Hello all!! This is my first fic on this site, so I'm still trying to figure out some tools and such. For instance, HOW do you do transition lines??? Anyway, this is just a little Edmund/Caspian oneshot, no slash (though if you squint... I mean there could be? Up to you. It's not really intended.)
Aaaaaaand DISCLAMER. Yada yada yada I don't own The Chronicles of Narnia books/movies or any of the characters and all that other stuff I'm writing about. There!
The story!
Edmund glared harshly before turning away.
"Look. My only intention was to stop Caspian from making a terrible mistake. I don't even remember what I was thinking!" Peter stepped in front of Edmund, "Please— listen. I couldn't help it— her voice, it just— I had no control, I—"
"Horrible feeling, isn't it?" Edmund cut off, not looking up from the stone floor. Peter froze, a sudden realization dawning on him.
"Is… Is that how you felt when…" He trailed off, unconsciously bringing a hand up to cup his brothers face. Edmund's lips turned down, and he took a slight step back. Just then Caspian spoke from where he was transfixed on the brothers' argument.
"Wait, this has happened before? With Edmund? History only tells that of the final battle... It does not tell of another encounter." Caspian was frowning as he stepped forward.
Peter prepared to tell Caspian to sod off, until Edmund batted his hand from where it rested on his cheek, and turned away.
"History tells not but what we wish to remember." He bit out coldly, before quickly walking out of the tunnels. He needed some fresh air. Summer air. He needed to get the chill the witch had left behind out of his bones.
Peter watched his brother practically sprint away from him feeling empty and hollow. He knew he had done something terrible. He knew this could mean weeks— months of nightmares for Edmund. But what saddened him most what that he had caused this pain in his brother. His brother. He had nearly set the Just King's worst nightmare free again.
And it was not something he could take back.
Caspian looked confusedly at Peter, "I did not mean—"
"Caspian." Peter snapped, remembering how it had all started, "What in Aslan's name were you thinking?" Hot fury gave Peter's eyes purpose again as he glared at the prince. The High King's accusing voice sparked Caspian's own anger and he glared back,
"I did not know the White Witch would be released! The dwarf said he knew of a power that could help me! We need help!" Caspian defended.
"No, you need help. But you refuse to accept my, or my siblings' guidance!"
"What you offer is hardly guidance! You merely want the throne back for yourself!"
"Well maybe I deserve it more than you!"
"Hey!!" screeched a voice from the opening of the tunnel. Both boys' heads snapped in that direction, deadly glares gleaming in each one's eyes. Lucy stood there, fists clenched, with her own, very unbefitting glare in place. Her eyes were furious. Her gaze incandescent. There was such fury and disapproval in her expression that the fight in each man's form melted to shame. Lucy breathed in deeply through her nose before slowly unclenching her hands,
"Caspian, you will go to Edmund and apologize for the pain in him you've wrought." She said, tone clipped from barely held back rage, "Peter, you, Susan and I need to have a talk." With that, the girl turned sharply on her heal, obviously expecting her brother to follow. He did, after a moment, though reluctantly.
Caspian watched as King Peter left, regret and pain clearly written on his face. He then turned in the direction in which King Edmund left. Peter May disrespect and anger him, but Lucy had been nothing but sweet and insightful.
HII'MALINEBREAKPLEASECANSOMEONETELLMEHOWTODOANACTUALLIKEIDON'TKNOWHOW
Edmund sat on a boulder at one of the tunnel exits, in which the sun shone warmly. His features were relaxed, eyes closed as he tilted his face towards the sun. For a moment, it was peaceful. But only for a moment. The image of his brother, hand extended, crimson blood dripping as he offered it for Jadis to take, flashed behind his eyelids and he flinched.
The king opened his eyes to make the image disappear, but the memories still plagued him. He remembered when he had been at Jadis' mercy, her melodic, seductive voice offering him anything he desired. He remembered the horror at realizing what he had done, and the punishment he received. The unbearable cold of the dungeon, the shackles of ice, and the endless pain…
"Edmund—" sighed a relieved voice, and the Just King was jolted so violently, he moved before either of them realized what was happening. The prince froze, breath hitching at the cool touch of a knife grazing his throat. Caspian didn't dare move a muscle. Edmund's eyes widened slowly as his head cleared the images from before.
"C-Caspian– I–" Edmund stopped, immediately withdrawing the knife from the prince's throat as though his hand were burnt. Why had he reached for the knife and not his sword? Had he dared to use the Stone knife? Here, of all places...
