Author's note: The idea for this story came from a random screenshot of a Tumblr post I saw on Pinterest. Unfortunately, I have no idea who wrote the original prompts, and I have since lost track of the Pinterest post because I was an idiot and didn't save them. I tried to google the prompts, but I came up with a number of different posts and I'm not sure who the original prompter was. So, if any of you have any idea who originally came up with this idea so I can link/credit them, please let me know! I loved this idea, and I hope I do it justice, but I'm also going to be giving it my own take here. I'm really just taking the general prompt idea and running with it on my own.

...

Helen Pevensie had not been well, not since she had made the difficult decision to send her beloved children to the country for their safety a few weeks prior. Now her every waking moment found her mind reeling with not only the fact that her dear husband was off fighting in the war, and that the situation in London was growing even more dangerous by the day, but also with worry for her children. To add to her worries, she also had to face all of these issues alone for the very first time, with no distractions from her children or support from her husband. Needless to say, all of these new developments made it difficult to continue her daily life as it had been, but she was trying the best she could to stay positive about the whole affair. Her children needed her to stay strong for when they returned.

All of her worries often led her to be distracted, however, and that was how she now found herself browsing through a small, unknown, and run-down bookstore on the outskirts of Finchley, attempting to shake off the melancholy that was surrounding her. She aimlessly walked through the rows of worn books, running her fingers over the crumbling spines and unfamiliar titles, as if to look for something, but really seeing nothing. She sighed and pulled out a book at random from the shelves, flipping through the pages without even glancing at them.

As she browsed the books unseeingly, she allowed her mind to wander to the thought of her children once again. Were they happy living in the country? Were they safe? Had she made the right choice? She hoped that Peter and Susan were taking good care of Edmund and Lucy, and that they weren't forcing themselves to act too grown up. The war had destroyed the childhoods of so many other little boys and girls, and she desperately prayed it wouldn't do the same to her children. She hoped that Edmund hadn't grown any colder to his siblings. He'd been pulling away from her, and growing distant, before they'd left. If only this time away would help him to return to the happy child he had once been.

She unconsciously shut the book she was holding with a bang, startling herself out of her wandering thoughts. She begrudgingly placed the book back on the shelf, and with one last glance, she turned to leave, knowing there were things that needed to be done. She had already wasted enough time today.

She reached the front of the store and paused as her hand touched the handle.

"Please, let me bring them home soon. All of them." She closed her eyes for a brief moment and whispered the quiet prayer. Then, she opened her eyes once again.

The moment gone, she moved to turn the handle and open the door, only to find it stuck.

"What on earth?" She mumbled to herself, pushing and pulling on the door with more force. The stubborn thing didn't budge.

"Excuse me? I think your door is jammed!" She called out for the shop assistants, still attempting to turn the handle to no avail.

She was met only with silence.

"Excuse me? Is anyone there? Your door isn't opening!" She turned her back towards the door, calling out louder this time, and searching the shop with her eyes for any sign of help.

Nervous, she turned and began to walk around the front of the small shop, anxious to find anyone who might be able to explain what was going on. But there was no one in sight. Not a single person at the front of the store.

"Excuse me? Is there anyone here at all?" She yelled again, walking back toward the door. But still, there was no answer.

Her pace grew quicker and quicker until she had frantically searched all of the small shop's floor, with no one to be found.

Suddenly, she felt a breeze of warm air ruffle her hair from somewhere behind her. Curious, she turned around to see a door she hadn't noticed before, behind the small clerk's counter. It was just a simple wooden door, nothing special about it, but she could have sworn it hadn't been there before when she was searching. She stepped a bit closer. There seemed to be an unearthly golden light radiating from underneath the door.

"I suppose the workers could have gone inside this door, without me noticing." She said to herself. "Perhaps they couldn't hear me before. I'll just peek inside, and see if I can find anybody to help me. I'm sure they won't mind."

