Letters To Edmund |book 1|

Chapter 12. Goodbyes

"It must be hard for you, staying in a castle, being reminded of your past life," He put his hand on her shoulder in comfort, "I am sorry for your loss." 

"Yes, thank you." Johanna pretended to tear up and stormed off.

Caspian felt bad for her sometimes, but she never accepted comfort from anyone except for Edmund, who gave her none. Wishing that he could advise Johanna at times on certain matters, Caspian wondered if she was capable of finding love again. The first day she came to Cair Paravel Johanna found out who she was to marry and grabbed onto him like a leech as if that was the purpose of her entire existence. Although Caspian knew the struggles and duties that came with being royalty, he wished for Johanna to find another purpose. She was not just a pretty face that could wear a crown.

~*~*~

They went outside, and she noticed how distracted he was. Edmund constantly fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing where to start or what to say. Instead of bombarding him with questions, she tried to enjoy his presence for a while. Noticing a wildflower growing out of its place near a castle wall, she walked up to it, making sure that she dragged him along with her. The flower was trying to get to the other side of the wall, to freedom. Angelina smiled down at its efforts, it was like her, she also was trying to get out from the castle walls. Edmund watched her curved figure as she knelt down to smell the flower.

"It smells magical, just like this entire place. You don't want to try?" She asked Edmund referencing to smelling the flower.

"I'll just admire you some more from up here," Edmund looked her in the eyes, his head leaning to the side and a small smile forming on his lips. 

"You know, your name is king Edmund the just-I think that title is misleading." Angelina moved around on the ground, situating herself more comfortably against the wall.

"How so?" Edmund asked, raising his eyebrow. 

"Well, you are the one constantly complimenting me or saying something sweet, and I say nothing of such sort to you, where is the justice in that?" She took his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her, cupping his chin in the palm of her hand. 

Edmund let out a laugh and slipped down to her level, "you can write me letters of your deepest confessions and darkest desires." He whispered into her ear and leaned his head against the wall.

 He started pulling grass out of the ground, something he did a lot when he was nervous. The movements of his fingers became more aggressive with each piece of grass he pulled out. Eyes concentrated on his work and eyebrows knitted together in discomfort.

The actions of his hands stopped when he felt her own hand softly lingering on his. Afraid to look up, Edmund let go of the grass that was stuck between his fingers. His hands were now dirty from the ground. Pulling his hands away, she looked them over, trying to read what was happening in his soul through them. Edmund never acted in such a way before. Wanting to ask him what was wrong, she raised her eyebrows and gave him a questioning look.

Edmund bit his lip, anticipating the question that was about to be asked.

"Edmund, what's wrong?" She asked.

He half-smiled, "I have to tell you something-" he stopped midway, not sure how exactly he was going to explain what he felt inside, what was tearing him apart.

Her own heart started to race. His visible nervousness put her at ease, perhaps he was going to tell her that he feels the same way for her as she does for him. Perhaps he was nervous because he is always nervous around her.