Welcome to Tale of Years: 1918! For now, it really is just the prologue; I have several chapters finished, but I probably won't begin updating until several months from now. My writing has been slow and spotty the past couple of years, so I really want to be ready before I start posting the main chapters. So for now, you can enjoy this as a little one-shot and follow the story so you'll be notified when Chapter 1 is ready. (The truth is, I'm just really excited to get this out and hoping it will give my muse a boost!)
Note to new readers: Welcome! My Tale of Years series is a big ongoing collection of Twilight prequels. The full-length fics (numbered by year) are all in Edward's POV and the one-shots (the Stars Along the Way collection) are in various POVs. Pomegranate Seeds is the one exception to the prequel rule, but it's an honorary part of the series since everything is in canon with Tale of Years. Happy Reading!
Summer 1907
Chicago, Illinois
The battle would begin any moment.
Rank upon rank of infantry stood ready under the piano bench. Two neat lines of cavalry hugged each side of the armchair, hiding in reserve, waiting for the signal to form the right flank on a moment's notice. Sprawled across the seat of the chair, the heavy artillery waited too. Across the vast field of Persian carpet stood the enemy. On both sides, every tin face was grimly painted, eager for combat and glory. The two generals met for an armistice one last time.
"I think my cavalry should lead the charge," General Shaw suggested.
"No way," General Masen said. "The cavalry has to try and save the day, right at the end. They could wait inside the music cabinet?"
"All right."
The generals saluted each other in grave respect. They would not meet again on this earth. The battle would be ruthless, and one of them would fight to the last with his men in glorious defeat. But in this final, solemn moment, Generals Leonard Shaw and Edward Masen were comrades. They turned to face their regiments.
The field stood in silence. Two hundred pairs of tin eyes looked up at the grandfather clock that stood on the far side of the piano by the picture window. Three. Two. One.
The clock bellowed its first chime and the armies surged into action. Foot soldiers inched forward with frantic precision, row by row. Each soldier's movement was limited to the wobble of his footboard, so progress took time. General Masen's men were even slower in their advance, though they kept their formation with rigorous precision. Each general worked silently, galloping down along his ranks to cheer them on, wobbling a soldier in each hand as fast as he could. When the grandfather clock chimed quarter past, the armies were in shooting range.
"Fire cannons!" General Shaw cried, jumping in a surprise attack to reach his artillery, which stood ready on the right arm of the couch. He flipped the levers in quick succession, releasing the marbles into the air to go crashing down into the helpless ranks of General Masen's command. Both boys shrieked in fun as the soldiers were sent sprawling.
"Left flank, charge!" General Masen commanded. He scrambled on hands and knees to assist his soldiers.
At the same moment, General Shaw leaped down from the couch, calling for his cavalry to join the fray. He landed on an unsteady foot and flung out an arm to catch himself, sweeping an entire platoon of Masen's men off their feet.
"LENNY!"
"It was an accident," Lenny insisted.
"It'll take forever to make it right," Edward said, growing red in the face. He scrambled over to right his poor soldiers. "Watch what you're doing!"
"I said I was sorry!"
"No you didn't!"
"Fine! Sorry!" Lenny crawled, more carefully this time, back to his side. He began to reach for a cavalryman.
"That's not fair. You have to wait and help me fix them," Edward protested.
Lenny thought about this for a moment. "I'll do a truce," he agreed, "but set them up yourself."
"You knocked them down!"
"It's your army—hey, that first row wasn't that far up!"
"Were too."
"Were not."
"Were too!"
"Were NOT!"
"You're a liar!"
"You're a cheat!"
"Take that back!" Edward balled his fists, then changed his mind and grabbed up a handful of infantry. He launched them at the enemy, who countered with an aerial attack of his own.
"Boys...? Boys."
By the time Brigadier General Elizabeth Masen arrived on the field to enforce peace talks, both generals were crying and shouting dirty words they had learned from the older boys down the street. Tin soldiers littered the living room carpet in a random display of carnage. A lamp lay knocked over onto its side.
"It's time for a break," Elizabeth said firmly, stepping into no-man's-land to right the lamp. "I've got some sugar cookies coming out of the oven in… Eddie, are you all right?"
Edward was coughing as well as crying. "He knocked over a whole platoon!" he reported savagely. Another cough caught on the last word.
"Bygones," Elizabeth said lightly. "Let's go into the kitchen for a while and you can help me take the cookies off the pan. Come on, Lenny, you too."
Edward's coughing continued as he stood up, wiping the last tears off his cheek. The next cough was a hoarse, barking sound. Elizabeth quickened her steps into the kitchen and quickly poured a glass of lemonade from the icebox.
"Drink this down, right now," she said, handing it to Edward.
"May I have one too, Mrs. Masen?" Lenny asked.
"Of course, dear," she said absently, watching Edward's face. His coughs were still slipping out between sips of lemonade. He set the glass down and gripped the edge of the table, letting out one long, hard cough that whistled at the end.
"Slow breaths," Elizabeth said. She leaned in and laid an ear on Edward's back.
"What's wrong?" Lenny asked, looking back and forth between Elizabeth and his friend. "Why can't he breathe right?"
