England was grey.
There was never a place as dull and as boring as England. The engines of airplanes that roared overhead were inconsiderate and loud, as the RAF training meant that there was never a moments silence. Everything had changed since the Pevensie's had been there permanently. In London, that was.
London was no better than England as a whole. Quite a lot of it was ruined by bombs, but the worst had surpassed, they were glad to say. But London was grey, and London was not Narnia.
Edmund had taken it the hardest of the four siblings, getting used to living back home again, although Peter made quite a show of his emotions. He had been fourteen when he first went to Narnia, and fourteen when he came back. After fifteen years living there, it felt wrong to be a child again, and this time, aging felt slower.
Now sixteen, having moved schools once again, Edmund didn't have a clue where he fit in. His life didn't really feel like it belonged to him anymore. Everything was stripped away, and he was left common.
Friends were also scarce for him, probably due to the fact that he didn't fit in. They thought he was weird. But because he was strong, he had a little respect. It wasn't much, but enough.
There was one boy, in his mandatory English classes, that he didn't mind as much as the others. His name was Thomas Wallace; and he was taller, stronger, and older than Edmund. Most importantly, he was nice. They sat on the same table, and sometimes shared the same copy of whichever book they were studying. It was interesting to see how engrossed someone who didn't look like they cared for school at all could be.
Around then was when they started to study Shakespeare. And God, Edmund never knew how much a book could touch someone until that moment.
Austen, Dickens, Tolstoy and the Brönte's all passed him by, but Shakespeare just stuck. His way with words was just... something else.
At first, it wasn't as great as he might have thought. The Tempest was weird, and he didn't understand the sprite, Ariel. In fact, he didn't understand any of it. The words were all different, and they didn't make any sense.
But then, they began Romeo and Juliet. The story of star crossed lovers, their fate having been written from the first page. The inevitability of death, despite the odds, and finding love in the process was something to be admired. Everything about it was intriguing.
If ever he was asked, then Edmund would deny his enjoyment fully. However, he knew in his own mind that this was his favourite thing he had ever read.
In some of the classes, their teacher, Ms Cole would make them read aloud some of the passages. If she was feeling particularly antagonistic, then she would make them act some scenes out. After all, it was a play, and it deserved to be brought to justice. Just, perhaps not by school children.
For the first scene, Thomas had been called up to read for Benvolio, and Edmund forced into playing Romeo. It was one of those days where they had to act things out. His heart was racing. He had no idea if he was any good at acting, or if he had the confidence to stand up in front of his class and speak. But he had been a King, and though it was altogether different, he knew that if he had to he could.
The other parts had been cast for the scene later on, since they weren't as pivotal as Romeo, or Benvolio. Edmund didn't want to have to play the main part for too long. He couldn't deal with it at every opportunity, he would be ridiculed.
It was after Benvolio left Montague and Lady Montague that Romeo was needed. Edmund had pushed himself from his chair, and waddled over to the front of the classroom. He felt awkward. Like he wasn't himself.
Thomas was the only other person who was stood there. His frame frightened Edmund. He gulped.
"Good morrow, cousin." Said Thomas, as Benvolio, already convincing.
"Is the- uh-" He coughed, his throat too dry. There were a few sniggers. "Is the day so young?"
"But new struck nine."
"Ay me! Sad hours seem so long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?"
Thomas kept moving around, like a professional. He could have been an actor as far as anyone in the class was concerned. It pushed Edmund to be better, because he didn't want to stand out. If he did, then there would be more issues for him than he already had.
Edmund let the words flow a little better. "Not having that which having makes them short."
"In love?"
It seemed like a genuine question, despite being in the very script before them.
Edmund don't know what love was. Or, he didn't think he did. His parents were in love. His grandparents had loved each other. At one point, he even thought that Peter had loved the woman back in Narnia she had been so fond over.
But Edmund didn't know about love.
He wondered if Aramis did. He had been alive long enough to have experienced it if he had wanted to. Although, he didn't seem to be the kind of person to affiliate himself with romance of any sort.
Love.
He didn't even know what it meant.
Perhaps, if he ever went back to Narnia he would find what it was there. Here, in England, it seemed unlikely he would ever know.
"Out-"
"Of love?" Thomas, still fully in character as Benvolio, was getting rather close to Edmund. He was crouched down, beside the black haired Pevensie, who was pretending to be some sort of remorseful and lovelorn.
His heart was pounding. It was in his throat.
"Out of her favour where I am in love." He said it as if it were obvious.
"Alas that love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!"
"Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all." Edmund hated how long Romeo's soliloquy was here.
