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He feels like a degenerate, but he looks at this boy with his graceful limbs and still childish features and sees the man he must have been a thousand years ago. A young king, silver tongued and beautifully wild, with a will of steel and a sense of duty like no other. Caspian is entranced. He turns his eyes away and doesn't dare look again.
Like all three of his siblings, at first Edmund is absolutely not what Caspian expected him to be - a child with the kind of wisdom and experience in his eyes no child should ever possess. They are too young and too real, living legends who are overshadowed by their own fame and still so much more than what history makes them be.
Lucy is sweet; Susan is like a beautiful statue, awe-inspiring and chilling all at once; Peter is arrogant to a fault. Edmund is boyishly pretty. He keeps behind the others - the younger brother, the second king, Caspian doesn't know what to make of him. The history holds King Edmund the Just in high regard - a talented strategist, a ruthless swordwielder, a perfect judge of human nature. Caspian looks and looks and all he sees is pouty red lips and pale skin just asking for a touch.
The rest will come to him later after they fight side by side and mourn their losses together, after they bear the same weight of defeat on their shoulders. After Caspian himself is christened with his first fight and made a man. After Edmund's wisdom becomes a compass in the world of despair and his clever tongue clears the road for Peter's sword.
And when Caspian sees him for what he really is, he just can't unsee him. And he is no more a lesser brother to him, inferior to the others, less magnificent, less stunning, less virtuous than them. Caspian looks at him and sees right through his boyish form. And what he sees keeps him up at night, utterly dazed and miserable.
- - -
After the fight is finished, the wounded are tended and the dead are buried, the time stops, filling the air with trepidation. The Lion keeps counsel with the elder king and queen, the counsel Caspian is not invited to. Lucy can be seen among the Narnians, giving them her gentle support, and wherever she goes the gazes following her become lighter as if her mere presence is a balm to their tired souls.
Edmund is not easy to spot in one place but Caspian notices his shadow everywhere. He is in the castle Miraz used to occupy, studying his maps and questioning his generals. He is among the people but not the wounded ones - after all, it's knowledge he is after, as if he wishes to revive the thousand years he's missed - piece by piece. He doesn't lend his shoulder to cry on, always a little bit aloof and reserved in his own way, but when Caspian hears him speaking his words brand his soul anew.
The nights are a twisted, guilty pleasure. Caspian is burning. It's the first time he is captivated by another person to such an extent and the desire to lose himself in this feeling is overwhelming. But the body he sees behind his feverishly shut eyes belongs to a child, it confuses him and makes him feel ashamed. Caspian forbids his imagination to fly and loses this fight again and again. He tries to imagine the man Edmund is to become in a couple of years, but there are no pictures from the ancient era to lean on and no fantasy can live up to the real boy he is getting to know more with every passing day.
Caspian says nothing, of course. He turns his attention to Susan, as is almost expected of him. She is stunning, and she is great in all the ways the legend pictures her to be. And Caspian can see how all those poor men could fall for her, although she is still too young yet. Her eyes are knowing, her smile is practiced and alluring but her face is calm and calculating. Caspian admires her queenly posture, her soft and translucent skin, but it awakens nothing in him. She is the perfect queen Narnia deserves, the queen Caspian would gladly serve himself.
He feels the hundred glances following them on the rare occasions he finds himself in her presence. And he can't stop wondering how convenient it would be if he could lose himself in her the way others seem to think he does. But she keeps him at a distance, not pushing away entirely and Caspian feels like a fool. She isn't truly engaged, as if she does it all out of habit. As if Caspian is just next in the line of many others. It's humiliating in so many ways.
When she kisses him, it's like she grants him a grand favour he hasn't asked for. Still he can't resent her. She is a queen and she knows the way things are done. He hears a collective groan behind them, and her kiss acquires another meaning - it becomes a blessing. Susan smiles sweetly, trying to convey her message with her eyes, but many days will pass before Caspian gets to really understand it.
The other three look at them amused. Caspian notices Edmund lean to his younger sister and make some comment. Then they laugh quietly, obviously on his behalf.
He feels resentful and stupid. But soon all the feelings are drowned in utter despair for they are gone, gone, gone.
- - -
He knows that Lucy and Edmund are promised to return but that doesn't mean that it will be soon or even in his lifetime. So Caspian learns not to hope, not to wait, not to look for the signs whatever they might be.
He grows as a person and gets used to his duties. Not barely a man anymore - but a true king in his own right. Sometimes he is exhausted from all the efforts he puts into uniting Narnia again but when he feels tired and disheartened he sees Edmund in his mind and his own weakness seems unacceptable.
Years pass, and Caspian begins forgetting the exact features that haunted his dreams. This realisation makes him both sad and relieved. He can't afford foolish fantasies of someone who is more a faint memory now than a real person.
But then he sets sail on his noble quest, and fate, or Aslan himself, gives his old friends back to him in the most impossible of ways. From the bottom of the sea they come as if from his wild fantasies, and both are so painfully alive, breathing, laughing, welcoming him with their bright eyes and happy smiles.
Lucy is a young woman now, no less sweet for having grown up. But Edmund... Edmund takes Caspian's breath away.
