I wrote this as part of my Carmine anthology for the Adventures in Narnia 2021 Encore, but I've since decided I would prefer it be posted separately. Set in the summer of 1942, not long before VDT. It's also set in my Sunshine 2.0 universe (brief intro on profile), though I'm not going to label it canon for that. Some details were chosen specifically for this fic and may or may not end up as an official part of the AU. Further AN can be found at: tmblr . co/ZrXgjTauHbSmyq00
Lucy sends him a short letter that July, asking him to visit. Ed sends one back, saying he will come as soon as he can. On the first day of August, he meets her under the willow in front of her aunt's house.
"They wouldn't have allowed a stranger inside. They're quite strict, you see," she says with a toss of her golden curls. "No meat, no wine (not they would offer it to us if they did have any), too few blankets on the beds. And since they enforce those rules on their son, they naturally expect their niece and nephew to adhere to them as well, so long as we're here." Her nose wrinkles. "You know the Shavians. Thank the Lion we're only here for summer hols, and they're already near two weeks gone."
"I've always found your system baffling, you know. To be at school for close to eleven months out of twelve?" Ed assumes a pensive expression and shakes his head piously. "This is why we Yankees rebelled."
One corner of her mouth turns up. "Our holidays are longer than yours."
"But we have more."
"You have more because they are shorter."
"Except in the summer."
Lucy sticks her tongue out, and they grin at each other. It's an old, comfortable argument, and one they revisit every time a visit must be planned around English half-term breaks.
"Why are you in Cambridge, though?" Ed sits down on the meticulously-groomed lawn and looks up at the plain beige house, all its windows flung wide open. "Ordinarily it's London. And why only you and Edmund?"
She seats herself across from him, neatly arranging her skirt. "Peter's off with Professor Kirke, studying for his School Certificate. Really he wanted to take it last year, but the Board told him that while they were happy to occasionally make an exception and administer a Year Ten exam to a qualified Year Nine student, they definitely considered Year Eight too young."
Lucy glances away. Her mouth twists, and her eyes look back in time. "It's hard, sometimes—being young again, when you've known so much before, and been taken so much more seriously. We've all grown somewhat used to it, but now and again it still takes us by surprise."
This also is an old familiar topic, and Ed nods. He may have never known life in another world, but he very well understands the phenomenon of being older than one looks.
"Anyway," Lucy resumes, "Mother and Father could only afford to take one child on Father's American lecture tour, and they thought Susan would get the most from it, and they certainly couldn't leave Ed and me alone in London for all of summer hols. So here we are, at Aunt Alberta's."
"Does not the professor possess a grand mansion that could easily house the both of you as well as Peter?"
She plucks a dandelion and twists it back and forth between her fingers. "He does, but a storm badly damaged it this past June and it's still under repair. Miss Plummer graciously offered him the use of her flat while she's in Portugal, but..." She shrugs. "It's hardly big enough to fit two, let alone four. And Peter doesn't need distractions."
"Sensible. Unfortunate for you younger ones, however."
Lucy waves this off. "Oh, it's not so bad. We've certainly been through worse. Cousin Eustace is quite unpleasant, but at least I don't have to share a room with him. Poor Edmund."
They sit in silence for a bit, enjoying the shade beneath the willow, the sound of the wind rustling through the long branches, the ripples it makes in the ocean of green, and the winking glitters of sun that poke through the leaves. After a while, Ed thinks of something.
"Your father's tour is in America. Do you know where he is speaking?"
Lucy groans and flops backwards onto the grass. "Oh, Ed, I'm no good with names like that. I think it was a group of famous old colleges? With some others as well; it's a four-month engagement. Um...I remember William and Mary, because those are English, and Yale because it's short. And I think Father mentioned the oldest school in America had invited him."
Instantly Ed leaps to attention. "Harvard."
"Yes, that was it."
"I attend Harvard."
"Really?" Lucy sits up again, this time leaning on one arm, a roguish gleam twinkling in her eye. "You must be quite the scholar, Yankee boy."
"Oh, no more than yourself, little Queen." Ed claps a hand to his heart and exaggeratedly bows as best he can while seated, and Lucy grins. "Ordinarily I don't pay much attention to summer term, but I shall have to see if I can at least make your father's lecture, supposing it has not already passed."
"Well, that's quite decent of you, though I'm not sure how interesting you'll find it. I've always thought it quite dull whenever Father discusses it. Edmund enjoys it, though."
"I enjoy what?"
Ed jumps at the unexpected voice. Lucy squeaks in surprise and nearly loses her balance, and Edmund swiftly steadies her. "Enjoy what, Lu?"
"Father's job."
"Ah." Edmund smirks. "Indeed, our Lu's never really been one for the intricacies of theoretical physics. She prefers her numbers easily defined, solidly concrete, and immediately applicable to everyday life."
Lucy smacks him lightly. "And so you would as well, Edmund, if you had been chief accountant of the kingdom!"
All three of them laugh, and they spend the rest of the afternoon in enjoyable conversation.
