Threads

Chapter 19

Edmund kept his eyes glued to Eirene's walking figure. She strutted with regal grace. Everything about her was driving Edmund mad with a million indescribable sensations.

He knew that love was a strange but desirable disease. And that the inflicted were driven insane by the butterflies in their stomachs. He'd seen in with Peter and Lucy, about 1,200 years ago.

But never would he have thought to be in a similar situation. He truly didn't remember a time where he'd felt like that; so childishly crushed with someone. That he would ever be so smitten.

Not even his first love had made him feel so exhilarated.

He chuckled to himself; he'd finally kissed her. He'd finally held her in his arms.

But the wake of her kiss made him realize that it wasn't just her body he wanted. He wanted all of her. Her voice, her smile, and laugh, her hopes, and dreams; but also her moans and darkest desires. He wanted all of her as he had never wanted anyone.

He cared for her. And that half excited him, and half scared him.

He emerged from the water in a swift movement and ran his hands through his wet hair. He walked over to the edge of the water, leaning to grab his clothes from the rock where he had placed them. He patted his body dry before sliding into his shirt and boots. He redid the knot to his trousers, his body aching for release.

Edmund smiled as he realized that Eirene had left her undress right there, on the ground. He grabbed and walked back to camp. The night was falling and his skin erupted in goosebumps.

He only craved Eirene. He wanted to return the dress to her—half of him in the hopes of finishing what they started, and half of him just wanting to get another glimpse of her, even if it was for a second.

The fact that he was divided between desire and tenderness, was a sure sign of his doom. He was certain.

Still, he walked back to camp determined. He stopped first at his tent and grabbed a change of clothes. He made sure to strap the sword to his belt as well, remembering that the only reason he had stayed behind was to protect Eirene.

He nodded his head to every Narnian he passed as he made his way over to Eirene's tent. He never much cared for appearances, but at that moment he felt nervous about wandering looks. Would anyone try and stop him? What would he say, if they did?

He suddenly felt like the fugitive lover, stealing away in the shadows of the night before meeting his paramour. It was a new experience for him. He'd always been at the opposite end, always patiently waiting for women to come to him. But the freshness of the experience exhilarated him.

When he stepped close enough to Eirene's tent, the leopard that was guarding her door looked at him sternly. Edmund didn't say anything, and the leopard stepped aside, leaving the entrance empty. Edmund nodded at the feline.

He took a careful step forwards. He grabbed one of the folds and moved it to the side. He cleared his throat before taking another step inside. Damn, he had never been as nervous as he was in that half-second.

Edmund was met with a warm atmosphere when he took another step inside. His eyes wandered about the space, looking for her figure.

"Edmund," a hurried and blushed Eirene said, standing up from the chair she was sitting in.

If he'd been jittery before entering, Eirene could not tell. She felt like a fool herself—red in the face and her imagination plagued with the thought of him. She felt like she had even conjured up his presence.

"Your dress," he said in a perfectly serious and alluring voice, "you left it back at the lake."

He swallowed, and Eirene admired how the soft light caressed the shadows at his neck, accentuating his Adam's apple.

"How clumsy of me," she said and grabbed it when he extended his hand. "Thank you for bringing it back, though."

Surprised by his presence, she felt like a silly young girl, alone with her first crush. But she wasn't, she was a woman, and she'd made that clear before at the lake.

She took a deep breath in.

Her lips still burned with his kiss, and every part of her body craved more of him.

She'd been raised to be a princess, to always be pragmatic and never a subject to fleeting feelings. She'd been raised to honor and preserve tradition— and she didn't feel like she was doing right by that.

She let her breath out.

Edmund, ever intuitive towards Eirene's thoughts, grabbed her hands and moved closer to her. Her hand burned at his touch, sparks ignited her whole body.

He pulled her closer, and both were standing in the middle of her tent. He caressed her cheek, and she placed her hand on his chest. Starting to get mad with desire once again, Eirene took a step back.

