INCIPIENT ➵ EDMUND PEVENSIE

14 | The Weapon of Eve

14 | THE WEAPON OF EVE

He once swore that he wouldn't let it control himself again.

    Such an outburst hasn't occured for the past year - no - past sixeen years. He thinks he's buried it all underneath. He thinks he can hide it for eternity.

    Well, he just can't. 

    It isn't after the flames of rage die down that he senses how much he's hurting - physically. He trembles at the icky feeling of blood running down his marred arm and painting the hilt of his sword. He can't feel anything in his right calf but a torturing sting.

    The girl's agitated whisper sounds, "Shoo! I beg you to stop following me. I'm not your leader! Your alphas- they're dead."

    Yet, he still hears the distinct scuttling of wolves' paws behind him.

    Oh, just why does this girl happen to be blonde-haired, green-eyed and snow-skinned? First she wreaked of death, now even the wolves deliver themselves to be her pets.

    "I'm speaking to a traitor. You stabbed everyone in the back for that witch. It frightens me how you're speaking about her so lightly; enthusiastically, even," her words are put on repeat in the back of his mind.

    How dare she? What does she know? What right does she have?

    He has undoubtedly made his second mistake - revealing his vulnerability to a stranger. Not even his siblings or his closest advisors have seen him like this, not anyone else. She is the first, and hopefully - just hopefully - the last.

    He prays that she seals her lips and never speaks of it to anyone else. If he knows of some type of forgetting spell, he's sure to have it used on her.

    Perhaps he should have his own memories erased as well, then those haunting dreams wouldn't play out in his mind night by night, like a broken tape. But he doesn't want to simply forget everything, only certain things - those that concern the witch.

    You betrayed your own blood back then. What's there to hold on to? You may ask.

    This is his punishment, isn't it? To have the desire to move on from everything, but still, have heavy chains bind him to the memory of the Lion's love, his sibling's forgiveness, the people's acceptance.

    The weight of his crown is stitched upon his head. And though he knows he was crowned king simply because there was an empty throne in need of a son of Adam, he sees protecting this country as his duty; willingly. But he struggles with it. This land itself was his almost-grave, wasn't it?