Chapter Text
It all started quite early, when the four Pevensies were still children and not yet fit to rule a kingdom. In those days, most of the actual ruling was done be councilors and viziers. They were Talking Birds, owls for the most part, Centaurs, even the occasional Faun. They passed laws, debated treaties, talked peace, and did all the things a King or Queen of Narnia would usually have to do.
Peter and Susan, as the oldest of the children, where actively incorporated in the decision-making, but Edmund and Lucy had nothing to do all day long but walk through the gardens, go for rides, or otherwise entertain themselves. Lucy was quite happy with this arrangement, spending all her time with her Dryad friends. But Edmund felt trapped. He felt that there was something being hidden from him, and he wanted to know what it was.
So he took to exploring the castle, from the great observatories on the roof, where you could see the Narnian stars, so much brighter than ours, in all their glory, to the deep cellars, where torches lit the way through damp and musty passages.
It was on one of these explorations that he finally found the library. Many a day was passed in that peaceful place, reading legends of knights and battles, of princesses and queens, all beautiful stories, but to Edmund's mind, something was missing.
Edmund wanted to know about the history of Narnia. He wanted to know when it was founded, who the first rulers had been, and, most importantly, how the White Witch had come to power. But the books, spectacular though they were, held no clues.
A change came almost a year later with the arrival of Whitemane the Centaur at the court of Cair Paravel. Whitemane was what he called a 'diplomat', and Peter had thought it prudent to bring him on to the Royal Council.
Edmund was fourteen by this time and considered old enough to go to the Council's meetings, and he was immediately fascinated by Whitemane's demeanor. The old, majestic Centaur could shape words like a conjurer shapes smoke, he could find a compromise between two seemingly irreconcilable viewpoints, and spoke up for the rights of minorities, something Edmund hadn't even heard of so far.
After the first council meeting with Whitemane, Edmund approached him nervously.
"E-excuse me, sir?" he asked. The room was empty by now; everyone else had left.
"What is it, your Majesty?" Whitemane answered, turning to face Edmund.
Edmund took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could teach me how to be a diplomat?"
Whitemane chuckled. "Well, my king, you would have a lot to learn. You would have to be able to speak foreign languages like Telmarine and Calormene, you would have to learn about the history of Narnia and its neighboring countries, you would have to attend lessons on rhetoric and discourse, and many such things. Are you prepared to do all that?"
Edmund swallowed, it did seem like an awful lot of work, but he nodded. "If that's what it takes, sir."
"Excellent!" Whitemane said. "You will not be alone in your endeavor. My daughter, Colmara, also wishes to be a diplomat. You shall attend your lessons with her."
It was the start of something great, Edmund could feel it. Whitemane knew it, having seen it in the stars. Narnia had the potential to be as glorious as it once was, and Edmund could bring her there.
It was the beginning of the year 1003 NT, and much had changed. High King Peter, who had been affectionately dubbed Lionheart by his people, had just stopped a series of attacks by raiders on the western border, and was loved all the more for it. Susan had started a little organization that freed slaves in the Lone Islands, giving them new homes in Narnia, with Lucy's help and support.
Edmund, meanwhile, had returned from his first ever diplomatic mission to Calormen, where he had brokered a trade deal with the Tsiroc. Calormene silk in exchange for Narnian wines, a contract that was to last three years.
It hadn't been too hard, but Edmund had still been glad to have someone in his corner: Colmara, Whitemane's daughter, now his best friend of many years. Peter often teased Edmund, insinuating that they were the perfect couple, but though Colmara was beautiful, with her coppery-brown fur and hair and her kind brown eyes, Edmund loved her like a sister.
Another one of Edmund's advisers and supporters had been Drunod, a Black Dwarf from the mines in the Western Woods, up past Lantern Waste. Drunod was intelligent, almost frighteningly so, and Edmund had liked him from the moment they met.
