Lionhearted {Peter Pevensie x Reader}

The Arrivals

The summer sun shone brightly through the painted window, and you stared intently through it to the apple orchard on one side of your grandfather's house. Yes, your grandfather happened to be the one and only Professor Kirke. He was a stately professor, who was kind and sweet, not pompous or uppity. He filled your somewhat simple life with joy, with his mysterious ways and enigmatic way of talking, and often consoled you when the Macready was too harsh.

When you were young, your mother had died of a disease, and your father had been the only one to take care of you. Your father was kind and he did love you, but fathering was probably one of the last things on his "to-do" list, seeing as he didn't quite know what to do with you. That's why (at least why you think) he joined the army as soon as the war broke out. Throughout the years, you had been at the Professor's house for most summers, seeing as your father got rid of you as often as he could, but this time it looked as if you were here for keeps. Not a week that you had been with the Professor, a letter had come with Mrs. Macready when she came back from her weekly trip to town. It had solemnly and regretfully informed you that your father went M.I.A. in the field of duty—his plane had been shot down over a forest, and they had not recovered it.

You were depressed (logically) at first, locking yourself in your room for several hours at a time, only for the Macready to pull you out for various meals.

"While I enjoy how it is now silent in this old house without you constantly jabbering, I know it's not to last and you should start speaking once more. It's also not good to lock yourself up in there, Miss. Kirke, and I refuse to let you waste away," she would say, and you would scowl and fold your arms. Not until you actually got out of your room and started talking again did you realize just how much your father's presumed death had affected your grandfather. Your father was Professor Kirke's son, and you didn't know that he was actually troubled by his death until you talked to him. Now you two were closer than ever, it being a handful of years since you'd heard any news about your father, and whenever in private (meaning without the Macready) he insisted you call him Grandfather instead of "Professor."

The sound of hoof clops coming up the lane blocked any further memories from resurfacing, and you snapped to attention, looking to see the Macready and her old horse come trotting up the path to the house. This caused you to remember who was arriving today. Apparently a family your grandfather knew had reached out and asked for his help. Their father was in the war and you definitely felt bad for the children. Most parents living in London at this time were sending their children to the countryside due to all the bombings of London. You couldn't deny that you were excited about their coming; it was only you in the house besides Grandfather and the Macready, and sometimes when he thought you weren't listening, your grandfather would talk about how he wished you had people of your own age to play with.

Fourteen was your age, and you couldn't help but agree with him. Imagination only gets one so far before it has to be shared with someone else—and you were getting tired of the same old deal every day. Now, you finally had someone (two someone's!) to share the house and all its secrets with. It doesn't truly matter who they were or how old they happened to be, all that mattered now was the fact that you had company!

Racing downstairs, you quickly composed yourself to greet the newcomers inside, just like Mrs. Macready taught you. Taking a deep breath, you waited patiently as the door opened to reveal the Macready, and not just two, but four persons! You blinked owlishly at them, but caught and corrected your staring when Mrs. Macready cleared her throat.

"Welcome!" you smiled, beckoning them inside with small gestures. "I am [Y/n] Kirke, and I welcome you to our little home in the country." Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the old crone glaring at your demeanor, but you refused to let that get to you as you tried to be as open as possible towards the four weary children. "I'm sure you've traveled a long way to get here, but I wanted to give you quick tour of the manor before showing you to your rooms. Does that sound alright?"

The oldest, a blond and most definitely handsome boy, turned and looked to the other children. Black-haired-boy didn't seem to care, seeing as he was staring at the floor, a permanent scowl on his face, but the girls shrugged,  not minding. As the oldest confirmed, you clapped your hands together.

"Splendid! Right this way please." The Macready watched with a careful eye as you led them up the stairs, telling them the rules she listed off to you over and over again. "There is no running, laughing, shouting or playing in the manor when the Professor is working, and please don't touch the artifacts-" you spoke quickly, giving Mr. Anti-Social a glance. He scowled once more and turned his head away from you as fast as humanly possible. "They are rather expensive."

