Dichotomy 2/2 - for turkeyish

[nfe_gremlin]

Title: Dichotomy
Author: snitchnipped
Recipient: turkeyish
Rating: PG-13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Mild swearing, adult themes
Summary: “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” -Carl G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 1962

DICHOTOMY: WAXING

Finchley, London, U.K. March 18, 1948.

Staring up ahead at the statue, Edmund smiled, and continued walking east on Chessington Avenue. The form was beautiful and dangerous, a tall, towering woman with her arms stretched towards the heavens, brandishing a sword.

Deliverance, they had called it, those that remembered The Great War. And then there were those that did not, and they called it The Wicked Woman.

A similar woman once offered deliverance to him. It was a false promise. The statue is in the incorrect form, Edmund mused as he approached to face it. The Wicked Woman did not offer deliverance, the Lion did.

“Always the liar, weren’t you? How’s it like being the statue for once?” he said aloud, letting out a humorless laugh. Edmund looked up at her tilted face, the cool moonlit beauty of it drawing him in. His smile abruptly fell, and he pulled his collar higher up on his neck in a futile attempt to kill the unexpected chill creeping up his spine. He hurried on, eyes diverted, turning away from Henly’s Corner on to Regent’s Park Road. There was no point in reliving those nasty aspects of his childhood. His first childhood, that is.

Edmund let out a huff of frustration. The concept of two childhoods was rather annoying to him. The timeline was not forward in his brain-timelines should not have hard angles in them. They should be simple and straightforward. To be otherwise was unnatural and perplexing, and it gave him a headache whenever he thought too much about it. Something that was more commonplace than not.

He was finally becoming settled in his adult body once again. It was strange, amusing even, knowing what to expect. Voice change at thirteen. Check. Growth spurt the summer of his fifteenth year. Check. Having to upgrade his boot size twice in two months...well, that definitely must have happened around his eighteenth birthday in Narnia since he just last week had to purchase his second pair of oxfords since starting this last term. Check.

The physical aspects were very comparable, but he never mentally reverted that fateful day they all fell out of the wardrobe and began his second childhood. His adult wits were still about him-a fact that was both a blessing and a curse.

Edmund’s emotional transition was difficult and very different the second time around. The hormones just weren’t the same when they returned to England. While maintaining adult intelligence, he had to suffer through adolescence in a completely different manner than he had in Narnia. Despite his mental state being intact, he found that his maturity was completely compromised. The pubescent rages he would suffer were just plain embarrassing-well, both times-but the second time around he was actually aware of what an ass he was being. The jealousies, the achievements, the eventual attractions and other such experiences were much more heightened. Even the age when his eye first wandered towards the fairer sex both in Narnia and London was also different.

Edmund frowned. Well, that really wasn’t very comparable once he thought about it. He never even saw any other humans, let alone girls, until a couple of years into his reign.

Women, Edmund mentally corrected himself. The sisters Nelian of Archenland were most definitely women. He dug around his inside breast pocket and slipped out his cigarette case, fingering for a matchbook in his trousers with his other hand.

By the time they left Narnia, he was technically already in his emotionally mature prime, though upon his return to England, he found his young peers dull in comparison to the adult company to which he was accustomed. He still longed for companionship at first, but the pheromonal attraction that existed before was entirely lost, at least for the first couple of years. Edmund found himself reverting to the emotional state he was the first time he was ten, causing his emotional timeline to be even more jagged than the physical one. But now that he was nearly all caught up, an adult again in body and soul....

Edmund deftly snapped the case closed, having already inserted one of its contents between his lips. The match lit on the third stroke-damned balmy weather-and he was soon taking a long-anticipated drag off of the cigarette.

There was much to look forward to, that was for sure. The company and conversation he found in his Physics and Philosophy classes and even at the pubs scattered around Cambridge-ones he frequented far too regularly, even he could admit-were much more satisfying than what he had to suffer in Finchley the few years prior. It was extremely rewarding to be once again intellectually challenged. The girls at the pubs there were certainly more intelligent and prettier. Also, having taken up with the University Fencing Club, Edmund found himself growing stronger and stronger every day. He soon should reach his physical prime if he kept up his practice. And though it was still quite a ways off, there was the extra two inch growth spurt he should expect right before his twenty-third birthday, which would make him almost as tall as Peter. That was an unexpected development in Narnia, one that only half-kiddingly irked his brother.

But most of all, his heart was lighter, far lighter than he could ever remember it being in Narnia, any of the three times he was there. Just the ease of knowing that he could live the rest of his life without the Wicked Woman’s slight taint was reason enough to celebrate.

Yes, Edmund thought, flicking away some ash and taking another drag. There certainly is plenty to look forward to.

The sound of a car coming from behind made Edmund stop and turn. A Wolseley Ten was rumbling towards him, the headlights engulfing his surroundings in a yellow light. The windows were down, and he could hear laughter and conversation along with the view of several heads bopping along inside. He could see it was overly crowded with both males and females of his age. The black car slowly lumbered past him, a plume of exhaust shooting out from behind obscuring the rear window, but Edmund saw a familiar shape of a woman’s head turn to look at him-one that may or not have been of his sister.

The car disappeared into the distance, but the noxious smell of exhaust lingered around him and the darkness. Damned stench always clings to my wool coat. Edmund sadly dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and stamped it out before continuing north towards the direction the car was headed.

Edmund missed Susan. He was fairly certain that she missed him in turn. It was at this age when he and Susan grew close, when he approached his adult years, when he first started to get a leg up on the permeating darkness he felt in Narnia. Peter and Lucy were of a different mold, and though sympathetic and always eager to lend an ear, they didn’t understand his thought processes as much as Susan would. She had been his confidante, and now she wasn’t.

They still tried to make an effort. She had specifically arranged to call him at Cambridge just for his birthday the week prior, but the conversation lacked depth, having little in common and very little to talk about. It was merely a short and stilted back-and-forth, nothing more than exchanging pleasantries. A far cry from the hours upon hours they would often talk into the early hours of the morning over a bottle of brandy. It saddened him.

As Edmund crossed the road, he recalled their conversation right before he left home. He had tried to cajole her into coming with him to the railway station earlier that morning, for after all, it had been since Christmas since she had even spoke to their brother, but she could not be convinced. Plans had made “weeks prior, Ed, I surely couldn’t turn my friends down now, they would be devastated!”

