𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑨𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑, peter pevensie

𝒙𝒍𝒗𝒊 . . . the girls of dorm room two

✰ —— 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 —— ✰

I. Please read the disclaimer in the previous chapter before continuing with reading this fic

II. All chapters from this point on are my own ideas, except for historical events, including any and all plot crossovers with 'The Imitation Game' movie

✰ —— 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏 —— ✰

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 one who was still convinced that Susan's name was actually Phyllis, stepped off the train first. He made a direct bee-line for the stairs covered in litter, vanishing up into the bright sun light. Charlotte stood up from the uncomfortable wooden seat and picked up her suitcase with the small cardboard box containing her gas mask in her hand. In the other she held nothing, having slipped it out of Peter's when the train lurched forwards for the fifth time not three minutes before.

There was a surge of school children piling out of the train carriages up and down the dimly lit platform, the ugly colours of blazers and jumpers and ties clashing together in an incredibly unfashionable way. Charlotte stopped at the great number of people spilling out of the underground, and her free hand reached out behind her for Peter's. He gripped her fingers tightly, nudging her forwards to follow after Susan and Edmund. Lucy patted Charlotte's arm comfortingly and flashed her a bright smile before following after her sister.

Charlotte felt guilty that all four of the Pevensies had forgotten all about her leaving in the next month, because she was so full of spite that she'd asked Aslan to remove any memory of any conversations she'd had relating to the matter. She couldn't risk their knowing about any of the reckless things she was planning on doing.

Charlotte and Peter were jostled around by the children swarming all around them, up the stairs, past the man slumped over the counter wishing he was anywhere else other than the ticket box of which he was confined behind the glass window of, and out of the stone archway forming the entrance of the underground station. Large stacks of sand bags were piled up a few metres high, with British Army pamphlets stuck to any space of the red brick wall that was available to be seen.

The paths of the high street were completely filled by the students, and every two minutes someone would yell over the noise at a friend they'd not yet seen, or would shout because they'd been hit on the knee by another leather suitcase.

The shops that lined the high street, whether that be a small family owned book shop, or a bakery, butchers, tailors, or even some few storied department stores, were broken up by the three boarding schools towering in their height or great expanse of the land the building took up. Children were being herded in through the tall iron gates of the schools, the same ones displayed by colour on their blazers or ties, by the shedload by teachers and bored adults tapping their feet on the cobbled stone and holding clipboards.