sagittariusly | Entries tagged with *thirtycoins

[ In the far-lying future, Edmund will look upon his childhood with a self-indulgent smile: he'll remember the rolling green hills, the wheatgrass in the wind, Lucy laughing in a tangle of coltish limbs. He'll remember summers spent penning letters to faraway statesmen, sitting in the nook upon his high courtyard, drinking glasses of cool lemon-lime, and finally feeling that he'd found his place in the world.

Now, however, the future is a bright spot far out of his reach. In fact, even the incumbent promise of supper is a bright spot far out of reach, as this lesson has dragged on far too long for Edmund's liking.

It's not that he doesn't find the vast majority of his Narnian studies interesting — he does, he truly does — but for every ten days spent devouring the library's tomes, there is one like today, slumped over his desk, the murmuring of their faun instructor just a bit of white noise on the edge of his consciousness.

(Why in Aslan's name do they need to know about the mating rituals of all furred, feathered, and hooved creatures in Narnia, anyway? Surely kingship won't involve mating with all of them!)

Peter and Lucy, as High King and the resident baby of the court respectively, managed to beg off with the excuse of having a late-summer harvest at Anvard to attend. Of course, someone needed to stay behind to mind Cair, and someone else had to stay behind so that their misery could be shared. Lucky Edmund. Lucky Susan.

Edmund, rucking a glance up at Mister Softfallow (the poor fellow is half-blind, anyway), tears a bit of paper from the edge of his (very blank) notes, and scribbles down a half-legible message. He then balls it up and tosses it Susan's way.

(Ten points if he hits her square in the forehead!)

Unfortunately (or fortunately, rather, as Susan's wrath can be a terrible thing), it falls to the wayside, and lands instead into her lap. ]