Chapter Text
He hadn’t given himself time to think.
He knew he couldn’t let Peter get turned to stone, so he’d moved. His blade came down on the wand, shattering it and shattering Jadis’s ability to turn anyone else to stone.
Then the pain hit.
Despite it all, despite everything she’d done, despite the evil that he’d seen first hand, and Jadis’s own intent to kill him on the stone table, there was still a tiny part of him that hadn’t believed she would actually kill him.
The shards of the broken wand stabbing his stomach rid him of that lie.
She pulled the wand out of his stomach, turned around, and walked away as he fell.
Leaving him to die.
He clutched the wound, trying to remember the basic first aid Mum had insisted on.
If there’s a lot of bleeding, keep pressure on it till an adult can help you.
He just had to hold on, and hope someone else was able to help.
Hope he wouldn’t die here…
It would be a fitting end, wouldn’t it. To never grow old, never leave Narnia…
Never see Mum again.
The thought didn’t trouble him as much as it should have. He was sad he’d never get to fix things with Peter, and Susan, and Lucy-
Lucy, who he’d betrayed the worst-
But his Mum? He thought, vaguely, that the memory of her should be warm, but it felt… cold. Almost as cold as Jadis.
And his father?
Was he out there, somewhere, dying alone like he was?
Every breath was a pained gasp, and he was quite sure he wouldn’t live long enough to find the answer to that question.
But he couldn’t give up.
He heard someone approaching him.
Armor rustling, gasps of breath, shuffled feet-
Not her. Please not her again.
He heard someone cry out his name, heard the thunk of an arrow, more blood, a garbled cry that somehow sounded like Ginarrbrik, and then there were people- his family-
Susan was tugging the helmet off his head, helping him breathe easier, and Lucy was there, pouring something into his mouth-
The pain eased.
Breathing got easier.
He opened his eyes, trying to smile at his family, and a moment later Peter was hauling him into a tight hug, one that he easily returned, clinging tight to his brother.
They were alive.
They were all safe, and here, and alive.
Edmund finally pulled back, and Peter shook his head.
“When are you gonna learn to do as you’re told?” Peter asked, his voice cracking, and Edmund could see it now.
The fear and care in those few simple words.
All he could do was smile, and then they were all hugging, clinging tight to each other as it really settled in.
They’d lived.
They’d won.
It was finally over.
And then, over their shoulders, Edmund saw the impossible.
Aslan.
Alive.
And he was smiling at them all, before he breathed on one of the people that had been turned to stone, and brought them back.
…He needed to stop questioning things. How many times, since he’d stepped foot in Narnia, had he been proven wrong already?
The ceremony seemed to be thrown together overnight.
One night he was being ushered into a camp outside a beautiful but dusty castle, the next morning both he and the castle were washed up, and Edmund found himself in fine clothing, being crowned king next to his siblings.
And then the party.
He would remember that party for years to come.
There was so much joy, and laughter. Light streamed down from lanterns strung along ribbons in the walls, candles seemed to dance in time with the music, and more than once all four of them ended up dancing together, their hands clasped tight as they learned the dances that the Narnians loved.
Food flowed freely, along with a watered down wine.
Edmund had never had wine before, so when a goblet was handed to him, he was delighted-
Until the first sip crossed his tongue.
He spluttered, coughing on the sharp burn, and people laughed around him, joking how he couldn’t hold alcohol.
He stared down at the cup, his stomach twisting.
“Ed?” Peter asked. “It’s alright, it’s probably for the best that you don’t drink alcohol at your age anyway.”
Edmund nodded shakily, letting the excuse hold.
That wasn’t why he hated it.
The burn was familiar.
A cup appeared in the snow where the queen had let the drop fall, steaming and frothy, and when Edmund sipped it, it had tasted like sweet fire, warming him all throughout.
Alcohol.
That was what that drink had been.
He never wanted to taste it again.
He excused himself, suddenly uninterested in the dancing and partying, and made his way out to the balcony that overlooked the sea.
She was dead.
She was dead.
It didn’t get the taste out of his mouth.
He wrapped his fingers around the railing, clinging tight as he took slow deep breaths, letting the warm sea air fill his lungs.
She’s dead, and I’m alive.
Someone knocked on the wall behind him, so as to not startle him.
“You’re not inside,” Mr. Tumnus said, and Edmund glanced over at him, guilt turning in his stomach, and turned back to the sea.
“I think I might prefer the quiet,” he admitted.
The faun leaned against the balcony next to him, sharing the silence as they stared up at the moonlit sky.
“…I’m sorry,” Edmund finally whispered into the night.
Mr. Tumnus glanced over at him. “Whatever for?”
“…For turning you over to the Witch. I didn’t know what I was doing, but that’s no excuse.”
Mr. Tumnus thought for a moment, before nodding. “Well. If you can forgive me for almost kidnapping your sister on her first trip to Narnia, I think I can forgive you for turning me over to the Witch. Deal?”
That forced a chuckle from him, and he nodded. “Alright. Deal.”
“…There’s a lot to grieve. For others, who died, and for ourselves and what we lost.” Mr. Tumnus nudged Edmund’s shoulder. “There’ll be time to grieve later. You don’t have to go back inside- you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, actually- but you should find something to make you happy. This is a celebration. The Witch is dead. It’s time to be happy.”
He returned to the party, bowing respectfully to first Edmund, then Lucy who was standing in the doorway.
She took his place, wrapping an arm around Edmund. “…I know Aslan said that there was no point in talking about ‘before’, but are you okay?”
Edmund snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant.”
“Edmund,” she whined, and he wrapped an arm around her, enjoying the warmth of his sister against his side.
He never wanted to be cold again.
“…I think I will be.” He squeezed her tighter for a moment. “…Having you all near me helps.” He sighed. “Why aren’t you inside, enjoying the party?”
“How can I enjoy it when you’re out here moping?”
“Oh, I’m moping now am I?” he joked before pinching her side.
She shrieked, pulling away as she giggled, and then running off as Edmund chased her back into the main room, dodging through the crowds of people.
He grinned as he chased her, following her warm smile, and letting himself forget about the cold for a while.