Chapter: 1 - ONE SHOT
Summary: Edmund will never forget the day Peter went away.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, and they have no bearing anyone at all. C.S. Lewis owns them! I just love them!
A/N: This ficcie kinda covers how I've been feeling of late. It's a drabble. Random. Hope you like.
My name is Edmund Pevensie. Once upon a time I was King Edmund the Just. You probably do not believe me. I do not blame you. It was a fantastical life. A fantastical experience. Something I wished had not ended.
But it did.
Three times I ventured to that land. To that magical world where animals talked. A land where I ruled along with my valiant and gentle sisters, and of course, my magnificent brother. He was the greatest of us there. His presence, his sheer being was something to behold.
When with or around him, I aspired. I aspired to be him. Aspired to be like him. He made me want to be better than I was. Better than I ever believed I could be. When he looked at me with those bright blue eyes, filled with wisdom and virtue, I believed that I was better than my mistakes. Better than my successes. I was everything he believed I was, which far surpassed anything I believed I could ever be.
That was Peter.
But as with all things, times changed. Life changed. The wonder that was Narnia passed us by and once more the cold, bitter realm of England was home again.
Yes, we ventured back, but it was never the same. It was never a golden age. I was never again just nor Peter magnificent. We were no longer kings. And we would never ever be children again.
But what Peter and I were, seemed as great as the crowns and duties we once shared. We were no longer kings, this was true. But we were friends. We were equals.
Years after Narnia, in the eve of my sixteenth, Peter and I stood face to face. We shared a smile and a small glass of brandy that Peter had managed to get for us. He toasted to me and for a flicker of time I felt like a king once more. I felt worthy.
Peter was not only my brother, he was my idol. He was my friend. Not a day passed where we would not speak to the other on all manner of things. Each morning we would greet one another for breakfast at the same time, every day. Each afternoon we would meet after class and share our daily activities. Each evening we would talk after dinner and spend time as we did in Narnia, simply enjoying the presence of the other.
Peter may no longer have been a king, but he was still my very best friend. He was still the man I wanted to be. He was respected, he was popular, he was wise. Most of all, he always made me feel as though I always had his undivided attention. He always made me feel as though I was special to him. As though our friendship, our relationship meant as much to him as it did to me.
Boarding school was a dreary place and one I never truly fancied being a part of, but Peter made it so much more bearable. I knew he would be leaving for university within a year, so it made me appreciate these days with him even more.
“Top o’ the morning, Ed.” Peter said as he greeted me as usual before breakfast, “How are you, Old chap?”
“I’m not old, Peter.” I laughed good naturedly.
“Well you do seem it an awful lot, Ed. You’re so proper.” Peter chuckled, “When are you going to learn to just relax and have fun?”
“Some day, I suppose.”
“Some day soon, I hope. You’re turning into quite the bore.”
I grinned at him as I always did and we ventured to breakfast. We chatted and talked about all manner of things as we always did. I went to classes. I did as I was expected. I met Peter right after class and as always we caught up, we talked, we laughed.
Thursday afternoon meant it was time for tennis. Peter and I were a very good match for one another. When we first started playing he used to let me win now and then so my spirits would remain high. He wanted me to feel good about myself. Eventually it reached a point that he didn’t have to let me win, because I would be able to beat him fair and square.
At first he was surprised, but he was glad I was finally up to the challenge. From that point on, twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday we would play each other. He loved it. I loved it. It was just another of the many activities we shared together.
At the end of today’s game he beat me rather soundly. He looked at me tilted his head, smiling.
“You’re not as good as you used to be.”
“Or you’re just better than you used to be.” I laughed in response.
“I guess.” Peter smiled, before we showered and parted to do our daily homework.
Later on at dinner, Peter seemed a little distracted. He was even a little late for dinner. This was most unlike him. We always met five minutes before dinner so we could get our usual seats. I made sure to save his seat for him though and much to my relief he turned up eventually.
“Peter, is everything alright?” I asked as we sat eating our dinner together as we always did.
“Of course, Ed. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You didn’t meet me.” I shrugged, “Are you ok?”
“Don’t be such a schoolgirl, Ed.” Peter chuckled, “You’re so serious. You’re no fun anymore.”
I looked at him curiously, but said nothing. I figured that perhaps he was simply not feeling his usual self. Maybe he’d feel better later on.
To my relief we chatted as always after dinner and it was just like it always was. We were happy, we were together.
“I made a new friend, Ed.” Peter said as he lay on my bed while I sat beside him, reading one of my assigned texts, “He’s a lot of fun. And he’s very good at tennis. Very laid back too. A lot of fun.”
“Really?” I asked curiously, closing my book to look at Peter, “Who is he?”
It wasn’t that Peter didn’t have friends. He had a lot of friends. But the tone in which Peter talked about this friend made me feel a little surprised. Tennis? Fun? Wasn’t I good at those? Did it matter or was I being schoolgirl about it?
“Daryl Harding.” Peter said as he tossed a ball up in the air, “Do you know him?”
“Yes. I do. Nice chap.”