She placed her hand gently on the knob and turned the door. Unlike the front door of the shop, this door opened with ease. It swung inward, and the golden glow she had noticed before grew brighter, blocking her vision from seeing into the room. She stepped forward across the threshold almost as if she were in a trance.

She let out a gasp as the light suddenly grew brighter once she was completely inside the room, and she covered her eyes in shock. She could swear she also heard the sound of a lion roaring from somewhere in the distance.

When she lowered her hands from her eyes, the drab little bookstore in Finchley and the door had completely disappeared. In its place stood the most beautiful forest she had ever seen.

...

Despite the fact that he was currently fighting in a world war, Mr. Pevensie had been having an altogether boring day. His regiment was experiencing a rare respite in the constant fighting that had plagued them for months, leaving the men with nothing to do for the moment. The free time was welcome, to be sure, but he had become almost used to the constant danger and combat he had been involved in, and it had left him feeling out of sorts when he had nothing productive to do.

He'd already made sure his weapons were well taken care of, that his small section of the tent that he shared with three of his fellow soldiers was in order, and that his pack full of emergency provisions was ready to go at a moments notice. Now there was simply nothing else to do. This is what had led him to wander the fringes of their camp, walking to and fro aimlessly, letting his mind wander to thoughts of home and his family. He missed his wife dearly, and it hurt somewhat to think of how long he had been away from her and his children. The children had surely grown up quite a bit since he'd seen them last. His Lucy had been a little girl when he'd left, but he supposed by now she was in school with the rest of the children.

He pulled out the small picture of his little family that he kept in the inside pocket of his uniform, unfolding it and smoothing out its deep creases. He smiled down at the familiar faces in the photograph that he so dearly missed. What he wouldn't give for another boring, rainy day in Finchley, sitting with his wife and children in front of the fireplace, reading a newspaper, and simply living.

Suddenly, a strange rustle in the bushes caught his ear, startling him into awareness. He hastily returned the photo to his pocket, and cautiously began to walk towards the small patch of woods that the camp bordered.

"Who's there? State your intent." He called out, placing his hand on his pistol just in case.

Another small rustle sounded from further into the forest, but no one answered his question.

"It's probably just an animal, but it can't hurt to check all the same." He said aloud to no one. Besides, he had nothing else to do. He braced himself for a possible confrontation, and slowly advanced into the underbrush.

He walked for a few minutes, before deciding that it had to have been an animal. He could see no sign that any soldier or civilian had been there recently. He laughed quietly at his own paranoia, as he began to walk back the way he'd come. He'd been at war for so long that even a squirrel in the bushes was a possible threat to him now.

He walked for quite a while, wondering when he'd reach the edge of the trees. But, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't see an end to the foliage in front of him. Instead, the forest seemed to be getting thicker and deeper the farther he walked. The only explanation he could think of would be that he'd somehow managed to get turned around and wandered further in. Cursing his own ineptitude, he pulled his compass out of his pocket to get his bearings.

"What the-!" He exclaimed as he stared disbelievingly at the compass in his hands. The needle of his usually trusty instrument was moving about wildly in circles, almost as if someone was winding its hands like one would a clock.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shoved the compass back into his pocket and tried to get his bearings. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the placement of the sun due to the thickness of the trees, so he was forced to guess which way he might need to go.

Reluctantly, he set off in the direction he thought was most promising. Surely, if he walked for long enough, he'd come to the edge of the forest and be able to find his way back to his camp somehow.

He walked for what felt like hours, and he grew more and more frustrated the further in he went. Was there no end to these trees? He had been under the impression that they'd only set up camp next to a small woodland, not an entire forest.

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt as the trees finally gave way somewhat, revealing a small clearing in front of him. Curiously, in the middle of the clearing, stood an iron street lamp like one might see on the streets of London. It was lit, despite it being daytime, and seemingly well maintained and free of rust. He stepped forward into the clearing and approached it cautiously.

Just as he reached his hand out to examine it, he was startled by a voice behind him calling his name.