"Edmund—" she said hesitantly. What happens if I give in? Just for tonight—I'll worry about the world tomorrow, she thought. It was simple enough. Kissing him, and let her senses gain the better of her for the rest of the evening.

But she had to fight it. At least momentarily.

"The truth is I meant to ask you…" she started, and a chaotic and duty-ridden gaze filled her eyes, "I sought you because I wanted, needed, to ask you something."

She closed her eyes, gaining the courage to ask him what she needed to know. She would have rather just kissed him, and spent the night in his company—but she needed to know this first.

It took all her willpower, to focus on other matters that weren't his physicality-because who could have thought properly when Edmund looked like he did. Who could have thought straight after they kissed like they did, after she'd felt what remained hidden in his pants, and after they almost gave in to their most primal instincts—

But she could no longer let sentiment in the way of her rational thinking. She could no longer deny she was falling for the Just King, but she couldn't ignore what she had heard him say, either. Edmund and Lucy spoke about dark magic and some sort of scheme with it. And she needed to know about that—she needed to know why Edmund thought that she needed extra protection.

"You can ask anything and everything," Edmund said. He watched her catch her breath to continue.

"What I originally meant to ask you is something that— something that I'm not proud of. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, and it really wasn't on purpose, I hope you'll find it in you to believe me—"

Edmund's stomach sank. He cursed himself— he understood what she was talking about. He felt the urge to tell her everything right then and there, but he knew it was best to wait. But he knew he would tell her. He had to.

"The echoes of the How brought certain whispers. And with them, I heard you and Lucy talking about something I didn't quite understand. From what little I gathered, you seemed to have lost an object, an object of importance. And—you were worried that it fell into the wrong hands. And I heard you say that you didn't think it was safe for me here. The phrase dark magic was spoken a couple of times."

Edmund considered Eirene's words, and while she did seem somewhat agitated, she didn't seem completely unnerved.

She watched as Eirene sat back down, on the regal chair where he had found her, a small eating table separating the both of them

From the strength in her gaze, he knew that were he to tell her everything, she would be able to endure. It was the same expression she had showed him when they had first met. Fierce and determined. But now it was clear that it wasn't just a façade for strangers, but rather strength truly inhabited within her.

It was that quality that made or broke monarchs, he'd learned over the years.

But there was something else within her sharing space with that ferocity; her eyes were innocent, too. But it was a particular type—it was the innocence of inexperience.

That innocent glow within her light hazel eyes told him that she'd never witnessed the works of dark magic. That she'd never been exposed to such mind-boggling cruelty. And Edmund wanted to preserve that—protect her. Nobody deserved to be a witness to darkness. But he knew that those who remained pure and untarnished, were the ones most at danger, too.

Edmund took a careful breath in and sat on the chair across her.

"Was that all?" He said, dryly.

Eirene studied how he answered, her paranoia spiking. She arched an eyebrow, taking more of a careful defensive stance.

"Echoes without any specificities," she confirmed.

Edmund knew the following seconds were crucial.

He knew she was gathering information about him. However she interpreted him could destroy or reinforce their bond. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, to keep her safe, and be a true ally. But perhaps protecting her wasn't as easy as keeping the truth concealed from her.

But if he told her about what he heard about Trumpkin and Nikabrik, he risked too much. If Eirene didn't believe him, he risked severing the bond between him and her. And why would she believe Edmund, anyway? Trumpkin was her friend since she was but a child. And he, well he was the foreigner, after all. Kiss or no kiss.

It was another second as he studied his next move, strategic planning undergoing. He prayed to Aslan he wouldn't regret his choice.

"Which item did you lose?" Eirene asked.

Edmund cleared his throat. He didn't think she would start the conversation with that question.

"Peter's sword, Rhindon." A blunt lie, Edmund thought. Well, half a lie, he corrected himself. He didn't have Rhindon with him any longer but it wasn't the main object concerning his mind. But how could he explain the letters to her? It barely made sense to him, and perhaps it wasn't an instrument to be shared with others.

He tried to change the direction of the conversation.

