He didn't think he had ever been more exhausted in his life.
Of course that was a joke, he smirked to himself; of course mere dancing was not as exhaustive as fighting in wars or trekking halfway across the country on foot, but even so. A group of Narnian maidens in all their finery flitted by, giggling loudly in stumbling, unbalanced curtsies as they passed.
He didn't think he had ever been more exhausted in his life.
"Edmund!" golden, bouncing curls and a circlet of pure silver flashed by him, and immediately recognizing he was in danger, he hastily turned round and made his way to the other end of the room, hoping to escape. The most beautiful, devious smile he would ever see in his life graced him in response - well, minus a tooth or two; he knew that Queen Lucy would not be so easily avoided. Smiling to himself, knowing he would not be able to evade her for long, he weaved through the crowd of Narnians celebrating the return of the Christmas season. Shaking hands and exchanging merriment with creatures young and old, he made his escape from the ballroom, both the King and a single goblet of wine disappearing altogether.
Escaping into the radically cooler air of the hall, he took a deep breath, absentmindedly fidgeting with the brooch that fastened his silver cape to his collar, finding it to be uncomfortable. Taking a sip of the strong Narnian wine, he strode quietly down the empty, candle-lit hallway of the Cair, making his way to the balcony that overlooked the sea. The wild, joyful music began to fade as he stepped out into the night, allowing the thin glass door to fall shut behind him, and there was sudden and total silence.
Silence all but for the sound of his breath, the crunch of snow beneath his boots, and the gentle lull of the frozen waves far below.
Edmund placed the goblet upon the ledge, laying his hands upon the freshly powdered snow with a sigh. The chill against his hands was sharp, and he watched his breath fog before him in the light of the setting winter sun. He closed his eyes, letting the familiar chill sink deeply into his bones.
It had been a full year. This was Narnia's first snow since Her defeat. The flakes that graced the earth below seemed to be so much more innocent and pure than Her construction of snow had ever been. This was Narnia's snow, and it was bringing along with it the Christmas season, and the joy and warmth in every Narnian heart as they eagerly prepared for celebration. The food, the merriment, the dancing – all of it was a celebration of Jadis's defeat, and the freedom of Narnia after a long 100 years.
Edmund stood, his expression hollow, finding the crown on his head to be quite suddenly made of lead. He removed the silver crown, placing it carefully in the fresh snow upon the ledge as though it were a heavy burden. He raked bony fingers through his hair, sighing quietly and swinging his legs up and over the side of the balcony. He didn't mind that his tunic was soaking through in the snow. He folded his hands in his lap, gazing out at the reflection of the rising moon dancing on the icy waves. It was as hypnotic as it was beautiful.
Tiny flakes flew about him, gathering in his hair and on his lashes and on his clothes as he sat on his perch, . They slowly melted, leaving him damp and shivering. Taking another sip of wine, Edmund decided he did not care. He glanced up at the sky, where stars began to appear, inbetween the layers of weightless cloud. Lifting tired eyes, he watched as constellations and clouds began to mix together, stars disappearing and reappearing as time moved endlessly on. Quickly he began to shiver, knowing that this soft snow was freezing his clothes to his skin, but he still did not move from where he sat, a statue overlooking the sea. The glint of the moonlight across the snow was sharp and beautiful, as much as it was triggering. These same stars in these same constellations had watched as he, one year ago, had stumbled blindly through the wind and snow to Her, so foolish and small. What did they think of him? He hadn't even had sense enough to wear a coat then, he thought suddenly. He wasn't wearing a coat now, either. Edmund made a small noise akin to a snort, closing his eyes and taking another drink. Not much had really changed, had it?
The scar on his chest abruptly burned cold, causing him to inhale sharply, coughing on the wine and doubling over as it seared him inside and out. Pain shot up his spine, paralyzing him with dread as he winced, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out. His lip began to bleed as he felt Her icicle fingers grabbing at his throat, his hair, his face. Clawing at him. Pulling at him.
The cold was not kind to him.
Taking in a raspy breath, he sat up, gripping the folds of his tunic as the pain rippled through his body, fading. Raising his eyes skyward, searching, he shivered as a sudden blast stirred up the snow, flurries falling all around him. He chanced a glance back at the castle; he could see through a nearby window that the celebration was still raging on without him. He smiled softly, his first genuine smile in what seemed like ages. They were all warm, and safe. Susan, Peter, Lucy. He caught a glimpse of Susan, laughing and holding her crown to her head as Peter spun her about in the air. He looked to have had a little too much of the wine, his rosy cheeks even rosier as he laughed and danced with her and several other tittering, curtsying Narnian ladies. Edmund felt their warmth from a distance, watching through the frosted window. The ache in his chest only grew.
He had so nearly ruined everything, for everyone, forever.
