Heart and Home~ Edmund Pevensie

Chapter 1: Edmund

Edmund subconsciously wiped his sweaty hands on the fabric of his coat. He fought to keep his breaths even. You're supposed to be acting old, he reprimanded himself, You look like a baby around these people. He glanced at the faces around him – taller, burlier, bearded.

"Are you sure you're eighteen?" The lieutenant was sceptical.

Edmund tried to throw in what he hoped was a nonchalant adult joke, "Why? Do I look older?"

The man – whose balding head reflected the light slightly – motioned for Edmund's identification. Edmund held out the small, folded paper that he had swiped from the breakfast table that morning. The lieutenant opened it, and Edmund knew better than to get excited. This was the closest he had ever gotten to enlisting – the soldiers usually turned him away once he reached the door. But this time he got past. This time he had a chance.

The soldier's eyebrows furrowed as he read the name on the paper, "Alberta Scrubb?"

Edmund tried not to cringe at the sound of his aunt's name. The lie quickly rolled off his tongue, "That's a typographical error, it's supposed to be Albert A. Scrubb."

This is it, he thought to himself, I'm in. A moment of silence ensued as the soldier studied the paper, seemingly hesitant, but in no ways unsure. He bought the story, Edmund knew it. He could see the sturdy sign of relent in the man's eye.

Then his moment vanished.

"Edmund," he tried not to collapse in frustration at the sound of his sister's voice, "You're supposed to be helping me with the groceries."

Edmund simply stood there as the men around him barked out their laughter. He forced himself to take a deep breath, Next time, Ed. You'll get 'em next time. Only, he knew there would not be a next time. The people at the enlisting office knew his face all too well now – especially after this stunt.

He took his aunt's identification and grudgingly walked over to Lucy, whose expression was the epitome of disappointment. The man behind him gave him a hard clap on the shoulder, "Better luck next time, 'ey squirt!"

Edmund could hardly stop the anguish from leaving his mouth as he and Lucy walked over to their bikes, "Squirt? He barely has two years on me! I'm a king! I've fought wars and I've led armies!"

He hastily tied his box of vegetables onto the carrier, his frustration evident in his tight knots and jerking actions. He could hardly believe the trouble he was having in enlisting for the war – one would think they wanted all the soldiers they could get... but apparently a few months really did make a difference.

"Not in this world," Lucy reminded him.

"Yeah," he agreed, "Instead I'm stuck here, doing battle with Eustace Clarence Srubb. If anyone so deserves a name..." he trailed off as he noticed his sister watching over his shoulder and attempting to tuck her hair behind her ear. Was she even listening to him? "What're you doing?"

His question seemed to pull her out of her trance, "Nothing," she hastialy replied before she started pushing her bike forward, "Come on then!"

Edmund quickly glanced behind him as they set off, only to see a soldier and his girlfriend talking animatedly. Weird. Hardly something to grab Lucy's attention – it must've been something else.

They walked into the house of their wretched cousin, Eustace Scrubb, and Lucy was quick to rush to the kitchen, passing their Uncle Harold who was lounding in front of the telly.

"Hello Uncle Harold!" she greeted, "I tried to find some carrots but all they had were turnips again." Her voice faded as she entered the kitchen. Edmund frowned at his uncle, who hadn't even moved to acknowledge them. He sat still on his lounger, his face buried in his newspaper. Edmund felt his blood boil at the sight. "Shall I start making soup? Aunt Alberta's on her way home." Edmund gazed at the old man over his newspaper and couldn't help himself from sticking his tongue out mockingly – not like he'd even see him, "Uncle Harold?" Lucy echoed once she realised he was unmoving.