AN: I've been holding on to this little drabble for a long time. The circumstances aren't specifically described, though the basics - after suffering an undisclosed accident, Edmund and Lucy wait for rescue in a bitter winter storm - are simple. Enjoy.

He breaks the power of canceled sin
He sets the prisoner free…

~ O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing, by Charles Wesley

Breaking the Ice

Lucy leaned back into her brother's embrace. It was so cold. She had almost forgotten what it meant to be warm.

"Edmund?" Her voice broke the frosty silence uncertainly, sounding weak and small.

He shifted behind her; his arms around her waist tightening. "Yes?" he asked, hoarse with pain.

"When will they come for us?"

Edmund said nothing in response for a few moments, and she began almost to be frightened he had somehow frozen to death after he'd answered her.

"Soon, I hope, Lu," he said at last. "They knew where we were going, and they'll know something is wrong. And I'm sure someone – a passing Beaver or a Rabbit or a Bird of some kind – will have seen what happened."

She considered his response and then nodded. "And Aslan is watching out for us, of course." The thought of the Great Lion's beautiful, solemn, loving eyes kept her fear at bay.

There came a short, vacant pause.

"Of course," her brother repeated, but there was something distant in the way he said it that raised Lucy's curiosity.

"What's wrong, Ed?" she said, twisting 'round in his arms to see his face.

He looked away from her, the rich color of his eyes fading to black in the dim light and standing out in stark contrast to the white of his face. His lips were compressed in a thin line.

She exhaled, watching her breath puff out in a tiny, swirling cloud, and reached up from the warmth of their cloaks and his embrace to touch his icy cheek. He stirred uncomfortably and grimaced.

"Please," she said. "What's wrong? Does your leg hurt worse?"

Still, he refused to answer, and his gaze was locked onto the patch of graying light showing through the den entrance. Darkness was rapidly approaching, and the storm was growing worse.

"I don't deserve it."

The whisper was so hushed, she nearly missed it in the rising howl of the wind. "Deserve what?" she questioned, equally soft but knowing he heard.

He sighed, and then she knew. "Deserve being watched out for," he said. "Deserve being cared for…by him."

Wiggling a bit in order to face him better, she tried to give him a comforting squeeze and was told rather sharply to stay beneath the cloaks. So she leaned into his shoulder instead and slipped her free arm under his. "No," she stated simply. "I don't suppose you do. But then, do any of us?"

"But I betrayed you – and all of Narnia."

Her answer was swift. "And Aslan forgave you, as did we."

Silence, almost as diamond-hard as the pelting snow outside. Another whisper. "Yes, you did." A hesitation and then quieter yet. "Why?"

Lucy thought for a minute, biting her lip. "I won't say it was easy," she continued, slower this time and more to herself. "Sometimes, when I think about what it really meant, you betraying us, I become–" She stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. "And on the other hand, when I think about you and what you endured and felt, being with her and seeing her cruelty firsthand, well, then it balances out. I don't know."

She impulsively hugged him close, ignoring the hard prickle of his armor. "In the end it was because we love you, Ed. All of us, and especially Aslan. You were truly sorry for what you had done, which is the most important thing, I think. And Aslan paid the price the Deep Magic demanded, because he was the only one who could really do it and beat the Witch, and so he did."

"I know. It's hard to remember that and to keep from thinking about her sometimes. Especially…" he paused and stilled. "Especially in times like these. When I'm cold, like this. It's worst then – it gets all inside me and whispers in this velvety little voice all the horrid things I did. I hate it."

Peering around the edge of her hood at him, she caught the despondency in his expression, which only fueled her determination to be of comfort. "Me, too," she replied sincerely. "The important thing is if you have those things – Aslan's love and his forgiveness – you have what you need, Eddie. What's past is past, he said. To keep wallowing in despair is to let the Witch win, even though she lost."

"You're right, I know," he replied, "I suppose I just need help remembering sometimes."

"We've got you, Edmund," she said firmly, "All of us, Peter, Susan, and I, and all of Narnia; we shan't let you go. With Aslan's help, we'll keep you warm."

Edmund held her closer, and through the layers of her cap and cloak, she felt a kiss pressed to her head. "That does help. It's not magically better, but I can keep going - keep fighting. Thank you, Lu. To quote our magnificent brother, you're a hero."

She blushed slightly, pleased. Compliments from him were worth their weight in gold. "Anyway," she continued, in that matter-of-fact tone she knew made him smile. "You'll beat it, that awful little voice. I've never known you to back down from a challenge. You just don't give up. Didn't Mum always say Stubborn was your middle name?"

There came a low chuckle, a rumble beneath her ear, and suddenly from outside, over the wail of the storm, there came a loud halloo. She smiled, grateful and relieved and oddly overjoyed, and she noticed she didn't feel quite so cold anymore.