The Persistence of Memory

The room was so cold not even the warmth of my body could melt the ice I sat upon. All was misty shadows and strange light, rather the way you can see well when it snows at night. My wrists and ankles were bound so tightly with metal and chain that I could neither stand nor feel my fingers. I had no way of knowing how long I'd been in this ice cell, but it was long enough to regret my every action for the last year and more.

Perhaps I slept. The next thing I knew the Black Dwarf, Ginarrbrik, stood beside me with his whip in hand. I could smell the dirty fur he wore and the sweat on his body. He smiled wickedly down at me an instant before he lashed out with the coiled whip, smashing me flat. Pain and cold vied for supremacy over my whole body. He kicked and beat me, laughing, hating…

And then SHE was there, beautiful and terrible, wise in evil, with twisted majesty. Jadis sneered at me, glad that I was suffering, savoring my fear. She loomed over me, lightly tracing a wheal from the whip's handle on my cheek with an icy fingertip. It wasn't enough for her. She drew a sharp nail like a claw across the spot, scraping deeply and drawing blood. I flinched and she slapped me to the floor, her hand bloodied. She laughed, showing me her red fingers. Delicate as a cat, she put a finger to her tongue, licked the blood off-

I struggled against the covers, gasping and panting as I fought my way out of the nightmare. I sat up, looking around wildly. Peter's room. Vaulted ceilings and rich wood and stained glass. No ice, no chains, no eerie light shining through the walls. I brought a hand to my cheek, but there was nothing there. I dropped back into the pillows. This dream would not stop haunting me. I'd woken up every night the past week from nightmares about Jadis and they were growing in intensity and cruelty. I was sweaty and sore and it wasn't the cold that made me shiver. I probed the spot on my chest with shaking hands. It couldn't have been more than two hours since Lucy had healed me.

Aslan was absent. That was unusual. He had been here when I fell asleep. Perhaps he had expected me to sleep the night through or had been called away.

Throwing back the blankets, I walked out onto the balcony that linked Peter's room with my own. It was cold and crisp outside and the wind off the Eastern Sea smelt of salt and coming rain. I thought of Peter, wondering if he was safe and warm, hoping - but doubting - he was both.

All my fault. Guilt wrapped around me like a cloak. This was all my -

I shook my head sharply, physically stepping away from where I had stood, trying to dislodge that sleepy train of thought. I had not done this. Jadis had. I had promised Peter I'd try to forgive myself. I wasn't having much success, especially late nights like this when sleep eluded me once again, but least I wanted to forgive myself now.

I had little hope of sleeping tonight. Not after such a disturbing dream. Most likely I'd nod off on Oreius later today, Aslan bless him for his patience and understanding. Collapsing on Celer last week had been the final straw for the good general, though, and he refused to allow me to drill and train as usual, cutting out my training completely and eliminating the Sixthday class in military science. He was more concerned about my health than my education right now. I suppose most everyone was.

I sighed, my loneliness growing more acute. I was always lonely nowadays even with Lucy and Susan to keep me company. I had thought Dad leaving, and then being sent to the country by Mum was bad enough, but the absence of my only brother, the foremost constant in my life, was far worse.

You must each have faith that the other will stay constant.

Oh, Aslan, I was trying, but it was so very hard. Up until last week I had kept the pain mostly hidden. It was impossible now. Every movement, every breath hurt as badly as midnight.

It was cold outside in this wind and I'd been too cold of late. I returned to the bedroom and donned one of Peter's heavy robes. It was too big, but I didn't care because it smelled faintly of him and it was very warm. I pulled slippers over my socks and headed for the library. If the Owls and the Raccoons weren't about, I'd go annoy the Bats. Anything to dispel the memory of Jadis. Though I heard voices in the library, I suddenly found I didn't want their company. I turned my feet instead towards the east, down a few flights of stairs until I came to the room Lucy now called Lion Chapel.

There was a single light burning in the golden lamp overhead when I opened the door. The arched window was barely visible against a black sky. The room was snug and still, the carpet from the Tisroc was soft and inviting beneath my feet. Since there were no seats in here yet, I sat down on it and wrapped the robe tighter around me. Even just being here was calming to me. Aslan had blessed this sanctuary and Lucy loved it and I needed it more than they could ever know.

