Disclaimer/Notes: C.S. Lewis owns everything. I only own Charlotte and Alice. I apologize if these characters end up a Mary-Sue - it's not what I intended to do but sometimes it happens without me realising it. This is in third person.

Title: Through the Wardrobe

Genre: Romance/Adventure

Rating: T

Pairings: PeterxOC EdmundxOC

Summary: When the Pevensie's are sent to live with Professor Kirke, they didn't expect to meet the outgoing and beautiful granddaughters of his: Alice and Charlotte. The journey begins here …

Chapter 10: The Crossing

From where they stood, they could see the river already beginning to melt, beginning to flow once more. It was clear that it was not going to hold out for much longer. The drop from the top of the cliff, where they stood, to the ice far below was both steep and rocky. It wasn't very encouraging for the group, for they would have to climb down. Peter could not quite believe that they, four children and two beavers, would have to cross the unstable path when it was more likely to be suited for Artic Explorers back home. He swallowed nervously.

"We need to cross, now," he stated.

"Don't beavers make dams?" Lucy wondered, fear creeping into her voice.

"We're not that fast dear," Mr. Beaver answered.

"Come on," Peter encouraged, tugging his youngest sister earnestly in his hurry.

"Wait, can we just think about this for a moment?" Susan interjected loudly, stopping Peter and Lucy in their tracks. 'There could be another way of getting across this river,' she thought. 'We don't have to just rush into scaling a cliff that is at least fifty feet down.'

"We don't have a minute," Peter countered.

"…I'm just trying to be realistic…" Susan replied, mildly subdued at her brother's harsh tone. He did not usually speak to her in such a way, and it startled her a bit.

"No, you're trying to be smart," Peter corrected. "As usual."

He turned to leave quickly with Lucy, when he realised Charlotte had not said a word, nor had she moved from her position of peering down at drop below them.

Charlotte could feel the blood rushed from her face, her hands shaking, as she thought about climbing down there. Not for the first time since she had discovered it as a child, she cursed her fear of heights. She was so distracted by her inner musing of her irrational (or rational, as she liked to tell herself) fear that she did not notice the others had already caught up to her.

Charlotte jumped when she felt a warm hand tentatively grasp her shoulder, and turned to see Peter staring down at her. He calmed himself in an attempt to reassure the girl, succeeding in overshadowing the panic he was feeling. Since their father had left for war, he had become a great actor, pretending that everything was going to be alright, and he applied that skill whenever needed.

"It'll be okay," he encouraged softly. Despite that she knew it was not true, she felt inclined to believe him. Struggling to keep herself from glancing down, she nodded weakly. And with some reluctance, she carefully followed Peter's lead. A wolf's howl could be heard in the distance. Charlotte shivered at the eerie sound and grasped Susan's hand when she rushed towards her family, unwilling to stay there alone.

Charlotte struggled as she made her way across the huge chasm. She did not look down, could not out of fear that she would stumble. The familiar feeling of nausea began to creep in her stomach.

Instead, she forced her head to the right and focused her gaze on the bodies and movements of the Pevensie's beside her. It gave her a point to focus on, and she doubted she would be inclined to look away from Peter's concentrating expression. All her trepidation was being spread out across her grip on Susan's hand, something she was sure must be really uncomfortable for the girl. But if it was, Susan didn't say as much. In fact, Charlotte could almost be sure Susan was grasping her hand just as hard.

She could feel the thin path sloping downwards beneath her feet, and she could hear the rushing water just a fall away. It was absolutely terrifying. Considering the circumstance, she was quite proud of herself that she was able to keep as calm as she was at the moment. Although, that did not stop her from having a small heart attack when she saw Lucy slip slightly, letting out a yelp of fear and panic. But the smaller girl was quickly saved, and placed back on the path. Charlotte felt she had never been as happy as when her feet finally touched the snow covered embank at the mouth of the frozen river–or waterfall, as it seemed.

Peter stared across the icy expanse of water, and again, swallowed nervously. He took a hesitant step forward, putting a bit of pressure to test the stability of the ground. He quickly scrambled backwards when the ice layer broke beneath him.

