❝yours truly, genevieve chen... sincerely yours, peter pevensie.❞
a heartbroken woman writes letters to her deceased fiancé... and a deceased king responds to the letters written by his grieving fiancée.
( post the last battle. )
The date today is May 2nd, 1951, though you might recognize it better as our son's first birthday.
My mother insisted on throwing a party to celebrate the occasion even though Isaac won't remember it. I wondered if it was necessary to have an actual party rather than a small family get-together, a quiet event. It turned out that that's exactly what she meant by a party, just for family, and was confused I'd think otherwise. I had to remind her of her own reputation amongst us. So today we had a family get-together to celebrate his birthday.
As I expected, Isaac has absolutely no idea what's happening, but he's certainly enjoying all the attention. And he was very happy when Susan brought out the chocolate cake she'd baked and actually threw his head forward and pushed his face into the cake to get a slice before anyone else. Fortunately, my father had brought a camera with him and managed to snap a photograph of it. Isaac was so cute with his face covered in chocolate that I could hardly clean him up without giggling at the sight of him.
He also seemed to enjoy all the presents bought for him. Most of it is clothing as he continues to grow, but he's also gotten some new toys. Among them is a toy train set your parents said belonged to you when you were a child. When I noted that most of the trains appeared not to have any wheels, they said that when Edmund discovered it, he stole all of the wheels because he was upset it was yours and not his. Apparently, when you found the wheels again, they were covered with mud and dirt and no longer spun as smoothly.
One year after his birth, I see so much more of you in Isaac than I did then. More than physical characteristics, it's the way he acts. He likes trying to make me laugh. It doesn't take much for him to do so. I'll never stop laughing when I'm with him.
Yours truly, Genevieve Chen
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PETER PEVENSIE. ASLAN'S COUNTRY.
My dearest Genevieve,
Has it really been a year since our son was born? It feels like just yesterday you wrote me the letter telling me you were pregnant. Time does pass rather odd here, so I suppose that's what happened.
Your mother insisting on throwing a party for his birthday does sound like her. I wholeheartedly believe that if we'd let her have even the smallest bit more control over our wedding plans that we'd have had a more extravagant wedding, with possibly an ice sculpture of us, than the small quaint wedding we were going to have. I'm still surprised she was okay with only handling the paperwork side of things. I thought for sure she would have insisted on choosing your bouquet, at least. Had you ever gotten around to that? I wish I knew.
I think this letter confirms that love for chocolate is inheritable, because Isaac certainly inherited it from you. Although I can't quite imagine you throwing your face into a chocolate cake. The thought of it is hilarious, though. And I'm glad your father got a photograph of it, and be sure to frame it and show it to everyone he ever meets.
I remember that toy train set! It seems most of my childhood mishaps came courtesy of Edmund. He stole all the wheels from them when I was sleeping. The only reason we managed to locate them was because there was dirt on the soles of his shoes and on his pyjamas, so we all went outside to search for any disturbed spots in the grass, even Lucy, who couldn't have been more than two years old. It took us two days to find them because he'd buried them in the far corner and dug several more holes to throw us off the scent. He always was a mischievous child.
