AN: Umm... yeah... hi. It's me again. I am soooooo sorry! I know it's been ages since I updated, but I'm back to school now, and I'm drowning in homework etc. But anyway, IAMSOHAPPY! It was my Bday Party recently, and my family plastered my room in Coldplay posters and printouts, and started blasting basically every Coldplay song known to man at full blast. That, people, is why family's are amazing. And to celebrate my birthday, family, and the release of Coldplay's new song "Atlas" (which, btw, is SUPERCALIFRAGILIZTICEXPIALIDOCIOUSLLY AMAZING! Seriously, everyone else is waiting for Catching Fire... I am waiting for the end credits, so I can stand up and sing along to Coldplay's latest masterpiece, waving a glowstick in the air) I am giving you all this update. But now... THE DISCLAIMER!

Edmund: Mmph! MMPHMMPHMMPH!

Me: I'm sorry, but I have to gag you until you agree to disclaim for me. Until then- I own nothing *winks at Edmund*

The blood rushed to Edmund's head, and his ears were thrumming. Carnage surrounded him, and beasts of every kind were engaged in battle around him. There was one sight more terrifying, more spine-chillingly, blood-curdlingly awful than any other... Peter trying to do battle. He had not killed a single enemy, but had managed to lame four fawns and a leopard, as well as shearing half of Orieus' tail off with his sword-flailing, and Edmund was trying hard to avoid him. The only thing that came close to being as dangerous to the Narnians as Peter was the White Witch, with her long, snow-white staff that turned every creature to cross it's path into stone.

Scanning and assessing the scene quickly, Edmund knew that if both Peter's diabolical combat and the Witch's stonemasonry continued, the Narnians were as good as beaten. Tempting as it was, Edmund knew it would look bad if he took out his own brother, but getting rid of the Witch's staff- that was feasible. Ish.

He battled his way through the chaos, until, he was face-to-cruel-face with Jadis.

"So," she snarled, "it is the youngest son of Adam..." her voice tailed off and her expression softened, "the most handsome, intelligent one. Prepare to die!"

Edmund raised an eye. "Creep. And, uh, nope!" He slashed the staff in half with his sword. The witch roared in fury, and stabbed him beneath the lungs.

He gave a choke and dropped to his knees, breath ragged and shallow. From his new position- in a crumpled heap on the ground- he could see that Peter, realising his younger brother had fallen, was making his way over to him, and was, for some inexplicable reason, fighting in slow-motion.

Edmund closed his eyes, suddenly awash with serenity. There was an advantage to being dead- he wouldn't have to put up with Peter's idiocy. Or Susan's. Or Lucy's. And since he was dying for a noble cause, he would surely end up some place nice... peaceful...

"AAARGH! Bleargh, oh, lord, that is unholy!" Edmund sat up sharply, god knows how long later, after a stream of some horribly sharp, bitter-tasting liquid had been poured down his throat. "What is that?" he spluttered, "aconite? Arsenic? Hemlock? Because just so you know, I was dying very well on my- oof!"

His tirade was cut short when he was smothered in a truly terrible, choking, enveloping, claustrophobia-inducing, drowning, stranglehold hug. As his four siblings took up the chant: "Hurrah for Edmund!" he gazed longingly down at the gaping wound in his stomach. Peace had, yet again, slid from his grasp.


Edmund picked at the blue ceremonial robe nervously. His siblings stood next to him, all decked out in Narnian finery. Slowly, as the processional music began, and he and his siblings made their way to the thrones. They were each stood in front of a stone, and then waited to be crowned. Edmund couldn't help raising an eyebrow when Susan was crowned as "gentle." An image of her whacking Peter with a broom the time he borrowed her mascara danced in Edmund's head, but he kept his trap shut. This was harder to do when Lucy was named "valiant." This was the same girl who ran away howling every time Edmund corrected a spelling mistake of hers, claiming he was a big scary bully. Then it was his term. "blah blah blah, King Edmund the Just!"

"What?" cried Edmund, "are you serious? I am the epitome of justice in Narnia? ME? I betrayed you all remember?" he cried, so confused he didn't care about hilighting his grievous betrayal, "and do you honestly believe," he continued, "that my sense of justice is my most prominent quality? Can you name more than one instance where I've shown a sense of justice? Wisdom, maybe, but JUSTICE? Puh-lease. Even I disagree with that."

There was an awkward silence.

"Well," sighed Aslan, "I suppose you're right. Still, too late to re-write the script now. On we go!"

As the circlet was lowered onto his head, Edmund sighed. As Peter was crowned "the magnificent," he face-palmed. Ruling this place was evidently going to be a long, hard job.