"My king...?" The sound of Caspian's voice snapped from his thoughts.
Edmund blinked hurriedly at the ground, "My apologies Caspian— I was not paying attention." He tried, carefully placing the knife back in its sheath. He had to get a grip. It wouldn't do Caspian any good to break down in front of him.
Caspian, however, was frozen with fear. He had been had been so determined to apologize, he didn't think about what King Edmund's reaction might be. The prince's shocked eyes followed Edmund's back as he returned to his perch on the small bolder, overlooking the western woods.
Edmund couldn't be facing Caspian for this. He knew the prince had come to apologize, and that he would probably have to explain some things. Edmund sighed mutely, "You came to apologize." He stated, almost reluctantly. Caspian nodded, forgetting that the King couldn't see him. Edmund took the silence as confermation though, and glanced back, "Worry not then, you are forgiven."
There was brief silence, then sputtering from behind him, before Caspian finally managed an objection, "But I almost– You can't possibly– I nearly set the White Witch free! I don't–"
"If you don't deserve forgiveness," Edmund cut off, "I don't deserve to live."
The atmosphere became still as Caspian looked at the back of Edmund's bowed head, before the prince's solid footsteps could be heard thudding determinedly towards the raven haired boy. Once level with the king, Caspian tried to peer at the younger's face, but Edmund turned away.
"I don't understand... Why would you say such a thing?" The prince demanded, but received no explanation. He hesitantly continued to observe the Just King. His fists were clenched, and he refused to make eye contact, or even lift his head.
Edmund was afraid. He had never told the whole story to anyone before. He didn't know if he could. But Caspian was going to be the king of Narnia, even if Peter was still in pigheaded denile. He had to know what he had almost done, and that even so, Edmund had done much, much worse.
When the prince took a moment to actually look at the boy in front of him, he finally noticed the slight tremor in his arms, and felt slight panic rising. He hadn't really noticed the Just King before, but he had always just been there. Not angering him like Peter, or catching his eye like Susan, or even giving him hope like Lucy. He was just there. And Caspian hadn't the faintest idea how to handle the king.
"You wanted to know before, how I knew what the Witch's thrall felt like." Edmund's voice cut off.
The Telmarine blinked, "I– y-yes but–"
"Caspian, how would you like me to tell you a story of Narnian history?"
The brunett was startled. A moment ago the Just King had seemed... scared. And now he was talking of Narnian history? The prince frowned, "King Edmund," he started, but stopped when the raven finally lifted his head.
"M-my king?"
"I'm not your king, Caspian." Edmund chided suddenly, though his eyes would not meet the prince's.
"...You are Narnia's king," the ex Telmarine answered, "and are well enough deserving of such a title." Caspian thought of all the battles and great deeds he'd ever heard about the Just King from his professor, and of how Edmund seemed to be the only one to live up to Caspian's image of the rulers of old so far.
Edmund stared out at the western forest, now looking almost guilty, "How…" Edmund swallowed, hesitant, "How much do you know about the White Witch's reign?" He asked, and Caspian saw the slight tense in his shoulders.
"Only that which legends and storybooks have told me..." The prince answered, cautious.
Edmund paused before continuing rather reluctantly, "Have you heard of a traitor? One of which started the war leading to spring?"
"I…" the prince thought back, "Yes, though not from any storybook. I believe my professor did mention him…" Caspian was getting increasingly curious, and he turned to face the woods with the king. Edmund still had not met his gaze, and had yet to elaborate on his inquiries.
"He was a young boy," Edmund started abruptly, "A foolish, young boy, who held little but jealousy and hatred in his heart. At the time he was alone, lost and freezing in a forest he had never ventured."
Caspian remained silent, choosing not to voice his confusion as that tactic hadn't seemed to get him anywhere so far.
"It was there that he met the White Witch Jadis."
There was a gust of wind past their perch atop Aslan's How, and the forest treetops swayed. For a moment it reminded Edmund of when the trees were awake and danced of their own accord. Edmunds words struck Caspian, "This…" he realized, "This is how it started?"
Edmund nodded absent mindedly and carried on, "Jadis spoke to him much the same way she spoke to you and my brother. Her voice was sickly sweet as she asked for a favour, while in turn feeding him sweets and offering him anything in return." The king's voice lost its lofty tone, growing darker, "The witch offered kingship, to rule anywhere he pleased, to have his family obey him as servants... truly, anything he desired. Weak willed and foolish as he was, the boy gave in within seconds."