In one last ditch effort just before he left the house, he had knocked on the door of her room to see her leaning over her dressing table, already dressed to the nines, applying a thick coat of mascara on her lashes. “Are you off to the station then, Ed?”

“I am,” Edmund had replied, leaning against the door frame. He had to admit she was just as beautiful, if not more so, as she was in Narnia. It was at this age when the formal requests, “betrothal parties” and even the occasional lone callers had started trickling in, from Terebinthia all the way to Calormen. It was also at this time that Susan would seek out Edmund’s counsel, expressing her anxiety and fear of the pressure she was feeling all around-a task their elder brother couldn’t fulfill as he was torn between duty to family and duty to the state. “Are you sure you can’t reschedule with your friends? I mean, when was the last time you saw them and when was the last time you saw your own brother?”

Susan had turned apologetically towards Edmund. He hoped his pathetic plea might have worked this time, as such methods had worked before. No such luck, though. “I’m sorry, my ride will be here within the hour,” she said, turning back to the mirror.

Edmund had sighed. It had been worth the shot to try to reunite his siblings together for a nice evening of benign conversation.

“Besides,” Susan had hesitatingly continued. “It-it’s hard to talk with Peter these days. He gets so frustrated with me.” Susan frowned at herself in the mirror, twisting the mascara brush between her fingers. “I feel like I’m in the dark about something. That he’s angry with me for some reason, that he’s holding something against me, even though I don’t know what it is.”

Edmund had sympathized with their brother’s personal campaign with her, to force her to remember, though he didn’t necessarily agree with Peter’s confrontational tactics.

Edmund knew his sister better, and had tried his own preferred method. He had walked up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and allowed himself a whiff of her delicate perfume to calm him. Lavender, just like she had worn in Narnia. “The sheer amount of effort alone you are putting in your appearance, you would think the entirety of Lune’s Court was requesting your presence, with suitors in their finest fineries, lined up across the hall.”

“Finest fineries, Ed?” she had snorted, setting down the lipstick she had just applied. But then her head had tilted in puzzlement. “Lunescourt? Is that a college at Cambridge?”

“No. No, it’s not.” With a sad sigh, Edmund had pulled on one of her dark curls. “Never mind, Su. Enjoy your evening, all right?”

Susan had smiled brightly at his reflection in the mirror. After one last tweak of her eyelashes, she stood and turned to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Do tell Peter I was sorry to have missed him, though.”

“I will.”

Unlike Peter, and occasionally Lucy, he could not find it in his heart to begrudge Susan her forgetfulness. Susan was happy, thriving even, here in England. It’s very, very natural to forget the past. The farther away, the easier, that‘s all, Edmund thought. It’s just human nature.

The sight of the busier section of town up ahead brought his attention back to the present. Storefronts and signs were lit up, and cars and pedestrians alike were increasing in numbers. Though it was a weeknight, it was rather late out and much quieter than he anticipated. Then again, London was much quieter than before, during the war. The rest of the summer they spent recuperating at the Professor’s estate was relatively peaceful, but upon their return to London, all of them were taken aback at how noisy it was. The air raid sirens were still a constant occurrence, as were the fly-overs of Spitfires and Lancasters. But in addition to that clatter were the normal sounds of car engines and horns, pedestrians on the street, the neighbor’s radio blasting reports from the war through their open window polluting their neighborhood.

Granted, Cair Paravel had its own cacophony of hooves on cobblestone, singing nymphs, laughing fauns, whistles, barks, brays, neighs, and the occasional roar. But at least all those sounds were natural. Narnia was practically silent in comparison to the mechanical sounds of London.

This night was proving to be a rather peaceful one for Finchley, and Edmund followed the curve of the road, turning down Nether Street towards Finchley Central station to meet his brother.

Edmund arrived at the top of the steps leading down to the platform and glanced down at his watch. Finding himself a few minutes early, he looked about to find a place to wait that wasn’t so in the open. A nearby alley seemed suitable for his needs, and he quietly made his way over to wait, stepping around the metal grates that would have clunked underfoot were he to walk on them. After a few moments of waiting, he heard the sound of the train underneath squealing to a stop, and soon afterwards, saw his brother slowly lumbering up the stairs, bags in hand.

With a quick glance around, Peter immediately turned towards him and made his way over. There was absolutely no reason for him to have been able to recognize Edmund’s stature in the dark. Edmund, after all, prided in knowing that he remained indistinguishable in such places. But he also knew that Peter was used to finding him just there.

Peter dropped his bags, and the brothers quickly embraced, without Peter uttering a word-something quite unlike him. “How was the trip?” Edmund said to break the silence once they broke apart.

“Good. On time, no complaints.” Peter shouldered his leather rucksack, allowing Edmund to take the small suitcase.

Edmund bit his tongue, choosing not to reply to that. Peter was supposed to be on the earlier train that came in the afternoon, but had telephoned at the last minute to say he pushed his trip back, so he was late. Actually, if Edmund wanted to get technical, Peter was originally supposed to come home days earlier-Hilary Term had ended the previous Saturday, and Peter always came back to Finchley immediately following the end of term. “You seem beat.”

“I am.” Another curt reply.

“Would you prefer to go straight home, then? Mother kept a plate warm for you, I know, when she learned you were coming in later. She made a roast and everything, just for you.”

That perked him up. “Mash? With drippings?”

“Sorry, no. Just drippings, I’m afraid.”

“When will this damned rationing ever end.” Edmund noted that it wasn’t a question. “Ridiculous. It just isn’t Mother’s roast without her potatoes.”

“Apparently she used them up for Sunday dinner.” Edmund couldn’t help himself, and followed with, “You know...when she was expecting you?”

Peter let out a long sigh, his breath fogging in the cool March air as they slowly made their way down the street. “I just needed some time to myself. To think over things without all the distractions.” Peter threw him a quick reassuring smile, something that Edmund interpreted as an afterthought. “Is-is there somewhere we can go first? I’m not quite ready to face the subjects.” Peter shook his head in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, that was rather callous to say. I’m just...I’m just not in the mood to see everyone just yet. Is there a place for a drink nearby?”

“Sure. I was planning on it, actually, but I assumed by your late start that you would have eaten already.”

Peter shook his head and readjusted his bag. “I had a sandwich at lunch, but I’m good for a drink or two.” He absentmindedly looked at their surroundings. “Did you take a cab?”

