Chapter Text
His childhood was a blur. He remembered snow. A blizzard. A woman’s voice- somehow not his mother’s- calling his name.
The accident.
Everything before that was hazy and hurt to think about, and Edmund often found himself tracing his fingers along the scar on his chest. Apparently he’d been thrown into a tree by a giant, and had lost his memory. All he remembered of that incident was pain piercing into his chest-
And now his head hurt, as it always did when he thought about it. Wonderful.
Why had he been thinking about it anyway?
Right. Mother wasn’t in the castle, away on one of her meetings. Every time she left, his mind wandered. No doubt the boredom.
“You’re always at your worst when you’re bored.”
Well. She was gone. He could do something about his boredom now.
There were several places in the palace that were off limits. His mother’s room, the dungeons, the attic, the statue garden-
He grinned to himself. It had been a while since he’d snuck into the statue garden.
There was something eerie about the statues. He supposed that was what happened when someone was surrounded by the dead. Still, wandering around the garden of statues, he was once again reminded of just how little he remembered of his life before.
He’d seen the drawing on the statue of a lion, and assumed that past him had done it, but he had no memory of it. Though. Maybe it was for the best he didn’t remember it. He was sure whatever punishment he received for that must have hurt for weeks.
For a moment he could even feel the bit of charcoal in his hand. Then it was gone again.
He moved on, walking past the various statues, hoping he’d remember something- anything- about his life before the accident. And, as always, his quest brought him to the statue of the faun.
Every time he stood before it, his stomach turned, guilt and nausea and fear all warring as he stared.
Clearly he’d known the faun, but who had he been? Was he someone his mother had saved him from? Or was Edmund the reason he’d been turned to stone?
He didn’t know, and if he asked his mother he’d have to explain that he’d been in the statue garden again, when she’d firmly forbidden him from entering it.
Steps on the snow had him scrambling back, climbing up the dead tree in the courtyard so as to avoid being seen by the wolves passing by.
If he wasn’t caught, he wouldn’t get in trouble.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Morgrim asked as he walked through the garden of statues along with one of the older wolves that never talked to Edmund, but only sneered at him. “The boy’s 18 already, what more is she waiting for?”
“Things take time, Morgrim,” the older wolf commented. “She’s never failed to deliver what she’s promised.”
“I know, but I’m ready to tear his head off. I was promised blood. I was promised I could sink my teeth into his throat and rip it out.”
“He still has a use. When his use runs out, we’ll be waiting.”
Edmund gripped the tree limb tighter, his heart pounding in his ears as he used his magic to keep himself colder. They couldn’t find him if he was too cold for his scent to travel.
They couldn’t find him…
They wandered away, continuing their path through the castle, and once he was sure they were gone Edmund slipped down the tree, knees shaking where he stood.
He’d always known the wolves had no love for him. Every ‘Your Highness’ from their mouths more mockery than respect, but… they planned to kill him?
No. No it had to be someone else-
But he was 18. No one else in the castle was. Was it someone outside the castle?
But who? No, he was the only boy in Narnia. But his mother wouldn’t just let them kill him-
Only. That’s exactly something she would do. He knew her well, and knew exactly how vicious she could be. How she could play an unsuspecting victim, keeping polite smiles on her face till the moment she struck. When had he stopped believing that she would do the same to him?
Simple. She was his mother. He thought she’d make an exception for him. Apparently not.
Whatever had happened in that accident, it must have convinced her that he was too broken to ever be enough.
If only he could remember it!
His head throbbed, and he slowly made his way out of the statue garden, back to the rest of the castle before making his way back to his room.
He needed to think about this rationally.
His mother wanted him dead- was fine with him dying? Had promised to let the wolves kill him. The wolves were eager to do so, and growing impatient.
What could he do about this?
Go to mother about it?
Absolutely not.
Live with it?
Until it got him killed.
Run away?
…He could.
She wasn’t in the castle now. He could leave.
He’d never left the castle without an escort before, he was forbidden from it, but… it was that or dying.
He glanced over at his window, and squared his shoulders.
He was closest to the northern border, but that didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t get there before the wolves caught up with him. But… they’d assume that’s where he’d gone. They’d head north to cut him off, as he cut west. If he walked through the night, he’d reach the border before noon tomorrow.
Was he-
Was he seriously considering this?
He glanced down at the scars on his arms from the various punishments he’d received over the years. Thought back to the bloodthirsty hunger in Morgrim’s voice. The way Edmund's happiest moments were days where his mother was gone. How he’d used to dream of running away, but was always too scared before.
Hell, he was scared now. But he had to do it.
In the end, it was barely a choice at all.
At least staying awake all night wasn’t a hardship. Every moment as he walked, he could swear he heard the wolves howling off in the distance. He was far too scared to try and sleep. But he was also… excited. For the first time in his life, he was free. He could go where he wanted. Do what he wanted. He didn’t have to worry about what his mother would or wouldn’t approve of, he could just… be.
He shuddered.
He wondered what the punishment would be for this. He’d never tried to run away before, but he didn’t imagine it would be pleasant.
The worst punishment he could remember, she’d been so angry she’d broken his arm with her ice.
This would be so much worse if he was caught.
But. All he had to do was get out of Narnia. Her powers weren’t as strong past the borders, it was why she never took the battle to Aslan’s army, instead letting them bring the battle to her.
A lesson in strategy at the time, and now a useful bit of information that might just keep him alive.
The morning sun was just starting to rise as he neared the great west road, almost to the border when he heard something.
Hooves on the snow, quickly approaching.
He immediately got off the road, hiding behind a tree, debating if it would be worth it climbing the thing.
He was close to the border. So close! He couldn’t be found now!
But as the sound of hooves grew closer, he frowned.
That… wasn’t from the direction of the castle.
It was coming from further down the way he’d been walking, from Telmar.
Not his mother then, but who?
It didn’t matter. Whoever it was might report back to the castle, and he’d lose his advantage. He just needed to stay hidden until-
Something cracked, and Edmund turned his head to see a tree on the other side of the road crack down the side, falling into the path as the horse reared back, its rider falling off as the horse bolted, and Edmund saw a flicker of something disappearing into the trees.
Fuck.
No waiting it out now, was there.
He cautiously stepped out from behind his own tree, staring at where the rider now lay on the ground, clearly dazed.
Edmund should run, while he was down-
…he wasn’t going to though, was he. He wasn’t like his mother. He wasn’t heartless. Maybe that was why she wanted to kill him, but Edmund wasn’t about to leave the man lying in the middle of the road like that.
He crept closer, right as the man started to come around, rolling over a bit and clutching his head, and Edmund could see that he was much closer to Edmund’s own age than he’d first appeared, with long wavy black hair and a tan to his skin that Edmund hadn’t seen before in Narnia.
“…are you alright?” Edmund finally asked, once he was close to the man.
The man winced as he sat up, but slowly nodded.
“I think so,” he managed, his voice soft and accented. “…My horse bolted, didn’t he?”
“Afraid so,” Edmund agreed, reaching down a hand to the man.
The man smiled, fingers wrapping around Edmund’s hand-
Sparks.
Magic coursed between the two of them, and Edmund let go with a gasp, stumbling back and clutching his hand.
Where they had touched, his hand was now covered in a strange magical tattoo of deep blue waves.
The man was staring down at his own hand in delight, where a similar tattoo had appeared on his skin where Edmund had touched him. A tattoo covered in tiny crystals of snowflakes.
“…What did you do to me?” Edmund managed, and the man looked up, the smile falling from his face.
“…You… do you not have soulmates in Narnia?”