"What did the Witch request for you to speak of it so viciously?" the prince had his focus zeroed in on Edmund, and did not miss his change of tone. A small bit of dread crept into his thoughts as he the king frowned almost savagely.
"What she requested," Edmund muttered disdainfully, "The favour the witch asked was that he bring his siblings to her, to trick them and persuade them to go to the witch's castle, and leave them to her will. And he agreed. He agreed to give his own family over in his selfishness. To sacrifice his own family for self gain." The Just King's face, usually so calm and composed, held such contempt that Caspian felt a flicker of fear, "So the boy returned to his home, and managed to convince his family to follow him into the forest. But he ran into a... problem of sorts, and ended up reaching the castle alone.
By now, the raven haired teen was holding back a shudder as he recalled his treatment at the ice palace. Caspian watched Edmunds face very closely as it darkened, and he noticed the king's fists clenching and unclenching slowly. He waited for Edmund to continue, but the silence drew on.
"...What happened to his family?" the prince coaxed.
Edmund blinked, and breathed in deeply before continuing, "They heard from a woodland dweller that Aslan was on the move, and chose to follow a new path. The boy fled, deciding not to persute his family where he did not want to go. But Jadis was not pleased that he had arrived at the castle alone. The boy told her that his family had entered the forest, but now sought Aslan and would not follow him. The witch, angered and disappointed, decided that he was of no more use to her. He was locked below, in the frozen dungeons for future… entertainment."
Caspian started, "E-entertainment?" He whispered, "He was tortured?" Caspian paled a small amount, and wondered why King Edmund would choose to tell him this now.
Edmund was nearly lost in memory, and was having a hard time keeping his voice level. He could only manage a bland monotone as he continued his story, "The boy did not know how long he was kept shackled below the castle. He only knew that he had made the most terrible mistake of his life, and he could quite possibly die in those frozen chambers."
Caspian breathed in sharply, "He did not–"
"No," Edmund interrupted, his eyes wandering through the deep green of the forest, "He endured days, possibly weeks, of torture, no food or drink, and numbing cold. Soon, though, it seemed the witch had found another use for him. He was dragged and tied to a tree directly in the middle of their camp, where they held him mainly to heighten his shame and embarrassment. With the extent of his wounds, though, he could not have escaped even without being tied to the tree. It was only a day or so before a party of Aslan's army raided the camp, destroying everything they could and retrieving the boy."
"He was rescued." Caspian almost sighed. He didn't know why but he felt as if he almost... cared for the boy from the story.
Edmund was a little wary of how Caspian was taking the in his words. He didn't seem too affected, but he sounded so relieved just now... The king internally shook his head, continuing, "They took him to Aslan's camp. They didn't know what he had tried to do, but his family had found their way to the camp, so they knew who he was."
"Hold on," Caspian recalled, "weren't you and your siblings at Aslan's camp?" The prince remembered that the four sovreners had entered Narnia and ventured to Aslan's camp, so they must have been there when this story took place...
Edmund was quiet. What if Caspian figured it out before he was done? But how else would he explain how he had healed so quickly if he didn't mention Lucy's cordial? Edmund chose his words carefully, "We were there," he started, "It was only Lucy's cordial that saved the boy. His injuries were so severe, he wouldn't have..." The king trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
Caspian was facing Edmund again, leaning slightly against the bolder without realizing it, "You said his family was at the camp, right? Did they find out what he tried to do?"
Edmund hesitated, piecing his sentences carefully, "They did," He finally said, "But they did not know the full extent of it."
"You mean..." Caspian prodded. Edmund gazed out over the luscious forest, eyes farther away than Caspian could ever comprehend.
"Before he saw his siblings, the boy was taken before Aslan. He expected to be punished, as you predict, and berated for his crimes, for he knew he had committed a sin most great. But something unexpected happened instead." Edmund mused, "Aslan... He forgave him."
"H-he– what?" Caspian stuttered, "But– didn't he know–"
"I agree that his sentence was unbefitting," Edmund lowered his gaze from the forest back to the ground, "He deserved worse. So much worse," Caspian frowned at the whispered frustration in the king's voice, but Edmund carried on, "However, it was not Aslan's will. The boy saw his family after that, and they were very forgiving of him as well. Too forgiving, in his opinion." Resent seeped from his words when he said this, and once again Caspian frowned.
"And so the boy was welcomed," Edmund sighed. The King did not sound pleased, nor hateful, but continued on before Caspian had time to contemplate, "The relief was short lived, though, as a few days later the White Witch requested a presence with Aslan. She arrived, coming with the request that–" Edmund cut himself off, sucking in a short breath and lifting his head to shift his gaze once more.