"What I was explaining to Lucy in privacy was that the How is a place of sacrifice," he began carefully, "a place where Aslan paid for my sins," a piece of truth, he thought.

"And about how I'm not proud of having tempted the darkness at such a young age. Sometimes I wish I hadn't seen the things I did," his eyes wandered to the background of the room, unfocused.

He spoke from deep within his soul. His life was tarnished with regret, and he constantly wished he could take back time. But if he hadn't ruined so many things up so quickly, the aftermath would have never been the same.

Eirene brought her eyebrows together and looked down at the ground. Edmund faltered for a second without her realization, considering his following move.

"But then again, if I hadn't watched and lived the consequences of dark magic personally, I wouldn't know how much a danger it is," Edmund trailed off. He was sure Eirene had never seen dark magic in her life—and he prayed to Aslan it would stay like that.

From what little Edmund had seen of her, Eirene was nothing like 12-year-old him. She was a born and true leader. Darkness and temptation didn't seem to dwell within her as they had on him.

"And is that why you didn't talk to me for two days?" Eirene said, embarrassed to be pressing on. Edmund sighed, knowing that he couldn't tell her the truth, but he could try to hint at it.

"What if it was?" he said. Eirene pressed her lips tightly. She had no right to question him, she concluded.

A few minutes passed in silence. Both of them were heavy with thoughts until Edmund broke the silence. He measured his words with care.

"It's that sometimes I wish I could have known how much dark magic messes with a person's head," he said lowly, his eyes flashing angst.

"And how does it feel like?"

"It is…" Edmund began, recalling too much from the past in a single take, "…alluring at first—a drunken sensation with the most appealing of desires. Power, greed, insatiable calm at the same time. But once it finds a place inside you, it is almost impossible to get rid of it."

He breathed out, and Eirene touched his hand. Edmund wrapped his other hand on top of it.

"Sometimes," he said, his thumb making circles on the top of her hand, "I feel that it is still there, beating like a dying man's heart. Somewhere buried around me."

He cleared his throat. Eirene knew she had touched a nerve, unintendedly. She felt ashamed for even having brought the topic up. For having eavesdropped.

Edmund, on the other hand, was shaken up within himself. He hadn't answered her question. He hadn't answered with the truth of what she asked and instead answered with the truth to other matters, matters of his past. And it made him feel somewhat wretched.

But he wanted to tell her all of his stories. The dark parts, and the light ones. He wanted to share everything with her—but not as a means of covering up something else. He sighed.

"Dark magic leaves traces, and I wish for no one to have the same scars that I bear. As tempting as it can be, there never is a good enough reason to tinker with it."

Eirene leaned back into her chair. She couldn't add anything. She knew nothing of his pain, of what he spoke. She only knew that over the years, besides being the Just King, he became knowledgeable in the subject of dark magic.

"What I was telling Lucy was that I think someone is willing to use it."

Eirene gasped.

"And who is it?"

Edmund turned his gaze downwards. He breathed in. He couldn't tell her. He was sure she wouldn't believe him. He was sure she wouldn't take it well, otherwise, Trumpkin would have told her himself, as well.

Edmund ran a hand through his hair.

"I wasn't able to tell who it was, I just know it was someone. A Narnian."

Eirene cocked her eyebrow. She thought about everyone at camp, of the Narnians she knew and the ones she didn't. But nobody seemed suspicious. Perhaps now that she knew, she'd be able to spot her or him.

But it can wait 'til tomorrow, she caught herself thinking.

After some moments of silence, Eirene cleared her throat, trying to ease the environment. She stood up then and moved to the other side of the tent, over to a small table with a flask of wine.

"Would you like some?" she asked. Edmund told her that he did and watched her move with regal grace. In an instant, he was mesmerized, his preoccupations forgotten. She handed him his cup and watched him as she took a sip herself.

"And I guess you've stayed back to look out for me," Eirene said.

Edmund nodded. Eirene stared at him for a second. His expression looked less worried now.

"And what makes you think I need protection?" she leaned into the table, closer to him, their knees grazing each other's, but their upper bodies not close enough to touch each other.

