Letting Go
There is no wrong in feeling a certain way. It is what we do about it.
The most difficult lesson for Edmund was learning how to forgive himself. In all honesty, he never really did until Aslan led him further up and further in. Although it was never a constant overwhelming feeling as it was at first. It would come and go in waves. Sometimes provoked by someone or something, then there were times it just spontaneously happened. However, it was that first snowfall during his first year of his reign he learned that these feelings existed. They happen. What mattered were the choices of dealing with those emotions. Edmund learned that winter that keeping it to himself was not a wise decision. Yet, sometimes he could not help it. That was what he did. Peter, who looked from the outside in, would agree that if Edmund had a terrible habit this was it. Bottling it up.
Peter remembered the first time that Edmund could not hold the pressure any longer. It was late evening, and they were walking down a corridor. The centaurs had commented to them that it could have been a matter of hours until the first snowfall. Their cousins were trusting of the four, but some had apprehensions. Oreius himself suggested to a least set a small patrol in the northern parts in case the winter could cause Witch loyalists to come further down.
Edmund had done miraculously well during the rest of the spring, summer, and autumn. They were now leaning towards the new year, and one could say that Edmund was ridiculously resilient. He went about learning, practicing, and serving. No one had really mentioned his past since Aslan said there was no need. There would be a case of questioning his worth, but Edmund would always rise to the challenge to prove. His younger brother was eleven now. He was not expected to do and know everything. Wisdom came with experience which derives from time. There would be an occasional nightmare, but Edmund would just thank for the comfort and shake it off. That was what it seemed.
Today really did not strike of anything unnerving. There were a couple of grievances for preparing for the winter. Nothing happened other than preparation. Yet there must have been something in the back of Edmund's mind that day. It was something that wanted out, and it debilitated him.
Peter had asked him, "If you're not tired do you want to play chess?"
Edmund did not reply. He was submerged. Something consumed him. His throat had begun to tighten as he started to feel like he was drowning on land. His mind reeled. His heart beating out of his chest. His ears were ringing as he peeked out a window. He ran away and stumbled from it. He felt like he was going to die.
He could not focus on anything. Where was he again? We cannot have someone with a treacherous past as King. That was what it was all about? You are not your past. You cannot entirely blame yourself. No, you fell into temptation, Edmund. You will do such again for your own personal self. No-no-no-no-no-no...
"Ed? What's wrong? Ed?" His brother's voice sounded distant.
Your brother is here. There is someone here to help. No, he would never understand. This all happened at once and you really cannot place a point to start explaining. Better off just keeping this to yourself. Save him the trouble.
Peter kneeled next to him as he saw his little brother curled in a corner with his arms tight around himself. He lowered himself next to Edmund and gingerly began to rub his back. A loud gasp would be followed by a low shush. Peter could feel his brother tremble beneath his touch. Edmund just continued to gasp.
It's almost over.
Finally, to Peter's relief they became slowing and Edmund began to move. Slowly he helped Edmund up on his feet and to his room. Exhausted, Edmund sat on his bed.
Peter, the mother hen he was, hovered above his little brother with a face of worry. It almost seemed that something invisible just knocked the wind out of Edmund. "Are you all right?"
Numbly, Edmund nodded. He did not know. The emotions raged onward. Everything was distant as if here were treading water in an ocean with no land in sight. It just seemed easier to just swim down.
That was what he did. With a small smile, he assured his brother that everything was fine now. Peter need not worry about him. He had Narnia to take care of. There was nothing to see here. After all, Edmund was the root of the apprehension.
This sort of inner, or I guess between the lines of the fandom is something I always had a strong heart towards. You throw a boy the age of ten into adult situations with harsh repercussions. My goodness, he was still growing mentally and physically. It seemed very plausible that Edmund suffered from mental disorders considering all the stresses he went through. As a matter of fact, there should never be a shame about how a person feels.
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