had resisted this change, quite happy to continue at the Professor's and have a free life with only short and disrupted schooling in the village hall, but she had eventually realized that if she wasn't to live in Narnia for all her life, an education would surely be important. And so, with minimum resistance, she began her preparations for another upheaval of her life that would occur in three months' time, for the relinquishing of contact with the one man who knew her secret, and the immersion in a school where she would be completely surrounded by no one but other nine year old girls and occasionally their teachers. Suffice to say, she was not looking forward to September and was looking to put it off for as long as possible.

But, in a way only time knows how, when her desire was for the next three months to extend for as long as possible, they contrarily seemed to fly by, and in no time at all she found herself hugging both the Professor and Mrs Macready in farewell at the train station (both had become quite fond of the small girl and were unhappy to see her go) and waving to some of the village friends she had made who were also there, before stepping towards the steam train bound for Wiltshire.

And suddenly Lucy gave a sharp little cry and grabbed her forearm, rubbing it in pain. She frowned around her – someone had seemingly pinched her, but no one was around on the empty platform.

There! It had happened again, on her calf this time, and as she hunched over to rub that, she felt another pinch on her back. And suddenly, as she straightened up, everything began to go blurry and she thought that perhaps she had stood up rather too quickly, but no, everything was fading, and she knew this feeling, knew this magic, and turned and looked straight into Professor Kirke's clear blue eyes and grinned –and suddenly a group of schoolchildren walked right in front of her, concealing her from view, and when they had walked past her she was gone and the train bound for Wiltshire began to pull away.

"Well!" Said Mrs Macready, "The girl didn't even have the decency to say goodbye before she hopped on the train. Still, I suppose it was good as she only just got on in time! And there I was thinking she was a sensible child."

She turned away, still muttering, and walked towards the back of the platform to go back to the horse and cart that the Professor and she had taken there.

The Professor stood unmoved as he smiled wryly down at the plain brown leather suitcase that remained on the platform before him, settled patiently on the bricks as if its owner had just suddenly abandoned it.

"What did I tell you, ey Lucy? Once a Queen in Narnia, always a Queen in Narnia…"

And with that, he turned back towards Mrs Macready, who was ushering him forward and back towards his house. He wished all the best to his High Queen, and whatever adventure she would be going on next.

fin.

ages for reference:

- Peter dies when he is 13, Susan is 12, Edmund is 10, Lucy is 9

- Susan dies when she is 18, Edmund is 16, Lucy is 15

- Edmund dies when he is 21, Lucy is 20

- Archenland attacks when Lucy is 21, Cor is 20 and Aravis is 19

- Lucy leaves Narnia when she is 24, 15 years after entering it

- Lucy returns to Narnia when she is 10

author's notes:

Prince Caspian next!

Please tell me what you think!