***
And now fireworks lit up the sky above Cair Paravel, to welcome the New Year and drive to old one out. The four Kings and Queens of Narnia sat on their thrones, looking out over the sea and watching the merpeople dance.
All of a sudden, Lucy leaped up from her seat and cried: "Look, look everyone! It's Aslan! It's Aslan!"
Everybody in the throne room turned to the great balcony and indeed: There was the Great Lion himself, running across the waves toward Cair Paravel. His velvety paws did not disturb the water as he galloped across it, and when he reached the shore, he took an almighty leap and landed among the Narnian courtiers.
He paid them no notice, but walked calmly through the crowd until he reached the four thrones. Peter, Susan, and Edmund all immediately stepped down off the dais and bowed, but Lucy flung her arms around him at once and buried her face in his golden mane.
From there on, the festivities just got better and better. Food was brought out, music was played, and everyone danced until their feet ached. Edmund didn't consider himself much of a dancer, but even he had a spin with a few ladies of the court.
After a particularly energetic dance -led by the Fauns, of course- Edmund left the dance floor and took a goblet of sweet, light wine from the buffet table and stood aside to watch the dancers as the band struck up a rhythmic circle dance.
He was just about to help himself to a bite to eat when one of the dancers caught his eye. He was a young man, hardly older than Edmund himself, and his fair hair shone as he wove between the other dancers like a snake. He wore a hose and tunic of blue silk over a white shirt, and the fabric flowed with his movements like water.
As if he could sense Edmund watching him, the young man raised his head and looked at him questioningly. Edmund blushed and turned away, heading for one of the side doors that lead into other parts of the castle.
The corridor was nice and cool and Edmund leaned against a wall to breathe. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the dancer's movements and the light in his bright blue eyes, almost taunting him.
"I say, are you alright?"
Edmund almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the dancer from the throne room standing before him. How had he moved so quietly?
As if the man had read Edmund's thoughts, he said: "My father says there's Dryad blood in our family, so I'm sorry if I startled you."
Edmund shook his head to clear it. Up close, the man was even more breathtaking, and Edmund could feel a strange warmth rising in his gut. "What's you name?" he asked.
"I'm Galin, the son of Rol. And of course, I know who you are."
Edmund nodded. He knew Rol to be an Archenland Lord of some description, but all he could think of was the tiny, mischievous grin on Galin's face when he had said 'I know who you are'.
"You do not dance as much as your siblings," Galin remarked.
Edmund chuckled. "Yes, well, I don't dance too well."
"That's not what I saw," Galin countered. "You seemed quite adept when you were dancing with Lady Zephia."
Edmund wondered if Galin had been watching him all evening and for a moment he considered asking, but then he changed his mind. "I simply don't like dancing as much," he admitted. "I always feel like I'm going to do the steps wrong."
Suddenly, Galin reached out and put his hand on Edmund's arm. Edmund felt his skin erupt in goosebumps under his skin even at this simple touch.
"But what if you weren't the one leading?" Galin's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Would you dance then?"
Edmund knew that this wasn't the only question he was being asked here, but he didn't feel in danger. He knew that whatever happened here, he would be safe. "Yes," he breathed, lifting his hand to place it on Galin's shoulder.
Galin lowered his head until his lips were hovering just above Edmund's and whispered: "You must tell me if you want me to stop." Then he closed the distance between their mouths.
The second Edmund felt Galin's lips on his, fire bloomed in his veins. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. The kiss was sweet, gentle, almost chaste, and Edmund sighed into it, wrapping his arms around Galin's neck and holding on.
He was almost disappointed when Galin broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Edmund's, breathing deeply.
"Please," Edmund whispered, once he had his breath back, "do that again."
And Galin was kissing him, pushing gently, backing him up until he felt the cool marble against his back, a marvelous contrast to the heat building inside him. Edmund felt Galin's tongue on his lips, demanding entrance, and complied, opening his mouth with a small sigh.
