Fear
A heavy silence fell over the crowd as Aslan led the Witch into his tent. When the flaps of the tent closed behind her, Lucy turned to Edmund, her little face white. She threw her arms around him and burst into hard, racking sobs. Her brother had just come back, and now she might lose him again – for good. It was too much for the girl. She clung to her brother desperately as she cried.
Edmund quickly wrapped his arms around his little sister. A great weight pressed on his heart. He could not look at anyone except his siblings, filled with shame and fear.
He did not want to die. He was needed here. He had to mend things between him and his siblings. He needed them.
Secretly, though, he knew he did deserve to die. Because of him, Peter, Susan, and Lucy had been nearly killed. He was a traitor. It was almost too much to hope that somehow he would be saved. But all these heavy, frightening thoughts were at the back of his mind at the moment. His concern was on Lucy. He hugged her tightly, protectively, slowly rocking her back and forth.
Peter had always had words of comfort and assurance to give Lucy when she was upset or sad. But Edmund was not Peter, and he racked his brain without success for words of comfort to offer his sister. He did not know if it would be all right in the end.
He felt Lucy's tears soak his tunic, and a lump formed in his dry throat.
"Oh, Edmund," the girl whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of fabric in her hands.
He dropped his head to lay a kiss on her hair. "Lucy," he rasped.
He settled them both down on the ground with his sister in his lap. Her arms were about his neck while her face was buried in his shoulder. Edmund silently resumed rocking her. He was unable to speak with the burning in his throat and the trembling in his jaw.
The two siblings could only hug, trying to draw comfort and hope from each other.