Joy. Make a Personal Connection With Someone.

As soon as Edmund sees Corin come racing down the hall, he turns on his heel, hoping to avoid the bubbly little monster he couldn't believe was related to King Lune. Whenever Edmund mentioned this to Lune, he laughed, and told Edmund that there was a time when he was a lot more like Corin than he cared to admit. Edmund couldn't imagine Lune as enthusiastic and forward as Corin, paying no mind to custom or manners. Susan, who adored Corin, sighed when Edmund complained of having to spend time with him. "He's nine, Edmund," Susan said. "What do you expect?"

"I was king before I turned ten," Edmund pointed out, but Susan was ready for him.

"And need I remind you what you were like? Worse than Corin, that's for sure," she said decisively, and left the argument without a further word.

But on this occasion, with the Archenlanders only halfway through their month-long trip to Narnia to celebrate Susan's birthday, Edmund couldn't handle another minute of Corin's incessant question-asking, his unstoppable energy, his constant movement. So the second he sees Corin's blond head bobbing around the corner towards him, Edmund does his best to make himself scarce.

Corin is, unfortunately, incredibly perceptive. "King Edmund!" Corin exclaims when he sees him. "Edmund, wait up!" Edmund stops and waits for Corin's energetic steps to slow to a stop next to him. Panting, Corin looks up at Edmund. "What are you doing?" he wonders.

"Uh, well," Edmund stutters. "I have to meet with…well, very important people. I'm…I'm going to be late. So, if you'll excuse me…" he says, trying to sidestep Corin.

"I know you're lying to me, King Edmund," Corin says, stepping in Edmund's path, his hands on his hips. "Father has taught me all about liars and he said that you're one of the best."

"Why would he say that?" Edmund wonders.

"Because I'm going to be king one day, you know," Corin reminds Edmund. "And I have to know about king stuff, like knowing liars." Edmund huffs irritably. "Do you know what else Father said about you?"

"I don't think I want to know, Prince Corin," Edmund tells him haughtily. He places his hands on Corin's shoulders and turns around until Corin is no longer blocking his path. "If he's telling you I'm a liar."

"Well," says Corin anyway. "He says that if I want to know about king stuff, I should ask you."

"Why don't you ask your father or my brother, the High King of Narnia?" Edmund suggests. "They're also kings, you know." Edmund turns away from Corin, hoping –though he should know better –that that would be the end of the conversation. He really wasn't lying on this occasion. He's late for a meeting with the governor of the Lone Islands, and he would hate to tell him that the reason he's late is because a nine-year-old boy held him up.

But Corin is just a step behind him. "Well," Corin continues. "Father says 'Corin, please…' when I ask him about king things, and he says I shouldn't bother King Peter, because he's very busy."

"Peter loves to be bothered, Corin, trust me," Edmund assures him distractedly.

"I know," Corin says. "He gives me great advice all the time, but Father says that you will 'show me the ropes,' or something."

Edmund stops in his tracks and Corin skids to a halt, surprised. "I'm going to have to have a word with your father, I think," Edmund grumbles. Corin just smiles cheekily up at him. "Very well," huffs Edmund. "Would you like to know where I'm heading?" Corin nods enthusiastically. "I have to meet with the governor of the Lone Islands about him not paying the tribute and still wanting us to position troops there."

"Can I come?" Corin asks.

"Can you be quiet for more than two minutes at a time?"

"I can try," Corin promises.

Edmund groans. "Fine!" he snaps. "But you mustn't say a word about what goes on in there to anyone, not even your father, do you understand. It's Narnia's business, and as much as I love your family, you are not Narnian. It is not Archenland's business. Do you understand, Prince Corin?" Corin nods earnestly, and follows Edmund down the hall to Edmund's study, where Governor Brurin is already seated, his back to the door, waiting for him. He is facing the window, staring out over Narnia's snowy landscape. Edmund's window faces west, and Lantern Waste fades into a gray smudge low clouds in the distance. When Brurin hears Edmund enter he stands up nervously, turning around to look at Edmund. He starts at the sight of Corin, but he bows respectfully.

Edmund waves Brurin to sit and takes a seat himself, behind his desk. Corin stands awkwardly beside him, shifting restlessly. "Forgive me, my lord," Edmund says respectfully. "I was held up by our young friend over here, Prince Corin of Archenland." Brurin nods in Corin's direction. "I have, somehow, been put in charge of his king-rearing, so, if it's all right, of course, he will be joining us."

"It's quite all right, Your Majesties," Brurin says respectfully. He looks a little frayed around the edges, Edmund notices vaguely.

"Prince Corin has promised his absolute confidence," Edmund reassures Brurin. "He will not say a word, not even to his father."

Brurin smiles weakly at Corin. "That is much appreciated, Your Highness," he says, addressing Corin. "The matter is sensitive," he adds, turning back to Edmund.

"Yes," Edmund agrees dryly, any hint of the reckless twenty-one-year-old gone. "Sensitive in that you haven't paid your tribute to King Peter in three years, and now you are asking for our protection?"

"Yes, sire," Brurin nods. "I am begging. I would not have come if the situation were not desperate."

Edmund stares at Brurin idly, trying to appear cold. He plays with the tip of a quill that's laying, dried out and frayed, on his desk. "Of course," Edmund hums. "Of course. My brother, High King Peter, believes you. He would have sent you all the protection and money you asked for at the first call, but as much as my heart aches for your people –who are, of course, my people –I cannot take you on your word, and as I reminded King Peter, armies are not free. I wish they were, but we must feed and clothe them, at the very least, you understand, and get them to the Lone Islands."

