Hello everyone! This is my first time writing Narnia fanfiction. Though I've always loved the series, I worried I couldn't do it justice. But finally the plot bunnies struck and I found an idea I liked. I hope you enjoy!

For reference, I use the Narnia Wiki Timeline as my timeline for the Pevensies' ages, their years in Narnia, etc.

I also am deeply influenced by Tonzura123, Sentimental Star, TastyAsItGets, WillowDryad, and elecktrum, whose thoughtful and incredible portrayals of Peter and Edmund made me fall in love with C.S. Lewis's universe in a whole new way. If you feel like reading quality, look them up!

Disclaimer: I don't claim C.S. Lewis or Machiavelli. But I do claim Edmund. ^_^

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The Lion and the Fox

Prologue: The Changing of the Times

Finchley, September 14th, 1939

Peter is 12 years old, Susan is 10 (nearly 11), Edmund is 8 (nearly 9), and Lucy is 7.

"Since a prince must know how to make good use of the beast [in his own personality], he should choose then the fox and the lion [as his representations]; for the lion has no protection from traps, and the fox is defenseless against wolves. It is necessary, therefore, to be a fox in order to know the traps, and a lion to frighten the wolves. –Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince chapter XVIII 'How a Prince Should Keep His Word'"

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Peter sits up in bed. He pushes back the curtains on his window and peers outside. He can make out the faintest trace of light to the east, blackening the trees. It is nearly dawn on The Day. He doesn't know when he decided to capitalize The Day. Perhaps when he first found out It was going to happen. He's been counting down the days since, and with each cross on the calendar, his world has fallen a little more apart.

Edmund lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He has counted the cracks and water stains so many times that he knows them by heart (fifteen large cracks with twenty-six hairline ones branching off from them and three water stains.). He has counted Peter's breaths, the ticking of the clock, the intermittent gurgles of water in the pipes.

Though really, Edmund thinks, he should be counting down, not up. Whittling down the last hours until The Day. He knows exactly when It became The Day: when Dad told them he had been called up to fight, just three days after he'd enlisted.

Edmund closes his eyes. He remembers Lucy's look of confusion, Susan's soft gasp, and Peter's frantic barrage of questions. Mum's too-calm expression. She had known this would happen.

Edmund hadn't said much. Just asked one question: "When are you leaving?"

He had silenced the room. Peter had glared at him but Edmund ignored him. He repeated the query, keeping his voice steady. "When are you leaving, Dad?"

His father had smiled in a strained sort of way and answered quietly that he was taking the train on September 14th, and the children would come home from school to say goodbye. Edmund had felt rather far away for a while after that. When he had blinked back into the conversation, everything was different. The Day was the morning Dad was leaving. He hoped It never came.

Peter dresses in silence. He doesn't bother to turn on a light, but Edmund does. He comes to stand next to Peter and pulls on a clean shirt. Peter glances down at Edmund. He looks pale and sick. "You alright, Eddy?"

Edmund blinks. "I'm fine."

Peter smiles at him, decides to confide. "No, you're not. But it's alright. I'm not fine either."

Edmund stares up at him with wide eyes. "You're not?"

Peter shakes his head. "I'm really worried about what's going to happen when Dad leaves."

"And about what happens to Dad," Edmund mumbles, and Peter feels his chest constrict.

"That, too."

Edmund and Peter leave their room and slip down the hall to look in on the girls. Susan is doing up Lucy's buttons. She offers a low "Hullo," and a weak smile.

Edmund scuffs his feet, "'Lo." Abruptly he darts down the hall to Mum and Dad's room. He peers in. Dad looks up from the bed, tugging on the laces of his Army-issued boots. Mum is pinning her hair by the vanity. She smiles at Edmund over her shoulder, and then turns back to the mirror.

"Are you leaving now?" Edmund asks desperately. He looks down at the floor as his cheeks burn.

"Not quite yet, Eddy." His father grunts as he stands, fiddling with the stiff collar of his uniform. Making an impatient sound, Edmund's mother darts forward to fold it over for him. The look Edmund witnesses pass between his parents make his eyes sting.

"Where's your suitcase?"

Dad has a strange look on his face when he points to the foot of the bed. Edmund sees it and swallows hard. It all suddenly seems very real. He nods and retreats hastily to the bathroom, where he turns on the bathwater to hide the sound and vomits into the toilet.

A minute later, Peter is knocking on the door. "We're going to have breakfast now, Eddy."

"I'll meet you downstairs," Edmund rasps, flushing quickly. Turning off the bathwater, he washes his mouth out in the sink.

