Fearless • P. Pevensie

Wardrobe

"Please do make yourselves accustomed to this space. It's an old office, and it's partially been turned into a library over the years. Though these days, it's mostly just been collecting dust."

I try my best to keep myself talking, finding it mundane to go through the entire house room by room though I know it's floor-plan my heart. I've learned rather quickly that any long silences shared between myself and the Pevensies seems to dampen the already grim mood. In an effort to combat this, I've been trying to say whatever comes to mind. If I don't stop talking, there can't be any silence.

"These days? How long have you lived with the Professor?" Lucy asks me, as I watch the others gently touching things around the room. Scoping the area out, trying to find something to do. I suppose that there's a lot of that around here, just idly trying to find something to do to pass the time. They're going to have to get used to it.

"Oh. Well, Mrs. Macready started working for him long before I ever came into her care. So, I must've been very young. Perhaps I was just still a toddler?" I assume, folding my hands as I think back about it.

I don't quite know, truthfully. In almost all of my memories, I've been here. Sat within these walls, slowly going mad. I can't remember when I got here. Nor do I think anyone's ever told me.

"Are you not sure?" Susan asks me. I give her a small shrug, and a rather uninterested look.

It may seem peculiar to her, but the estate is just what I've always known. Why be bothered to figure out when I'd came? What matters more is that I'm stuck here now. Hopefully biding my time, and not truly trapped forever.

I've got memories of my parents, I do. I can even still remember their smiles all these years later. Not so much their faces, not anymore. No pictures of them survived the fire, and I was just so young when it happened that the memories have all faded to nearly nothing. But, I still remember their smiles, if nothing else. That brings me enough relief most days.

"What happened to your parents?" Edmund asks.

"Ed!" Susan and Peter simultaneously spin around to scold him, which is admittedly quite comedic to me. How united the two are about the matter.

Peter leans over towards his brother, hitting him on the shoulder hard enough to be a form of scolding, I suppose. Though, not enough to really even hurt.

"Ow!" Edmund protests his brother anyways, before gently rubbing over the spot that Peter had hit him in. "It was just a question!" He responds, defensively.

"You're fine, Edmund." I give him a bit of a polite smile, and a kind nod. "I suppose that I would be curious if I were you. My parents died in a house fire, when I was very young. I was the only survivor. I was sent to Mrs. Macready, my maternal Godmother, since I had no other living family to raise me."

"I'm sorry." Lucy apologizes to me.

She has this sense of childish sincerity, the kind that comes with not yet quite understanding the concept of social niceties, just for the sake of appearances. She genuinely seems sorry for me, which is heartwarming. More than most have shown me in my lifetime.

"It happened a long time ago. It's just how it is, you know?" I kind of shrug it off, giving Edmund another reassuring smile to tell him that he didn't do anything wrong. He's still in many ways a child. I can't be angry at his childlike curiosity, now can I?

"Our father's fighting in the war." Edmund looks at me.

There's a sort of mutual understanding between us. I give him a small head nod of affirmation, which he reciprocates. A sort of shared turmoil between us that helps us better understand the other. It isn't the same. We don't quite know what the other is been through. But it's similar enough to make a connection.