Chapter Text
Tumnus’ seat was as dark as it was empty. So had been abandoned, even in a different universe. Just her luck.
“Vie?” A sharp cry rang from the floor- one that could've been easily compared to Peter’s scolds to Edmund, only this was out of sadness rather than anger. Tumnus leaned against the staircase, hands intertwined aground the intricate swirls of its railing. Vie sat across from him, lashes drawn over her eyes as they turned downwards towards Lucy. Out of all the magical worlds Lucy could’ve chosen, of course it was one filled with sadness. Her mission on the cloud of gloom that has spread from Edmund to her.
“We should probably be heading back now,” Lucy whispered. “It’s too late for that now,” Tumnus said back, almost as softly as Vie stuttered her words. Only now it was through a wall of melancholy rather than shyness. “I’m such a terrible faun,” he cried out, more like random breaths of air rather than words. It was the same face Mother had when they left the train station. Vie beat the race to comfort Tumnus, hand on his shoulder. Lucy hoped the chair wouldn’t throw a fit like she did when she abandoned it. “Oh, but you’re the nicest faun I’ve ever met,” Lucy comforted. Tumnus had treated her better than most goats and men. That had to be enough.
“I’m afraid you’ve had a very poor sampling,” he trembled, gaze darting side-to-side from Lu to Vie- almost as fast and hurried as their train had been. His eyes slowly steadied as Lucy kneeled down to Vie’s level. Her facial features were as freaked as Tumnus’s- and could’ve been the exact replica of the face Susan often made when she tried to help but didn’t know how. Her hands were like Tumnus’ eyes, frantic, scared, and unknowing of what to do. Fabric rubbed against Vie’s pocket. It was a handkerchief, cut asymmetrically in wavy patterns down the sides, deep green stitching running the edge with it. The initial of ‘V.S’ was sewed rather than embroidered rather than most of the girl’s Lucy had seen. It certainly matched the energy of Tumnus’ house, simple, hand-made, and slightly askew. Tumnus pressed it to his cheeks from Vie’s trembling hands. Mum had done the same only a few days ago.
“No. No,” Lucy said, forcing out one of Susan’s false, comforting smiles, “you couldn’t have done anything bad.” Tumnus aggressively dabbed the cloth towards each eye. Vie waited almost expectantly, mouth leaned to one side like she was biting her cheek. “It’s not something I have done Lucy Pevensie,” he whispered as his chest rose up and down in an unsteady beat, “It’s something I am doing.” His face slumped forward- like he was in shame.
Everything was the exact same as it had been before. Only now it was dark. The fireplace put out, the fire died down to bits of darkened logs- no sign of an ember or spark. The toast was no longer steaming and neither was the teacup. It was once again abandoned. “What are you doing?” Vie shut her eyes in a silent response, a habit that had repeated over and over again in the past- however long it had been. It was like she was constantly trying to block out everything around her. Tumnus looked like he envied her as Vie’s handkerchief was clutched against his palm.
“I’m kidnapping you.”
Of course it had to be him. With her. Of course it had to be unfortunate Lucy Pevensie who decided in the moment to go into a stranger's house- one that was barely human. Vie had to suffer her consequences this time- someone who had just been as nice. “It was the White Witch,” he blurted out, palms smothering his face, voice unstable. “She’s the one who’s making it winter, always cold. She gave orders!If any of us find a human wandering in the woods, we're supposed to turn them over to her.”
As if things weren’t worse enough without being turned over to a magical witch like Hansel and Gretel. Poor Peter’s job was hard already, now he had a whole kingdom to explore. And possibly a witch’s stomach. “You wouldn’t.”
Tumnus only sobbed further into Vie’s handkerchief. “I thought you were my friend.” He perked up against the wood of the staircase. His eyes woke up with him. Vie’s mimicked them, only more confused than alert.
* * * * *
Air burned in her lungs the way smog did back in Finchley, only now it was cold rather than chemically. Tumnus’ trots and Vie’s tall strides were no match for Lucy’s small ones. If only they could slow down. But then again, the Witch’s steps would’ve been much faster. As so she sprinted, steps skipping before she decided they could be skipped. It was a game of being dragged and hopping with every incline and plateau. Vie’s hold would’ve torn off her wrist if she dared to slow any longer. Muscles throbbed with the combination.
“She may already know you’re here,” Tumnus said, words stumbling over each other as if he were trying to say everything at once- nearly unintelligible with the rush of wind and the pants of air they were taking in between. Lucy skidded with another sting to her ankle caused by the crystalized snow. “The woods are full of spies, even some of the trees are on her side.” Vie’s pace faltered, as if to say what? Her stop almost cost Lucy her left leg as the momentum swung her to a nearby tree. Tumnus only kept trotting faster.
The lamp post was the only source of light in the darkening sky of Narnia- only heightened in the sheltered branches of the forest. Vie kept her teeth planted firmly on her lips. It was like her whole body was driven by a force other than hers. Her sister couldn’t have been that bad, could she?
“Can you find your way back from here?” Tumnus asked, curls of fog rising from his breath as he panted. Vie’s face experienced a layer of frozen-ness. It was anyone’s guess as if it were the cold or her fear. “I-I think so.”