"Are you alright in there?" Edmund panics. The last thing he needs right now is Peter's suspicion.

"Fine!" he squeaks, opening the door, "I'm just finishing up."

Peter leans against the doorframe, surveying his younger brother's face. "I'll wait for you, then."

"No!" Peter raises his eyebrows and reaches out to touch Edmund's cheek.

"Are you sure you're not sick, Eddy? You're awfully flushed and sweaty."

"For the last time, Pete, I'm fine! Now please go downstairs and stop worrying. I'll be there in a moment." Peter surveys his younger brother carefully. Edmund stares up at him pleadingly, and he never can say no to those eyes. He sighs.

"Alright, then. Don't take too long."

"I won't!" Edmund graces him with an over-bright smile and shuts the door in his face. Peter has to jump back to avoid pinching his fingers. Muttering about crazy little brothers, he heads downstairs.

Edmund breathes a sigh of relief and waits until he can't hear Peter anymore. Once the upstairs has gone silent, he tiptoes out of the bathroom and into his parents' bedroom. His father's suitcase is still there. He stares at it for another moment before darting forward to clasp the handle. It's surprisingly heavy. Edmund tugs the suitcase down the hall and into his room. He looks around wildly, then shoves it under his bed. He runs to the dresser and pulls out a pile of underwear and socks, tossing them on top of the suitcase. Anyone looking, he hopes, will just see a pile of dirty clothes and not his father's bag disguised beneath. Then, whistling a light tune, Edmund sidles downstairs.

Breakfast is a tense affair and Peter isn't much sorry when it's over. He is only sorry because it means Dad's closer to leaving. He stays behind to put away the washed dishes while his father goes upstairs to get his suitcase. Moments later, he's calling down, "Helen? Did you move my bag?"

There's a clatter and Peter turns to see Edmund shakily replacing the pepper grinder to an upright position. He's gone very pale again. Peter really hopes he isn't ill. When Edmund catches something, it's never pretty.

Peter watches Mum move towards the stairs, motioning for Susan to take over the clean-up. Susan promptly enlists Lucy to dry. Edmund remains at the table, not offering to help. Not speaking at all, really, which Peter notices.

"No, I left it right where you told me to, Richard. Has it gone?"

"Yes, it's gone, if that's even possible! And if I don't find it soon, I'll be late for the train."

Another clatter and Edmund has upended the pepper grinder again. Peter stares, feeling a cold sort of premonition wash over him. "Eddy?" He moves quietly to his brother's side and kneels down by his chair. "Do you know something about Dad's missing suitcase?"

Edmund's face is set. For good measure he crosses his arms over his chest. "No," he replies, but his voice is very small.

"Are you sure?" Edmund looks at Peter out of the corner of his eye, considering. Peter holds his breath.

"Won't it be good?" He turns to face Peter fully, eyes shining. "If Dad can't find his suitcase, he'll miss his train. Then he can't go. Won't it be good?"

Peter stands too quickly, slams his shoulder into the table and upends both the pepper grinder and salt shaker, as well as knocks the butter dish to the floor. Susan screams at the crash, and Lucy runs out of the room crying, "Mummy!"

"Mum!" Peter echoes. He starts to leave the room but stops at the tug on his sleeve. Edmund is staring up at him now, stricken.

"Peter, please-!"

Peter closes his eyes and pulls away. His shoulder throbs. "I'm sorry, Eddy. But don't you see? Dad will go whether he has his suitcase or not." He crosses the room in two strides and then slows up the stairs, his feet like lead. "Mum?" he calls. She pokes her head out of her bedroom and Peter takes a deep breath. "I know where the suitcase is."

A flurry of action later, Mr. Pevensie is standing at the door. It has been decided that the children will not go with their parents to the station, so that the separation might be easier. It has not been easier. Susan and Lucy are sobbing inconsolably on the couch, Edmund is attempting to blend in with the curtains, and Peter is struggling not to cry.

"Edmund?" Peter watches as his little brother jolts, then looks towards his father fearfully. Mr. Pevensie smiles. "Come here, son."

Wide-eyed, Edmund walks across the room. He looks like he's walking to his death. Peter debates following as the two leave the room, but he knows it's not his place. Instead, he sits on the couch with the girls and tries to stop their crying. He doesn't do a very good job, but across from him in a chair, Mum smiles weakly.

"Edmund." His father is crouching in front of him, looking at him very seriously. Edmund wants to crawl into bed and hide for a year. "Eddy, look at me. I'm not angry."