"Well," Edmund said, changing the tone of his voice, "I did have to free you from the Telmarine Castle."

"Ah, you won't forget that, will you?"

She could no longer ignore the fact that he was right there. Sitting across her, with his alluring and mysterious aura, dazing her entire mind and hypnotizing her body.

He was sitting right there, his eyes wide and dark, his features perfectly sculpted. Eirene would be damned if she didn't reach over to his lips—

"I…stayed back to protect you, yes. But I do not think you're helpless, Eirene. I think you can fend off for yourself. I just know that having a pair of extra eyes is useful," he said, his face showing seriousness once again.

"I just need to ask one thing of you," she said, "will you tell me if you discover who it was?"

Edmund knitted his eyebrows together. He nodded hesitantly at first.

"I will," he promised, while his heart sank. He knew he couldn't tell her at that moment, or his lie would be apparent. He would have to do it in another moment—he'd find the right time.

Eirene breathed in before drawing back into her chair and taking another sip of her wine. She realized that the exhilaration he provoked in her was soothing. He was both the quiet before the storm and a hurricane at the same time. How magical he was, how magical the situation—to find both euphoria and clarity in the same person.

Edmund sighed and tapped his fingers on the wooden table.

"Well—I came here to bring you the nightgown you've left behind. And I've done it already, so…" he signaled where he left the dampened garment behind. He stood up and began backing towards the entrance. Eirene took a second to react.

"I'll bid you goodnight, then. Hopefully tomorrow our siblings will be joining us—" He said, as he turned around and went for the entrance.

"Edmund—" she said desperately, "stay."

Eirene stood up and caught up to him. She stood a few meters away from him.

"It's just…I don't think I would have been able to catch some sleep tonight, anyway. The company is nice."

Edmund smirked.

"Good thing there is plenty of wine for us, then.

Eirene began to smile slowly and shyly. It was a tender and honest smile.

"I'm…" Eirene began, "…glad you're here."

"I'm happy to be here, too," he said.

Eirene smirked, but then slowly regained her serious demeanor. Edmund watched her change expressions and was then able to tell who her head weighed heavy with more thoughts. Aslan knew how much he struggled with thoughts, too.

Eirene felt like Edmund had shown her a fraction of who he was. She felt like she could share the same, as well. She walked away and gazed into her goblet of wine.

"I know we've only been here for a couple of days, but, there are moments where I just—it feels lonely, the thought of waging war against everything you've always known."

Edmund followed behind her.

"And I do often wonder—tomorrow, when I see Caspian again after so long…who's war does this become?"

She then stared off into space and tightened her lips. Edmund looked at her, feeling his expression softening at the vision of her. The light glowed on her skin, her black hair shining. She blinked and Edmund admired the bat of her long eyelashes as if it were in slow motion.

"Yours," he said simply, making her turn around, "yours, and Caspian's. And Narnia's, too. All of us."

She didn't look convinced.

"You are no tyrant, Eirene. You are not forcing anyone to be here—we all are here because we want to. Because of you."

"Is that your honest opinion?" Eirene asked, vulnerable.

Edmund nodded slowly. She sighed loudly. She drank some more and finished her cup. She walked over to the other table and brought the flask with her. She settled it between them.

She sat down, and Edmund moved took the flask in his hands. He poured Eirene more wine.

"I think I may be going too fast with the wine," she laughed nervously.

"Let's get even, then," he said, sitting down and finishing the cup, too.

As he poured another one, Eirene admired his profile. He was a piece of art, in and out. And none of the representation she had seen, written or drawn, did him justice.

Had Pygmalion been a woman, Edmund would have been the plea that Aphrodite brought back to life.

They clinked their goblets together, and drank as they held each other gazes.

For a fleeting moment, Edmund thought he had finally soothed her nerves. But then her gaze returned to a hardened one and got lost in the flames.

"I saw figures moving," she said, "in the flames. The day you raided the castle. They kept me awake, they kept me waiting. I didn't know for what exactly, but I'm so happy it was you."