“No, it’s a nice night, the weather actually decent. I figured a walk was in order. I’ve enough on me, though. We can take one back home if we need to,” Edmund offered.

Peter didn’t respond. With a tilt of his head pointing the way, Edmund started towards the pub he had in mind. Peter trailed behind him, not even attempting to match his pace and catch up to him.

It being already late, Edmund hadn’t bothered informing their mother not to expect the two of them back anytime soon. Once they heard from Peter and his new arrival time, Lucy offered to help clean up after dinner and keep her busy while Susan went out, allowing Edmund a chance to plan on some one-on-one time with their brother. Lucy was a real doll-their mother was clearly disappointed, having prepared a second large meal in a week in preparation for her eldest' arrival. Edmund often found himself at a loss when it came to dealing with consoling his mother, something that occurred frequently with the war and their father being on assignment. He loved her dearly, but they differed too much to be as close as she was with Peter or Lucy. Or as close as he was to her before.

It was funny for Edmund to think that there was a time when he couldn’t remember the Sunday roasts or the sound of Helen Pevensie softly singing to herself while dusting the parlor. Both he and Susan had inherited their mother’s gift, though besides their looks, that was the extent that either of them shared with her. Edmund could remember back when he was very young and they would sing together, he and his mother, with Susan occasionally joining in, often dissolving into laughter as all three were prone to forget the lyrics. That was before the war and before Narnia, though. Before things changed.

Even Susan rarely sang anymore. Lucy once confided to him that she would occasionally overhear their sister singing snippets of Narnian ballads and battle songs, but those times were few and far between, and often cut short, as the memory of the melodies would drift away from her.

Edmund rarely sang either, much to the annoyance of his roommate at Bodley’s Court. Colin himself was a Choral Scholar with the King’s Choir, and ever since he once heard Edmund sing a rather bawdy song one drunken evening, he would often give him heat for not having tried for the choir when he was first admitted.

“I would have, Col,” he had told his friend, “but I didn’t think they would have accepted ‘To Anacreon in Heaven’ as suitable audition material.” In truth, Edmund usually preferred to keep that aspect of himself private, as Susan had in Narnia, something to be shared only with family.

Presently being in the company of only his brother, though, Edmund started humming to the rhythm of Peter’s loud footsteps, but only to mask the annoying sound. Peter had always been good at walking with a purpose. The click-click-clicking of his loud heels on pavement was unnerving enough-Damn it, he’s even loud when he’s out of sorts-but Edmund was also uncomfortable with his brother following him. It should be the other way around. He hated taking the lead.

They walked along that way for a while, crossing the main road and towards their destination, Edmund humming and Peter walking in step, until Peter caught on to what his brother was doing. He deliberately changed his tempo, forcing Edmund to slow down or speed up to keep with his pace. It was enough to finally elicit a laugh from Peter as they reached the pub.

While the old inn was well lit on the outside, the windows merely glowed with the comforting, diffused yellow light that seemed to be a staple for any decent public house. It was definitely old, well-established, and rough around the edges. The sign hanging on the post outside squeaked as it swayed in the gentle wind.

“The ‘King of Prussia,’ huh? I’ve never stopped in before,” Peter mused.

“Me neither. But we’ve passed by it enough. And it’s never too late to become a regular, as I always say.” Edmund grinned broadly and reached for the wood handle of the front door.

The heavy door opened with the distinct squeak that only an oak door of several centuries could make. The warmth of the pub permeated Edmund’s senses, along with the clink of glasses, the dulled sound of conversation, the smell of spilled liquor and many, many regrets. There was a familiarity in the dark polished wood, the slight stickiness to the floors, the undercurrent of stale smoke wafting through the air. Home.

Edmund held the door open for his brother before shutting it tightly behind them. The pub was rather stifling, prompting him to remove his coat on instinct. It being a weeknight and rather on the early side, there were few patrons by the look of the available pegs on the coat stand.

He automatically reached for Peter’s coat to hang it beside his and led the way past several empty tables without acknowledging the sudden lull in conversation and twisting of heads to watch as the two brothers passed through the room. He knew they tended to have that effect when either of them entered a public establishment. Personally, he usually preferred to play down that aspect of himself, but for the benefit of his brother and his strange mood, he decided to give in to what he normally considered a ridiculous abuse of power.

Edmund had his sights across the room. It was pure instinct-Edmund never allowed his back to face the front door and always took a seat with the best vantage point. That point usually happened to be in the darkest, farthest corner. The King of Prussia did not disappoint in that regard, and they soon situated themselves on the stools at the far end of the bar, tucking Peter’s bags underfoot.

After ordering their drinks, the brothers drank in silence, taking a moment to absorb their surroundings and let the alcohol permeate their senses before making even idle conversation. A slow trickle of newcomers came through the door, with the squeaks and the slams of the front door announcing their arrivals. The middle-aged barkeep would look up from his seat at the other end of the bar to only acknowledge the regulars, but even then only with a nod, and his attention would be returned to his racing papers.

While Peter quietly nursed his drink, Edmund took advantage of the rare opportunity his brother was providing to observe his surroundings a bit more. He looked over the liquor bottles at the occasional trophy and plaque sprinkled here and there amongst the copious amount of yellowed pictures and faded photographs lining the back wall. Images of patrons and owners past stared down at him, all represented in printed portraits, black and white photographs and daguerreotypes. He imagined they were long gone and forgotten, even though the vast majority of them had been alive in the last century alone. A blink of the eye in comparison to their time away from Narnia between their first and second visits. It was a disconcerting notion, one that he did not like to think upon regardless of how often it did invade his thoughts.

There was another squeak and a slam at the front door, which prompted him to break his gaze and polish off the remainder of his gin. Setting his glass aside, he idly picked up the paper coaster that was wet from condensation from his glass, rubbing his thumb along the edge to separate the layers. And waited for his brother to say something. Anything. Edmund wondered if Peter would be offended if he stepped outside for a smoke.

But Peter just sat there, his gaze unfocused, staring across at the liquor bottles. Edmund sighed, deciding against asking for permission to leave, and flipped the coaster between his fingers. After awhile, he shifted his attention towards picking out which one of the portraits may have held the namesake of the establishment, while his brother continued to nurse his scotch in silence. It was making out to be a very, very long evening. I bet it’s one of the ones with the facial hair. They all look rather German.

