Well, this is my first Narnia fanfic ever. Surprising, considering I'm a Narnia fanatic lol :P. I'm sure that you already know (judging from the title) that this is a romance tale. What can I say? I'm a sucker for romance XD. But I've heard through the grapevine that Narnia fanfic romances involving Edmund are quite popular in the Narnia category. Well, this is just that. So I hope to get some good reviews.
Pleeeaaase R&R, I would thoroughly appreciate it!
Enjoy :)
She couldn't get him out of her head. No matter what she did to deviate her mind from off of him, she would always find him again trailing at the back of her thoughts. There was no escaping the fact that Edrima was indeed quite smitten by him. But for what? Surely it was all in vain. She was a simple nymph maiden and servant to the Lady Susan. He was the great Lord King Edmund the Just. Maidens from every corner of Narnia came monthly to see this extraordinary fellow in hopes of becoming his chosen consort. But even to this day, Lord Edmund remained unmarried.
Indeed, who was she to think that he would fall for one as simple as herself. True she was of nymph lineage, but even this too was not a whole plus. Edrima was only half nymph, maybe even less. Her nymph mother had married a man, and the result of their intercourse had been Edrima. Truly her love for this oh-so-fair and beautiful king was in vain. For if Lord Edmund refused nymphs of pure blood, why in the name of Aslan would he choose a simple, half-and-halfer, servant nymph?
Edrima was walking along one of the great corridors of Carparavil, blinded by her thoughts. In her arms she bore a scarlet gown belonging to Queen Susan. She had just returned from her chamber from mending a rip in the fragile material. As she strode out of the corridor and into a great hall of pillars, she caught sight of a figure in her far-right peripheral vision seated at the foot of one of the pillars. She turned and her heart froze within in her.
It was Lord Edmund. The young king was seated on the floor, his back resting against one of the large marble structures. Edrima immediately noticed that he was asleep, the light sound of soft snoring issued from his nostrils. Daring to do what every fiber of her being was insisting that she not do, Edrima walked over to where Edmund slept. When she was only a yard away, she stopped and begin to examine him.
It was obvious that he had just come back from a hunting trip not forty minutes ago. He was dressed in a leafy, green tunic, thick sandals whose straps crisscrossed up his calf, and a dark, pine-green cloak. This was Edmunds attire for sport hunting. He was resting, most likely exhausted from the long hunt.
Edrima had originally intended to simply see if her lord required her services. But now, the young nymph found herself fixed in a trance as she looked upon this handsome man. It had been seven years since Narnia's four new rulers had begun their reign. In those seven years, Edmund, the original traitor of Narnia, had developed into a true king both in character and in physical appearance. He was no longer the scrawny rough that had entered this land at thirteen. Edmund was now a twenty year old man, and perhaps the most handsome and beautiful man that had ever existed in Narnia.
Seven years of hunting, wrestling, jousting and fighting had transformed Edmund into a realman. He had become the epitome of Prince Charming. He was loved of maidens from Ettensmore even to Colorman. His face, tanned and flawless, was ornamented with piercing eyes of sapphire, a perfect nose, and full mature lips, and a strong chin and jaw. His dark, black hair flowed like silk from the crown of his head down the bottom of his neck.
Edrima looked upon Edmund and thought on these things, oblivious that her very presence could be enough to wake the king. She took a step closer, and her soft, bare feet shuffled across the floor. She leaned forward, taking in the king's whole being on one eyeful. Before she realized what exactly she was doing, her hand was only a few inches from his face. She just wanted to touch him, to feel is flawless skin, to feel is warm breath against her fingers. She had never been this close to the king before. Nervousness took her, and her hand trembled like a leaf.
When her finger was but a mere inch from his cheek, Edmund's eyes snapped open.