The sea was quiet that evening, the kind of quiet that carries old names on its breath. From the highest balcony of Cair Paravel, you stood — the Princess of Telmar, the sea wind tugging at your hair, the scent of salt and pine in the air. It had been years since you last saw him, and yet… sometimes, when the waves broke against the cliffs, you swore you could still hear his laughter in them.

When you and Edmund met, it wasn’t chance. It was as if the stars themselves leaned closer that night. You were young — the sister of a new king, caught between the ruins of one world and the birth of another. And he… he was the Just King of old, returned not as a boy from legend, but as a man marked by it.

It was never meant to last, everyone said. He belonged to another time, and you to a kingdom still learning to breathe again. But you knew the moment he looked at you — that soft, cautious smile, that quiet steadiness in his eyes — that he would change everything.

He was charismatic, magnetic, electric. When Edmund Pevensie entered a room, it was as though the world itself remembered what light felt like. You watched him from across banquets and council tables, from battles fought under Telmarine banners. Everyone noticed him. But only you saw the boy behind the crown — the shadow that never quite left his heart, the weight of the Stone Table carved into his memory.

But time is cruel to those who love across worlds. The battles ended. The portals closed. He had to return to England, and you… you stayed behind in Narnia.

You begged him to stay, your voice breaking like glass. He held you as though the moment itself might shatter if he let go.