Everything you recognise (including the occasional in-story-unattributed quote) is from C. S. Lewis. This goes for all chapters. While I'd love to be as brilliant as him in both his imagination and his expression, I ain't him.
This is my first fanfiction on here: don't be shy in scaring me off writing, but that also means my formatting may leave much to be desired. Rip the story to shreds (reasonably, o' course) if you like; it won't stop me writing!
If you have any questions, drop a review and I'll try to address them in later chapters.
Enjoy!
The rain slid relentlessly down the windows as Peter Pevensie, once High King of Narnia and now forever debarred from that place, glared across the room.
She who was once Queen Susan the Gentle (and yet once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen in Narnia) sat across from him trying to pretend she was immersed in the novel she was reading.
Presently she looked up, stiffening. "The Macready!"
"Probably with a bunch of tourists." Peter dragged himself to his feet with less alacrity than he would have done a year and a half ago. "Which means we'd better get going."
Susan pushed her novel underneath some paper on the table and glanced hurriedly around the room. "Alright, we can go."
"Thanks, Mum."
The smile they shared was brief and strained, both occupied with painful memories. She had, in some ways, mothered him during the Golden Age, but still, he was High King.
High King of a place he was never to see again.
Shaking his head to clear it of the painful thoughts, Peter followed Susan out of the door, wishing as he did so that Lucy and Edmund could be here, even though he knew it would have been too rude to refuse their classmates' offers of a holiday, just as it would have been too rude to also send along Peter and Susan.
Was it his imagination or were they always the rejected ones?
Mrs Macready's party of tourists seemed to chase them all over Professor Kirke's large house, chasing them towards... it.
Peter drew a sharp breath as they tumbled into the well-remembered room.
The wardrobe. Susan, too, tensed.
"Come on, Su, we'd better get inside-"
The sound of a horn. Cool and sweet as music over water, but commanding, as if it could control them.
He froze, and so did Susan, sharing a glance as they recognised the note. A moment later, they were tugged - three times, quite distinctly - out of our world and into somewhere else.
Susan glanced around her, wide eyes changing to wonder and delight.
Peter did not need her cry to establish where they were - to establish everything, from the gentle brook at his feet to the great golden Lion standing at its bank, the rich turf seeming to glow around him.
"Peter - we're in Narnia!"