Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, and I am not writing for money. This is merely a fanfiction.
Chapter 1
Wandering the hallowed halls at night always left an unpleasant sensation in his mouth. He felt unsavory, despised, disgusting, that he had to keep to the shadows, where no one could see him. Even if they did see him, they would not challenge him, he knew, for the wieght of his brother's words stood behind him. Even so, that did not stop the looks, the glares, the rebuffs, the hasty departures that always occured in his presence. He was their sort of saviour, and their doom. He brought back their worst memories, memories they wished could be forgotten. But enough of this thought. He hated self pity. It was an infestation. He was here to have some fun, for once, and Aslan, knew, he deserved it.
Sneaking out into the silent coutyard, he kept to the shadows. The vast courtyard was deceptivly empty- he had designed the security measures himself, and therefore knew how to bypass it. The courtyard in this west wing had four seemingly solid walls, granite and smooth, impoosible for an intruder to climb, and smooth, marble tones laid into the ground. In actuality, however, the marble stones held trap doors, an intracate tunneling system underneath. Soldier would be able to hear any intruder, and could open fire to them from any or every hidden hole. This network laced the entire castle, and had been built in under 3 months. He was quite proud it, if he could say so himself. Of course, the system wasn't flawless. Having spent days locked up in his chambers looking at the map, he had realized, that if one were to travel a certain way, his or her vibration would not be heard.
It was one of the secrets he never shared with his siblings. His own knowledge, he hoarded. It made him feel just a bit more worthy. Continuing on, the boy ducked under a low overhang of poplar trees. Of course, despite the comlax system, there were still need fo guards, what for guarding chambers and upper levels. But he had long since developed a rutine. Stay on left of granite statue to avoid the guard, who always stayed on the right. Underneath the bridge where the guard was patrolling, instead of around. Three seconds of waiting behind the marble pillar before the sentry takes a sip of his drink. And viola! The outer gates, which he squeezeed through...and then the city. But first, the stables, to visit an old friend.
Phillip wasn't sleeping, of course. He had known him long enough to realize that on a night like this, the boy would hardly be sleeping. "Were to today, sire?" He wishpered, as much a horse could wishper, anyways. "The horn and Grail." The boy replied evenly, inwardly bracing himself for his old friend's reaction. "You can't be seriously." Phillip didn't explode like others did. He had a tone that just eliminated all arguing. "Come on!" The boy wheedled. "It's not that bad. It's like all the other taverns we go to, except with a fighting ring." Phillip frowned. "I know it's your time of month-" "That makes me sound like a girl," the boy snickered. Philli rolled his eyes and went on. "But that place is rough and not suitable for children. " The boy leaned forward eagerly, "An you know, because you've gone before? Come, on. Let's go before it get's early. " He flung himself on top of the horse, and together they galloped off.
By now, you must be wondering, who i am to have designed the security measures of such a grand castle and with a talking horse under my command. Of course, Phillip isn't so much under my command as my companion. Well, you Narnians and your protocal. Heck, if a horse wants to bare someone, then who cares if he talkes or not. A horse has to have what a horse has to have. And, we're really actually good friends. A while back, my siblings and I stumbled a cross your world, Narnia, via a dusty wardrobe, in the widely accepted land of Spare Oom. Of course, back then, Narnia wasn't all happy and cheerful, as it was under the rule of an evil witch, who froze anything and everything, condemning you to a harsh and terrible rule. Of course, there was a magical prophey, and it just happened to turn out that my siblings and I were destined to overthrw the witch and rule Narnia in Cair Paravel, the magical castle of four thrones.
This never ceases to amaze me. Why would any kingom want a foriegn traveller, barely older then the kids they just sent off to school run their country? Never mind four, inexperienced, childish, prepubescent kids? Because Aslan deemed it. Well, it made sense in a way. My older brother Peter, now High King the Magnificent of Narnia has everyone looking up at him. They'd follow him to the death if he asked. My older sister, Susan, most beautiful and o gentle of a spirit that everyone loved. My younger sister, Lucy, kind, and always (Growl) happy, kept everyone's spirrit up. They always wanted to talk to her. Yes, Narnia owed her Loyalty to Peter, her Desire to Susan, and her Love, to Lucy.
