Hey you! So, this is my first fanfiction, aren't you excited? I'm not sure whether this will be longer, or not. I guess it all depends on if you crazies review or not! This isn't really intended to be Edmund/Lucy, they just have a sweet relationship.

Oh that thing down there? It's just a list of kind of melancholy songs that would be good to listen to while reading this. Music is kind of my life, so yeah.

Suggested Listening: "Hide and Seek"–Imogen Heap

"Digging A Ditch"–Dave Matthews Band

"Eveline"–Nickel Creek

"Nowhere Warm"–Kate Havnevik

"Top of the World"–Dixie Chicks

"Trouble"-Coldplay

"Here with Me"-Dido

Shrugging off his guilty memories, a now 17 year old and dressed down Edmund Pevensie entered the still cold "palace". Prison was a more appropriate word, but he knew the prison too well here and it hurt him too much to think of it as that. He had been avoiding this place, desperately hoping it would melt away, but even when the Summer's brutal sun beat unmercifully against it and the warm wind swept through the empty halls it stood just as menacingly as before. Taking slow, deliberate steps, the lone boy moved cautiously towards the icy stairs. Upon reaching the top he was not surprised to find a fur shawl draped over the giant throne. It once looked royal and commanding, but now appeared careless and pathetic. His rough fingers gently brushed against the arm of the chair as even more memories flooded his already overwhelmed mind.

"How dare you come alone!"

He cringed, thinking of how ignorant he had been. He knew that noone had forgotten what he had done. Aslan said that it was over, that it shouldn't be spoken of, but it wasn't stopping anyone. He knew that people didn't trust him, and he knew that they called him a traitor when he wasn't around, and he knew that noone loved him as much as they loved Peter. Forgiveness is easy to profess, but forgetting is hopelessly hard to do. He was never comfortable making decisions on his own, and had a horrible time presenting a calm and confident manner the way the Susan and Peter did. He couldn't even fake happy, the happy Lucy naturally possessed. He was irreparably damaged. He knew it, they knew it, everyone knew it, and it broke his heart all the more.

Turning back to the great room, he made his somber way down the stairs. He scanned the chamber, before turning and making his way toward the prison. He set his head against the spiraling metal doors, not prepared for everything inside the cell. He took deep, shaking breaths that could be seen floating away from his flushing face. Finally, he leaned the rest of his weight onto it, swinging it loudly open. He let out a loud sigh upon spotting a set of chains he once thought would permanently be his own. He should be infuriated. He should be throwing a tantrum, or smashing something, but this sinking feeling washed over him. It was the kind of reminiscent sinking feeling that causes one to desire to lay alone in the dark for the remainder of their eternity. He sank to his knees, and covered his handsome face with worn hands. An unbearable pressure laid itself against his chest as his memories took control again.

"You're here because he turned you in..."

That statement had cut into him so deeply that the scar was still pink and fragile and caused his throat to dry up, all the water rushing to his eyes. He hadn't meant it as a betrayal. He hadn't been in Narnia for more than 5 minutes when a mysteriously majestic woman started questioning him. Of course, explaining himself had been what got him into trouble, so he had never bothered to attempt to explain himself to Tumnus. He had said I'm sorry. He had said it so many times that he often wondered if it was real. It didn't seem fair that it was so easy for everyone else to be so good, and he had to work so hard to even be acceptable.

A single tear slipped off of his romantic eyelashes and immediately froze when it landed gently on the floor. His fingertips brushed over the smooth spot where it had landed. He hated crying. Smiling a tragic smile, he pushed off of his calloused palms and rough knees, only to fall again. It was only then that a calm black overtook his clouded mind.

Two cherub-like arms encircled him the best that they could, cradling him on a loving shoulder. Feeling another weakness coming on, he pulled back, looking regretfully into Lucy's still innocent eyes. He was always amazed that no matter how many hearts she broke or battles she witnessed, the now 14 year old Lucy still held unwaveringly onto a childish outlook. He almost admired her for it. But, maybe innocence was a crutch to her, like anger and self pity were to him. The thoughts did little to comfort, to sober him, as he drifted off to near sleep again.

"It's over, Ed. We're out." Deep, melancholy brown eyes fluttered open. He was outside of the icy castle, squinting from the unwelcome sunlight. Lucy intertwined her short fingers with his slender ones, gently tugging him behind her. The pair traveled through abandoned forests and into a small opening that Edmund seemed to remember. The roar of a nearby waterfall massaged his ears and tempted him to fall to sleep for a third time. Then, He stepped on something foreign and hard; his stride immediately halting. Lucy spun around on her heal, golden brown hair smacking her in the face as she stared at his horrified expression. His eyes were glued to a nearly hidden something on the ground, his eyebrows were pulled down and his lips pressed tightly between his teeth.

"Think about whose side your on, Edmund. Mine...or theirs."

It was the first time he had cried in years. He cursed that day and the whirlwind of confusing times after that. Maybe if he would have stayed strong just that once, simply stood up to her, not crumpled weakly under her intense glare he would be able to move on. But that fox had been turned into a statue, a resting place for pigeons, a small souvenir of his weakness. Aslan may have returned the fox's life, but Edmund could hardly look the merciful creature in the eye.