“Budge up, will ya?” Edmund heard coming from behind Peter.

Edmund looked up to see a young woman blinking vacantly at him over Peter’s shoulder, standing next to the man who had rudely spoken. A very young woman. Edmund suddenly felt old. Thankfully the age of her companion made him feel a bit better. The newly arrived patron and his much younger companion had approached their end to nab the last empty seats of the bar-the place was apparently filling up fast.

Peter swiveled in his stool and politely looked up at the middle-aged man, which was enough for him to avert his eyes and scoot his empty seat in the opposite direction, closer to his date. His brother had that effect on others without even trying. It was as if Peter was too much of a person for England, even as others moved to make room for him. Edmund, on the other hand, considered himself flexible and always found places he could squeeze to fit.

“It’s ironic, don’t you think?” Edmund said once his brother turned back after the wordless exchange. “People prefer to keep a wider berth here in England than they ever did in Narnia, yet there is much less room to do so here.”

“It’s damn well claustrophobic here, you mean,” Peter muttered, taking a long drink.

“That, too.” Edmund wished for a refill, but wanted to keep pace with his brother. He slid his eyes over to gauge the progress of Peter’s scotch glass.

“Can you imagine, Ed?” Peter mused, scanning the photographs on the back wall. “What if we had taverns named after us in Narnia?”

Edmund shrugged and took another drink. “Better a tavern than a tavern bastard.”

Peter’s drink stopped halfway up. “I do hope you’re joking-”

“Well, I’m in the clear. But I can only speak for myself,” Edmund added, relieved that Peter was finally talking. Narnia was usually a comforting topic between them. “I recall several instances when your whereabouts were unaccounted for in Anvard.”

Peter pursed his lips in mild annoyance, but stopped short of supplying a retort. The ice had finally been broken, though, and there was no going back. Peter quickly recovered with a smile and a slap on Edmund’s shoulder. “I feel another round is in order,” he said around a mild laugh, and he flagged down the bartender. That was the Peter he knew.

Edmund watched the barkeep set down his paper, shuffle down to their corner and emit a low grunt in recognition.

“Another scotch. Neat, please.” Peter eyed Edmund as he polished off the rest of his first glass. “May as well make it a double. Ed?”

“Gin and tonic, on the rocks, thank you.”

With a wary eye, the barkeep grunted in response. Edmund mused that he most likely wasn’t used to such niceties as pleases and thank yous. He decided to play it up. “Excuse me, good sir?” he formally asked when the bartender returned, drinks in hand. “Which king, might I ask?”

The man’s weathered face contorted in confusion. “Hunh?”

“King of Prussia. Which one?”

“Which one’s head, rather,” Peter contributed, pointing to the weathered, hand-lettered sign hanging above the register: KING OF PRUSSIA’S HEAD.

“Hell if I know,” he sniffed, palming the coins Edmund put on the counter for the two drinks. “Used to be just ‘The King’s Head.’ Was ‘The Red Lion’ first, built in sixteen-” he paused in thought, scratching the top of his combover, disrupting the greasy parallel lines so that some of them intersected. “Sixteen somethin’ or other.”

Edmund started and threw a quick glance at his brother, but Peter didn’t let on that he acknowledged anything.

“I assume it must not have been one of the first Frederick’s, since they preferred to be called King inPrussia,” Peter contributed with an air.

Aslan’s Mane, he never knows when to let up, Edmund thought. Peter’s new found glory was in showing off his prowess in historical knowledge. That upcoming degree in History at Oxford was obviously paying off, especially in such a fine establishment as the local pub.

The bartender was only fractionally amused, and he pointed a knobby finger in Peter’s face. “Watch your tongue, laddie,” he growled. “By the time I was your age, I had already killed a dozen men and was marchin’ through trenches in the Somme lookin’ to add to that. Book smarts will only get you so far in the long haul.”

Edmund chose not to divulge how many men-and beasts-either of them had in turn killed over their lifetimes. Though tempting, this was not the time for one-upmanship. It didn’t matter, though, for without waiting for a response, the barkeep had already shuffled off to the till.

“Thank you, kind sir!” Edmund deliberately called after him, but it was ignored. He looked over at Peter to find him arching an eyebrow at him. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I had no idea, it’s merely a coincidence.”

“The Red Lion.” Peter swished around the contents of his highball. “I highly doubt a seedy public house was where he particularly had in mind when he asked you to seek him here in England, Ed.”

Edmund laughed at the images that evoked, but it was evident his brother’s humor was rather short-lived. Instead, the dark look on Peter’s face had returned as his brother idly picked at a crumbling knot in the wooden bar. “Pete?” Edmund knew not to pry, but they were getting nowhere fast, and it was obvious that something was bothering him. Mother was probably expecting them home before midnight, and at this rate, the plate of roast beef was bound to be tough as a boot by the time they got home.

In all serious, though, the melancholy was not becoming on his brother’s ridiculously handsome face. Peter looked older than his twenty-one years. Hell, he even looked older than his thirty-six years.

“You ever feel alone in the world, Ed?”

Edmund swallowed a mouthful of gin hard and could only stare dumbly at his brother. “Are you being serious?” he coughed out.

“I am actually, but that came across rather silly, didn’t it?” Peter took a drink, and continued to pick at the knot. “Believe it or not, I’m not referring to here. I’m talking about there, in Narnia. It was...it was lonely there.”

“You mean it’s lonely at the top?” Edmund snorted. Whatever was troubling Peter, so far he was gaining little sympathy from Edmund. The High King had never been short on friends or company the entirety of his reign; he was known and loved by all. Edmund, on the other hand, had just as many acquaintances, but could count on one hand how many he was felt particularly close to. Am I ever alone in the world.... I mean, really, we’ve been brothers for how long? Not that he begrudged his brother the friendships-they just related to people differently, and though Peter didn’t necessarily understand the thick walls that Edmund kept around him, he respected them.

“No, of course not...that's not it at all.”

“It sure sounds it.” This conversation was getting nowhere, fast. Edmund eyed his drink, gauging how slow he would have to drink it to make it last the rest of the evening. He didn’t want to drink at his normal pace if he and Peter were set to be there working out his brother’s problems for hours. “What are you on about, then? Are you having problems at University, Pete? Fancy a transfer to Cambridge?”