Edmund's heart sped up when he heard Galin groan into the kiss, a heady, desperate sound that drew an answering moan from Edmund.
Somewhere along the corridor, a door slammed.
Edmund tore his mouth away from Galin's and looked around wildly, half expecting jeering schoolboys or an angry matron.
Galin looked confused at Edmund's sudden reaction. He was trying to say something, but Edmund couldn't bring himself to focus on that. His mind was racing, his thoughts running in circles, a never-ending tirade of all the things he'd been taught about two men being together.
Inverted. Sick. Evil. Sin. The words stung as they sank into his skin.
"King Edmund? Your Majesty? Are you alright?"
Edmund looked up at Galin with wild eyes and stammered a weak: "I-I have to go," before tearing himself away from the man and running along the corridor, back to the ballroom.
***
Later that evening, Edmund found himself alone on the great balcony that overlooked the Eastern Sea. Behind him, the dancers were still going strong, but he had no more inclination to dance.
"You seem melancholy, King Edmund."
Edmund spun around and came face to face with Aslan. He sighed. "And I assume you know why."
The Lion said nothing, but stared out to sea, where the moon was just rising over the horizon.
"You're disappointed with me, aren't you?" Edmund said, feeling utterly horrible.
For a while, Aslan remained silent, then he said: "You know who I am by now, and what name I bear in your world."
Edmund nodded.
"And you have been told that what occurred this night between you and Galin is evil and against my will."
"Yes. And I am sorry, I truly am. " Edmund could feel tears rising up in his eyes.
"But what for?" the Lion asked, looking up at Edmund with mournful golden eyes.
Edmund frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Tell me, Edmund," Aslan said, turning his head back to the sea, "did it feel evil, when it happened?"
"No," Edmund answered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "No, it was... wonderful."
"And do you truly believe that what you did was wrong and sinful?"
Edmund thought for a while before he answered. "No," he said finally.
"There you are, then," Aslan stated calmly. "What you did was not an act of sin, it was an act of love, and love is what I am. I cannot be against my own will."
And he walked away, leaving Edmund lost in thought.
Edmund was not afraid to take male lovers after that. Explaining himself to Peter, Susan, and Lucy was a bit trickier, but they all understood in the end. In the fifth year of their reign, the four of them passed a law stating that any two people who wished to be married would be allowed to do so, provided they were both of age.
Edmund did not stop there, however. in the year 1006 NT, he brought forward and pulled through a paper toward the protection of the Black Dwarfs, who had a reputation for being treacherous and shifty because of their former Clan Leader's association with the White Witch.
From 1007 to 1009 NT, he visited historians from around the world, trying to recreate the first 1000 years of Narnian history from what other countries had to say about it. He also fought for land ownership for the Dryads, so that they had their own ground for their trees to grow on, where no one was allowed to disturb them.
In 1013 NT, he finally became officially known as Edmund Silvertongue. The name had started like Peter's 'Lionheart', an affectionate nickname, given to him by his people, but when a Calormene ambassador called him Silvertongue in front of the entire Narnia-Calormen Trade Commitee, it became, as it were, official.
King Edmund Silvertongue's last good deed for Narnia was in the year 10015 NT. 'Project Lone Islands' was finished two weeks before the incident at Lantern Waste, and was greatly welcomed by the Lone Islanders.
Edmund had managed to install the Lone Islands in the Great Trading Alliance, an alliance of many great countries such as Narnia, Calormen, Lorskelland, and Telmar, to trade opals, which were common on the Lone Islands, for olive oil from Calormen, which was not.
It was Peter who went down in history for signing the deal, of course, but that had been expected.
Even after they left, the Narnians did not forget their Kings and Queens of old. The Telmarines took their land and their food and their houses, but their history remained, hidden by those whose task it was to remember, like the badgers.
And when finally, after a thousand years, a young Telmarine Prince took interest in their story, they were still there, waiting for him, buried in the history books, longing to come out.