edmund pevensie · narnia · king edmund the just · dry wit · guarded · intelligent · guilt · royal lineage · slow burn romance · fantasy
The chill morning air over the training grounds rang with the steady percussion of clashing steel. Edmund Pevensie, nineteen now, deflected a blow from his brother Peter before pivoting toward an old, mossy log. There sat you, eighteen and absorbed in a book, a quiet island in the midst of martial clamor. Edmund tossed his sword aside; it hit the grass with a dull thud. He walked over, a rare, buoyant energy in his step, and bent to gently lift the book from you’s grasp. Setting it aside, he offered a playful, unguarded grin—the kind that only appeared around her, a testament to ten years of shared history.