He does in fact make the lecture, two days after he gets back. He can see why Lucy might consider it dull, but her father is clearly an accomplished scholar in his field, and Edward finds his intellect and passion for the subject quite engaging.
At one point, Dr. Pevensie's roaming gaze passes absently over Edward's row...then abruptly returns to fasten on him for several seconds. He winces inwardly as he hears the man immediately resolve to corner him later—he'd hoped to attend inconspicuously, but now that he's been seen, it would be foolish to try and slip away.
Following the lecture, he remains in his seat, pretending to scribble some notes. Even without vampire senses, he can hear Justin Pevensie answer the questions of several excited young men—and one young woman—who have accosted him. After they have all been dealt with, he hears the older man's cane tap briskly toward him.
"Why, Cullen, what a surprise to see you here!" He takes a second look at Ed, almost as if expecting something to change. "You never told us you attended Harvard!"
Ed rises to shake the man's proffered hand. "It never came up, sir."
"What do you study here, my lad?"
"Medicine, sir. I should like to heal people." Perhaps it will help atone for some small part of my crimes, he thinks, but does not say.
"A fine ambition! I cannot imagine your study has much need of my own field, however. Do you make a habit of attending all the summer lectures?"
"Only when I find them particularly interesting, sir," Ed says with a grin.
His bit of sincere flattery yields a laugh from Justin. "Well, at any rate I'm glad you chose to attend mine. Yet how odd that I should find you in a town called Cambridge! Do you know, my youngest two are in our own Cambridge right now?"
"Yes, sir. Lucy wrote as much in her last letter."
The older man sighs. "Such a pity we could not bring them as well as Susan—Edmund would have demanded to sit in on every lecture, and Lucy would have adored exploring the shops and parks. It was gracious of my sister to open her home to them, even though we've not spoken much in recent years. Her philosophies of late have been..." He pauses for a moment, then shrugs in exasperation. "Well, I cannot say I disagree with the Fabians' motivations, only their methods."
"I agree completely, sir. It is always unfortunate when an admirable and praiseworthy desire to improve society is paired with a poorly-constructed plan for doing so. In fact, that reminds me of a point you made in your lecture..."
They discuss the talk for several minutes. Engaging one-on-one with a brilliant academic mind is a rare treat for Ed, and he finds it thrilling. Only at the end, after Dr. Pevensie has invited him to visit some time this fall ("I'll see what I can do, sir") and they are saying their farewells, does a minor snag occur.
"You know, Cullen," Justin says as they walk together toward the exit. "Something struck me when I saw you today, but I could not put my finger on it immediately. I hope you don't mind my asking, but I recall your eyes being brown. Yet today they are much lighter, nearly the color of honey. How is that?"
Oh dear, Ed thinks with some trepidation. I cannot lie to him, but at the same time I certainly cannot tell him the truth, especially when his mind is not sealed like those of his children. He debates what to say for seven-tenths of a second, and makes a decision.
"They have appeared to change shade regularly since I was young, sir."
(This is, strictly speaking, true—Ed simply neglects to mention that "young" for him begins in 1918, when he became a vampire. And it's true enough, for he has only been such for twenty-four years, barely even a babe in the cradle compared to some.)
Justin considers this for a few moments. "That could be a sign of a serious optic problem, young man. I trust you have consulted a physician?"
"Yes, sir. He told me there are no problems with my vision, and it is likely nothing more than a strange quirk of my body's reaction to my own melanin. I visit him regularly."
(This is, strictly speaking, true—Ed simply neglects to mention that the doctor in question is Carlisle, whom he lives with, and that the original statement was given in the context of vampiric anatomy rather than human optometry.)
Dr. Pevensie nods approvingly. "I would expect nothing less from a medical student. Well, Cullen, I've enjoyed this fortuitous meeting, and I'm sure we would all look forward to seeing you in London this fall. Though, must you really leave now? My wife and daughter would be pleased as punch to find you here."
Edward bows slightly. "I'm afraid I must, sir; my father expects me home earlier than some do."
(This is, strictly speaking, true—Ed simply neglects to mention that Carlisle requires him to return by sunrise, but he knows of several Harvard fathers who set no curfew whatsoever for their sons.)
"But please give them my love," he continues, "and I will speak to him about your invitation. Travel safe, sir, and I pray the rest of your engagement goes well." They exchange a final handshake in the hallway, and turn to leave in opposite directions.
As he makes his way home, Edward thinks about the difference between lies, and truths, and how he ought to classify words that are deliberately accurate in letter but not in spirit. He thinks about how he can speak frankly with Justin's children, but not Justin himself, for the father and mother do not have the same protection as their offspring and are therefore vulnerable in a way the younger Pevensies are not. He thinks about how he and Carlisle must consciously adjust all their interactions with people so as to not stand out, and modify their speech and appearance to match their putative ages, and avoid direct sunlight as much as possible. He thinks about how they must create and constantly perpetuate a new family history every time they move, and invent methods of explaining their inhuman features in believably-human ways.
Deep down, he hopes that one day, someday, he will no longer have to hide.