“No, my studies are going quite well. Thank you for asking,” Peter shot him a look, but stopped short of bickering any further. His brow then furrowed. “Though I do admit feeling a bit lost. There are so many people that I share very little in common with, but mainly because of experience, not because we differ in interests or personality.”

Edmund considered what his brother said. He agreed that could be the case for his brother, but he couldn’t necessarily empathize. Not only did he personally have little in common with some of his classmates’ backgrounds, save for a handful of the veterans, but he actually couldn’t identify with them mainly because of the vast differences in interests and personality. But he had been used to that his entire life. Both lives.

Peter hesitatingly continued. “But...say that I meet someone, Ed....”

Edmund’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not that I have, mind you,” Peter corrected. “Well, not that I know. I-I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her.”

“Ahhhh, that’s where you’re going with all of this-”

“Oh, come off it, it’s still not what you think,” Peter interrupted, becoming frustrated. “I’m just saying what if this was the girl for me, or it could be any other girl I have yet to meet. What if I come across ‘The One’ as Susan and Lucy would call it, the one they say would make my life complete. Or something,” he added. He was obviously uncomfortable saying such things.

Edmund thought on the beautiful Archenlander girls, with the braids and lovely singing voices and missed opportunities. He then briefly considered the intelligent girls in his Philosophy classes, with the shapely legs and smart retorts and the opportunities he was determined not to miss. “That would be a good thing, Peter.”

“But no! It’s not! Oh, what am I saying....” Peter took a deep breath to calm himself. “Forget it, forget that there was ever any girl.”

“Got it. No girl. Forgotten.”

“Good. Thank you. Because there really isn’t,” he earnestly insisted. The center of the knot had finally become loose, and Peter tapped at it, making it wiggle in place. It really wasn’t like his brother to fidget. Edmund found it distracting.

“New approach,” Peter continued. “Right. So I’m just about finished with my dissertation. At least, I think I am. I’m waiting on comments from my supervisor on my latest draft. While I’m waiting, I’m considering options for my future.”

“Anything interesting on the radar?”

“Maybe,” Peter replied. “I’m considering a year or two off to work, get some relevant experience before I begin a post graduate degree, if I decide to go that route.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Edmund emphatically slapped the bar. The knot bounced slightly in place. “Are the Hohenzollerns hiring at all? Perhaps they could get you a job tending their Opa Frederick’s pub!”

Even though Peter more than likely recognized Edmund’s playful sarcasm for what it was, he was not amused. Peter’s drink slammed down, causing it to slosh around in his glass. “Oh stop it already. If you’re going to be this way, we may as well go home.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... there’s no reason to get all wound up.” There were times he could push Peter’s buttons, but the alcohol was testing his judgement on where the line was. He had definitely crossed it this time. His brother was truly agitated, and Edmund regretting letting himself get that far.

Peter took a drink of scotch to calm himself down. Edmund picked up his coaster again and tore it in half. He layered the pieces, and tore them in half again, and continued until he was left with a mass of damp, beige pieces scattered on the bar. He assumed it may be the usual issues of adjustment that Peter had, that they all had, but none more so than Peter. Lucy had her own problems, but that was partly because of her being so incredibly young. Twice, Edmund thought, running a trail with his finger through the bits of paper. He and Susan were always the adaptable sort, able to blend in easily with whatever scenario was thrown their way, as they had proved time and again in both Narnia and England.

But Peter-High King Peter-had no idea what it took to be normal. “I really do hate to see you this way, Pete.”

Peter acknowledged him by continuing. “Anyway, so I’m finishing my dissertation. It is going rather well, it’s one of the few things that actually gets me excited and interested, which has been hard for me here, you know.”

Edmund didn’t need to say anything. He wholeheartedly agreed that in comparison, Finchley, London, even University at times could be downright dull.

“So, what’s to come? I finish things up at Exeter, save up some money, maybe stay at Oxford and pursue a Masters of Letters. And, why not, let’s bring the girl back into the picture!” Peter rambled, waving a hand in the air. “Let’s say I meet ‘The One,’ or whatever nonsense that is about, we get married, find the perfect country estate to build a family....” Peter trailed off.

Edmund looked at him closely, his eyebrows raised expectantly. “And?”

Peter looked up, the low hanging stained glass lamp above them made his blonde hair glow. Edmund had to blink from the brightness of the reflection. He leaned slightly forward in anticipation and adjustment, and Peter looked him directly in the eye.

“It’s not Narnia, Ed,” Peter said simply, voice cracking. “It can never be Narnia.”

Edmund broke from his brother’s gaze and slumped down into his barstool.

“I-I don’t feel complete, and I fear I never will,” Peter finished.

The entirely too-young girl on the other side of Peter squealed loudly, breaking the tension, and there was a sound of ice hitting the bar as her drink spilled over. The girl laughed as her companion attempted to wipe up the mess with a couple of cocktail napkins. Edmund saw out of the corner of his eye the bartender shuffling over to help clean up the mess, while Peter casually looked over his shoulder, waiting for things to settle back down. Edmund took the time to let Peter’s confession sink in.

Peter obviously hadn’t allowed let the commotion break his concentration, and once the grumpy old man returned to the front of the bar, he continued. “And now, any children I do have will more than likely never see Narnia-I don’t know if I could even tell a potential family about Narnia. It’s such a huge part of me that I can never share with those I love most. Save for you and the girls, of course,” he quickly added. “I don’t know how I can give my all into a life here when such a big part of myself is missing.”

Clearly frustrated, Peter finally picked the knot out with his fingers, and tossed it over the bar. “I would have liked to have shared Narnia with a bride, Ed. I longed for one, but it just never happened.”

Edmund found himself momentarily stunned. If there was one subject that was only quietly discussed amongst he and his sisters, considered faux pas to even bring up with their brother, was that of Peter’s personal life. For one, he never had much of a personal life in Narnia. Peter had been the most public, the face of Narnia-Lucy coming in a close second. Edmund and Susan had the luxury of at least having some semblance of privacy, just by their nature.

All that considered, it was still always assumed that Peter’s line would always take precedence when the time came for that to happen. Edmund was absolutely fine with taking a back seat when it came to lineage and command. Though he once desired to be Prince of Narnia, have some semblance of power over his siblings, a promise she made once, that desire quickly vanished after his folly. The girls were never guaranteed to begin with to even stay in Narnia, though both felt in their hearts it would be hard to leave, even if Susan seriously considered it that one time.

