Disclaimer: if I owned Narnia, I would just go live there forever, instead of writing fanfiction. Sigh.
Note: Extraordinary children have extraordinary parents, which is what I'm trying to show here. I hope you enjoy!
—viennacantabile
meditations
three – turkish delight
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Today, the Pevensie household is in a state of excitement. Mr. Pevensie is due to return from a weeklong visit to Southampton, and six year-old Edmund has been anxiously awaiting his arrival all day.
"But when will he be here, Mother?" Edmund tugs at Mrs. Pevensie's sleeve.
"Just when I told you the last time you asked, Edmund darling," answers Mrs. Pevensie patiently, as she has done half a hundred times this day. "He should be here any minute now."
"But he's late," frets Susan, at nine easily disheartened. "What could have happened?"
"He'll be here," says five year-old Lucy confidently, from the shelter of her mothers arms. "I know he will."
Peter pats Susan's shoulder encouragingly, already the family rock at a mere ten years of age. "Listen to Lucy," he says cheerily. "She's always right, when it comes to Father."
Mrs. Pevensie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it abruptly when the sound of a key in a lock is clearly heard.
"Father!" shrieks Edmund, pelting for the door. The Pevensie children mob the figure in the door with embraces and chattering, while Lucy waves her short arms around in delight.
"Well, now!" laughs Mr. Pevensie. "I can see that you're just fine. No fear, I have presents for you all. But first, a kiss from my sweetheart!" he cries, grinning rakishly. Mrs. Pevensie blushes a bright red, but obliges. "You'll get your present later," whispers her husband conspiratorially in her ear, and she can't help but give him a small smile of her own.
Once untangled from his three older children, Mr. Pevensie looks gravely at his eldest son. "Have you been good, Peter?" he asks mock-sternly. "Have you looked after your mother, brother and sisters in a manner that befits a Pevensie?"
Peter salutes smartly. "I have, sir!"
"Good soldier," smiles his father proudly, clapping him on the shoulder. "And good soldiers get what they deserve, don't they?" He produces a box of tin soldiers. "Now, I expect you to take as good care of them as you do your family, you understand?"
"Yes, Father," says Peter earnestly. "I will."
Mr. Pevensie next rummages in his pocket, taking out an exquisite doll dressed in green satin. "Only the best in all of Southampton shall I give to you, my dear Susan." He smoothes his daughter's hair and speaks to her with gentle affection. "I scoured all the fine shops just for you, Susan darling. I hope you like her."
Susan cannot speak just then, but her shining eyes as she caresses the doll's dark curls and embraces her father are thanks enough. Mr. Pevensie smiles fondly at her, then turns to his youngest son. "And for you, Edmund—something that has made its way all the way from the Orient to meet you!" He adopts a mystical, enigmatic voice. "From the palaces of the sultans, aboard the ships of Britain, across the waves of the Mediterranean—just for you." He deposits a small package in his son's hand.
The boy stares at the square, silver-papered box with wide, curious eyes.
"Oh, stop it," scolds Mrs. Pevensie, a smile twitching around her lips.
"Yes, Edmund Pevensie, you lucky, lucky boy," continues Mr. Pevensie, ignoring his wife, "this little box of the rarest Turkish Delight is all for you! Guard it well, young sir, guard it well."
A smile makes its way onto his small face. "I shall," he says breathlessly, "with my very life, sir!"
Mr. Pevensie salutes him. "And if you are honorable and faithful to your task," he says, winking, "You shall be appointed Captain of the Royal Guard of the Castle Pevensie."
He turns to present a fuzzy golden lion to an impatient Lucy, who is bouncing up and down in her mother's arms. Edmund hears very little though, as he imagines an elaborate promotion ceremony, filled with swords and firing guns and pageantry. It is not until his brother nudges him that he blinks out of his reverie.
"Can we see it?" asks Peter, his voice friendly.
"Go on," urges Susan excitedly. "Open it!"
Edmund shakes his head no. He will save it, he has decided, until he is alone. He clutches the package tightly. Later, he will open the box, and eat a single piece, and it will be the most heavenly thing he has ever tasted. It will also mark Mr. Pevensie's last gift to his son before his departure for the war, and the last time Edmund may easily have the heavily rationed sugar. To Edmund, Turkish Delight comes to represent his father, and the only happiness he has ever known.
It will be two years before the sweetmeat is offered to him again. Two years before the Pevensies' departure for the countryside, and his careless steps into a Wardrobe. And when it is given, he takes it eagerly, only wishing to remember his absent father and taste his love again. But in the end, Turkish Delight brings about the end of Edmund's childhood.
.
Many years later, Mrs. Pevensie cannot understand why her youngest son should refuse the candy he has so loved. After all, the war is over, sugar is freely flowing, and it is a time to celebrate.
But instead—"No, thank you, Mum," he says, ever so politely, his face carefully blank. "I really—I really don't care for it anymore, actually."
This, in itself, is a mystery.
Of all of her children, Edmund has changed the most since they were sent away to Professor Kirke's house in the country. Where once he teased his sisters and sulked at Peter, he is now thoughtfully sober—as if he has learned the value of deliberation before action. It is a change for the better, Mrs. Pevensie reflects, but she does rather miss the bright, impetuous little boy who used to dart about the house chasing shadows. And of the boy Edmund, only a shadow remains. A grave young man inhabits his adolescent body instead.
Mrs. Pevensie supposes this is the way of things, after all. War has produced men out of children for millennia. Though her heart aches for her child not-child, it can't be helped. And so, Mrs. Pevensie only secretly mourns her child's innocence as she speaks of law and politics with Edmund—and only secretly does she wrap the rejected piece of Turkish Delight in her handkerchief and lay it aside to wait in a drawer until the boy Edmund returns again.
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.end.