back, again | prince caspian

eight

Warning: This chapter contains the showcase and storytelling of abusive actions. You have been warned.

A presence slipped quietly into my room, but I chose to ignore it, my mind still entangled in the aftermath of the battle. Shadows danced across the walls, each one a lingering ghost of the chaos, a reminder of the friends we had lost.

"Stop staring at nowhere! It'll freak everyone out!" Lucy's voice cut through my melancholy, warm and vibrant as ever. She approached, brushing aside the foam scattered on the bed before settling beside me, her energy a comforting contrast to my stormy thoughts.

"You know, the boys feel sorry that they can't—or won't—express their emotions right now," she continued, her tone soothing. I let my gaze linger on her, absorbing the gentle cadence of her words.

"Yeah, sure they are," I muttered, sarcasm tinged with bitterness slipping through, betraying the anger still simmering inside me.

Lucy leaned closer, her smile soft but unwavering. "I know you're hurt—we're all hurt by what happened. It had a huge impact on everyone." Her words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, momentarily softening the cold ache in my chest.

"And look, I know you aren't a fan of revenge, and that Gefling wouldn't like it," she added carefully. A faint chuckle escaped me at the thought, the memory of his quiet courage flickering in my mind.

"Don't worry, I won't. Even if I had the chance," I replied, the remnants of anger stirring but tempered by her presence.

"And—Edmund's frustrated too. You might want to clear things up with him," Lucy advised, earnestness threading her words. "You're like our older sister, but more understanding than Susan and Peter."

Her laughter, light and infectious, eased some of the tension coiling in my chest. For the first time since the battle, I allowed myself a soft smile—a fragile release in the oppressive atmosphere.

"So cheer up! The ones who sacrificed themselves would want us—Caspian, Peter, and I—to be happy, to honor their beliefs," she said, squeezing my hand gently before rising.

"Come on, let's go talk to the frustrated Edmund," she added, her enthusiasm nudging me forward.

We walked past Aslan's tomb, sacred and silent, the echoes of courage and loss pressing softly against our steps. Outside, we found Edmund instructing a young centaur in the delicate art of swordsmanship.

"Edmund!" Lucy's voice rang bright against the lingering gloom. He turned, confusion etched across his features, but when his eyes met mine, I caught the faintest flicker of fear—or was it guilt? He managed a small, strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hi," he murmured, voice soft and uncertain.

I lingered, unsure how to bridge the distance between apology and understanding. Was he waiting for forgiveness, or for me to speak first?

"Hello?" he tried again, a nervous edge to his tone.

I rolled my eyes and closed the gap, arms opening wide, silently signaling that anger had no hold over me.

"I thought you were angry with me too," he murmured, pressing his forehead against my shoulder, relief woven into the gesture.

"I'm sorry I let my mood affect you," I admitted, voice heavy with quiet apology.

"Come on, don't say sorry," he countered, pulling back slightly. Concern shadowed his expression. "If that's really how you feel, it's more than a passing mood."