It was generally thought, and Edmund even remembered discussing this one evening with his sisters towards the end of their reign, that when Peter decided to settle down that he just...would. They decided that he was no near ready to take on a bride, to settle down and even think about continuing his line. After all, for the first several years, they had the difficulty of not only learning how to even be monarchs, but also had the added benefit of experiencing the joys of simply growing up. It wasn’t until about halfway through their reign that Peter had established a rhythm to his life and his duties, at which point he finally began enjoying himself on the throne.

And off the throne, Edmund thought, pondering on those occasional unspoken nights in Anvard.

It was understandable that Peter was now feeling a loss of not being able to share his kingdom as originally assumed. A loss that he may have been feeling ever since they returned, a full eight years of mourning, assuming he hadn’t emotionally reverted as much as Edmund had, being older and all.

“I thought I was nearly complete on the throne at the Cair, and I figured the rest would eventually fall in place,” Peter voiced Edmund’s thoughts. “But it didn’t, and we came back here. I don’t even think it’s worth bringing children into the picture. Or even a wife, for that matter. I would never be able to give them my all.”

Edmund took a moment to gather his thoughts and take another drink of his gin. Peter’s arguments were quite valid, ones that Edmund had never even considered before. Edmund observed his brother, taking in how resigned he looked hunched over in his seat. “If you turn a blind eye to what eventually could be fantastic possibilities, Peter, you will end up on missing out on a very bright future here,” he finally said.

His brother started to protest, but Edmund held up his glass to stop him. “Before you say anything, let me finish. If you truly believe what you said, then yes, your life would be a waste. You will receive exactly what you are expecting-a self-fulfilling prophecy. But for all you know, Pete, your greatest adventure is yet to come.”

“Here. In London,” Peter snorted.

Edmund shrugged. “Why not? Why would you edit yourself so? You don’t know what’s to come.”

“Yes, and that’s the problem. I knew exactly what to expect in Narnia. Well, the majority of it anyway. Our lives were very much laid out before us, whereas here, the future is nothing but...indiscernible shadows,” Peter admitted. “And on top of it, there’s an emptiness that I feel here that I never felt in Narnia, which doesn’t help by any means.”

“But think on this for a moment-you already know your full potential,” Edmund said, his voice raising, but Peter didn’t look convinced. “Damn it, Pete, you’ve already achieved greatness, which is a lot more than any these blokes around us can claim!” Edmund gestured towards the rapidly filling tables behind them. “You do remember what you’re capable of, right?”

Edmund watched Peter’s head tilt in consideration. Yes. Of course he does.

“Listen. As much as we all romanticize it, you and Lucy in particular,” Edmund said with a pointed look, “Narnia was not perfect. We made mistakes, after all, many which weren’t evident until our return, when we had the advantage of looking back from the outside. But we didn’t know that at the time, and we did the best we could. Which is all that we can do now, all that Aslan expects of us to do.” Edmund set his glass down, giving the top of it a tap. “But the British Army is the biggest-and, might I say, the most experienced-military force between the U.S. and that damned iron curtain. I don’t care what that Shinwell says-to be reducing its numbers at this time is just folly!”

Peter didn’t even blink. “I agree, especially with the Soviets slowly creeping west as it is. I heard the Czechs-” Peter looked up to acknowledge the bartender that was standing between the two of them.

The barkeep had a wary look that shifted from Peter, over to Edmund, to Edmund’s shredded mess on the bar, then back to Peter. Peter raised an eyebrow in expectation. Edmund chose to believe the bartender’s hesitance was due to their earlier exchange and not because he overheard the two of them discussing absurdities such as magical lands and talking Lions. “‘Nother round?” he grunted, nodding at the brothers’ nearly empty glasses.

Edmund gave him a broad smile. “Thank you, sir, but no. We are thinking of clearing out soon. Let others have our seats and be able to enjoy your fine establishment and all.”

The man’s lip curled slightly in response, pulling a grungy bar towel off of his shoulder. The brothers watched the man shift over to the gentleman and the ridiculously young girl next to them before continuing their discussion.

Edmund leaned in closer to talk. He didn’t want to risk being overheard again. “Others have never even had Narnia, Pete. It was a gift. A fearful burden at times, but a gift granted upon us from Aslan all the same. We learned from that life to help us live this life. Take that as you will and do with it what you want. I can’t tell you what to do.” Edmund gave Peter an apologetic look and a dismissive wave and leaned back in his stool. “I’m not as comfortable at proselytizing as Lucy is, that’s for sure.”

Peter absentmindedly traced the rim of his glass. “No, you never have been,” he said, softly. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m not saying that I’m not going to try my best. But like I said before, there is a comfort in the limits that a ruler has. I find the future is so shaky here, the path is darker,” he reiterated. “It’s harder here to make decisions when the options are numerous. I fear the future, what’s to come. I don’t like not knowing, not being in control.”

“Yes, well, knowing what is ahead is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” Edmund scoffed. He tilted back his glass for the last drops of gin, causing the ice to rattle.

“What do you mean?”

“Leaving Narnia our final time. Lucy and myself, we knew an end would be coming. We had the preparation for the news that neither Susan nor yourself had. It was forever looming, just waiting on the horizon. A most uncomfortable feeling.” Though he had learned early on there was little he could confide in with his little sister, that was the one thing they shared. It weighed heavily on them both before their final return to Narnia and during their journey on the Dawn Treader.

Peter looked thoughtful and swirled the contents of his glass. “You have a point. I don’t know how I would have coped having that knowledge hanging over my head.”

“On the other hand, was it any different than when you first came to Narnia, though? I mean, Lucy did forewarn us all, we didn’t stumble blindly across it like she did. You were able to cope then.”

“But you also knew about it before you first visited,” Peter countered. “And you had your own problems upon arrival.”

Damn. There were two topics that Edmund truly dreaded discussing with his brother, the problems of his dark past in Narnia being one of them. “Please let’s not go there,” he said exasperatedly.

“We don’t have to.”

Edmund sighed. No, Pete, it’s too late. He tilted back his glass again. The gin was all gone, so he settled on an ice cube and began chewing. “No,” he garbled around a mouthful of ice. “On second thought, we should. I think it’s all relevant to your problem.”

