𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑨𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑, peter pevensie

𝒊 . . . no man's land

𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 thing Charlotte Kirke didn't like, it was meeting new people. Even the old and stuffy professors her grandfather held dinners with once a month made her shrink back into the library or her room.

However, if there was one thing that made her feel like she was flying high above the rest of the world, it was horse riding. And it was while out around the expansive grounds when Charlotte was to be one to take part in an adventure other sixteen year olds could only imagine in their wildest dreams.

The girl managed to get Betty back into the stables just as the whistling of a train passed by, and was just locking the great front door behind her in hopes of the house keeper not finding out she'd been out when she was explicitly told not to. And she was very nearly successful, until the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat echoed around the entrance hall.

"Where have you been? You look as if you've been dragged through a hedgerow backwards, girl."

Charlotte would normally have a reason for her escapades, but she came short when her mind was wiped blank. So, she just stared at the old woman infront of her. "Goodness knows I don't have time for this now, I'm already late for the children as it is. And when I get back in twenty minutes time, I expect you to be in somewhat of a presentable state, madam. Yes?"

"Of course, Mrs Macready. Good day."

Charlotte sped off through the house, making her way through all of the magical twists and turns, until a dainty hand hovered over the handle of the only locked room in the house. She was never sure as to the reasoning why, but whenever she would get near the door, a sharp blast of the coldest of airs made Charlotte recoil. Every single time, with out fail. The girl couldn't stand the thought of the snowy season.

In her coveted opinion, it was one of the worst things to grace the world. Well, that and having to share the house with other children.

Charlotte turned to examine her reflection in the mirror after changing and wiping away the dirt that had dried to her palms, and grabbed a hair brush in hopes of trying to tame the dark red curls sat atop her head, but it was to no avail. It just kept getting frizzier and frizzier with every stroke of the bristles.

The heat of the September sun crept its way into the room, so she walked over to the window to open it, praying that it would be enticing enough so that some of the non existent breeze would make its way in and cool her down.

In the distance, all the way down the path, Charlotte could hear the cracking of the whip from Macready, and the quiet murmur of voices. The cart came around the corner, and to her dismay, there were, "Four children?" Charlotte subconsciously leant forwards until her forehead was resting on the glass, "Grandfather took in four children. I thought it would be two at the most!"

Charlotte could practically see the privacy walking out of the window. Then, just as sudden as the moment ended, what looked to be the oldest boy saw her while he was looking all over the estate, his bright blue eyes met hers with his blond hair flopped over with the faintest of breezes. He smiled at Charlotte, and just before she was going to return the gesture, she realised what it actually was she was doing and slammed the window closed with a deafening bang, startling him, making her almost feel bad for him. Almost.