"...Edmund?" Caspian whispered. It was not meant to be whispered, but when Edmund stealed himself, caspian caught a glimpse of his eyes. More particularly, the orphic, haunted look in them.
"She came… demanding the boy's blood," and now Caspian could hear the fear in his voice, "claiming that all traitors belonged to her, and that– that she had a right to it." Edmund's breath was a little stuttered, but quiet enough for him to hide it. He had to finish the story. He had to tell Caspian. The prince however, was less concerned about the story than why Edmund looked as though the which had a right to his blood, and not the boy in the story.
"Though the boy's siblings tried to protect him, there was little they could do, and Jadis merely laughed at their attempts at threats and intimidation. Aslan requested they continue their conversation in private after that."
"Why would the witch want the boy back? What was the… the use for him you mentioned earlier?" Caspian asked quietly. Edmund paused, unsure of whether to give this particular hint to the attentive prince,
"She… She found out who he was. Who he really was." He said at last. Caspian waited for him to elaborate, but as the silence drew on, he realized that he wouldn't be getting any answers as to who exactly the story is about. Not yet, at least.
"No one knew what Aslan and the White Witch discussed while in Aslan's tent, but the witch left quickly after, all the while glaring at the boy. Everyone took this to meant that she had relinquished her claim on his blood, and rejoiced" Edmund did not seem to think this a good thing, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Caspian,
"You do not sound like you approve of the boy being free… Would you have preferred the witch take him back?" The prince asked skeptically.
"No!" Edmund exclaimed rather loudly, but quickly backtracked, "No, I mean of course not… But…" The King deflated, "I do think sometimes, perhaps that option would have been more fitting than what occurred."
"What do you mean?" Caspian watched as Edmund seemed to steal himself,
"The boy would not learn this until many years later, but Aslan... He bargained with the witch. In exchange for the boy's life, he would give his own."
Silence.
"Aslan..." Caspian breathed, "He would give his life for a boy who would betray his own family?" Edmund flinched, much less subtly than the last time. The king nodded weakly.
"But– Aslan lived long after the witch... He could still be alive. How could he escape such a bargain?" Caspian frowned. He was still shocked that Aslan would sacrifice himself for such a boy. Though the prince suspected it had to do with his identity, which Edmund seemed none too keen on sharing. Who could the boy be that he mattered more than Aslan?
"It was not what it seems," the Just King sighed, bringing Caspian's thoughts back, "Aslan knew of an old magic, the only reason he agreed to such conditions. A magic older than the dawn of time. Jadis' knowledge only went so far, and she did not know that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Stone Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards."
Caspian pondered these words; or more specifically, Edmund's mention of the Stone Table. A cracked Stone Table. Much like the one inside the How. Aslan's How. Aslan's... grave. Caspian choked.
"This—" He gasped, "Here?" The prince stepped back a pace, staring at the stone wall of the How across from him, "Aslan was killed here? And was brought back. This is his grave." Edmund had lifted his eyes to Caspian's face when the prince was occupied with staring at the How. He could not bring himself to meet the man's eyes, but the king could still observe his reactions.
Caspian was gathering himself now, and Edmund quickly swept his eyes away.
"Yes, that is the same stone table." Edmund rushed, desperately trying to move on, "Aslan protected the boy with his life, though he did not deserve it. The war was still coming and Aslan's army still prepared. The boy and his family also prepared, for the boy kept much of his condition from them. His stay at the ice palace was not vastly known, least of all from his family. He kept much from them, mainly existence of many wounds—"
"Hold on," Caspian halted, "How would you know about wounds in which not even his family knew?" Edmund opened his mouth, "And where were you and your siblings during this entire event?"
Edmund chose not to answer this time, anticipating another question. He knew Caspian had been slowly catching on, and now the prince seemed to be at his wits end.
"Edmund," Caspian cautiously stepped around the bolder until he is directly in front of the young king. He pressed his palms against the bolder on either side of Edmund, leaning to peer into his eyes, "Who was the boy?"
Edmund finally raised his eyes to stare into Caspian's, and the prince was taken aback by the two glassy, onyx orbs burning with self hatred and shame.
"I was that boy, Caspian."
The prince stilled, uncomprehension slowly slipped from his face as moments passed.
