Summary: There are many definitions of pain for Edmund. Golden Age, one shot. R&R
A/N: This is kind of a random one-shot that I've had on my computer for a while.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Narnia. Or any of the characters, places, or situations you might recognize. It's sad but true.
Edmund was laying on his bed at Cair Paravel, his eyes trained on the ceiling. It had been one week since the coronation, two weeks since...No, he'd better not think about that. He tried to set his mind on other, less painful topics: the coronation, the party, the move to Cair Paravel, the joy that the White Witch's defeat had brought. However hard Edmund tried, the events of the days leading up to the battle kept coming back to the front of his mind, though thinking about it would only bring more pain.
Pain. That was a word Edmund had gotten to know better over the last few weeks than in his whole life. There was the physical pain, brought on mainly by the White Witch. The pain form the whip, the shackles, the wand in his side. That was the easy pain, the "good" pain if you will. Physical pain went away-it was there for a time, and was horrible, but always went away. The emotional pain-that was the worst sort of pain, Edmund thought. The one that left the deepest scars. The pain brought on by fear-the fear the White Witch had implanted in Edmund's very bones. And betrayal. It was worse if it was you who had done the betraying, rather than being the betrayed.
Edmund's siblings forgave and forgot, forgave him for being a traitor, for nearly getting them killed. They didn't quite forget what he had done, but they never mentioned it. They did not hold grudges against him for what he did. Edmund could not forget, could not forget that it had been he Aslan had died to save, he who had told the Witch where to find Aslan's army, he who had helped bring on the Battle of Buruna. Edmund could not forget the pain he had caused so many others-countless Narnians, even his own family. Edmund could not understand how the Narnians could so willingly accept and follow a king who had once been a trator. Shouldn't he be exiled, sent away and told to never come back? Edmund was sure he didn't deserve to co-rule. Peter and Susan and Lucy did, of course. They hadn't betrayed everyone to the White Witch for sweets. They hadn't told the Witch Mr. Tumnus had helped Lucy, resulting in the faun being turned to stone. They, in Edmund's mind, had every right to tell him to go away, back to England. They could rule Narnia without him, go on with their lives in Narnia peacefully, with him out of the picture.
He wondered how his siblings would react if they could somehow read his thoughts right about now. Peter would go into protective-older-brother mode (as usual) and assure Edmund that all was forgiven, and that they were all still friends. Peter would probably also lecture Edmund about how much time the Just King spent on his work, and how little he slept and whatever else crossed the High King's mind. You never really knew with him. Lucy would probably tell him that he was their brother, of course he was forgiven and to stop beating himself up over it, to get out and have some fun for once. Susan would say to stop worrying about the past and think about the present and future. She wouldn't be mean about it, just practical. How was he supposed to be a king and get all the work done if he was constantly worrying? And she would be right. Edmund got up from his bed and exited his room, headed for the library to get some work done.
A/N: Sorry for the horrible ending, I really wasn't sure how to wrap this all up. The little button below is calling you!