"Maybe I should go first..." Mr. Beaver suggested.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Maybe you should."

The beaver carefully made his way across the melting river, pausing every once and awhile to tap his tail on the ice behind him. He changed direction every time the ice cracked under his weight. Mrs. Beaver watched with narrowed eyes.

"You've been sneaking second helpings, haven't you?" she complained.

"Well, you never know what meals going to be your last," he called. At her sceptical look, he quickly resumed in his task, mumbling. "…Especially with your cooking."

Even though her heart was beating a mile a minute, Charlotte cracked a small smile at the humorous, marital banter.

Mrs. Beaver shook her head, almost as if in defeat at her husband's answer, before moving forward and mimicking his steps. Nervously, the four humans began their own careful movements across the ice. Weighting much more than their beaver escorts, Charlotte could not help the feeling of anxiety when the path cracked loudly under her feet. Reaching for the closest means of support, she gripped Peter's hand tightly, biting her bottom lip.

"If mum knew what we were doing…" Susan muttered.

Peter only rolled his eyes in annoyance before he continued, warily leading them to the opposite bank.

Small blocks of ice fell from above them, hitting the ice beside the group with a sharp thud. Charlotte refused to look up. She did not want to see the waterfall melting beside them, but found she had no choice when Lucy cried out in fear. She swallowed, her eyes wide, when she saw the dark, swift forms of wolves—the Secret Police.

"Run!" Peter ordered, tightening his grip on their hands. He moved quickly to get them all across the river, which only seemed to lengthen the longer it took them to cross it—in the same way that the wolves only seemed to be getting closer. Only it seemed they were closer than she thought. Charlotte was so concentrated on getting across the water; she didn't see them until a wolf had Mr. Beaver locked in his strong jaws. And another—Maugrim, she recalled—had slid into place between them. She hesitantly took a step backwards. But when she glanced behind her, she only saw a broken river with more wolves on the bank. They were trapped.

Peter drew his sword, holding it awkwardly in one hand, the other one still grasping his youngest sister's hand. Shakily, the tip hovered parallel to the wolves muzzle. After one glance, Charlotte copied his action, holding her long dagger tightly as if she might drop it, and watched Maugrim closely in front of her. His cold eyes snapped towards her and growled darkly for a moment, as if annoyed by something. He only turned his attention back to Peter, an animalistic sneer on his face, when Peter rather forcefully pushed Charlotte behind him, breaking eye contact.

"Put that down, boy," Maugrim ordered, padded closer at an almost leisurely pace. Almost instinctively, the Pevensies tried to step backward, but found they were unable when the ice broke off behind them.

"Someone could get hurt," the wolf added.

"Run him through!" Mr. Beaver shouted loudly as he struggled against the wolves hold.

"Leave now, while you can," Maugrim continued, as if no one had interrupted him. "And your brother and sister leave with you." Susan glanced wildly between her brother and the approaching enemy.

"Stop Peter, maybe we should listen to him!" Maugrim chuckled.

"Smart girl," he sneered.

"Don't listen to him! Kill him! Kill him now!" Mr. Beaver yelled in objection.

Peter grappled the situation in his mind. As an older sibling, it was in your "job description" to do whatever it took to care for your brothers and sisters…at least, that's what his father had always told him. But things were different here. This was not a bully in the playground, or a scraped knee. This was someone, something that genuinely wanted to hurt them. This was a skilled enemy with previous experience in a fight, and no doubt in the art of trickery and deceit to get what they wanted.

"Peter…" Charlotte muttered quietly, bringing Peter out of his reverie. "Don't trust him. I…I don't think we should risk Edmund or Alice for something that may or may not be true."

He didn't respond, though he swallowed noticeably, and gripped his sword tighter using both of his hands.

"Oh come on," Maugrim growled. "This isn't your war. All my Queen wants is for you to take your siblings and go."

"Look, just because some man in a red coat hands you a sword, it doesn't make you a hero!" Susan snapped desperately. "Just drop the sword!"