"George?" He whipped his body around to see his wife standing at the edge of the clearing, looking as shocked to see him as he was to see her.

"Helen?" He gasped in disbelief, running forward to pull his wife into his arms.

"How are you here in France?" He asked her, gently holding her face in his hands, desperate to take in the sight of her after so long spent away. "This is impossible! Not to mention extremely dangerous with the war going on!"

"France? Is that where we are?" Helen answered dazedly. "But George, I was at a bookstore in Finchley no more than a few minutes ago!" Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear.

"There must be some explanation for this." He assured her soothingly, pulling her close to his chest in a comforting embrace. She nodded her agreement into his shoulder, accepting his words easily, but she didn't respond. So he simply held her for a few more seconds, savoring the feeling of holding her close, before letting go and studying her face carefully. One of her hands reached out gently to stroke his face, and he smiled.

"We should try and figure out where we are, my dear." He informed her gently. "If we walk long enough, we're bound to reach a town of some sort eventually where we'll be able to get our bearings. But stay close to me. I don't want you getting hurt. This is a war zone after all, and you're unarmed." He reached down and pulled his pistol out of his side holster, clutching its familiar weight in his right hand. With his other, he reached out and grabbed his wife's hand.

"Lead on then, George." She replied, shooting a small, trusting smile his way, before turning and looking determinedly at the strange lampost and the forest in front of her.

He nodded to her, and together they moved carefully into the forest in front of them. Yet again, he found himself walking and walking, and although the trees had become a bit more sparse, there still seemed to be no end to the forest they found themselves in. He clutched his wife's hand tighter in reassurance, although it was more for his sake than hers. He was beginning to grow worried now about the strange situation they had found themselves in.

Suddenly, he heard a noise in the brush in front of him, and he quickly came to a stop. As fast as he could, he pulled his wife behind him, shielding her with his body, and aimed his pistol at the bushes warily. His wife grasped his free arm tightly in apprehension, and he braced himself for the possibility that he would have to defend them both.

He was then thoroughly surprised to see a pair of large beavers walk through the bush instead of an angry Nazi soldier or a confused French villager.

"It's just beavers." He said, and he let out a half laugh, half sigh. He could feel his wife loosen her grip on his arm, and he turned to share a smile with her at the ridiculousness of the situation they had found themselves in.

That was, of course, the moment the impossible happened.

"My word, is it really more sons of Adam and daughters of Eve?" One of the beavers spoke in a decidedly male voice, which caused him to whip his head around and stare, frozen in shock, at the animals before him, certain he'd misheard.

"Do you think they also come from Spare Oom?" Now, it was the other beaver that spoke, this one with a more female, almost motherly tone. This time he couldn't deny the beaver was speaking. It was absolutely unreal to see the mouth of a beaver forming human language.

"George, what is this?" He heard his wife gasp from behind him.

"I, I don't know, Helen." He replied honestly, feeling almost out of breath from the shock.

"Well met, humans!" The beaver with the male voice called out. "I'm Mr. Beaver, and this here is my wife, Mrs. Beaver. You wouldn't happen to have come here through some place called War-Drobe, would you?"

"Wardrobe?" Helen muttered confusedly. "Where are we?"

"Why, you're in Narnia, dears!" The female beaver, apparently named Mrs. Beaver, answered. "Didn't you know?"

"Narnia? I've never heard of a place in France called Narnia." He replied.

The Beavers looked towards each other and shared a look that he couldn't quite determine, and then turned to look at him and his wife.

"I think we should take you to Cair Paravel, where our Kings and Queens are." Mr. Beaver said, and his wife nodded in agreement. "I think you'll find the answers you're looking for there. But maybe, first, we should stop at our dam and have some tea. Follow me, humans! We'll have you sorted out in no time at all." The Beavers then turned and began to walk through the forest, beckoning for them to follow with smiles on their faces.

George simply looked at his wife in bafflement. What in the world had they gotten themselves into?