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Narnians Reassembling

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For Ruanchunxian, Agent Carter, Dottie or Peggy, blown cover at the Griffith

 

Miriam had snapped a neck or two when she’d been with the OSS in occupied France and Dottie had done a clean job of it. She and the flummoxed maid who had found the corpse under Dottie’s bed (and Miriam did approve of a woman who knew how to defend herself and her virtue) shoved the body into the dumb waiter and deposited him in the dumpster in the alley out back. Miriam wondered if she needed to amend the Griffith Hotel rules to specify no man, alive or dead, above the first floor.


For Notoriousreign, Narnia/Agent Carter, Susan Pevensie, they have a new roommate and she has such a tragic story

 Someone else’s story

“You keep knocking on her door, Angie, and I’ll go around the back,” by which Peggy means down the hall, through a room, out the window, along the fourth floor ledge of the Griffith, and, hopefully, into Susan’s room – a manoeuvre necessary because Susan’s jerry-rigged the lock on her door so that even Peggy can’t breach it without something from Howard’s corrosive and explosive arsenal that she doesn't t want to explain to Mrs. Fry.

The combined assault is too much, and, finally Susan relents and lets them both in, grumbling, laughing, crying, and just looking as miserable as a woman could be on the second anniversary of when everybody in her whole family died.

Peggy pours the schnapps into three coffee cups and Angie cuts the rhubarb pie into thirds, and says, “It’s a tradition; we keep going until one of ‘em makes us sick.”

 

Chapter Text

Errr, multiples of 3 and abuse of semi-colons.


Steve had heard the other Howlers say their youngest, newest recruit could handle himself in a fight with nothing but fists and knives, but even so he was as surprised as the Hydra guard when he saw Pevensie creep up behind the man, spin him around, and ram a knife straight to the heart; the guard crumbled without a sound and then they swarmed into the base.

Later, though, Steve wondered if maybe they’d let in a lunatic.  So, once they had mopped up the blood and stacked the crates of Hydra equipment to ship out, he pulled Pevensie aside.  “You could have done it from behind, so why’d you make a point of doing it from the front – do you like seeing men die?”

“No, Sir, exactly the opposite,” Pevensie said.  He unsheathed his still bloodied knife and carefully cleaned it on a grubby handkerchief.  “When I can, I should feel and see the death I deliver so it never becomes something casual and, besides, a man’s got the right to see the face of the one who killed him.”

 

ooOOoo

 

Relieved to hear the thoughtful answer, Steve asked, “Maybe guns make it too easy to kill and we'd have fewer dead if we were all still fighting with swords.”

“Maybe -- just in terms of sheer numbers,” Pevensie said with a shrug as he polished his bloody knife to a clean edge. In a statement that Steve realized later should have sounded odd, but didn’t, Pevensie added, “But, in my experience, despots and dictators will always find a way to kill everyone who stands in their way.”

Chapter Text

Also, Narnia AU, everybody lives, nobody dies


 

When Thor finally introduces them, Jane really isn’t sure what to expect; of course, she’s heard of Dr. Lucy Pevensie, Darcy wants her autograph, and Thor is absolutely overflowing with admiration for Lucy, though he’s vague on where they met, and when -- an important point as Lucy is at least 80 years old.

“He always does this!" Lucy cries, scolding Thor like a bad puppy when he offers her Mjolnir and, despite her frailty, easily takes it from him and sets the hammer on the coffee table.

“At last!” Lucy cries, throws her arms open wide, and envelops Jane in a warm embrace that smells of golden summer and Jane understands how it is that only strength measured in spirit, not arms, is powerful enough to raise Mjolnir.