Peter scowled fiercely at Edmund, who was yammering noisily in the background about the chess set their parents had gotten him for Christmas. Lucy had one of the intricately carved knights in her mouth, and Edmund was being unusually tolerant about it – he hadn't yanked the piece out of her hands yet. It seemed, though, that Edmund's childish impatience had transferred over to Peter, who had been reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland aloud to a raptly attentive Susan.
"Shut up, Ed!" Peter said loudly, once his brother's chatter had distracted him so thoroughly that he'd lost his place in the book once again.
Abruptly, Edmund's mouth closed with a snap, and though he glared at Peter mutinously, he didn't say anything else. It wasn't an unusual occurrence – for all that Edmund was four years old, he was an obedient child. Peter had heard his parents talking about it often enough – they liked to say that his brother's unfailing obedience was the only thing that made up for his temper, which was terribly impressive and reminded Peter of cantankerous old Mr Payne, who lived in the next flat over.
What was unusual, though, was that Edmund was silent for the rest of the night and well into the next morning. He was just as furious as he had been the night before, when Peter had told him to be quiet, and no matter what Peter said or did, Edmund wouldn't talk to him.
Peter didn't bring it up to his parents until later that afternoon – he knew he would be scolded for ordering someone around, even if it was his brother. It was considered rude to wander around giving people orders because one never knew if one was ordering their soulmate about (though soulmates were never family members), and no one liked being forced to obey someone else, especially because if the person ordering them about was their soulmate, they would have no choice but to do as they were told. Of course, it only worked once – though no one knew why – but once was certainly enough to order someone to do something regrettable.
By noon, though, Peter was feeling rather sullen about Edmund's continued refusal to talk to him, and so he decided to risk the scolding so that their parents could get Ed to stop sulking. Edmund might have been a whole three years younger than Peter, but he was also the only other boy, and Peter wasn't in the mood to play with Susan's dolls or deal with Lucy's slobbering.
"Edmund won't talk to me," he told his father, hoping that if he made it seem as though his brother was being particularly unreasonable no one would think to ask about the part he played in the whole situation.
His hopes were dashed, though, when his father simply raised an eyebrow and asked, "And why is that?"
And so Peter recounted the previous evening, trying to ignore his father's disappointed gaze. He was reminded that it was rude to tell others what to do – "Yes, Peter, even if it is your sibling," – and was told to apologise.
"I am sure," his father said contentedly, "that if you simply acknowledge your malfeasance, your brother will forgive you at once, and you can chat with him to your heart's content."
Peter frowned at his father as mutinously as Ed had been scowling at him, but he did as he was told.
Neither Peter nor Edmund completely understood the implications of Peter's thoughtless order and Edmund's subsequent obedience for several years; Lucy only learned of it after the fact had been well established – she only knew of Edmund's forced obedience after it was set in stone.
What it all came down to was this: Edmund was unable to disobey anybody's orders – not just his soulmate's – and it was not just a one-time thing. If someone told Ed to do something, he couldn't not do it. At first it didn't seem as though it was a problem. The general public knew better than to throw random orders around – just in case.
It was counterproductive to be sure, the way no one dared to tell others what to do, because it made it harder for people to find their soulmates; but plenty of people where able to find happiness with someone who wasn't their soulmate, and others were pleasantly surprised one day.
Either way, it seemed like a boon to Lucy: random strangers would be unlikely to order Edmund around because it wasn't polite. It would be a secret well kept, for the most part, and all it really meant was that she and the others had to tiptoe a bit around Edmund, so they didn't force him into anything.
What they failed to consider – what they could not consider, for Edmund was young, and no one could have guessed that he would be a romantic – was that Ed's curse meant that there was no way to differentiate his soulmate from the rest of the world.
If it had been Peter or Susan or even Lucy who had been born with Edmund's curse, it wouldn't have mattered.
But Peter cared little for the idea of a perfect match, especially when soulmates were not always mutual; Susan was too pragmatic to layer her multitudinous hopes on the concept; and Lucy was so perpetually cheerful that the idea that she would not be able to find her soulmate had never occurred to her – of course she would find her perfect match; of course whoever she ended up with would have been made for her, and she for them.