He laughs in disbelief. "I hid your suitcase!"

"And I understand why. But Eddy, I have to go. I would have left without it if I had to."

Edmund sniffs. "That's what Peter said."

He gasps as his father pulls him into a tight hug. "I love you so much, Eddy. Thank you for hiding my suitcase and trying to make me stay. But you know why I have to go, don't you? To stop the bad man from hurting people."

"Fuhrer Hitler?"

"Yes, Eddy, the German Fuhrer. He's killing a lot of people and I have to help stop him."

"But what if he kills you?" The words are torn from his lips before he can bite them back. He buries his face in Dad's shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs.

"He won't Eddy. I'll be safe. Do you know why?" His father rubs up and down his back, and slowly Edmund calms.

"Why?"

"Because I have you to come home to." He smiles gently. "I love you, Eddy."

Edmund feels warm all over in the most wonderful of ways. He hugs Dad tightly and then steps back. "I love you too, Daddy."

His father smiles and chucks him under the chin. "Now be good and listen to your Mum and Peter, alright?"

"I'll listen to Mum," he promises.

"Peter too."

Edmund scowls. "He's not the boss of me."

His father laughs and Edmund grins shyly. "Send him out, will you, Eddy?"

He nods, darts in for a last hug, then steps into the living room. "Go, Peter." He refuses to look at his brother as he leaves the room. After all, he told where the suitcase was. Despite what Dad said, maybe he would have stayed.

Peter stands nervously in front of his father. "Hullo, Dad." He thinks how unfamiliar his father looks in his brown fatigues. He wonders if Dad will have to cut his hair when he gets to training, the way he's seen army men do in photographs.

Mr. Pevensie lays a hand on his shoulder, looking at him seriously. "Peter Pevensie. My brave boy. I need you to take my place while I'm gone."

Peter gapes. "Sir?"

"You'll defer to your mother, of course, but I'm asking you to help keep the others in line. Sometimes they're too much for her. As the eldest, Peter, I'm asking this of you. Will you do it?"

Peter stands straighter. He has to stop himself from saluting. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best!"

"I'm sure your best will be more than enough. When I come back, you'll probably have done my job better than me!" His father jokes.

"Oh no!" Peter cries, horrified, "You'll always be Dad!"

He chokes off a yell of surprise as his father swoops down and hugs him tight. "I love you, Peter. So much. Watch out for Eddy, will you? He's going to have a rough time."

Peter isn't exactly sure what that means, but he nods anyway. "Yes, sir. I will. And I love you a lot too, Dad."

With that, his father releases him and calls to Mum, who comes to the door, tugging at her hat. "I'll be back in an hour, Peter," she says, "Will you-"

"Watch the others? Of course, Mum. Take your time." He smiles and waves until they drive down the road and out of sight, then shuts the door and leans against it, fighting tears. When he has himself under control, Peter returns to the living room. Quietly, he asks Susan if she'd like to get a game from the cabinet for them to play. Susan smiles sadly at him in understanding, and does as he asks. Edmund stands up suddenly.

"I don't want to play." The words come out loud and fast. He's shaking, fists clenched.

"It'll be fun, Eddy," Lucy coaxes, "You can be on my team. Please play!"

"I don't want to be on your rotten team!" Edmund spits, "You always lose."

He rolls his eyes as Lucy begins to wail. Peter frowns. "You can go to your room, then. We don't want you around if you're going to be rude."

"You can't tell me where to go, Peter Pevensie! You're not in charge of me!" Edmund screams now to be heard over Lucy's cries. Susan rocks her, staring at Peter in a panic. He doesn't know what to do.

"Dad said-"

"Bugger what Dad said! I don't care!" And with that, Edmund runs from the room.

Peter stares helplessly after his brother and wonders what else could possibly go wrong.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

I chose September 14th because Germany invades Poland on September 1st. I thought Mr. Pevensie would enlist rather quickly, and be called up rather quickly as well.

Also, choosing Richard for Mr. Pevensie's name was my own invention. I couldn't find his name anywhere, and I rather like the idea of him being exceedingly brave like Richard the Lionheart.

I chose the Pevensies' birthdays as well, putting Peter's in July, Susan's in late September, Edmund's in November, and Lucy's in May.

Source for Mr. Pevensie's uniform: thehistorybunker . co . uk / acatalog / Tunics _ and _ Smocks . html

Source for a 1939 calendar: timeanddate calendar / ? year = 1939 & country = 9

Please review!