“How so?” Peter asked.

Edmund thought back on the statue, her smooth and beautiful face, her outstretched arms. Her sword. “I truly despised coming back here, and the transition was a hell that none of us were prepared for...but she was gone, Pete.” Edmund’s eyes met his brother’s. “Thoroughly gone. That weight that was there, small though it was by the end, started to go away the second we tumbled out of that wardrobe. And it was completely lifted by the time we returned to London.”

“Wait a moment-you still felt her, Ed? The entire time we were there?” Peter asked, his brows arched in surprise.

Edmund gave his brother a tight smile and nodded.

Peter let out a low whistle. “I had no idea.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t like talking about it, did I?” Edmund said.

Peter slowly shook his head and placed a comforting hand on Edmund’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “I had no idea, Ed,” he repeated, letting his hand fall.

“It wasn’t so hard to manage the last year or two of our reign,” Edmund reassured. “I just learned to adapt. Use it to my advantage.” And Narnia’s. Edmund had molded his darker side to Narnia’s benefit, spending many an evening in far corners of establishments such as the one they were currently in. Though England isn’t as dangerous a place as Calormen or the former Telmarine border of Archenland. Not anymore, that is. “I truly believe that I became a better person because of it, a better ruler because I learned not to let it overpower me.”

“That is most assuredly evident,” Peter firmly offered.

Edmund chose to ignore the compliment and concentrated instead on a piece of ice that was suctioned to the bottom of his cup. He gently shook his glass to try to loosen it. “Yes...well. Anyway, back to the matter on hand. You mentioned an emptiness when you returned here?” he asked.

Peter nodded and leaned forward slightly.

“Well, I felt an emptiness, too-an emptiness where her memory used to linger. But it’s a clean slate now, Pete. She no longer weighs heavily on me,” Edmund admitted. “And you know what’s funny? I can’t even remember the feeling of those memories weighing down on me. All those years of learning to adapt to them, too. I just remember...adapting, I guess.”

“But what about the other two times you went back?” Peter asked.

Edmund gave up shaking and poked a finger to loosen the cube. “I felt a hint of it, but not near as much. Which made it worse that we were there the shortest then-a time when I could fully enjoy Narnia to its fullest and we’d be ripped away.

“But regardless of all that... I actually feel better here. Yes, our futures aren’t as laid out as they were in Narnia. But I do have hope, even if here is not Narnia. And it’s growing every day. It’s taken me by surprise, this hope.” Edmund tossed the lone cube back with a satisfying crunch. “I definitely didn’t see that coming.”

“I’ve always considered you rather hopeless myself.”

Peter must be feeling better. Edmund would have laughed had he not already heard the joke from his brother countless times. His drink now completely useless, he turned his attention back to his shredded coaster, idly alternating pinching the pieces into a small pile and spreading them out with his finger. Peter sat quietly in thought.

“Maybe we would not have lost Susan were she forewarned,” Peter finally mused. He looked expectantly up at Edmund, his eyes wide in revelation. “Maybe she would have been better prepared not let the memory slip away.”

And there’s topic number two. Damn it all to hell. Edmund felt that they had been making fantastic leeway-he was not in the mood to argue about Susan at this point. Edmund unbuttoned his cuffs and pushed up his sleeves. It was starting to get warm as the place filled and his liquor was consumed. A sudden thought gave Edmund pause. “Well, that’s always an option, Pete.”

“What is?”

“What you just said. ‘Let the memory slip away’,” Edmund offered. “Like Susan. We could gradually stop thinking about Narnia, allow us to fully immerse ourselves in the present time, the present place. Forget about it all.”

Peter looked insulted. “That is the most moronic idea I think you have ever had,” he clipped.

“Is it? It’s what we did in Narnia,” Edmund countered. “We adapted pretty well there.”

That caught his brother off guard. Peter tilted back the last of his scotch and set the glass down hard on the counter. “Not an option,” he curtly replied with a shake of his head.

Edmund shrugged, wishing his own glass still had something in it. He probably would feel something more than the slight buzz from the two drinks he had consumed if it hadn’t been for his mother’s pot roast. He considered calling the bartender back over and ordering another drink, but decided against it. His habit of playing devil’s advocate often resulted in regrettable hangovers.

“I will not allow any of us to go the way of Susan. Susan has always had her own path,” Peter said, sounding resigned. He scrubbed at his face, and blinked away the tension. “Sadly, it is not our own. She doesn’t want it to be.”

Edmund considered arguing on this, but quickly rejected the idea. This was one thing he did not want to be roped into discussing with Peter, no matter how talented his brother was in opening up a debate. Now was not the time, even if he did fault Peter somewhat on what happened with Susan once she started slipping. Talking down and outright interrogating her about Aslan, or the sea journeys to the Lone Islands, or, hell, even mentioning bloody Rabadash only led to confusion on her part and anger on Peter’s. And Edmund’s. And much sadness all around.

“Once the memories started slipping, Susan could no longer logically rationalize Narnia,” he allowed himself to say. “And that’s just her nature. Therefore, she doesn’t think on it.” Edmund paused. No, it is the time to say it. Damn you, Peter. “We need to realize that nothing the rest of us do will ever change that. We can’t change her. We have no business in doing so.”

Edmund abruptly stopped and shook his head. “Sorry...I had a moment of déjà vu there. Has that been said before? Or was it from a dream?”

“No, you’re correct, it wasn’t a dream.” Peter’s eyes squinted, digging deep in his memory. He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Glasswater, was it not? On The Claws! We were coming back from the Olvin Fields-”

“Olvin Valley,” Edmund corrected, but nodded as he slowly remembered.

“The Olvin Valley Campaign. Yes, that’s right. I forgot.” The irony was not lost upon Edmund.

“I remember it because it was the birthday I spent in battle. Some birthday that was,” Edmund muttered. Memories flashed by him, memories of sore limbs and damp weather. The tragic loss of one of the finest Cats he ever had the honor of leading, coming back from that first altercation Narnia had with Telmar.

Like I said earlier, we made mistakes in Narnia. “I think it was about the same age we are now. No, it was exactly the same age we are now.” Edmund barked out a laugh and rested his head in his hands.

Peter shook his head in wonder. “Fifteen years ago.”