"I can too bre..." Edward said, ending in another coughing-and-crying fit. Lenny backed away, kneading a toy soldier in his hand.
"Go on home now, Lenny," Elizabeth ordered. "Edward will have to play another time."
Lenny rushed to scoop up the rest of his soldiers, watching his friend anxiously over his shoulder on the way out the door a minute later. Elizabeth worked quickly to get the kettle on, chanting "Slowwww breaths" as she went to get the blanket. Before long, the kettle was singing. Edward dutifully sat inside the makeshift kettle fort Elizabeth held around him, inhaling the steam from the kettle. Elizabeth chattered on while Edward did his breaths. The council was groundbreaking; a new kind of battle was proposed. Next time, the generals would be allowed to use the dining room chairs and bedsheets to build a real fort.
"We could make tunnels," the little voice piped up from inside the blanket.
"Exactly," Elizabeth said.
One more kettle fort council and two asthma cigarettes later, Edward had not improved. He leaned back into the wooden chair with his eyes closed now. The muscles in his neck stood out in effort with each wheezing breath. When the skin around his mouth began to take on a blue tinge, Elizabeth scooped him up and carried him outside, looking around frantically to see if anyone in the neighborhood had an automobile at home today. Gratefully, she ran toward number six.
.
.
.
"When we go home tomorrow," Elizabeth announced, "We're going to tell Daddy it's high time we installed a telephone. I don't care how cantankerous he thinks it is."
"Lenny has a telephone!" Edward said, bouncing up onto his knees in the hospital bed.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. "Yes, Lenny's house has a telephone now. I should have remembered that. Lie down, darling."
"One time he called his uncle all the way in New York! Do we know anybody in New York we can call?"
"Lie down, darling."
"I! can't!" Edward said gleefully between bounces and promptly began coughing again.
"Lie down AT ONCE," Elizabeth said sharply. "Unless you want another shot to help you breathe. Shall I call the doctor?"
Edward flopped down onto the pillows. Elizabeth collapsed back into her chair and rubbed her forehead, glancing down at the stack of scribbled notes in her hand. Each time Edward was admitted, a new doctor showed up claiming to have all the answers and a whole new list of instructions to follow at home. It was nearly eight o'clock—time for her usual battle with the nurses, and she hadn't even gotten dinner yet.
"Do you have a headache, Mother?" Edward said. He started to sit up but remembered the hated needle and lay back down to stare up at the ceiling. Only his toes danced back and forth. "You can go home now. Bobby's mother never stays."
"Bobby's mother has three other children at home. Before you say it," Elizabeth said, raising her voice to greet the nurses who were peeking into the ward, "I'm not leaving. I never leave. You can ask the charge nurse and she'll tell you I never leave. My husband will know to bring my things. I'd be very grateful to have a bed but I don't need one. Edward wants some of those new animal crackers, if you've got any, and some milk, and two extra blankets. Thank you for everything. Goodnight." The nurses backed out the door and disappeared.
With the battle won, Elizabeth finally smiled and relaxed enough to scoot closer and brush Edward's sweaty red hair out of his eyes. "You were very brave when you got your medicine," she told him. "I think we should celebrate by visiting the bakery next time we go to your piano lesson."
Edward didn't answer.
"I've heard they have lemon meringue for the summer."
No answer.
Elizabeth bent down and rummaged in her bag until she found the two tin soldiers she'd hidden there after the last hospital trip. "Look who came along," she said brightly. "Sergeant Johnson and Captain Daddy. They weren't lost after all." Edward took the soldiers.
"How come you stay every time?" he asked. "Is it because you think I'm going to die like Baby Alice did?"
"You're not going to die," Elizabeth said with a quick little laugh. Baby Alice was a subject best avoided. Asthma was a frightening enemy, but at least those were battles that could be fought. How could she defend a six-year-old heart when it was determined to carry a man-sized burden of guilt and fear?
"You just need extra help for your asthma now and then," she said. "Just like some boys need to wear eyeglasses to see the chalkboard at school."
Edward rolled over closer to study his mother's face. The jitters brought on by the adrenaline shots stilled as his dark green eyes took on a familiar look of intense study. Sometimes, when he looked at her like that, Elizabeth felt sure she wasn't hiding anything.
"That's not the same thing," Edward muttered, watching for her response.
"No, I suppose not. But I've told you before: I don't want you to worry about what happened to Baby Alice. Small babies just die sometimes, that's all. You're big and strong, and you're my brave soldier, Eddie-boy. I feel brave when I'm with you."
"That's good." Edward rolled back over and clacked his soldiers together in a thoughtful rhythm. "You make me feel brave too."
Oh, my darling boy… my whole world. Elizabeth smiled and held in her tears, settling instead for a kiss. "I love you," she whispered into his hair.
"Anyway, you don't ever have to be afraid," Edward said, squirming out of her arms to play again. He began marching the soldiers atop his belly. "You don't have to be afraid because I promise I'm going to live forever."
Chapter 1 will bring us forward to 1918 and begin Edward's first-person POV. I'm so excited to dive back into the beginning of Edward's journey with you all! Please drop a review if you have a moment—I'd love to hear from you. Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see in this fic? I have a running list of "things to include" and I'm happy to add your ideas as long as they line up with my plans.