𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ━ edmund pevensie¹

Three

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𝕲𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕 𝖎𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌
𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖌𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖉𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙
𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞. 𝖄𝖔𝖚
𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊
 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖌𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐.

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━━━━━━━１９９０

"DO YOU  know what would really tick Peter off?" Cornelia asked her mother. A mug of tea was clutched in her hands, her mother holding coffee.

The blonde woman gave her a curious look, "I don't know, what?"

She grinned, "If, when I write The Chronicles of Narnia (as she determined she'd borrow her history book title for her works) I called our most recent adventure Prince Caspian. That would really make him mad," she giggled at the thought of the eldest Pevensie growing red in the face with indignation.

Chelsea gave her daughter an indulgent smile, "well, it does sound like it had quite a bit to do with the Telmarine prince so that would make sense. You would be able to justify it without giving away your true motives."

"Anyway, it's not like I'm going to call the book King Caspian. That just doesn't have the same ring to it but that would really make him pissed. Besides, when we entered Narnia—"

"You're not still talking about that country, are you?" Stephen interrupted them, home from work. He removed his suit jacket and threw it on the marble countertop, "you're fourteen, Nel. You shouldn't believe in worlds with silly talking animals and evil snow witches."

Cornelia frowned at his words, though not because she was upset— because he didn't believe.

"Leave her be, Stevie," Chelsea added, standing to greet her husband with a kiss.

He sent them a look, "it's about time for her to get her head out of the clouds, darling. She's too old for fairytales."

"You're never too old for fairytales," the girl replied defensively.

"You know Nelly," her mother said lightly, "nothing at all can stop her from believing."

The dark-haired man huffed, "I'm only trying to look out for her— for you," he directed his last words at his daughter.

"I know," Cornelia agreed quietly.

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Another day of school, another lunch period spent dreaming about Edmund. She'd recently looked up what people wore during his time period for better reference (as all she'd really seen him in was Narnian clothing— though the schoolboy shorts and knee socks had been cute and the remnants of his school uniform extremely attractive). Now that clothing made appearances in her daily daydreams as she tried to picture him wearing it. Maggie sat next to her, scribbling away another entry in her 'gossip journal' as Cornelia had deemed it (the brunette, of course, was very offended by this— it was an observation journal.) And Samuel zoned out while he listened to his music.

Maggie— who was not fond of repetition of any sort— sighed for the thousandth time as she was wont to do during lunch, "I can't believe you're still daydreaming," she complained, "what's so interesting that you think about it every day?"