“Good,” Tumnus said, hands clutching one of each of the girls. The air rushed back to Lucy’s lungs in too-large gulps. Lucy hadn’t noticed how breathing came with a tingling sensation that ran along her nose and the exposed skin where the snow hit. There was nothing past their laboured breathing. There was no way a witch could possibly be stalking their trails.
“W-will y-you b-be a–a-alright?” Her words were chopped through her stutter along with the chatter of the wind. Tumnus kneeled with the awkward end of his knee, head levelled to the same height so the ache in her neck wouldn’t progress further. The cold would’ve iced it anyway. His neck gave a stiff turn as he looked further from the lamppost; trees, trees, and trees.
The handkerchief reappeared in his hand. Vie had to pose her spine into a curve as she stooped down to meet with Lucy’s level. “I’m sorry,” he said with a fluctuating breath, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He held up the cloth towards Vie, knees already shaking from her uncomfortable position. If only she could’ve had the problem of a long spine.
“K-keep it.” He nearly laughed as her reaction fell. “Y-you need i-it m-more than I-I do.” His gaze fell between them. He looked like what he had been hours ago when they met him, animated and sure-faced. This was the face that looked like a combination of every nice teacher, friend, and family member she’d met. Mum wasn’t the reason they were sent away to war and it wasn’t Tumnus’ fault he had to take orders. “No matter what happens, my Queens, I’m glad to have met you. You’ve made me feel warmer than I’ve felt in a hundred years.” His smile descended into firmness with a touch to Lucy’s nose. “Now go.”
Just like that, Lucy was a kite at the mercy of Vie’s hands, caught in the bristles of the trees. They blurred into white spots, like a canister of sugar. It turned from sugar to acid when a rancid smell bled into the white and green scenery- only this time it wasn’t covered up by Mum’s floral perfume or Susan’s school friend's stolen scents. Vie’s ginormous steps only hurried, stumbling over each other like she wanted to sprint faster but didn't have the ability to.
The coats were the only soft things besides the snow. The colours blurred to mush as Vie gave another tug towards her wrist. They bristled against Lucy’s skin more pleasantly than the pine needles had- like one of the teddy bears she had. The fall wasn’t as lovely, and neither was the smell that came with it. The warmth hit Lucy harder than the floor, as if all the frozen blood suddenly rushed directly into her cheeks. Vie’s chest heaved in relief, hair fanned out in messy dark tendrils. She looked like the version of Susan that had been present the past days: tense, distressed, and slightly dishevelled. Silver light spilled around the windows in the same depressing fashion that they had done when they’d arrived. Susan wouldn’t totally kill her.
Vie rushed out the door with the same speed as she did when she thought they were escaping a witch. Her pace only slowed with the sharp turns of the spare rooms as she sprinted down the stairwell. Curtains rustled under obnoxious groans. “I’m alright! I’m back, I’m alright!” The draping rustled some more as a head popped out. It was Edmund, face twisted in the same bitter expression. There wasn’t any crossover between his expression and Tumnus’, eyebrows turned downwards in worry. Edmunds were furrowed in a bout of annoyance. “Shut up! He’s coming.”
Before, Edmund would at least throw in a please- he also cared enough to show concern if she’d been missing for hours. Peter seemed to be summoned at the sound of Edmund’s ever-present annoyance as his heavy footsteps stalked the floorboards of the hallways. Tension released from the pull of the curtains, then transferring into Edmund- lip curled to the right as his brows knitted towards the centre of his forehead, creating shadows over his already-dark eyes. His groan was heavier than the weight of his hate.
“YOu know, I’m not sure you three have quite got the idea of the game,” a chuckle caught in between the shakes of his head. Old Peter would’ve screamed rather than laughed at Lucy’s missing state. “Weren’t you wondering where we were?” Edmund scoffed with an obnoxious tilt of his head, hunching his shoulders over her like he was all of a sudden a higher-up power like Father was. He looked as threatening as a duck. “That’s the point,” remarked, lips moving with a dramatic, yet obnoxious poise. “That’s why he was seeking you!”
Susan practically opped into the room, perfect hair bobbing in her steps. “Does this mean I win?” It was Peter’s turn to copy Edmund’s glare. Susan returned it with her rendition of Mum’s angry face. A thunk filled the silence. It was Alastair, practically glowing with how right his hair was in the darkness of the hallway, only brightened by his slightly-askew teeth. “No,” he insisted, his whole head turned upwards in order to face the lanky features of Peter and Susan. “It means I do.” Peter sucked in the bottom portion of his lip so his teeth bit at them, wrinkles forming in the space where his eyebrows settled between.
“I don’t think they want to play anymore.” I thought you assumed that after we went missing for half the day. Peter only stared expectantly at her, Edmund was more obvious with his judging. “We’ve been gone for hours.” Their eyes synced together the same way it used to when Mum and Dad shared awkward displays of affection. Only now, they looked at Lucy with the suspicion that she was crazy rather than crazy in love. “I’m not that slow,” Peter insisted with a snide look from Edmund and Susan. This time Lucy was included in their critical looks. Vie stared at him from under the furrow in her brows. Maybe she was thinking of her own older sibling- as elusive and mysterious as the witch.
