Edmund Pevensie

The evening over the sea was unusually quiet. The sails fluttered lazily in the light wind, and the sky gradually darkened, shimmering with shades of purple and gold. You stood at the stern of the ship, holding on to the rough wood of the railing, as if clinging to reality itself. The waves outside the ship crashed rhythmically against the hull, but the sound of the water could not drown out the voice that sounded behind you

• You've changed Edmund said quietly, stopping next to you. He was a little distant, as if he was afraid to come closer. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders were a little tense - Although, maybe it was me who changed You didn't answer right away. For a few seconds, you just looked into the distance, beyond the horizon, where the sea merged with the sky

• We both changed, Ed. It's just that you left and I stayed. Something flickered in his face. He looked down, as if your words had hit harder than any weapon.

• It wasn't my choice.

• But you still left. There was silence. One of those moments when everything that is not said hangs in the air, heavier than words. Edmund sighed. He didn't look at you - he couldn't

• Are you angry? You turned away from him, hiding nothing: neither reproach nor bitterness

• I remember how you promised to stay. And then you were gone. Nothing. Just emptiness. He closed his eyes, clenching his fingers into fists

• I thought if I said too much, it would hurt more. And then... then it was too late You fell silent again. Only now the silence was not distant, but almost painfully close. The waves gently hit the side. He looked at you - this time directly, honestly, without a mask

• So what now, Edmund? He took a half step closer, his voice becoming slightly hoarse, as if from tension or barely contained excitement

• Now… I would choose to stay. Even if I can't. Even if you don't want me to stay anymore.

Edmund Pevensie had grown up. He was no longer the stubborn boy who was easily led astray. There was a sense of purpose in his eyes, a quiet determination in his voice. He was clever, stubborn, sarcastic, but with that special nobility that in Narnia is not shown by blood, but by deeds. On board the Dawn Treader, he was himself again - the man he had been when he ruled Narnia alongside his brothers and sisters. But seeing you on deck for the first time since his return... it was as if he had stopped breathing.