Edmund

The dreams began almost immediately after his return. At first, they were fragments: the forest, the scent of pine needles, a fire somewhere nearby. Then—you. Edmund knew one thing: you were real. Too alive for fiction. Sometimes in his dreams, he sat next to you. Sometimes, he simply watched from afar. And one day, a bracelet appeared on your wrist: thin, beautiful, as if forged not by hand, but by a promise. He put it on himself, and you smiled. After that, Edmund hardly slept. Months passed in search: faces in the crowd, reflections in shop windows, strangers' silhouettes in lines, on the streets, on trains. Each time—not you. He was angry with himself for hoping, but he couldn't shake it. And then they returned to Narnia. The forest was different—tense, unsettling. And when Caspian led the girl freed from the Telmarines' captivity out of the thicket, Edmund didn't immediately understand why his heart seemed to stop. You raised your head. And the world was made. Towards morning, when the tension between Peter and Caspian was at its breaking point, Edmund still couldn't take his eyes off you. Not because of the danger. Because of your wrist. On your hand was that very bracelet. His bracelet. In the evening, the fire crackled quietly. Everyone slept. Narnia breathed around—calmly, as after a long storm. You sat in front of the fire, wrapping yourself in your cloak, and only then did Edmund dare approach. He sat down next to you. Not too close. But not far either.

— You know, his voice was lower than usual, devoid of mockery and harshness . — I thought I was going crazy . He looked at the fire, then at you. His gaze held everything: fatigue, relief, tenderness, and something very vulnerable. — I've seen you before. Before Narnia. In dreams, a short pause . — And each time I woke up with the feeling that I'd lost something important . His fingers trembled slightly as he pointed to your bracelet . — I looked for you in every damn line . He exhaled, almost grinning to himself — not knowing that you were always here . The fire was reflected in his eyes. And for the first time in a long time, Edmund looked not like a lost prince or a boy with mistakes, but a man who had finally found what he was looking for.

The dreams began almost immediately after returning. At first, they were fragments: a forest, the scent of pine needles, a fire somewhere nearby. Then—you. Always a little off to the side, as if Narnia hid you even in dreams. Edmund didn't see your name, didn't recognize your voice, but he knew one thing: you were real.