“Yes, and it will always be the difference of fifteen,” Edmund muttered, rubbing his eyes. “You know, there is a psychologist in Switzerland who would find our experiences an invaluable case study. This evening alone is rather synchronistic. In a way.” Edmund looked up again and frowned. “Then again, considering the path our timelines, he might find it all a bit too causal for his tastes.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, but I trust you do.”

Edmund laughed humorously. “Not really. I will never be at peace with the idea of a timeline that wibbles and wobbles so.”

Peter slowly nodded, his eyes glazed as he stared across the bar at the portraits. “I-I do remember how frustrated and torn Susan felt in Narnia, Ed. When she was in our shoes,” he quietly conceded.

Acknowledgement and understanding. Finally. “But she also doesn’t have this conflict, you know, the emptiness that you’re feeling. And she’s much the happier for it,” Edmund softly added. “Now, you tell me, which would you prefer? To remain blissfully ignorant or to cherish the highs, knowing the lows will always be a half step behind?”

Peter started to speak but then hesitated. “Not that I do have a choice...but I would not change a thing were I given the opportunity,” he finally said.

Edmund smiled, satisfied with his brother’s answer. “And neither would Susan, I’m sure,” he concluded. “It’s all either of you know.”

Peter stared deep into his empty glass in thought while Edmund picked up a handful of the bits of coaster. “All that said, I do miss Narnia, too,” he said, breaking the silence. “Even with Jadis hanging over me.”

Peter looked up at Edmund, but didn’t say anything.

Edmund let the pieces sift through his fingers, and offered his brother a sad smile. “If only we all could have the best of both worlds, huh?”

As the brothers fell quiet once again, the sounds of the pub seemed to get louder. With a rush, Edmund became aware of the bodies and their respective energies in the room. The King of Prussia was at near capacity, with echoes of laughter and friendly arguments bouncing across the room. The mismatched couple to the right of Peter had been replaced with a group of four young men squeezed around the two stools, flagging for the attention of the bartender.

Edmund looked over at his brother and saw Peter give him a slight nod. In silent agreement, they stood up and Edmund reached underneath to grab Peter’s bag and suitcase. Upon standing up, he saw Peter looking at Edmund’s pile of papery shreds. Wait, did I make that mess? Peter then fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a coin, placing it on the bar.

They had to squeeze by patrons crowded around the tables, young and old alike perched in wooden chairs blocking the aisle towards the door. While Peter dug around for their coats, Edmund turned to give the establishment one last sweep-a habit of his from many years spent as the Shadow of Narnia, as Lord Peridan had jokingly called him. Edmund saw through the cloud of cigarette smoke the disgruntled bartender pocket the coin and clean up the mess Edmund had made, while the party that was next to them quickly filled in to occupy the newly empty seats.

As Edmund shoved the door closed behind them, the dull roar of the pub came to a silent halt. Peter shrugged into is coat and adjusted his collar. “You’re right, Ed,” he said, looking up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be found, and the few stars that broke through the glow of London twinkled down. “We still have plenty of time ahead of us. Who knows what is to come.”

Edmund handed the rucksack back to his brother in exchange for his coat, but he didn’t put it on right away. “Give me a couple of years, and I can at least guarantee that I will able to look you straight in the eye again.”

“Just barely look me in the eye, you mean,” Peter argued.

Edmund laughed and turned right on the sidewalk. He allowed his brother to trail a half step behind him as they continued south towards their parents’ home.

The brothers continued walking in silence for several minutes. Edmund appreciated the cooler air of the March evening on his cheeks. The pub had started to get stifling towards the end, and he took a deep breath of the air and enjoyed the invigorating feeling in his lungs. Peter’s footsteps clipped behind him.

“So, what do you think I should do first, Ed?” Peter asked. “There are so many paths I can take. I have a freedom I’m not used to having. You know, not being King anymore and all.”

“You really want my opinion?” Edmund tossed over his shoulder. He could see headlights approaching from behind Peter, putting his brother in silhouette.

Peter waited until the automobile passed by them before speaking. “You have always been my most trusted advisor.”

“Well,” Edmund said. “You could call on that girl, start from there.”

“You mean the girl that I asked you to forget about,” Peter stated.

“Yes, that one.”

A few seconds passed before Peter answered. “Perhaps.” Edmund detected a hint of a smile in his voice.

As they left the central part of the village, the street lamps became fewer and far between, and the houses that were lit up earlier had gone dark for the night. Edmund looked over to his right and saw the waxing half-moon hovering just over the tops of the row of houses with their manicured lawns and shrubbery, soon to be setting in the west.

They stopped briefly when they reached Chessington Avenue. Abruptly, he heard Peter speak again from behind him. “You’ve always been there for me.”

Edmund could see the statue ahead at Henly’s Corner, an eerie glow being cast on the smooth stone from the dull light of the moonlight. He turned away from it, not giving it a moment’s thought, and looked at his brother standing in his shadow from a nearby streetlamp.

“As you have for me,” Edmund softly replied. “After all these years, we still are each other’s mentor and student, wouldn’t you say?”

That caused Peter to crack a wan smile. With one last clap to the back, he urged Edmund to lead them towards home, with Peter following in his footsteps.

Edmund smiled.




La Délivrance, Émile Oscar Guillaume. Henly’s Corner, Finchley, London, U.K.

“Life wants not only the clear but also the muddy, not only the bright but also the dark; it wants all days to be followed by nights, and wisdom herself to celebrate her carnival, of which indeed there are not a few traces in alchemy. For these reasons, too, the king constantly needs the renewal that begins with a descent into his own darkness, an immersion in his own depths, and with a reminder that he is related by blood to his adversary.”

-Carl G. Jung, “IV Rex and Regina,” in Mysterium Coniunctionis, Second Edition. Translated by R.F.C. Hull.

Part 1

Original Prompt:
What I want: Edmund-centric. Something to do with Jadis haunting him (whether just in his head or otherwise). Fencing. The relationship between brothers. The comparisons and contrasts between Narnia and England. The dichotomy between time periods. As far as tone - something quiet, somber, but not without hope.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: "...I will show you something different from either/Your shadow at morning striding behind you/Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;/I will show you fear in a handful of dust." - T.S. Eliot
What I definitely don't want in my fic: Incest, slash, romance, sex, unhappy endings, OCs, Pevensie deaths, overt fluff or angst.