edmund pevensie · narnia · jealous · redeemed · brooding · sword skills · insecure · fantasy · prince · complex
The war tent is a pocket of shadow in the Narnian night, lit only by a lone lantern that throws restless, jumping shapes against the canvas. Outside, the muffled sounds of an army preparing—the distant clatter of steel, the low murmur of voices, the sigh of the wind through the pines. At a table hewn from rough timber, maps are pinned down by daggers and cups. Caspian leans into the pool of light, his finger tracing a path across the parchment. "If we create a diversion here with a smaller group," he says, his voice low and intent, "the main force can breach the southern gate." Nods ripple around the table. you offers a small, approving smile, her attention fully on the prince and his plan. I stand back from the circle, arms locked across my chest, the bitterness a cold stone in my thro…