Edmund's stare remained; scathing and guilty and filled with lothing, though none of it directed at Caspian. The king reached and pulled out the knife on his hip, causing Caspian to straiten once more, though still clearly fazed. The prince's eyes roamed to the knife being held gently by Edmund's delicate fingures, and new questions started parading around his head. Before a word could slip from Caspian's lips, Edmund breathed out shakily, shifting on his perch and matching gazes with the taller man once more.
"This knife–" he began, breath hitching, but found he could not force any more secrets or terrors passed his lips. Edmund's eyes dropped back to the gleaming metal he held. He felt abandoned. Caspian had not said anything. He had heard what he needed to hear, and now they would be distant from each other again.
Which was fine.
Because despite his joy at being back in Narnia, he had had this deep withering feeling within himself. A feeling of time slowly trickling by, but still moving much too fast. He felt as though he were trying to cup water between his hands; no matter how tight he closed his fingers, the water stil dripped away, leaving him with nothing. No water. No time. Edmund had a feeling that Narnia did not intend for him to stay.
As the Just King's thoughts spiralled down the depths of his mind, Caspian was slowly realizing the weight of Edmund's tale. Edmund had betrayed my family. He had been enchanted by the witch, tricked into leading them into the forest. He had been the traitor shackled under the ice palace in his professor's stories. Edmund knew what it was to be tortured for days. Edmund. Quiet, stoic, brave Edmund. It all made sense, why Edmund had looked so terrified in the How with Jadis. Why he knew what the witch's voice could do.
Suddenly Caspian snapped back into focus.
"By Aslan..." Caspian breathed, "Edmund–" but he did not get to finish.
Edmund gripped the small blade tightly, before jumping down from his seat, turning his back on the frozen prince and striding towards the stone wall of the How. He had intended to simply leave before more damage could be done, but a firm hand snagged his elbow.
"Edmund wait– you–" Caspian tugged the boy's arm sharply, spinning him around, "Why have you told me all of this?"
Edmund took a moment to meet the prince's eyes. When he did, he was drawn into Caspian's confused gaze. His eyes were clouded, like he just couldn't understand how Edmund was the boy. How could Edmund, King Edmund the Just, possibly do such a thing when all he's ever been known for is fairness and loyalty? Edmund's guilt increased tenfold.
"I know what what my brother believes, Caspian," the King began, staring into Caspian's dark amber eyes, "But he is wrong." Caspian's grip loosened. The small action provided enough distraction for Edmund to readjust his gaze back on the forest, away from those unyielding eyes, "You are Narnia's future, and I will not see a king of Narnia be taught hatered and distrust. I only wish for you to learn by Aslan's ways, and if that means I must pass on his knowledge and wisdom then I shall. No matter how many secrets it unveils."
Caspian stood, one hand gently gripping the crook of Edmund's elbow, while his eyes remained trained on the King's face. A breeze blew, brushing Edmund's fringe from his eyes. It was a bit longer than when they had first met, Caspian noted, before his thoughts turned back to the boy's face. More specifically, the look on it. Edmund looked guilty, Caspian could see his pain, plain as day. The prince realized that this boy, who had lived a full life before him, was not the boy from the story. The story told of a young, selfish boy who cared little for others and did not know love of any kind. This boy before him was none of those things. He was just, as spoke his name, and loyal to a fault both to his family and Aslan.
No, Edmund was not that boy. He was King Edmund the Just. And he should be told as much.
By now the science had stretched on, and Edmund glanced up in nerves. He expected Caspian to be furious, affronted, insulted, anything other than what he currently was. For Caspian's face held no contempt, but only determination.
Meeting the King's eyes once more spurred him into action. Caspian quickly pulled Edmund's arm until his back was against their bolder (as he was now referring to it). The prince placed his other hand against the rock as well, leaning to level their eyes evenly.
"You cannot believe you are still guilty of your childhood mistakes." Caspian reasoned, clearly expecting an answer. Edmund hesitated, still shocked from the taller man's obvious determination, before realizing what Caspian was saying
"If you think that I am no longer guilty–"
"You're not."
Edmund blanched, "We're you even listening to what I–"
"Of course I was but you were a child then! And now Aslan has forgiven you and you have more than–"
"Yes of course everyone forgave me except myself. Don't you see? I did not deserve to be forgiven! I did not deserve Aslan's protection!"
"Bullocks!"
By now both men were panting slightly, from anger or just the excursion of yelling, neither could tell. Edmund's eyes held the shadow of a glare, but the overpowering will in brunet's own cause him to sweep his gaze away, as he had been doing since the prince had first found him.
