Wrong
When they heard the horn's call, and he felt the singing in his soul that had been lost since they first stumbled back through the wardrobe into the grey misery of war-torn England, with Liz no longer holding his hand, and instead achingly gone, he had closed his eyes and pictured her face, expecting to see her on the other side, beautiful and perfect and his.
But she wasn't there. She wasn't there when they stumbled on the ruins of their former home. She wasn't there when they found their gifts, when he felt the sting of loneliness because now he was the only one who hadn't been blessed by Father Christmas, or when they rescued the dwarf, whom she would have effortlessly charmed, from the Telmarines. She wasn't there when Lucy saw Aslan so that she could defend his sister as she always had. She wasn't there and it tainted his joy, removing all possibility of finding happiness, even in the beloved peace and familiar magic of Narnia.
So he stood up for Lucy in her stead, believing in her out of loyalty that had once been born of guilt and now was simply the way of things; from being Lucy's most merciless tormentor, he had become her staunchest ally, no matter the world they currently resided in. Once they learned more of the situation, he had Peter's back, defended his decisions even when he disagreed with them – that was what family, what Kings, did, just as they moved on from the consequences of their actions, never giving up, never giving in.
He saw the young prince's interested glances at Susan and repressed a stabbing pain of loss every time he remembered a pair of chocolate brown eyes giving him those same looks. He lost himself in the battle plans, in this new war, so reminiscent of his first time in Narnia, and tried to ignore the fact that his other-half, his better-half, was not standing at his side as she had during every other battle he had fought on Narnian soil.
In the end, despite losses and betrayal and mistakes, they won, with Aslan's help and the magic of the land itself, they threw out the usurpers and reclaimed the throne for the rightful ruler. But none of it mattered, none of it made the lack of her presence better, and he couldn't keep pretending that it did.
It was all right and all wrong and it wasn't supposed to be like this, not in Narnia.
~x~
~x~
~x~
Hope
When she fell asleep on the plane to Florida, and woke suddenly to the feel of water splashing on her face, the last thing she expected was to find herself lying on the shifting wooden planks of a ship, a ship that smelled of things she didn't dare let herself dream about. So when she viciously pinched herself and then opened her eyes to see the shocked face of the husband she hadn't seen in almost a decade, it was unsurprising that she immediately started to cry and laugh and try to speak all at the same time. "Edmund?"
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, tasting of salt from the sea, and from their mingled tears, and she felt every last care drain away as her very soul sung with the rightness of being with him. It was perfect, it was magic, it was Narnia, and for the second time in her unnatural life, she was home.
It wasn't a peaceful journey, full of danger and fraught with tension and betrayal, just as deadly as what she'd left behind, if not more so, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was there, and so was Lucy, and once again everything was right in her world. She spent every moment of every day, and every moment of every night, basking in his presence, feeling the warmth of his gaze, memorizing the lines of his face, the feel of his skin, his spicy masculine scent, until he was imprinted on her mind, heart and soul, never to be lost again, all the while ignoring the dark inner whispers that told her to enjoy it while it lasted, because it was too good to be true.
When the journey ended, far too soon for her liking, she shoved those whispers down, gripped his hand so tightly that her nails drew blood, and stepped through the portal, hoping and praying fiercely, until a sudden disorienting wrench ripped her away. She panicked and started to struggle, her breath coming in short gasps until her seatmate on the airplane tentatively touched her arm, a worried look on the older woman's face. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
Liz just stared at her for a moment before finally managing a nod, turning away before the woman could see her tears, holding her pillow to her mouth to cover her painful, wracking sobs. Eustace and Lucy weren't there, Edmund wasn't there – she would never be okay again. She been given another glimpse of heaven; she'd once again felt the glorious perfection of being in her husband's arms, and now she was back in hell.
Half a world and several decades away, a young man fell to his knees and wept, cradling his hand to his chest, still imprinted with the bloodstained crescents from her nails. Losing Narnia, again, was a near mortal pain. Losing her was worse than death.
