Guilt in Life
Chapter Seven
"You're done with your musing?" she rubbed her eyes.
Edmund nodded, "let's get you to the bed."
Natasha got up and started walking to Professor Kirke's room. She collapsed onto the bed soon. Edmund, like last night, sat on the bed next to her and closed his eyes.
"Thanks," Edmund heard her mumbled.
"What for?" His eyes remained closing.
"For trying," she muttered, Edmund saw form the corner of his eye that she turned to face him.
"Even if it doesn't work," Edmund raised an eyebrow.
"It will," she said hopefully. For a moment, Edmund wished he had her faith.
"Why did you call me a king who has lost hope before?"
"You are," she paused, "don't you notice that?"
"What should I notice?" Edmund frowned.
"Everyone says you bear a heavy burden," she continued, "you always wear a scowl or a serious face, barely smile or laugh."
Edmund shrugged. It was a comfy silence before Natasha spoke again.
"Is it because of guilt?" she asked sharply.
Edmund's eyes snapped open.
"I don't know-"
"Stop denying it," she interrupted him. Edmund found Natasha's eyes were open, looking at him with her blue eyes sparkling in the raven night. She was blazing in the dark.
"I'm not denying anything," Edmund shivered.
"I can always tell when others are lying," Natasha said righteously, "Edmund..."
As much as he was delighted that she called his name, Edmund didn't want to continue their conversation.
"Do not bear this guilt," she sat up, looking at him at the same level, "It's not your fault"
"Don't try to talk me out of it," Edmund recalled how his siblings had tried, "it's not going to work."
"That's because you don't let others try," Natasha pointed out.
"You read this from that paper isn't it?" Edmund asked gloomily.
"I don't know why you did that-"
"You don't know what happened back there," Edmund sighed, "I am not in the mood of talking about it."
"Tell me," she whispered as eyeing at him. With curiosity. With care, actual care. With gentle eyes and tender voice.
Edmund felt weak as shaking his head. It had nothing to do with affection, or friendship, or companionship, or anything that they were sharing now. Edmund felt like, it felt like he could talk. It was like he could talk about everything with her.
"I was," he stared at the blanket, "I was a jerk, a really really bad guy..."
As Edmund talked, Natasha was listening patiently. She didn't ask as let him finish everything. When he mentioned about the Fox that help him but was turned to be stone by the Witch, his fist was tightened. He wanted to hide it, but Natasha saw it all the same. Instead of giving him a look of disgust, she slowly reached out to hold his hand. His was large and scarred while hers was small and delicate.
"...so we saved Narnia again. I'm the so-call good guy, but now you know what I have done to Narnia," Edmund finished with a sigh, noticed that Natasha's hand had not let go his.
"Wow."
"I understand if you want to hit me, or slay me with your sword, or just detest me," Edmund looked at Natasha's hand.
"You know I am not going to do that," she promised, "I don't know about things that happened 1300 years ago, but for King Caspian's incident, everyone praises you as hero. You smashed the White Witch's evil spell!"
"That's what I should do,"Edmund mumbled.
"Don't feel guilty," she repeated, stroking his hand.
Edmund shook his head, looked out of the window , felt like hours had passed.
"You don't understand."
"You think Aslan shouldn't have died for you, right? You think you should be the one to die, you think no matter how you try, there're still things in Narnia missing because of you."
Her words were sharp. Eyes were even shaper. Edmund felt naked with her gaze upon him.
"Maybe," he admitted, shrugging.
"Maybe you should start again, ignore the guilt," she suggested, "let it go."
"It's hard," he replied, "it's been with me for decades."
"I will help you," Natasha smiled faintly at him, "I would love to meet the guilt-free Edmund Pevensie."
"But he's a jerk," Edmund smiled lightly.
"If I can put up with the arrogant Edmund, the guilt-free Edmund shouldn't be a problem."
Edmund, for the first time in many years, chuckled.
"You were a traitor," the word traitor didn't sound too horrible from her, "but a hero now."
"The whole I-am-traitor-thing is very heavy," he commented, exhaled deeply.
"I'll take part of that guilt then," Natasha said, she took out something from her pocket. It was a chain with a ring made of silver. Dwarf's work.
"What's that?" he asked curiously.
"Family gift, we give it to people that we care, which is you," she said slowly, "I'll put it on for you, if you want."
Edmund wished it was brighter here, because he thought he saw her cheek became rosy.
"Sure."
Edmund leaned close and let Natasha put the chain on his neck. He felt her cold fingertips against his flesh. When she was done, she leaned back, but Edmund put a hand on her face, feeling her smooth cheek. Her cheeks were warm while his was rising with unstoppable heat.
"This isn't right," Natasha mumbled, it felt like she was speaking to herself.
"You're beautiful," he muttered, stroking her face. He could her eyelashes very clearly, but none was as attractive as her blue eyes as they locked with his brown ones. Edmund was breathing slowly and heavily as leaning in.
A shriek shattered the silence.
They jumped apart quickly. Edmund recognized this voice. He had heard it once when they broke Professor Kirke's window glass with a ball.
"Who's that?" Natasha breathed.
"The annoying housekeeper," Edmund replied, groaned, cursing silently as she ruined one of the best moments in his life, "she's found professor's study."
"What's she doing here?"
"Don't know, but she won't be pleased to see us here. We broke in after all," Edmund said as hopping off the bed, "let's go to the room that hides the wardrobe, the professor has forbidden her to go there."
"And I think she won't be pleased to see your sword either," Natasha remained him. Edmund grinned before grabbing Yule, quietly opened the door and peeked.
"...don't know who broke in Professor Kirke's house...must be the Newton kids...breaking the windows...crushing the study...if I wasn't happened to pass by and visit the professor..." Her voice remained dry and queer, Edmund noticed.
"Why is she talking to herself?" Natasha frowned.
"Her daily habit," Edmund replied, "come on."
They climbed the stairs, Natasha tripped and they raced up the room with the magic wardrobe. Edmund dragged Natasha in, peeking at the corridor in the gap of the door. Natasha was tugging his shirt, he was too busy to look at her as hearing the housekeeper's light steps.
"Edmund..." she tugged his shirt harder.
"One more second," Edmund said impatiently.
"No, Edmund!"
Edmund turned and looked at Natasha who was pointing at the wardrobe with shakily finger.
Instead of the auburn woods, there were snow, and trees with needle like leaves, branches spreading out in the pale sky like spider webs. There was a street lamp with no light on. Chilly gales swept into the room, freezing them from the inside out.
It barely resembled the land Edmund loved, his home. No more laugher. No more dance. Trees didn't move. Flower didn't blossom. Air was dead. Road was empty. Narnia seemed dead with no life at all.
"Let's go back home," Natasha mumbled, tugged his shirt again.
This time, Edmund didn't ignore her and let her drag him back to his country.
To the land he adored.
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