I was tracing the designs in the carpet with my eyes when I heard a soft sound in the hall. A moment later the door opened and Aslan slid silently into the chapel. He padded in on velvet paws and sat close beside me, his long, tufted tail wrapping around me. I inched closer to his warmth.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

"I knew that you couldn't," he replied fondly.

"I had a nightmare," I explained, hardly able to raise my voice above a whisper out of reverence for this space. "The same one."

His voice was so wonderfully calm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," said I, "but I probably should. I might sleep if I do and...then I won't fall asleep on Oreius later."

He chuckled softly. "The general won't mind."

"But I should try."

He nodded and slowly reclined, arching his body around me protectively, inviting me to curl in next to him as I shared what was haunting my sleep.

"I dreamed I was in the dungeon of the White Witch's castle," I began, and told him everything in the dream. I had trouble talking and I struggled to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. As I spoke I remembered more details from previous nights and I added them as I went. It seemed somehow wrong to speak of something so grotesque in a place like this. Then Aslan leaned in close so that he could see my face.

"Did this happen?"

Very reluctantly, I nodded. Aslan's eyes were gentle and full of empathy and I had trouble looking at him. I think he knew that this wasn't the worst that had occurred to me when I was her prisoner. I knew Peter suspected more abuses than I had told, than I ever wanted to tell.

"Edmund...what is past has passed. You needn't dwell upon it."

"I deserved it," I whispered.

"Do you honestly believe that?"

I wasn't as certain as I had been in the past. "Yes."

"But that was the past and you were enchanted. Lay it to rest."

"I can't," I whispered. "Not yet. Not while I know she's still in me. Aslan, I want to let it all go but I don't know how."

"Then Peter will show you upon his return."

"I hope so. If I can't be fair to myself, how can I be fair to anyone else?"

"Have faith that he will help you find a way, for until you learn to let go you'll never be whole."

"Are they very far away?"

"Every day Peter and Phillip draw nearer to Narnia. You are foremost in your brother's thoughts." With a little sigh he settled more comfortably into the carpet. His golden eyes seemed to probe deeply into me, perhaps all the way down to my careworn soul. "Tell me something, Edmund: when did you become a king?"

I smiled, confused. "When you crowned me."

Aslan shook his head. "By crowning you I merely provided the trappings for what was already in place. When did you become a king? What moment did you realize you valued Narnia above yourself?"

I thought hard. "When...when she would have hurt Mr. Tumnus in the dungeon. I thought I could distract her attention away from him. It didn't work. I just made things worse. And then with Sir Giles..."

"But you tried. So it was in Jadis's palace and presence that you became King Edmund. That is fitting, is it not?"

I mulled this over in my mind. It struck me as ironic that Jadis should have a hand in creating this person King Edmund since I helped destroy her and her power and her army. Jadis had given me my hatred of injustice and my desire to be a judge. She had shown me the true meaning of cruelty and the true value of love. And she had taught me that sacrifice was the highest calling of them all. Aslan watched me closely.

"Very fitting," I finally agreed, appreciating the point he was making.

"Then think upon that should this nightmare dare return. You don't belong to the White Witch. You belong to yourself and to your family and to Narnia."

"And you?" I pressed hopefully.

"You are mine as much as I am yours, my beloved child."

"Good," I said a little fiercer than I meant to, but the emotion was genuine. His words made sense in a way I couldn't explain, only understand, and I knew I was very much his. "Aslan?"

"Yes?"

I looked around at the lovely chapel. When Lucy was done it would somehow be even more beautiful than it was now. "If I pray to you from here, will you hear?"

"I always listen to your prayers, my child, no matter where you are, and I always answer even though you may not like or understand my reply."

"That's all right," I said with a shrug. "So long as I know you're listening. Can you hear what I'm thinking?"

"Only when you want me to."

"Oh. Well." I wondered if I had thought anything rude or embarrassing that he'd picked up on. I could only hope that wasn't the case. "Well, I'm glad. I'm good with words but only when I'm talking about things or situations. Not...how I feel."

He smiled and touched his tongue to my forehead. His voice was soft as he said, "You do very well, Edmund Pevensie. You do very well indeed."