He didn't want to read it on his own, not with the eyes of some of the most well-liked girls in the entire school sat on one side of the room, separate from the boys. Hendon House wasn't officially an all boys school as of yet, but it was getting whittled down. Susan and Lucy attended its female partner school- St. Finbars. Eventually, these girls would go there too.
"Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! Serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, old fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh?"
"No, coz, I rather weep."
"Right boys, thank you. Sit down, now." Ms Cole stood from her hard wooden desk, and they did as she told them. "Very good. You'll both have to do it again next time."
"Bloody hell." Thomas whispered to himself, though Edmund could still hear him. "She's a right piece of work."
"You think?" He snorted, just a little.
"Shh." The boy beside him chuckled softly. He tried to hide it. "If she hears us it'll be our end."
They smiled at one another.
His heart was pounding again. In his ears now.
Thomas Wallace was nice.
Very nice indeed.
Now, Edmund knew that he did quite like Shakespeare. However, he couldn't quite work out if it was the attention from Thomas he liked, or just the writing itself.
At the end of that same day, quite a lot happened, and most of it, Edmund would never speak of again. He had been walking towards the Underground Station where he would meet his siblings, so tried to get there as fast as he could. The usual route didn't take long, but he managed to be cut off part way through the journey.
Three boys.
Freddie Langer. Colin Jones. Matthew Williams.
Edmund knew them from Hendon House. One of them, Colin, was even in his English class.
... he was in Edmund's English class.
"Oi!" Freddie bounded towards him, with immense force, and power. He was like a predator in his movements. "Fag!"
Edmund kept walking, trying not to look back. If he did, he would make it worse for himself. "Oi!" Matthew continued.
"We're talking to you, Pevensie!" Colin laughed. Were they drunk? They seemed to be drunk. "Come on!"
"I, I don't know what you want." Edmund called back to them, timidly, and kept on moving. He couldn't afford to stop. His excuse being that he would miss the train.
"Maybe..." Freddie caught up with him, and grabbed onto his shoulder so hard it might have left a bruise. It hadn't been as long as anyone might have though since Edmund had fought someone. At a push, it might have been a couple of days. "It's cos you're a little fag!"
"Am not!" He pushed back.
"Oh, he's got a little fight." Matthew taunted, grabbing onto his other arm. "Won't last long."
"Fancy doing the honours, Colin?"
"Always."
The boy might've guessed this was all down to his English class. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice to ready aloud, but now, because of it, he was the victim. Still, it gave him a chance to do something.
The fights were enough to ignite that same flush of adrenaline he was used to as a King in Narnia. It was the attention, and the intensity of action, all mixed in with emotion. He wanted recognition. They knew him well enough to give him that recognition.
Peter did it too, all of the time. He often ended up looking worse than Edmund did. Or at least, he wasn't as good at hiding it as his younger brother. Susan hated it, she hated seeing them so full of anger and jealousy, at war with the world. And Lucy... Lucy didn't see why she should step in if they were coping. She would nurse them if needed, but she wouldn't stop them.
He wanted to go back to Narnia.
He had a clear path there. He had friends. He had Aramis.
He wanted Aramis back more than anything.
Though, he couldn't even be sure if he would be there anymore. Maybe Aslan had sent him back to the stars. It would be his honour to see the spirit once more; just once.
Edmund knew he needed someone to talk to, and he needed that someone to be Aramis. The others just weren't the same. They didn't understand. They hadn't betrayed everyone they loved, and then have to live with the aftermath of death. They could never understand how it made him feel. Aramis made him feel normal again.
Arriving at the train station, he could see Susan's disapproving looks from a mile away. Peter was leaning against the wall, and Lucy was messing with her hat, but Susan's eyes were looking for him, and only him.
"What were you doing?" She scolded him.
"Nothing." He shrugged, fully aware of the state of his face. His lip was cut, and eye sore enough to have bruised already. "Leave it."
"Think you're clever, or something?" Peter raised his eyebrows.
"More clever than you." Edmund shot back. He couldn't be bothered.
In fact, he was more worried about what would happen when he arrived back at school the next day. He was already hated enough by faculty and students, that no one would say anything to his face. Maybe, if he was lucky, then Thomas might tell him what everyone else was thinking.
But all that Edmund really wanted was to go home. That being, his real home. He wanted to go back to Narnia.
He wanted to go back to Narnia. He wanted to see Aramis again. He wanted to feel wanted.
Was it so much to ask?
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2101
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Disclaimer!!!!
I do not own these characters. I do not own the Narnia series. I do not own the actors, or the characters. The only thing I own is my adaptation of the story, and my original character.