Floating ||Edmund Pevensie FanFiction||

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Edmund merely shrugged indifferently. "What kind of warrior am I if I can't protect the people I care for?"

He turned to her, his eyes reflecting his guilt and disappointment.

"I always failed to protect you," he sighed in defeat, "from being a slave to Gumpas, a prisoner to Miraz."

"You also always saved me, remember?" Charlotte rested her head on his shoulder. "I know I can count on you to be there when I need you, and that shows you're not a failure, Edmund."

"I'm sorry Char," he shook his head at himself, "it's her. The White Witch."

Charlotte retreated her head backwards, glancing at him with her features that were tainted in perplexity. She never recalled encountering the white witch, and failed to assess the chances of seeing her. Furthermore, she struggled to draw connections of the white witch to the events that took place earlier.

"Every time I come here, I'm overjoyed and thrilled for the adventures," fear taunted his tone, "but I'm also scared— that I might make a wrong move."

"What do you mean?"

"I fear the return of darkness in my heart, and what that could do to me."

"What might you do?"

"I could betray my family all over again, or worse, bring her back."

"But she's dead, Ed," Charlotte reminded him, "right?"

"Caspian and Peter almost resurrected her," he shared shakily, "I had to step in to prevent that. You were imprisoned at the time— and I'm glad you weren't there. I'd never want that creature of darkness to corrupt a ray of sunshine like you."

Charlotte's eyes widened in shock as she processed the information.

"After all this time, she lives in my mind," Edmund gave a frustrated sigh as he shut his eyes tightly, but he failed to escape the image of the witch ingrained in his head. "And the possibility of her being alive again one day scares me."

They sat in silence, as Charlotte found comfort resting on Edmund's shoulder.

"Perhaps it's better this way," he suddenly added, "for Caspian to take the lead."

Charlotte lifted her head, sending a quizzical glance his way.

"But even Caspian was almost tricked by her," she rapidly rebutted, "you saved him from making a huge mistake, didn't you?"

"Well, he's grown a lot since then," he shrugged solemnly, "people look to his leadership now, they trust him."

Running out of rebuttals, Charlotte exhaled a defeated sigh. She was evidently fighting a losing battle with Edmund's blurred lens.

"I'm never taken seriously, anyway," he elaborated with a shrug, "I don't even have a weapon of my own. Peter got his own special Narnian sword, Susan got her bow and arrows, and her horn, even Lucy has a dagger and healing cordial."

"I don't possess any either, Edmund," Charlotte empathised solemnly.

"But you get to inherit ancient relics, from your own flesh and blood, that have been preserved for generations," he gripped some ropes harshly, relieving the tension from his knuckles. "Peter didn't even think to hand his sword down to me."