Brurin nods vigorously. "Yes, sire, yes," he agrees. "But the situation is desperate, we cannot go on like this for much longer. The people are in danger."

"So you say," says Edmund. "And yet, you say nothing more. I would have an easier time believing you if you had a shred of evidence, or, at the very least, a compelling story."

Brurin nods. "This islands, my Lord, are not as prosperous as they appear. The reason we have not paid our tribute is not because of disloyalty, my king, but because we cannot. We cannot afford to. Pirates have been ransacking out coasts for years, selling slaves quietly, sinking out ships or boarding them and taking their captains and their goods. We are…barely scraping by, my king. If we could pay, we would. But as it is…" Brurin's voice trails off and he looks towards Corin desperately. "There is nothing more we can do. We are Narnian. The people feel like they are Narnian. But they will not for much longer if Narnia does not come to our aid."

"Pirates," Edmund echoes absently. "Where from?"

"Calormen, mostly," Brurin answers quietly. "But, I've contacted the Tisroc, or I've tried to, but he won't speak to me. And all the nobles, all the ambassadors, everyone, says they know nothing about it."

"Clearly," Edmund grumbles dully. "No doubt even if the Tisroc was aware of what was happening he would tell you. He is a very clever man, and he does not like to get his hands dirty." Edmund humphs, standing up. Brurin starts and stands up, too. "This changes everything. I will speak to Peter immediately about sending troops to defend your coasts. You can speak to King Peter about where you are most vulnerable and what you most need. In the meantime, I will speak to the Tisroc at his earliest convenience about making sure his slavers don't venture quite as far north as the Lone Islands." Edmund's face has morphed into a nasty scowl, and he doesn't try to hide it. "Nasty business," he grumbles. He smooths his expression and attempts to smile at Brurin. "One last thing," Edmund says. "What kept you from coming to us in the first place? I do not want my people to suffer, wherever they are?" he asks.

Brurin looks at his boots, avoiding Edmund's piercing gaze. "For so long, your Majesty, Narnia and the Lone Islands were separate. The Witch...it wasn't winter on the Islands. She didn't care, except to demand the tribute. When you did not demand, we thought perhaps, you dissolved your ties to us. We did not want to bother the Crown, when they are so busy restoring peace to the mainland, with matters as common on the Islands and as trivial as pirates."

Edmund laughs humorlessly and sticks out his hand bluntly. Brurin shakes it, surprised. "Next time, come to us first. It is our duty to protect and serve Narnia and all Narnians, no matter where they live," Edmund tells him seriously. "Please, Governor Brurin, you may be on your way, and try to enjoy the rest of your time, here on the mainland." Brurin gives another curt bow towards Edmund and Corin, and turns, the tension leaving his shoulders as he walks.

Edmund sinks back into his chair as soon as Brurin leaves. Corin stares at him incredulously. Edmund looks at him, sharply. "What?" he snaps.

"You were mean to him," Corin murmurs.

"Yes," Edmund agrees disinterestedly. "I'm mean."

"Why?" Corin wonders. "I know why you're mean to me. Father says that I'm a nuisance. And I can tell when you're mean to Queen Susan or Queen Lucy or King Peter you don't mean it." Edmund raises an eyebrow at Corin. "But you're not mean."

"Corin…" Edmund sighs. "I am mean because Peter won't be. That's all you need to know. If I'm not mean, then sometimes, things won't get done. Peter would have made that conversation last an hour."

"But you're not mean," Corin repeats, still confused. "You're not."

"Why does it bother you?" Edmund wonders, leaning forward taking Corin by his hands. "I'm mean. You said sometimes I am mean to you. That doesn't seem to bother you. Why should this?"

"He was asking for your help," Corin says, his eyes watering. "He didn't do anything wrong, and he was asking for your help."

"And I gave it to him," Edmund reminds him. "Didn't I?"

Corin thinks about that, furrowing his blond brow intensely. It is several moments before he speaks again. "But…is Father mean? Besides to me, I mean."

Edmund cracks a smile. "However mean you're father is to you, Prince Corin, know that he is twice as mean to people who look to harm Archenland."

"Oh," Corin whispers, distraught, one tear rolling down his cheek. "Will I have to be mean?"

Edmund sighs. "Only once you learn to be serious," he says.

"You're serious," Corin points out.

"Yes," Edmund agrees, feeling much older than he is upon Corin's revelation. Corin wipes his face bashfully. "You mustn't worry about any of this now, Corin," Edmund says, suddenly struck by how young Corin was. How much it upset him that he might one day have to mean. "You don't have to be as mean or as serious as I am," Edmund says. "Peter says I am too mean, but I just don't like meetings." Corin laughs weakly. Edmund squeezes Corin's hands. "You will be a good king, Prince Corin," Edmund assures him. "You won't relish in meanness. But you won't stand for injustice. You will be just like your father, I expect."

"He's boring," Corin mutters. Edmund chuckles.

"Your father is one of the finest men I have ever met," Edmund promises. "And he is rarely as mean as I am."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Edmund gives Corin's hands another gentle squeeze and looks into his small face. He wasn't much older than Corin when he became king, when he was first allowed to be as mean and as cold as he wanted. And Corin, nine, crying. He looks like Peter with his blond hair and blue eyes, even if his face is as pointed and devilish as his father's. Afraid of being mean. Edmund doesn't think he ever gave a second thought to it, he's sure Lune never had such reservations. "You will be an excellent king."

A/N: Sorry this is a day late, I just finished finals on Friday, and I just was so uninspired. Hopefully next week's will be up in the middle of the day on Sunday, and then that will be the end, because it will be Christmas. Remember to be kind and open your hearts for Christmas. Also, I love a mean Edmund.