Romeo || Edmund Pevensie

Where Are We Now?

It was refreshing to wake up in a place of comfort, and of tranquility. The Pevensie's had not been offered that luxury for quite some time, and now with proper shelter, everything was much better for them. Although, they hadn't expected everything to come up so intensely so quickly.

     Training came as a shock to them. Despite being away for so long, they still held all of the skill they had before. They worked like a well oiled machine. However, the same could not be said the the Telmarine Prince that had been taken under their wing. As much as he tried, the swing of his blade did not come naturally.

If he was to fight, as he wished to, then he would have to learn. He was willing to, which was positive, but Caspian couldn't be left by himself to do so. Aramis would have helped, but to even hold a sword in his hands, with no intent to harm, ached inside of his soul. He was forced to acquire more help.

To aid in his shooting skills, Susan applied some of her time. She didn't have much else to do as all of the Narnian's were too in awe of her status to consider that she may have been a valuable asset. Of course, she was, but perhaps trainings Caspian would prove to be a challenging feat for her.

Aramis sat at the foot of a large tree trunk, a book in his hand. It was one of the few he had salvaged from Cair Paravel, that he held in high esteem. A prophetic history book. Something that had existed since the dawn of time itself, created by the spirits to guide Narnia in its journey. It was a thrilling read for someone like him.

Edmund sat not too far away. When Susan was done, it would be his turn to train Caspian. Though Peter would never admit it, and he was around no one else would either, the young was the greatest swordsman of the four siblings.

Aramis had not been released from Edmund's gaze the last day almost entirely. He was frightened that, as soon as he looked away, that he would be gone and in Finchley again. The last thing he wanted was to be there, and be spiritless. All he wanted, all he needed, was his best friend.

He needed Aramis more than he wanted to admit, and perhaps more than he would ever be able to describe. But he would try. God, Edmund wanted to be able to say everything he thought. He wanted to say it, because he felt it, deep within his heart. It was screaming to get out. It was crying, and throwing as many tantrums as it could manage. It was mustering up the courage to speak for the first time... it was dying for being crushed by the weight of responsibility.

He looked to his left, and felt the weight drop. Aramis had no idea of what was going on around them. He was oblivious to Caspian's hopeless flirting with Susan, Lucy's charm with the fauns, and the sheer admiration Edmund looked at him with.

His hand was outstretched a little, still, hoping that he might get to hold the spirit's once again. It felt... brilliant... more than. Indescribable. A rush of electricity that spread throughout every limb, needing some sort of outlet, when there was none.

Edmund hoped that Aramis would take notice, at one stage or another. He would wait as long as it took for it.

Though the spirit did not look to the King as he might have, he did look at the scene in front of him, with a few of the Pevensie's training like they once had. It was reminiscent of their first Berunian camp, when they first joined the ranks of Aslan, only children then, and much older now.

There was something about it, a magic buried beneath the very conversations spoken under hushed breaths. They could not hear Susan as she taught, nor could they hear Caspian's arrogant replies. Perhaps it was a gift, of sorts. To never know what was happening, if it wasn't in his power to know it.

     Edmund would have liked something similar for himself, one day. To only be told about the things that involve him, directly. Then, he might not be mistaken for Peter, and feel so inadequate when they turned him away for it.