He is older, too. Taller, almost as tall as Caspian himself. He is exactly the way Caspian tried to imagine him all those years ago - tried and failed every time. Still pretty, still slim, with a mop of dark thick hair making Caspian long to mess it up. But no more a child. His shoulders have broadened, limbs have become stronger, muscles - more defined. Caspian takes him into a brotherly embrace and his heart goes absolutely wild. He is drunk with happiness, and his smile is so big it hurts.
Edmund seems lighter somehow. Whatever it was that bothered him before, whether the war, his brother's shadow or his own doubts, it isn't present anymore. Instead he is all smiles and friendly teasing and Caspian is falling again, more in love with this lighter version of Edmund than ever.
They seem to be tied at the hip, always in each other's orbit, looking constantly for approval in each other's eyes, and something new, something sweet and intoxicating blossoms between them.
They land on islands, they are taken captive, they fight their way out of any impossible situation and the world is a different place with Edmund by his side. They talk about these past years, about Caspian's reign and the struggles he was faced with, and Edmund shares his own stories of the era long gone. He never speaks of London, though, or of his life outside Narnia, and Caspian is too afraid to ask. To acknowledge that other world would be to acknowledge that they live on borrowed time. And only deep at night, when he lies in his hammock, listening to Edmund's soft breathing, he lets himself face the devastating truth: the farther they get, the less time together they have left.
- - -
They find the island of Ramandu the Star and his daughter Lilliandil welcomes them. Her beauty is ethereal, and everything pales in comparison. The fair maiden seems to be made of light, and Caspian can't take his eyes off her.
Later when they get back to the ship, Edmund is unusually quiet, the way Caspian hasn't seen him since long ago. He is oddly pensive, his lips pursed tightly, and there is something heavy, something inevitable in the knit of his brow. When Caspian makes his speech in front of the crew, Edmund stays aside. Caspian shouts "For Narnia!", and everyone answers his call. He searches the crowd for the only face important to him, and when he meets Edmund's eyes, they shine at him with silent pride.
They go to the king's cabin to prepare for the battle and Caspian's blood sings. He doesn't know what's got into him, maybe it's the proximity of a fight or the possibility of never living to see another dawn. But when he helps Edmund to adjust his armour his hand lingers on his waist just a little longer, and suddenly Edmund leans back into him. Caspian swallows audibly. He puts his nose into his hair, breathes him in. He can't believe what's happening.
Suddenly Edmund tenses up. He pulls out of Caspian's arms and turns around. He gazes at him calmly, almost solemnly and Caspian feels as if he is being judged. Judged by no less than the Just king of Narnia. There is nothing boyish in the features of Edmund's face at that moment.
Caspian is on the verge of apologizing for his boldness when Edmund suddenly steps into his space and pushes him back. Caspian stumbles, but Edmund's hands hold him up. He slowly backs away as if under a spell until his back meets with the door of the wardrobe and then Edmund is closer, so much closer than ever before. Caspian closes his eyes involuntarily. And soon Edmund's lips are on his own.
It's not the gentle kiss Caspian has imagined so many times. Edmund kisses like he fights. There is no doubt in him about what he wants. Caspian chokes and grabs his shoulders. He encircles his waist and pulls him closer, impossibly closer, as if trying to pull him inside. Edmund bites his lip and Caspian gasps in shock, then he yanks Caspian's shirt collar down, ripping the fine cloth uncaringly and Caspian catches on fire. Heart pounding in his ears, Caspian pushes himself back from the wardrobe and turns them around.
Edmund's lips are red like berries, glistening and slightly puffy from the kiss. Caspian attacks them like a starving man, finally allowed to do what he has imagined for so many times. Edmund's hands slide feverishly along his back, tugging the sleeves of Caspian's shirt down his arms, and Caspian shivers when the cool air touches his heated skin.
As from afar Caspian hears Lucy's voice urging them to hurry up. He puts one hand on the wall beside Edmund's head to keep upright and glances over his shoulder at the door, still closed. She isn't to come in, he knows, too delicate and knowing despite looking like little more than a child. But Edmund is already extricating himself, Caspian's hand on his forearm being the only point of contact between them. Caspian clenches his fingers, not ready to let him go yet, not ready to ever let him go. But when Edmund raises his eyes to him there is a kind of finality in them.
Still fighting to control their breathing, they pull apart and pick up dressing where they left off. They don't talk until Caspian offers Edmund his brother's sword. Even then Edmund is reserved in his gratitude.
The fight is a stuff of a nightmare, the worst part when Edmund gets almost devoured by the sea monster. This particular horror will torment Caspian's dreams for many long nights. Even after the pain from Edmund's absence becomes almost bearable.
- - -
They leave with Aslan's blessing. There is nothing Caspian can do, watching them disappear behind the wall of water. He wants to run after them, shout at the top of his lungs, crying, pleading with any unknown entity to grant him his only wish. But Aslan looks at him with a knowing glance and his eyes while sad and kind are also resolute. There is no hope his wish will be granted.
Caspian closes his eyes and raises his face to the sun, feeling its warming touch. It can't stop him from feeling empty inside. But it's the same sun that shone on Edmund's face when they let themselves be obliviously happy even if just for a short moment.
From now on that will have to be enough.