Caspian signed before dropping one hand to comb his fingures through his hair, "Edmund, you may have betrayed–" Edmund winced, "betrayed your family once, but you cannot honestly believe you have not redeemed yourself?"
The king leaned his head back against their bolder. This was not what he had expected.
"You have proven you loyalty to your brother and sisters, Aslan, all of Narnia a hundred times over. You are no longer that boy from your story, Edmund. You must understand that." The prince peered pleadingly at the younger boy.
Edmund looked to the side, breathing in the smell of Narnia. He frowned, spotting some darkening clouds on the horizon. It would be pouring by nightfall.
"I could prove myself hundreds of times more, and it would still not be enough, Caspian." He murmured, only partially paying attention now. Caspian's form was wilting, his anger now fading to desperation to make Edmund believe him.
"But it is enough, Edmund. It is enough to the people you love, to Aslan–" He did not know what else to say. Caspian stepped back a pace, looking around as though to find more proof in the moss growing on the How's walls.
"Thank you Caspian," the King spoke softly, almost sorrowfully, as he continued to observe the sky and forest, "But I cannot simply forget what I have done. I did not tell you this to seek sympathy or forgiveness–
"I know but–"
"I told you, Caspian, so that you might learn from Aslan. So you might rule with the same compassion as he."
"Edmund please–"
"That, and so you might not waist over your own mistake." Caspian was abruptly reminded of why he had even sought out Edmund. The witch. What he'd done. That woman who had caused Edmund all this pain.
Suddenly the prince's demeanour turned guilty, and the younger man turned his head to level Caspian with a stern look, "I know what her voice does. I know you were desperate and did not know the true consequences."
"That does not excuse–"
"Perhaps not," Edmund cut off, serenely, "but it was a mistake, and nothing truly terrible became of it. That is enough, as long as you realize what could have been."
Caspian looked at Edmund. Edmund looked back, and the prince saw that much of the tension had gone from his eyes. There was a moment of silence as Caspian came to terms with what the king truly meant, before he nodded and brought himself up once more.
Clearing his throat, the future king turned to walk slowly back into the How, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the small, unknown glint in Edmund's eyes, or the way the Just King had not fought back in the slightest when Caspian had been forceful. Whatever it was, it made Caspian pause. He looked back at the raven haired boy, who still leaned against their bolder and who's gaze roamed the forests with a distant memory reflected in it.
No, that wasn't right. Edmund was no boy. He was the king. The Just King. The ruler of old who had suffered, who had endured guilt, pain, torture, more than any of his sibling had. The one who saw and understood more than any man should.
Caspian realized Edmund was a puddle. On the surface he was smooth and collected, and looking at him, you saw only what you wished to see. A reflection of your expectations. But beneath the surface, there was no telling how deep the puddle was. It could be an endless pit of swirling water, frigid in some places, lukewarm in others, constantly flowing through currents that shifted with every thought and movement.
Caspian was staring. Edmund had noticed, but now it was starting to get uncomfortable. The king stubbornly glued his eyes on the waving forest below, wishing he knew what Caspian was thinking. Why was he still looking at him? Was he waiting for him to say something? Was he supposed to follow the prince into the How? Edmund did not want to go back yet. Not when his past had just been kicked and dragged to the forefront of his mind. Edmund chanced a glance through his lashes at Caspian, and was startled to see the intensity in the brunet's stare.
Fortunately, said brunet was snapped out of his unbashful trance by the mahogany of the king's eyes, and emediatly tinged a light pink.
"I– I just–" Caspian tried to salvage himself, "I mean, thank you. For..." The prince tried to form words that would justly summarize what Edmund had given him, "Just. Thank you."
Edmund seemed to brighten, though only a minuscule amount, his eyes turning into a much warmer brown than they had been a moment ago. The smaller nodded, before finally climbing back on their rock and settling exactly like he had been when Caspian found him.
The prince tore his eyes from the king, resolutely moving towards the opening in the How's wall. He figure he had a pratish air-head to apologize to. But only if the clot pole apologized first. And then apologized to Edmund like he had. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was best to leave The Just King alone for now.
Caspian let a small smile grace his lips. Perhaps he'd get to know Edmund better, what with all that was going on in that insightful mind of his. Perhaps... He'd even get to hear the rest of his story, to learn more, to know Narnia's true history and be worthy of her throne. The prince realized the gift that the kings and queens of old truly were to him and the people, Narnian or no.
And, for the first time in years, Caspian had faith.