And then there's me. In the royal portrait, drawn ever so carefully by master artisit Brunce Degal, our resident Kingfisher, Peter is standing, tall regal and magnificent a brilliant golden crown atop his stylish golden locks. His blue eye's dance with kindness and contenment. He's the talledt there, and the one you look at first, in his brilliant red robes, and gold cape, the design of the lion embalzoned on his chest. Beside him, is Susan, her hand resting, o so gently on his shoulder, she is of course, beyond beautiful in a blue dress, with all those frily design that would look rediculous on anyone but her. A gold crown of flowers adorn her choclate hair. And the, on Peter's otherside, is Lucy. Lovely, as always, she holds a bunch of flowers, forget-me-nots, as if anyone could possibly forget her, stunning, in a red dress that matches her fiery hair. She looks ready to burst out laughing.
Behind them, if you squint and tilt your head sideways, you may chance apon another figure, seated, at the furthest throne. He watches his siblings with a far away expression, that could either be malice, or sadness. His shoulder length raven hair has a simple, silver band in it, a plainer version of lucy's silver crown-of-flowers. His grey eyes are huanted, and his face is pale, contrasting against his balack tunic, and cape. He seems leeched of colour, expect for the red gloves he has on, red like the colour of blood. Of course, this really helped portray the type of person I was to the kingdom. And by the way, the kingfisher is blind. I have green eyes, and the tunic I was wearing was a dark green, as well. My gloves were red though, to represent how much blood was on my hands. The sadistic bird totally twisted it around.
It is true that even back in spare oom, I got the least attention. I was the "Dark one" the one that was alway brooding, away in that dar corner...Every family has a black sheep. All arrows point to me on that acount. Here, they call me SilverBlood, behing my back of course. They even make a mockery of my actual title. Crowned the "Just" King by Aslan, every one at court calls my just king. It's a tuant, of sort. "Just King, just king" you'ra just a king, unlike your brother, the High King. But seriously, I don't care. I spent enough time brooding, and it almost cost me and my family's lives. So let them be all perfect and lovely, I just want to have some fun, I suppose. Of course, you may or may not be wondering, while did I get my title? SilverBlood. Making references that my blood is unpure-it being silver, rather then gold. I am always silver, compared to the gold of my brother. The silver, that is tarnished, while gold remains steadfast. Silver, that is shadow, while gold is light. Never mind the fact that silver is worth way less then gold, especially now that I'm here.
When we first came to Narnia, I followed Lucy. We got seperated, and I met up with the White Witch. It wasn't the most pleasant of introductions, but the widely sung minstrel-version of it is that, basiclly I was overwhelmed by the lust for power and status, and that I sought to challenge Peter and rule Narnia as the Prince, defying Aslan in His Glory. They keep making it sound like she seduced me, but come on, I'm eleven. In actuality, she offered me chocolate, and I took it. I promised her I'd bring her my siblings. I didn't even know at that moment that what I was doing counted for betrayel, I was kind of frozen, it was so cold. I know, it's not very evil sounding, its actually rather pathetic. So seriously, I'm fine with the minstrels getting it wrong there. I mean, if you are going to sell someone out. Do it for something more grand then choclate. Just a suggestion.
When Lucy and I came back, we dragged Susan and Peter with us, and together met a couple of Beavers. There while the rest of my family listened to the tales of the horrors of the white witch, I made my escape, to known other then Jadis herself. Spending any amount of time with the Witch is not fun. First she interogates me, then she imprisons me, finally releasing me, so that we can march off and kill my siblings. By that time I was beyond mad. We were ambushed on the way, thankfully, by Aslan's talking animals. Phillip was the one who, rather roughly, I'm hurt to say, ripped me from my bonds, attached to the tree. As I was blindfolded, and had no way of knowing that he was one of the good guys, my madden self fell upon him, in a way only a adrenaline pumed eleven year old could. After an epic fight, I was subdued, and off to Aslan we go.
I have to say being dumped on your knees in front of a whole battalion of troups is really undignifying. Never the less, I still managed to hit the lead centuar in the face. Oreious, was his name. By the time they too off my bonds and my blindfold, I had attracted a sight. Peter and the Girls were staring, open mouthed at my feriocity, or rather, all the cuss words I knew-they thought that I didn't spend enough time with Dad. The troops had formed a circle around me, and the mad centuar stood in front of me. They started hating me right then and there. After meeting with Aslan, and being told that I was forgiven, we started our way towards the battle. Never for a moment did I think that I was forgiven. Not when Susan hugged me, or when Lucy cried, or when Peter embraced me. No, the glares and jabs from the animals told me that. But seriously, let them hold a grudge. Unfortunatley, our over enthusiastic group was subdued when th witch made an appearanc and demanded my death.
