labour

flower

warning: this story contains details of domestic vïolence and emotional trauma, please look after yourself and do not read if any of this may affect you <3

⋆♱✮♱⋆

caroline's pov

It was safe to say that my encounter with Edmund was less than ideal. It may sound immature however I could not face him for multiple days to come, wether he noticed or not is unknown to me.

The feeling that erupted inside me when my hands fell in his, was deeply confusing. My muscles involuntarily relaxed and my demeanour softened, as did his gaze. It was a sensation that I hadn't experienced since the beginning of my relationship, over 4 years ago. I'd felt safe, and genuinely cared for, not that he held much of a reason for caring, I'm still shocked that he didn't immediately turn me in.

I'd succeeded in my task to avoid the King fairly consistently, only exchanging pleasantries at breakfast and dinner when necessary. However, I knew I couldn't hide from him forever, especially in his own home.

Lucy had practically forced me into the gardens, to teach her about the flowers. Alexander didn't complain, it kept me out of his way as he discussed 'business' with Peter.

I don't think Cair Paravel is something you can ever truly forget. The radiant sun stepped forth from amongst clouds, wrapping us in her warm embrace. I could blissfully close my eyes and feel that the floral blooms were as much within me as they were around me; supporting my body upon the soft ground and in some way causing my soul to morph into something as beautiful as they were.

My hands quickly became entangled in her soft brown locks, twisting rainbows of hydrangea petals into braids, as the conversation soon drifted into mindless gossip.

Female friends were a rarity back in Archenland, Xander made sure of it. He despised the thought that someone could be valued more than him in my eyes.

I dearly treasured these moments, the ones in which I could cackle and cry and still be labelled worthy, the ones that would stick in my memory long after it inevitably deteriorates.

After much persuasion, I finally agreed to read a small section of my beloved journal to the Valiant Queen, a carefully chosen extract I had written after my trip to the orchards with Susan. It goes as follows:

There is something so beautiful about pure femininity. I am the definition of feminine as I am female. However another woman may be drastically different. We make our own definitions and we shape the word, not the other way around. There are as many definitions as there are female minds.

One may be kind and curious, whereas another is strong willed and intelligent, yet both are as worthy as the other. I lived my whole life anxious as to wether I am 'right' or wether I 'fit', trying frantically to fit into the cookie cutter shapes that are laid down in history and literature. But it's moments like these, where there are no expectations of who you are supposed to be, that make me feel the most feminine, the most beautiful.

"You should write more, Caroline, really"

Her optimistic approach to life is truly contagious sometimes.

Yet my positive mindset in that moment was short lived, almost immediately being shattered by the blade of my husband. Quite literally.

I supposed their meeting was short lived too as Xander was now slashing his weapon skilfully at his target.

Edmund. Why was it always him?

A duel is a typically friendly affair, man's way of playful affection with a fellow swordsman, but there was something in the Just's eye that screamed of pure hatred, it poured out of him with every swing.

My breath hitched in my throat and it apparently did not go unnoticed. Both Edmund and Lucy were caught off guard by my own (subconscious) reaction, causing the former to lose focus for a nanosecond.

But Xander is a smart man, knowing yet not caring about the Pevensie's attentive and caring nature for those around them, and playing on it to ensure his win. And win he did.

Edmund put up a good performance, and it was clear that his ego and reputation as the 'best swordsman in Narnia' fell bruised after the match. Why do I care? Why is it always him?

I was certain that I would face the consequences of Xander's inflated ego that night.

⋆♱✮♱⋆