The wind blew and rattled the tent for a moment.

"How d'you think he is now?" Eirene said suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Caspian. How do you think he is now? It's been 12 years…"

Edmund tried to recall the letters, but there weren't any specifics on him.

"I think that he's just like you," he said simply. "He came back. He came back to fight. Not because he wants power—he was able to call on a small army. He already had power. So he wanted to make things right. You've said yourself, you were raised on tales on how Narnia was before—"

"Do you think he'll want the same?"

"I'm sure of it."

"But what if—I'm older, but he was the crown prince, and—"

Eirene stopped herself. She didn't want to sound like she was greedy with the power she didn't even have yet.

"I mean," she corrected, "there are so many matters to think about, and I…I worry too much about what will happen next."

"Well," Edmund began to say, "I may know a thing or two about sharing a throne with your siblings."

Eirene opened her eyes wide immediately and smiled. Of course! He understood, without any need for clarification or more clumsy words coming out of her mouth. He understood.

"And…it's not that bad, I promise."

Eirene kept her wide smile.

"Didn't you fight over, I don't know, riches or land or other material things?"

"We did," he turned his eyes upwards, remembering what seemed to be an entire lifetime away, "when we were younger. Childish quarrels."

Edmund caught on to Eirene's look and carried on with his story, a smile appearing on his face.

"Susan and Lucy would fight over a dress or a necklace. Pete and I would fight over who got to practice in the mornings with Orius."

"Orius?"

"A centaur—he was the best swordsman in Narnia."

"But now you are," Eirene said with a smile.

Edmund took the compliment and he winked his eye.

Eirene laughed, hoping that the summersault her stomach did wasn't all that apparent.

"So, no major fights?" she asked.

"We never fought about the crucial things. All of us knew what we were good for and we never got in the way of each other's work."

Eirene sighed, thinking. I just hope Caspian and I can manage that—

"And what were you good at?" she asked, instead.

He took a somewhat long sip from his cup before answering.

"Diplomacy, I guess."

Eirene traced her index finger along the rim of her cup.

"Well, I read that you were quite the war strategist."

"I certainly told myself I was," Edmund chuckled and leaned over the table. His chuckle was a beautiful drum in Eirene's ear. He fumbled with his hair for a moment. The light illuminated the freckles on the bridge of this nose.

"Well, after all of what I've read…I'd say I'm glad to have you on my side then," she said. She thought she saw a subtle hint of blush tint Edmund's sculpted cheekbones.

"Ah, I'd like to meet the person your history books thought I was," he said, humbly.

"Reality definitively defeated expectation," Eirene said, pouring him more wine into the almost empty cup.

He kept quiet as he took more wine, reminiscing of old times.

"I truly enjoy listening to you, Edmund," she said, earnestly.

Edmund felt tenderness within his heart like he hadn't for most of his life.

"I enjoy your company, too, Eirene."

Eirene looked at him, both of them smiling foolishly at one another.

His appearance in her life, it seemed, was the best thing that could have ever occurred to her. Her existence turned into a shining light into what seemed, only months ago, a wandering and uncertain life.

Edmund moved his hand forwards, trying to catch hers and intertwine fingers with her.

He wanted to let her know that what happened at the lake was not only physical but rather carried much more sentimental significance. Even if they were feelings he couldn't yet decipher himself.

"Tomorrow is hours away. We don't know what the future will bring. But for now, let's do whatever we can at this moment. This is all we have."

He took the goblet in his hand again and Eirene watched his lean fingers and his strong wrist leading to his muscular arm.

Eirene stood up slowly and locked her gaze with Edmund.

"Come on," she said, "sit with me."

Edmund, mesmerized by her commanding voice, did as she bid. Eirene settled cushions and pillows on the carpeted ground. Edmund grabbed the flask of wine and the goblets.

When she was with him, she realized, she only felt an inebriated sensation of eternal possibilities. She felt the exact type of exhilaration poets wrote about; she felt all the love she had never been able to feel with all her previous lovers.

A war camp was no place for romance, she knew, but how much she craved it.