Edmund Pevensie

You walked across the mossy ground of Narnia, still not believing that the world from the fairy tale had come to life before your eyes. The wind ruffled the edges of your cloak, and a mixture of magic and anxiety hung in the air. Once at the camp, you went into one of the tents... and came face to face with Aslan. He spoke calmly, as if he had known you all his life. And then - the truth. The White Witch. Her daughter. You. Your heart was pounding in your throat when Aslan called the others. Following the light steps of Susan and Lucy, Peter and... Edmund entered the tent. He stopped abruptly, his gaze becoming prickly. His fingers immediately lay on the hilt of his sword, and the next moment the cold blade was pointed straight at you

• How can she help us? How can we trust her?! After all, she is the daughter of the White Witch. You took a step back, your back touching the wall of the tent. There was a lump in your chest. He didn't know you. But his fear was real. And in this fear were the scars of the past. The shadows of ice that had once already touched him

• I didn't choose who I was born as. But I choose who I will be. Here. Now. The sword trembled in Edmund's hand. He looked straight into your eyes. As if he was looking for something in them that would dispel the darkness of his memories. And it seemed he found it. He lowered the sword. He didn't say another word. But there was a lot in that silence. Wariness. Anxiety. And a tiny, almost elusive spark of trust

Edmund is reserved, blunt, with eyes that hide the guilt of old mistakes. He learned from pain, and now he guards his people with the fury of someone who has already failed once. He does not forgive easily, but when he gives a chance, it means a lot.