Not out of sympathy for me, I know, but because my brother would have been, of course, terribly upset, and my sisters, and oh so sad..etc. etc. Aslan, thank Him, made a deal with her, that allowed her to spare me, and even now I haven't figured it out yet. I will, though, soon. And so, with the question of me living or dying out of the way, we were ready to continue. At the Battle of Beruna, both sides fought fiecly. Peter, great as always, head of the army, commanding all the cute little animals. Susan, standing with the archers, her beautiful form an insperaton. Lucy, with the healers, rushing back and forth with a cordial (still bitter Father Christmas didn't get me anything..), and me, with the footsoldiers, all of whom ignored me, holding big broad swords and shields while I weiled a dagger, no longer then my arm. It was, undoubtably, the safest position in the army, I have to say. Big tigers surronding me, bears behing me, centuars in front of me...Yep. I was content to sit back and enjoy the show, untill I saw her.
I was still mad at Jadis for doing all that stuff to me. Torture, beatings, humiliations, you get the gist. I was going to strike her down. Looking around, I did't know what to do, until I saw them. Gyphons. They were attrached by the scent of blood. Quickly, I slashed my arm, and found a dark handkerchief. Seamring blood all over it, I waved it back and forth until one of the huge birs came and landed. "Yes?" He asked. "A favour, if you will, good sir." I waved the bloody kerchief in front of him. He nodded, and I jumped on, as he snatched the cloth in his teeth. "We're heading for the lady over there, "I point at Jadis. He gives me a wierd look, but we're off. As we head closer and closer to her, the bird goes lower and lower, until we see her. Surronded by ogres and hags, and my heart leaps- Peter. Fighting sword to sword with one of the brutes. Quickly, i stab two of the, as one nicks Peter in the shoulder. The third one, I throw and it catches the monster in the chest. As it falls, Jadis looks up at me and snarls. "You"
I smile sheekily. Jumping off the Gryphon, I land in ffront of her. I'm atually her shoulder hieght, and I punch her right in the face. Bad mistake. Her face is as hard as ice. Apt, don't you think? And she just stares. And then, a malicious gleam goes into her eye, and she raises her wand, pointing it at Peter. "Oh no you don't, "I say, and I snatch it. The wand it cold as ice and it chills me to the bone. The witch growls, much like the lion she is fighting against, and pulls it away. No such luck. I hold on with all my might, together we tumble down the hill, rolling away and away. The wand gives off little sparks of power in my hand, and I am jolted. Down, down the hill we go, until finally, reach the plateau. The witch leaps away, trumphaint, the wand in her hand, pointing it at me. But something has changed. I reach forward, and grasp her wrist, and smile innocently at her, as a sheen of silver covers her hand, and quickly makes it's way uup her face.
She has one moment of horrer, before she is entirely silver, shining in the light of the sun.
I grasp her wand and turn behind me. To face a silent field. The Narnians and the witches minions alike look at me with horror. As one, the fell beasts flee. I look around the Narnians, still in shock, my brother, his sword still in the body of a beast meets me eye. And in one moment, conveys all his sympathy, and then, his eye's harden. He steps up to me and towers over me. I kneel, bowing myy head, and in full view of the field present him the wand of the white witch. "Your Majesty." Peter turns without a word, and raises the wand. Then, silently, he drops it, and it shatters into a million pieces. The Narnians sheer, and my brother is hauled away by the merry crowd, carrfully avoiding me, or moore importantly my hands. I straiten up, and turned to pick up a bronze sword, that turns silver in my hands. The closest Narnians shy away. I sigh, and sit down. What was going to happen now?
At my coronation, I wore gloves. And I watched as the Narnians cheered for my siblings. And then it came to me. "To the Geat Western wood, I give you, King Edmund the Just!" A few straggled cheers, all weak. The fuan quickly moved on. I didn't wince, but Lucy did. The next few days were the worst. Everywhere I was avoided. People wisphered, and rumors started. But did I care, not a bit. I am content to do this. Let my people judge me. For we have all a role to play. Mine was that of a teenaged, British king Midas. But I will never let them take away anything more then my reputation. For I know what I did was right, and never shall I shirk from my duty again. There will be time, later, to sort out moral obligations and these hard feelings of betrayal. I will flourish here, for being normal is overatted. I am silver blood, and Proud.
I put these morbid thought out of my head as Phillip and I speed of the hills and pastures. I have a kingdom to explore, and more importantly, a bar to go to. I do this not as Edmund, or even Kind Edmund the Just, (or the Traitor) I go as Silver Blood, a title that will go down in history, just how I want it.