It was barely noticable in the tall grass, but a stone butterfly lay abandoned and overgrown on the green earth. The waterfall now seemed to be taunting him, and all he could hear was her calm voice as she killed the yelping fox. Clenching his fists, determined to be stronger than he could be, he looked back up at Lucy, who had been studying him. He cleared a rising sense of sadness in his sore throat. Then, he took her hand again, and stayed in step with her this time, as they continued heading home. His eyes dared not wander back to the somber, abused places he had just been. He knew he needed those things to stay there, as another crutch or a reminder of his mistakes. Things in his mind either seemed to be one extreme or the other, and usually it was depressed. The very thought of how unhappy he always was pushed him even further into misery.

It had been a week or so since Edmund's last emotional breakdown and travel to the ice palace. Everyone, inevitably found out, and the rumors spread were, of course, worse than the truth. The others, as always, covered for him for a week afterwards, apologizing for his "unfortunate health issues". Edmund knew that noone would buy it. Sure, he was frailer these days, never quite recovering from his imprisonment, but Lucy had a magic healing potion for Christ's sake! But, no matter how many drops of that red liquid made their way into his system, he never gained an appetite, or felt emotionally any better.

He knew that life wasn't supposed to be this hard: lying on a grand bed, tears soaking both sides of the pillows, reflecting on a young life already gone sour.

Fireflies danced methodically throughout the room, providing the sole illumination in harmonious patterns. The tiny lights reflected off of his glassy eyes. Closing those entrancing and currently swollen eyes, he groaned, rolling onto two unfamiliar feet. Purposefully forgetting to put shoes or proper clothes on, he tugged on his heavy oak door. His footfalls gently pitter-pattered back and forth down the corrider. Forcing open another thick door and softly clicking it shut he entered yet another warm darkness, this one filled with an abundance of waltzing fireflies. He slipped into an already occupied bed with a quiet creaking. She turned over, opening her merciful round eyes.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, her own voice cracking, tears nearly spilling onto her cheeks at his pathetic appearance. She had waited to ask that question for so long and now it seemed obsolete and words served only as a nuisance. Still, he answered her.

"I don't think so, Lu." He sniffed out softly. "Could I just stay in here with you for a while?" Salty tears again again made their painful tracks on his raw face, over his royal nose, and onto her pillows.

"Of course." It was more like a breathe than a true response. Graceful droplets now danced over her features as well. She took him into her warm embrace, mixing their tears. He felt loved only when with her, and he felt horrible for making her cry, but he feared that without her, he would hurt himself again.

She would never question him, or make him feel worthless, and she would always be there for him. Because she was his sister, and because she was Lucy. Burying his face into her shoulder, he allowed himself to completely breakdown, shaking violently with gasping breaths. Silently, she stroked his back, her angelic tears dropping into his hair, attempting to save him from himself.

The night came and went with the only trace of last nights affairs as the salty mix of dejected and sympathetic tears on Lucy's pillows. He had woken up early, and tucked Lucy in tighter, kissing her lightly on her forehead before tiptoeing back into his own room. When she had awoken with the first sunbeams kissing her delicate cheekbones, Lucy wondered if it was all a dream, but the stain and her slightly puffy eyelids proved otherwise.

Edmund sat slumped in a plush chair at the breakfast table for an hour before anyone else showed up.The chair had been unoccupied for sometime, the place settings empty and overturned when he arrived. He didn't bother them, though, he still felt too hollow to eat.

It was this cycle of contentment, joy, resentment, hostility, hate, depression, and then nothing. There was this gap somewhere between the sadness and the contentment that he knew was coming. It was his least favorite of the cycle. He didn't know how to react to anything or what to say. He felt useless, and unable. Footsteps broke through his thoughts as Susan entered the room, her pace decisive even in the wake of sleep. She gave him a sweet look, a gentle look. It was her look. He appreciated it, even if it made him feel uncomfortable.

"Feeling better?" Her voice was chipper, and the change in pace threw him. He liked it.

"Yes." He croaked, his voice sounding foreign and unused. He cleared his throat before continuing, "Thank you." That was better.

"I'm so glad." Their sentences almost overlapped into awkward noises. Her eyes kindly rested on his features. He looked so worn out, but he was going to have to get over it at some point. It's growing up, realizing that being the disappointment only gives you room to impress others later. It was a hard lesson, but everyone struggles, and Susan's patience with the boy was thinning. Still, she pretended to be perfect and loving and sweet and understanding. Because she was Susan.

'It's just because she's Susan' Edmund repeated to himself mentally. 'She wouldn't pretend to be sympathetic just to shield me or trick me. It's just Susan. She can't help it that she doesn't know how to act around me...hell, I don't even know how to act around me. I'm like a— '

Peter then entered the room, jarring Edmund from his thought. "Good morning." The blonde greeted, seating himself at a place with warm food awaiting. Taking notice of Edmund's overturned plates and cup, he motioned to them "You want me to– "

"No. I'm fine."Lucy then stepped into the room, her slippered feet scuffling to her chair. She was unlike herself, silent and groggy.

"Are you feeling well?" Susan inquired, placing a lady like hand to Lucy's forehead.

"Just tired, that's all." The younger girl replied, brushing off Susan's hand and managing a weak smile. The rest of the breakfast passed in small talk and daily plans. It was dull, and they all four ended up leaving the table without excuses. Peter drifted off towards the ocean, he loved to sit and just feel it in the mornings. Susan meandered to her room, undoubtedly to make herself "presentable", something which she seemingly needed to always achieve, even if there was noone to present herself to. Lucy walked through the halls, looking for a simple job she could help with. And Edmund, our Edmund remained seated for quite some time, just loving the cozy feel of the room. It was everything he needed, and everything he hated, but that was why he was Edmund.

So good or no good?

PLEASE review. (Critiques greatly appreciated!)

–Tugging at Sunbeams