You gave them a small tour of the manner, not showing them all that you wanted to share, especially with the Macready on your heels, following wherever you went. As soon as you rounded the last hallway towards the bedrooms, you noticed her figure disappear down another hallway. Stopping mid-speech, you walked to the wall and listened to the sound of her footsteps fade away towards her quarters at the back of the manner, the Pevensie children looking at you as if you had grown a second head all the while. As soon as she was gone, however, you slumped your shoulders and sighed in relief.

"Good riddance! I thought she'd never leave," you smiled grandly at the four siblings, letting your true personality come forth. "I can never be myself with that old crone breathing down my neck, and I had to be so stuffy for such a long time. I apologize." The oldest sibling smiled and the youngest giggled, her eyes shining in mirth. "I do regret to say that she is here most days, except for Tuesdays. I like Tuesdays because of that fact."

The oldest spoke, "I'm sorry [Y/n], but we're all kind of tired..."

"Oh, of course," you laughed in an embarrassed and apologetic manner. "Here, the boys room is across the hall, and the girls is on the opposing side." Quickly showing them to their rooms, you let them set their bags down. "My room is to the right of the girls' room, so if you need anything, please let me know. I'm cooking dinner tonight, so I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions! Dinner in half an hour or so." And with that, you disappeared down the hallway, and off to cook some soup and check on the bread the kitchen-hand had started baking yesterday.

As you left, Lucy turned to her older brother, Peter, and a small hopeful smile graced her face. "I like her... she seems nice."

Peter smiled and patted her head, "I'll go downstairs and introduce myself—she completely forgot to ask us our names."

Edmund was sulking in the corner and was mumbling to himself. "She seems like a scatter-brained pigeon."

"Ed!" Susan growled, "that's not a very nice way to speak about the granddaughter of the man who took us in!"

"What?" he shrugged, "It's not like she can hear us..."

_____________

In the kitchen, you paused in your vegetable slicing to pull out your handkerchief out and sneeze. "Someone must be talking about me..."

Shrugging off the feeling, you walked to the sink and washed your hands, before turning back to the task you had started. After cutting up the celery and emptying it into the pot of boiling water, you started on the carrots. It was at this point in time that you had noticed a pair of eyes watching you work, and as you felt someone's presence behind your back, you quickly turned around, knife in hand poised for attack, only to find the blond Pevensie child holding his hands up in defense.

"Woah there," he muttered hurriedly, "I was just going to ask if you would like any help!"

Smiling, you quickly set the knife on the cutting board behind you. "Sorry, natural reflexes. I would love some help, umm... I'm terribly sorry, I seem to have forgotten to ask you and your siblings your names." Laughing in an embarrassed manner for the second or third time today, you held out a hand and he returned the shake.

"Peter. My brother is Edmund, the second oldest is Susan, and Lucy is the youngest."

"Right... I'll remember that! It's just I me and myself—I'm an only child." You confessed, turning back to continue chopping carrots as you asked him to stir the pot.

"That sounds boring." He commented, laughing.

"Oh trust me, it is!" you agreed, hastily sweeping the carrots into the pot as he stirred. "I was so excited when Grandfather told me we were getting guests here in the manner! And now that you're here, I have people to share the loveliness of this place and all its secrets."
You two shared small talk as you cooked/ordered him around. Turns out you both were the same age and liked most of the same things (you promised him you would give him your favorite history books from the manor's big library). Before you knew it, dinner was ready and the table had been set by you and Peter. Calling the other Pevensie children down, you all sat and chatted amongst yourselves, you playing a game of "guessing" with Lucy's name—as soon as the Macready came down, however, everything grew silent.

It took a couple of minutes for your old grandfather to come down the stairs, and he had smiled and introduced himself, thus the four children went around saying their names once more. There was talk during dinner, but not much, the conversations coming to all but a halt once they had tried your food. You tried to cook good food—in fact your dream was to one day own a cafe/study in uptown London. Frowning into your soup, you realized that with this nasty war going on, you might not get the chance.

After dinner was over, everyone went straight to bed. The family of four was obviously exhausted from their long day and train ride, and you had noticed Lucy almost falling asleep on her dessert. You yourself couldn't sleep, hoping for the next day to be sunny, so you could go exploring with the newest members of the manor. You felt giddiness fill your bones as you lay in your bed, smiling stupidly at the ceiling. How could you help it? They were here and now your boredom could be cured!