Author's Note: Sometimes, I wonder, "What if?" What if Lucy Pevensie never gave Edmund the cordial? What if he actually died in the fords of Beruna? Keeping this in mind, I wrote some free verse about the boy's feelings as he laid on the ground, wounded.
Disclaimer: The characters of Edmund Pevensie and Jadis, the White Witch are the sole intellectual property of C.S. Lewis.
Warning: This is permeated with angst, melancholy, and suggestive themes. It is based on the movieverse, without adherence to canon. If you do not like the idea of Edmund / Jadis anything, please do not proceed; this one is not for you. If you are offended by this pairing, I suggest you do not read the following work.
I Left My Heart on the Fords of Beruna
I am only twelve
and I am dying.
Never having kissed the lips
of the woman I love.
I am, in fact, dying
at her hand.
As she stabbed me
with her broken wand,
the look in her eyes
pierced my heart.
Now, I lay here.
I am dying
of love. . . .
And I want her,
still.
I want her gazing at me
with her green eyes
the way she did
when she invited me
to sit right next to her.
I want her arms around me
holding me again. . . .
Her body
warmer than the fur
that she wrapped me with.
I want her lips . . .
so perfect and pink
and so close to mine,
tempting me
into a fiery kiss
that will never be.
I want her touch--
the way she softly ran
her fingers through my hair.
I want to hear her voice
deliciously soft,
making me weak . . .
asking me
if I like sitting on a throne
that I will never claim,
for I will never be
her King.
Instead, all I have
is the memory of her
and a glimpse of the blue sky
as I feel the life draining from me.
Oh, Jadis. . . .
how can I get my heart
to forget
your touch,
your gaze,
and your voice
when you said
that you would miss me?