“It was the wardrobe! There’s a whole land inside of there called Narnia with fauns, witches, castles, and snow. So much snow.” Edmund snorted, with a repressed frown from Susan, eyes now tilted upwards to someone else while Peter did the same. They didn’t believe her. They wanted Vie- a stranger to them, attest against Lucy. At least back in Finchley they pretended to understand her.
“I-It’s true,” Vie said, although not as convincing with a nervous look still glinting in her eye, though it hadn’t left since Edmund first slammed the door on Vie. Maybe it was a natural look, similar to how Edmund always pouted, or how her brother had a natural mischief. “W-we met a f-faun n-named Tumnus.” If nods couldn’t make people believe her Lucy was out of hope. Peter’s tight-lipped expression was almost identical to the ones he’d have after particular arguments with the others.
“Yes. Me and Vie stayed with Tumnus- and it was so wonderful Peter. There was toast and tea and a wonderful fire, and this time there were no rations! It was just an endless wood when we went inside the wardrobe, the only thing there was a lamppost!” Ed crossed his arms, as a muscle in his leg twitches. It was like he wanted to bend to Lucy’s height as if his condescending eye rolls weren’t already enough. “Didn’t Mum say we’re not supposed to go into strangers' homes?” He coughed out a vain chuckle. “But I guess that doesn’t apply when the stranger’s house is fake.”
“He would never do anything to us! He just followed the Witch’s orders, and he took us right back when he realised what he was doing was wrong!” Peter’s chest fell with a heaving sigh, “We can’t catch up with what you’re saying Lucy.” Lucy returned the groan Peter gave her.
“Just check the wardrobe for yourself, you’ll see.”
Peter strode to the spare room, jaw tight as he pushed open the Spare Oom.
Susan was the first to open the wardrobe, separating the thick coats open with a little too much effort. Edmund made it a point to push it away from the wall.
The colour of the back wall was the same washed-out beige wallpaper that lined most of the hallways in the Professor’s house. Edmund hit the back with a firm knock. Susan did the same from the inside. Alastair, small frame barely fitting under the crack of space between the floor and the wardrobe. His knock, as well as his source of air, was tight and muffled. Coats wooshed as they parted back to their regular position, away from Susan’s arms.
“The only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe,” Susan said, shadow towering over Lucy. Vie’s taller stature was unaffected as her fingers busied themselves with picking at themselves. Alastair slid out the bottom of the wardrobe with a dry cough, eyes fixed at Vie. “It smells really bad in there,” he said through a hack of his throat. He kept grinning despite his seeming pain. He heaved himself under the crack of the wardrobe before leaning against it with heavy breaths. He shared a glance with Vie, knowing and mischievous, she cringed in more uncomfort than she was already experiencing. Peter’s gaze was far from Alastair’s: hard and expectant.
“One game at a time, Lu. We don’t all have your imagination,” he almost scolded.
“But I wasn’t imagining, Vie was there with me!” Susan turned on her ‘Mum facade.’ Alastair still sat expectant towards his sister. “Don’t bring her into this.” It was there, it was there, it was there, but you’re too blind to see it! It’s not like there were random spurts of snow appearing in the countryside. Their eyes still burned with judgement. Edmund dropped the look for a second, the tension easing in between his eyebrows.
“I believe you,” he insisted. Peter’s head snapped to look at him. Edmund wouldn’t even acknowledge Father Christmas. “You do?” His smile, brief, and rare was hidden as he shared it towards Peter- suspicious as high as ever. “Yeah of course. Didn’t I tell you about the football field in the bathroom cupboards?” Edmund swore he wouldn't show a drop of happiness when Father left. And still he smiled, cheeks almost cherub-like and rosy, grin stretching proudly. It was in complete contrast to his regular darkened state. He looked similar to Alastair now, playful and young. The only difference was that Alastair made jokes about himself rather than taking hits on Vie.
“Will you just stop,” Peter nearly screamed, filling in the emptiness of the room. Edmund soon returned to his regular form. “You just have to make everything worse don’t you?” Edmund leaned in further towards Peter, eyebrows arched, “It was just a joke!” Peter nearly scoffed through a veil of disappointment clouding his blue eyes as he shook his head, “When are you going to learn to grow up?”
Edmund almost closed the gap between him and Peter, back tense while his words dripped sharp as venom. “Shut up!” Vie made the smallest of squeaks, barely audible as most of her words had been. “You think you’re Dad, but you’re not!” The door slammed, something that was all-too common with the Pevensie’s recently. Susan shared a silent scold with Peter, another frequent habit recently. His jaw tensed shut.
“That was nicely handled.” Her hair bounced freely as she treaded with loud stomps down the hallway of the Professor’s and on Edmund’s trail. Peter’s eyes were heavy. Lucy had wished they weren’t looking at her with judgement. And now they weren’t, they were looking with disappointment, mouth pouting as much as Edmund’s were.
How did she get from having tea to this?