Charlotte twisted the hilt of her dagger in her hand, though she lowered it some. Susan's words were true, but discouraging. Peter kept silent, even as his grip on his sword wavered.

"No Peter! Narnia needs ya!" Mr. Beaver shouted. His voice cut off with a whine when the wolf's jaw around the beaver's throat clamped down, the grip like a vice. But he still managed a few more words in encouragement. "Cut him while you still have a chance!"

"What's it going to be Son of Adam?" Maugrim asked, now standing a mere inch from the sharp end of Peter's blade. "I won't wait forever, and neither will the river."

Lucy froze when she heard a crack from above. Her eyes trailed upwards and widened at the melting waterfall. They would not have much time. She shouted her brother's name in warning as water sprayed through the gaps in the ice.

"Hold on to me!" Peter shouted out the command. Instantly, the three girls clutched at his brown furry coat tightly, trusting him completely. He raised the sword above his head and pressed it down sharply and firmly, embedding the blade in the ice.

Everything happened so fast, Charlotte barely had time to adjust to the sudden chances. The ice cracked beneath her feet, and she could feel the unsteadiness of it all. The water pressure was too much for the ice barrier. The small iceberg they were standing on was pushed away, under the freezing cold water. For a moment, the world around them was numbed by the sound of rushing water. The only indication of reality was the wet fur in their tighter grips, or in Peter's case, the metal in his hand.

The berg rose to the surface and the four humans gasped for air. Somewhere before the waterfall finally burst, Charlotte had managed to return her blade to the holster and was now using both hands to cling tightly to Susan and Peter, who were on either side of her. She kept her eyes closed, to keep water out of her eyes, and instead focused completely on trying to stay on the block of ice they were laying across.

The block lurched when it hit the bank on the other side of the river, making Charlotte's eyes snap open. She let out a relieved breath when she saw that they were finally safe. Susan and Charlotte helped each other onto the river bank with small smiles on their faces. They had made it out alive.

They turned to help Peter and Lucy and drew to a stop, a cold sense in their hearts, when they saw a panicked and distraught Peter holding the soaking wet coat-Lucy's coat.

"What have you done?" Susan cried out in fear, turning to watch the flowing stream beyond them. "Lucy! Lucy!"

Peter moved over to stand between his sister and new friend, copying his sister. Charlotte stood on the tips of her toes to try and see, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

"Has anyone seen my coat?"

Charlotte spun on her heels at the voice, her face lighting up. With a breathless laugh, Peter moved closer to put Lucy's coat over her shoulders.

"Don't worry dear, your brother has you well looked after," Mr. Beaver teased as he climbed out of the river.

"And I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore," Mrs. Beaver added, turning slightly to gaze around at the expanse of trees that made up the forest beside them.

It seemed to be such a natural change; the snow once rested on the bare branches on the trees seemed to slowly, as if it was melting away, become small pink blossoms. Patches of grass and flowers at the base of the tree trunk appeared, transforming from a bud into full bloom within a few seconds. The air warmed around them and Charlotte shook off her heavy coat with a small smile.

Peter couldn't help but glance at Charlotte out of the corner of his eye when she rose on her tip toes to stretch, her arms above her head.

Susan laughed a bit as she walked past and gave her brother a knowing look.

"You know it's rude to stare," she chided, laughing just that bit more when she had a glare thrown in her direction.

Lucy looked in confusion between her eldest brother and her new friend, whom her sister was now talking happily with. It took a moment for her to realise what her sister was talking about, and why her brother was blushing so much. She grinned impishly, her eyes sparkling with glee, and glanced up at him.

"You like Charlie," she stated in a stage-whisper, the amusement and happiness clear in her voice as she spoke.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. He could admit to himself, it was rude to stare, but that was it.

"Of course not. I barely know her." He grasped Lucy's hand and tugged her forward.

"Come on," he urged. "We need to get to Aslan's Camp and get Edmund and Alice back."

Lucy raised her other hand to stifle her giggles.