His smile faded as the chill crept back in, etching worry lines into his wan face. The wind rose up once more and tossed his hair about, as though urging him to go back inside. The moon continued to stare down at him, waiting patiently. For what? Edmund brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms about them as he held his wine before him. He stared into the glass, watching as the crimson liquid reflected the moon's cold glow. They had all forgiven him long ago, he was sure of it. He knew he was a new creature, and he was not and never would be the same. But as he gazed out at the falling snow, something just felt so crushingly empty inside of him. He thought of statues and courtyards and long, terrifying nights. The weight settled in his heart and couldn't be moved, and he emitted a heavy sigh. He could not forgive himself.
He heard Her voice in the snowflakes. The winter had come for him.
Feeling hot tears suddenly streaming down his face, shivering in the frigid air, he closed his eyes. He had been able to keep himself composed for so long, why must he succumb to his weakness now? The tears turned bitter, angry with himself for this fragility. Opening his eyes, he stared into the goblet he held between long, thin fingers. The wine had not eased his heartache, nor warmed his bones. It left a sour taste on his tongue, reminding him of his countless transgressions. The moon stared back at him in the reflection, all-seeing and ominously mute. He could no longer distinguish the moisture on his cheeks as snowflakes or tears. A single droplet slipped down the length of his nose and splashed into the cup, little waves rippling outward from the impact. He closed his eyes, wishing he could just remain here to be buried beneath the ice and snow.
His cup felt warm beneath his frostbitten fingertips, causing heavy lids to rise in wonder. There were two reflections in the small pool of wine, the reflection of the moon and his shadowed face. The wine calmed, and Edmunds heart leapt into his throat as a wild feeling of joy shot through him, momentarily thawing him.
"Aslan," he breathed, nearly silent beneath the wind and the waves. There He was, His face in the wine. Edmund quickly looked back to see if this was a reflection, but there was no Aslan to be found. Looking back into the cup, He was gone.
A deep, warm breath circled about him, blanketing him in a warmth like a roaring fireside. His voice spoke above the wind and bitter chill of Her. "You are Mine, and you are not weak. Your weakness is far away; you left it with Her. You were made for Me, and I will make you Strong. You are Mine."
And as quickly as He had come, He was gone, but not without leaving the Just King breathless with veneration.
Edmund sat very still for a long while, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as his heart still clung to his throat. Had it only been a dream? Gasping, he placed shaking hands to his middle as more white-hot pain assaulted his senses, dragging him out of his reverie. She was working to claim a hold on him, even now, in the presence of Aslan. He winced as this was accompanied by the biting wind, chasing out the warmth in his body, but not in his heart.
He poured the wine over the ledge, into the virgin snow. The snow was deeply stained a stark, bloody red, but very soon it would be covered in white again, purified. Taking his crown in his hands, he felt its weight, carefully settling it back in its place. It would not be instant, and it would not be without hardship. This was only the beginning for him, but by Aslan's infinite grace, he knew he would someday learn to forgive himself. Sliding off the ledge, King Edmund looked out over the expanse of glistening, frozen Narnia, and he smiled a genuine, warm smile.
There were Lion's paw prints in the snow.
Taking a step back into the Cair, he had only just closed the balcony door when he felt a warm, small body clinging to his dampened, frosted clothes. "Oh Edmund," a breathless voice sighed with glee, little golden curls aglow in the firelight. Ice seemed to adhere to his frame as he thawed, teeth chattering. If Lucy noticed this she did not speak of it, babbling endlessly on about the food and the friends and the fire. Mr. Tumnus had danced with her no less than nine different times that evening, and Oreius was a surprisingly nimble dancer for a creature of his size. And had Edmund tried the wine? Soon she let go of him and turned and spun in a show of what beautiful dancing she had (somewhat) learned. Her dancing shadow was cast around the empty hall, and as she loudly exclaimed all the wonderful Narnian names for each dance, Edmund thought to himself that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He chuckled softly, stopping her mid-sentence to pull her close. The sorrow that haunted his eyes disappeared altogether as he looked to her. "May I be graced with a dance tonight, my Lady?" His sister blushed, seeing the unusual expression on his face and recognizing his tenderness. She placed her hand upon his, taking his proffered arm "You may," she teased quietly, blue eyes shining in a toothy grin.
They danced and celebrated well into the night, no creature ever once feeling the need for sleep, only for more company. Peter sat beside Susan on the steps to the Thrones, watching the celebration with no small amount of merriment. Their eyes followed the two youngest monarchs in their quest to dance with every single Narnian in the course of the night. They chuckled quietly as Edmund found himself utterly unable to keep up with the Fauns and Satyrs, but he valiantly tried anyway, for Lucy's sake.
Snow fell upon snow outside of Cair Paravel, blanketing Narnia in her first winter of the Golden Age, and King Edmund found himself to be totally surrounded by those that loved and cherished him after all. He took Lucy's small hand in his own, squeezing it softly as her warmth caused the frost in his bones to melt. Her soft smile melted the rest.
By His grace and love, He filled all their hearts with endless Peace.