“He is. You should come join us tomorrow.”
Join us? What exactly did this mean? Why did it suddenly feel as though I was the outsider in this equation?
I shrugged off the comment, deciding not to make a big deal of it. The next day however, I soon realized that unbeknownst to me, Peter had indeed made a new friend. He even joined us for breakfast.
Okay, I can handle that. For the next few days I handled that. But then it was not just breakfast. When Peter would meet me after school, his new friend was with him too. And Peter’s new friend would make him laugh the way I used to. He was fun the way I apparently used to be, but was no longer.
I felt a pang growing within me each day. A pang of fear that I dared not wish to entertain.
The next Tuesday it was time as always for our tennis game. I met Peter after school all ready for our game, when he turned up with his new friend.
“Actually, Ed, Daryl and I are going to play on our own. I’ll see you later, alright, Old chap?” Peter said casually before he continued walking off
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This was mine and Peter’s game. What was going on?
“Peter?” I asked, a little anxiously.
“It’s alright, Ed. I’ll see you later, alright?”
I nodded and returned to my dorm. I sat on my bed, twiddling my thumbs absently. I couldn’t believe this.
When dinner came, Peter met me as usual and he talked to me about how great his tennis game was. He casually mentioned that he hadn’t had that much fun in a long time.
“I thought tennis was our game, Peter.” I said a little downcast.
“Ed, it was just this one time. You’re not upset, are you?”
“Well …” I sighed, before I shook my head, “No, it’s ok.”
Much to my relief, Peter and I played tennis again on Thursday. It was so good for me, I couldn’t remember enjoying myself so much playing tennis with Peter. Peter didn’t seem to be having as much fun though. In fact, he was pretty quiet about it.
I realized then that somehow, things had changed. Peter didn’t enjoy playing tennis with me anymore. And as I came to realize, he didn’t enjoy many things with me anymore.
The next morning at breakfast, his new friend was with us once more. That was fine. I said nothing. There was nothing I could say.
That afternoon though, Peter didn’t meet me after school. It was the first time in the years I’d been at his boarding school. I waited for over an hour and he didn’t come.
When I finally met him for dinner, he didn’t even realize he’d forgotten to meet me. And to make matters worse, he got upset at me for making such a big deal about it in the first place. I think that should have been the moment I knew things had changed for Peter.
The next morning for breakfast, I waited for him as usual. I waited, and I waited. He came eventually with Daryl and I stood up, making way so both Peter and his new friend could sit down at the chairs I’d saved for them.
Peter didn’t sit down.
“I think we’re going to sit somewhere else today, Ed.” Peter said, patting my shoulder before he walked off, “I promise I’ll see you after class, alright? Wait for me.”
And so I stood there watching as Peter walked off with his new friend and sat somewhere else. I turned back to my plate, wondering why I felt like I’d just been rejected or heartbroken. Wondering why as I stared at my bowl of porridge I felt like I just wanted to cry. Instead I nodded politely to the others at the table and picked up my plate before I left.
As Peter asked me to, I waited for him after class. I stood outside my dorm building waiting for him to come and meet me as he once did with fervor. The area was bustling with other students and soon enough I saw Peter. He was talking to a group of his school friends so I sat down in my usual spot waiting for him to finish and come over.
Soon he was only talking to Daryl. They were joking and laughing and I raised a small smile and waved to let Peter know I was here. He knew I was there, but for the first time in our lives, he pretended I wasn’t.
I think that’s probably what hurt the most. I sat there and I sat there and I sat there. I waited just as Peter asked in our usual spot. I waited for him to come. For him to even acknowledge that he had seen me.
He did not come and he did not acknowledge me. Even when most of the other groups has dissipated and I looked frightfully aloof and ridiculous sitting alone, I still waited. Eventually he walked off, making out as though he hadn’t seen me.
I think that day I probably cried for the first time in a long time. I sat alone, tears in my eyes, wondering what I might have done to upset Peter. What I might have done to have him not want to be with me anymore. Was I not fun? Was I simply no challenge at tennis?
That really was the day Peter went away. It might have been longer after that that he went to university, but that really was the day he went away from me.
Things were never the same for Peter and I after that. I waited for him several times after that but eventually he didn’t even bother trying to make excuses. He simply ignored me and did not talk to me. He never played tennis with me again.
Eventually I spared myself the humiliation. I treated him as he treated me. I gave him space. I didn’t bother him. And he was happy with that.
I always wondered why Peter went away from me that day. I wonder whether it was something I did. I wonder whether it was that he had simply outgrown me. Perhaps I was no longer fun. Perhaps I was no longer fun to play against. Maybe he just didn’t like me. Maybe I was too needy.
Maybe, maybe I just never really was as special as Peter said I was. Maybe he was just good at making me feel special and I made too much of it. I think maybe I cared for him, loved him, enjoyed being his friend much more than he felt the same for me.
I will always think highly of Peter, and I will always miss him. Even when we see each other, I still miss him. And for as long as I live, I will always remember our time as Kings, as friends. We may be brothers, but unfortunately, that’s all we are now.