But Edmund was a romantic who had wanted to find his soulmate from the moment he had learned there was such a thing. When he learned that it would be even more difficult for him to find his soulmate than it was for the average person, he became bitter and jealous of his siblings' comparatively easier lots in life.
And then they were sent away to the country.
Lucy discovered Narnia first, and Edmund followed in her snow-covered footsteps.
He was spell bound – curse bound – by the White Witch. She caught him with pretty words, with food, a hot drink, and warm clothes. She caught him with a smile, with her curious ears, with something he thought looked like kindness, or sympathy, or understanding.
But really, the way she caught him was with a few well-chosen words, an order he could not hope to disobey, and a promise to soften the deal.
She caught him and bound him to her will, and her words twisted his hopes into something dark and terrible.
Edmund regretted the things he could not help: he regretted being unable to walk away when she invited him into her sledge, and telling her about himself and his siblings. He regretted his forced betrayal and his excuses and his desperation.
He did not regret Aslan and the Narnians coming for him, nor did he regret his return to his siblings, which – though not exactly triumphant – was joyful and tearful enough.
And even before he saw them again, he was with Aslan, whose rippling golden mane lent a sense of comfort, even in the aftermath of Edmund's betrayal.
Aslan had seemed to forgive him easily – the only other person who had ever absolved him so quickly was Lucy, who, Edmund thought sometimes in the privacy of his own mind, was too kind for her own good.
The lion had lowered his head to look Edmund in the eyes, and he breathed sweet breath over Edmund's face; Edmund felt free in that moment, and freer still when he learned that Aslan had liberated him. It was not just from the White Witch and her orders that Edmund was free, but everyone's.
After his meeting with Aslan, Edmund was free, and the only orders he followed were the ones he wanted to.
And then he met his soulmate.
It was unexpected, Susan thought, though not necessarily unsurprising, that Edmund had reacted the way he did to finding his soulmate.
For as long as she could remember, Edmund had been eager to find his soulmate – despite being unable to disobey orders, something inside Edmund desperately wanted to find the one person whose orders he wouldn't mind obeying. They had all known, though, that the mutation that Edmund had would make it nearly impossible to do.
And then, wonder of wonders, Aslan had freed him. They had left Narnia the first time barely remembering that Edmund had ever been bound to anyone's orders, and though he had remained free even back in Professor Kirk's home it had still been a relief when Aslan's gift didn't fade.
Susan could remember their parents finding out that Edmund was no longer subject to the terrible curse Peter had discovered when they were all so much younger. They had been ecstatic and said time and time again what a blessing it was that Edmund would only ever be forced to follow one more command in his life.
They thought the country air had somehow cured Edmund, and neither Susan nor her siblings ever said anything to disabuse them of that notion. All that really mattered was that Edmund was free. And besides, Aslan and Narnia were theirs.
Really, it turned out, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were Narnia's. Only a year after they had stumbled the wrong way through the wardrobe, she and her siblings found themselves in a cave whose mouth looked out over a glittering beach and vast seas; and even before they found the ruins and Edmund's golden chess knight, they knew they were home.
It was exhilarating to be back in Narnia even though it was a far cry from the Narnia they had known and ruled. Susan could see in her siblings' eyes that they missed the old days just as much as she – it was Lucy who suffered the most, for she grieved for every tree and beast they came across that failed to dance or talk.
But Edmund, walking through the woods of what was once their home, was solemn, almost as though he was waiting for something.
Susan didn't know until it happened what he was expecting, but soon enough – accompanied by an unfamiliar face – there came an order that Edmund was unable to disobey.
It was nothing bad, and not at all taxing, but the fear that seeped into Edmund's eyes as his body followed the command was startling.
After, when she had had time to consider the events that occurred, Susan realized that it was not finding his soulmate that had terrified Edmund; it was the inability to disobey – it had been stolen from him for a brief moment, and it had reminded him of the life he had lived before Aslan.
It was only one order, though, and before too long Edmund could be seen walking hand in hand with his soulmate through the woods which were thrumming with life once more.