Philip didn't complain once and Edmund was loathe to admit that his best friend in the whole world was a horse, but he appreciated the silence none-the-less. Sometimes he wondered if Philip was the only one – siblings non-with-standing – who trusted him. That made Philip all the more important, and he reined in his companion at the top of the hill.
Unlike Peter, he'd never gotten used to riding without reigns and Philip never stated a preference, not that he would. Stay here okay?'
Philip looked at Edmund incredulously, and it was a testament to their friendship that he could even tell what that expression was. 'Like I have anywhere else to be.
Edmund grinned and then turned to face the castle. He was still a little overwhelmed with everything that had happened, and not being trusted. He hid away as much as possible. Not that that - as Peter had told him constantly – did anything to help the situation.
He trod carefully, finding a relatively quiet patch near the edge of the wood, and finally drew his sword. He remembered clearly his weapon slicing through the Witch's wand and hearing sound not unlike glass shattering.
His heart breaking.
Because he was sure, somehow, he had loved her. He doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he loved her. And for one still – terrifying – moment, he had been prepared to turn on Susan and Lucy and Peter. Just like he had Mr. Tumnus. He wonders why the faun ever forgave him, and to vent out his anger, he arched his sword in the air. Slashing downwards with a stance and blade technique that he had learned from Orieus. Maybe the important Narnian's trusted him.
Edmund shook his head and thrust outward. He was ashamed of his thinking. All Narnian's were important. Now more than ever. Thoughts of impending treaties and possible negotiations made him angry again, and slightly guilty. He thought he had left his anger behind at Beruna, when he'd broken the witches wand – and hold over him.
Forgoing his sword, he kicked a tree. Hard.
Half expecting a Dryad to complain, he was surprised when it was someone he knew better that spoke. 'You're up early.' Edmund froze and half-cursed Philip under his breath for not warning him. 'I told him not to.'
As if knowing what he was thinking. And even though he coloured, angry, the King didn't turn around.
He was afraid.
The sword hung limp in his hand and he itched to put it away but wasn't sure he wanted to move. If he kept silent…
'Ed?' He was so calm and Edmund broke, turning his head just a little.
'How could you forgive so easily?' There was silence from behind him and Edmund knows - knows - it's because Aslan has forbidden them to talk about before. Suddenly, Edmund is angry. 'How?'
And as he cried the word, he turned and thrust with the sword, only for it to meet Peter's. As if the action was expected. The look in his brother's eyes was knowing, as if he had been waiting for this to happen. He suspected they all had.
It wasn't fair.
He pulled away, but kept his sword up, eyes wary on Peter's face. He hated his brother for thinking he was so predictable. The snow crunched underfoot and it was like hurt and pain and being tied to a tree all over again.
He lurched forward, his actions clumsy and he wasn't thinking, but Peter never moved on the offence. He was just as frightened as Edmund was. But the younger wasn't sure of what. He backed off a few steps, trembling, the sword between them like a barrier.
'Because you're my brother.' That answer cut through Edmund like a knife and he snapped.
'No. No. That's not a reason. That's a reason for hating me. For wanting me to get hurt and killed and tortured and-' He cut off, not making any sense. But he remembered cell's of ice and eyes just as cold as his own, and the disappointing look of a faun who had done nothing but help.
'I hurt you and Susan and Lucy. Would have killed you. And you expect me-' He punctuated the last of his words with thrusts. 'To believe that you forgive me.' He panted and slashed high, catching Peter of balance. 'Because I'm your brother?' He felt vaguely sick at the notion and let the sword fall to his side again, exhausted.
Peter wasn't trusting just yet, keeping his sword in his hands, and Edmund felt his heart clench. 'I don't know what you want me to say, Ed.' Finally, the sword rested at his side. 'What I can say to make you believe that we've forgiven you.'
Edmund sheathed his sword and swallowed, his hands trembling at his sides. He clenched them, trying hard to regain control that seemed to be slipping. He realised vaguely that it was snowing again. 'That. That's what's wrong.' He motioned at the snow, and Peter was just confused.
'I don't understand.'
'The snow. Cold. Frost. All of it. I just… when Aslan crowned me king, he said from the great Western Wood. But it should have been Great Western Frozen wasteland.' He winced at his own words. 'I don't deserve to sit on a throne with you. I don't deserve to be a king. I don't deserve to be forgiven by creatures I was only to willing to hand over to the Queen!' He choked, and turned away, wondering if he was cold enough to freeze his tears to his cheeks.
'You're ten years old.' He bristled, and whirled round to yell, when he saw the expression on his brother's face. 'You were handed a treat, and you took it. I would have done the same, if I'd been your age. She appealed to feelings you didn't even know you had.' Peter's face twisted into an emotion Edmund didn't fully comprehend. Maybe self-hate. 'And we were so concerned with wanting you to be an adult, that we forgot you weren't.' Their eyes met and Edmund shifted his feet unconsciously. He was still afraid of Peter. Only now he was afraid that Peter was going to take the only thing he had left – his guilt.
The High King of Narnia searched his face slowly, and realisation dawned on him. 'Do you worry that we won't need you?' Edmund turned his face away, but Peter was walking towards him, and turned his face in his hands. 'Ed?'
The aforementioned brother swallowed and let his eyes drop. He didn't deserve to look Peter in the eye. 'I though – I'm the example of what can go wrong Peter. I don't – I don't want to be King.'
'Are you saying that because you feel it? Or because of her?' Edmund wanted to scream that she had nothing to do with it. But the truth was, she had everything to do with it.
'She didn't have to do a lot. I was willing to betray you anyway. But now-' Edmund closed his eyes tight, trying to stop the tears. 'Every time I look out at the people and creatures of Narnia – all I see is stone.' His voice is barely a weak and he hates himself for being so weak.
Arms are wrapping around him, and for the briefest of seconds, Edmund tries to pull away. But then he remembers nights of fear in thunderstorms and Peter strong and faithful and there and he's melting against the embrace. 'So sorry…'
His words are muffle by sobs and tears but he hopes Peter knows anyway.
Soon, he's cried all he can, but the thought of pulling away from Peter – and the security he offer's – is too much. But the elder makes the decision for him, and he finds himself staring into clear blue eyes. 'It won't be easy, Ed. You'll never forget what you did.' That statement seems harsh and cold – but Edmund knows it's fair. 'And you know what?' Peter looks uncertain for the first time, and a tendril of fear wraps itself around Edmund's gut. 'There's something I'll never forget either. And it's something no one else on Narnia will ever forget.'
He cocked his head a little and Edmund knew what was coming. 'A boy who disobeyed and order for safety, to break the wand of a woman who would have killed him in a heartbeat. You saved everyone, Ed. I merely finished what you started.'
Edmund could think of nothing to say. Not that he could have said it, anyway. He just nodded and took a moment to compose himself. Slowly, he led Peter back to where Philip was standing, still at the top of the hill where he had been left. He said nothing when he saw Edmund's tear-stained face. He said nothing when Peter slid up on his back. But when Edmund made to approach, he made sure his face was right in Edmund's. 'Next time you think nobody trusts you, or wants you around, remember me.'
With that he arched his back, letting Edmund slide up in front of his brother. He patted the back of Philip's neck and took a deep breath, the feel of his brother's back against him another kind of safety. 'Let's go home, Philip.'
Home.
'Yeah. It's a bit too cold out here for my tastes.' Edmund turned back to Peter, and saw the smile and the twinkling eyes. Edmund shivered. Maybe –
He smiled as he turned back, facing Cair Paravel. Where they're sisters were probably wondering and worrying about them. 'Actually, I think it is.'
Far too cold.