safety pin • Edmund Pevensie #Wattys2019 [✔️]

twenty-three

[twenty-three: Susan would be so proud]

There is part of growing up that is genuine, and part that disguises the greatest pain any parent can ever know. To take account of one's actions is growth; to protect others instead of being selfish is growth; to react to disaster with calm thought and decisive leadership is growth. The rest is a mental dislocation, a way to protect the developing brain from hurt it can't deal with. People aren't wired to watch their world be destroyed; they aren't born with the capacity to watch others suffer and do nothing to help; they aren't supposed to be herded like sheep with minds of dull compliance. As they grow they see problems they are told can't be fixed and so their minds break a little, removing the pain for their own protection.

Small children can't see suffering without suffering also and neither should the adults like Genevieve Pevensie, now forty years old as she watches her fifteen year old son Oliver train with her second in command Regulus. She had spent so long protecting her son and yet as soon as he hit the age of ten she was the first to take him out to the training ground and teach him how to wield his sword as she did at that age when she was fortunate enough to enter Narnia for the first time thirty years ago. However as her son aged she saw the potential of a great leader, a leader who she knew was to become King when he was merely twenty years old and she would disappear - not that she had told him that yet but she still had five years left for that. 

"Mum, please can I practice archery. I know I said I wanted to be a swordsman like dad but that was years ago and Regulus says I'm really good at it and that I could challenge aunt Susan for her talents." A fifteen year old Oliver Percy Pevensie begged his mother on the training ground, his heart set on collecting his bow from the archery station so that he could practice his skills.

"It's true your majesty, he does posses a talent I haven't seen since Queen Susan was here." Regulus admitted and Genevieve only smiled at her friend before looking at her son with a brighter smile as she took the sword away from him and placed it in one of the boxes before giving him a small smile.

"Don't let me stop you son." She whispered and watched as her sons face lifted vividly as he ran over to the archery station, his mother hot on his tail as Regulus set up the targets.

Oliver had been itching to get his hands on the various bows for days as he examined each one with a wistful eye! Bows made of wood and plastic and metal and materials he couldn't even name were placed there whilst arrows with feathers cut in flawless uniform lines were positioned beneath them just begging him to take one and shoot. Oliver chose a bow, strung it, and slung the matching quiver of arrows over his shoulder as he excitedly walked over to the playing field before positioning himself away from the target with a smile on his face.

He speaks as he shoots, straight and on target, whether anyone around him was ready or not. He has a way with the truth and there's no point arguing because it defends itself. Genevieve would love to argue back, show him where he's wrong but she couldn't as he was right to say that he had a talent that matched Susan as he truly did. So she only watched for a moment while he re-strings his bow, the deep wood flexing in the dawn. It takes just a moment, then he slings it behind him with the arrows, each as perfect as the last as it hits the target every time and it was no wonder her son had such a big ego because of this - but he didn't let his ego hurt him or damage him.