Chapter Text
The men who kidnapped him were supposed to turn him over to the king of Telmar for a public execution, to assert Telmar's dominance over Narnia in the ongoing war. However, in typical Telmarine fashion, they had double-crossed the king and so now Edmund sat, hands bound, in a rowboat headed for the slave market at the Lone Islands.
"You'll live to regret this," Edmund said.
The Telmarine rowman had a face pockmarked by the sun and a crooked nose like he'd been on the losing end of one too many fights. He grinned without humor and said, "Ah, perhaps. But the point is, young prince, I will live."
Edmund couldn't argue the point. King Miraz had a habit of tying up loose ends with the edge of a knife. "It isn't Miraz you should be worried about," Edmund said, returning the shrewd grin. "It's my mother."
The grin slipped from the man's face and Edmund watched as he struggled to suppress a shiver at the mention of the White Queen. After that, he fell silent.
Edmund shifted in his restraints, feeling the metal shackles bite into his skin. He had to admit, the Telmarines who captured him had at least come prepared. Something about the cold iron of the manacles combined with the runes inscribed on the bands was dampening his magic. In the seven years he had been with Jadis, he had gone from prisoner to prince, and each year she taught him more of her magic. He had become quite proficient, but he wasn't powerful enough to fight whatever this was, and so here he sat, as useless now shackled in a boat on the ocean as he had been as a boy of eleven, shackled in the ice of the White Witch's dungeon.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had learned a great deal more than magic under the White Witch's bitter tutelage. For example, he had learned the value of patience. Eventually, the opportunity for escape would present itself, so long as he stayed vigilant and kept his eyes open for ways to exploit his captors' weaknesses. Until then, he would have to endure. Another virtue he had learned from Jadis.
The boatman pulled up to the docks at the Lone Islands and hauled Edmund out by the chain at his wrists. The town was nearly deserted aside from the slaver's market, and Edmund examined the dead-eyed slave trader as they approached the auction stand. Edmund saw the moment recognition lit in the man's eyes.
Edmund was still wearing his clothes of the Queen's royal court, a high-collared, pale blue tunic that fit him like a second skin because it was woven together with magical threads of frost. Scattered along the shoulders and collar stood gems of ice that glittered like small diamonds. The only thing missing was his crown, forged in ice and snow. Even without it, there was no mistaking his identity.
The slaver eyed Edmund's Telmarine captor with vivid skepticism. "You must be joking."
The Telmarine shrugged. "If you don't want him, someone else will. And I can cut out the middle man."
He moved to haul Edmund away and the slaver spoke up. "No…Fine. Bring him here."
While the Telmarine and the Narnian slaver haggled about the division of profits, Edmund took in his surroundings. There wasn't much but a stone courtyard and a dusty wooden dais at one end, the crowds milling as they casually bid on the people on the auction block. Along one wall stood a line of people in chains, men and women and children and mystical beings alike, united in their dismal subjugation. It made something in Edmund's blood boil. If he had access to his magic, he'd reduce this place to rubble.
And then Edmund was getting hauled forward by his chains, the slaver calling to the crowd as he approached, "We have something new added to the docket, a real treat, I'd say!" The crowd let out an assortment of jeers, but their voices all went abruptly silent when Edmund was led up onto the dais and placed on full view.
For a long moment, no one spoke, and Edmund tried to hold himself tall with as much dignity as he could muster in front of an assortment of the worst types of men. If nothing else, they had the good sense to look shocked and even afraid at the sight of their prince on the auction block.
One man with a slack-jawed look about him finally spoke up. "He looks like royalty."
Edmund cast him a withering look and said with heavy sarcasm, "So you're the brains of this bunch, then."
There was a round of uneasy chuckles from the crowd, but the slaver dealt him a swift backhand across the cheek. It hurt, and would likely bruise later, but Edmund couldn't help raising a sardonic eyebrow at the man. He'd have to do a lot better than that if he expected it to cow Edmund. That didn't even come close to the queen's love taps.
"Shall we start the bidding at a thousand coin?"
There was a heavy, leaden silence from the crowd.
The slaver looked like he was starting to regret taking on the Telmarine's deal, but he pressed on. "Surely a thousand is a fine price for such a prize as this one! You know who this is!"
A voice yelled out from the back of the crowd. "That's the problem, innit? We know who he is, and we don't want no part of his mother comin' after us!" There was a low murmur of assent from the rest of the crowd.
Edmund couldn't help the bitter grin that broke across his features at that.
"Surely there's someone here man enough to take home the crowned prince," the slaver said, a hint of desperation starting to creep into his voice. He yanked Edmund's chains, making him stumble closer to the edge of the dais, and he clamped a hand under Edmund's jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks. "Look at this pretty face, that alone should be enough to—"
The slaver cut off in a scream as Edmund's teeth clamped down on his thumb hard enough to draw blood. Edmund quickly spat the foul taste from his mouth.
The slaver snarled and raised his hand to strike once more, but another voice with a strong Calormene accent spoke up from the crowd. "I'll thank you not to damage my property."
The slaver whirled on the newcomer. "Your property?"
"Since it seems no one else is willing to take on the challenge. Or at least, no one willing to match my offer." The Calormene tossed a relatively large bag of coins onto the dais that landed with a metallic jingle.
The slaver looked at the coins, then at Edmund, then bent to pick up the heavy bag. "Going once, going twice, sold," he said dully, then shoved Edmund down off the dais towards the Calormene. "Pleasure doing business with you," he muttered, and walked away cradling his thumb gingerly.
The Calormene bent to pick up the end of Edmund's chain and started winding it around his palm, slowly pulling Edmund forward, then he raised Edmund's shackled hands to kiss his knuckles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty."
Edmund felt his lips curl and he said snidely, "If only we'd met under different circumstances."
The Calormene grinned. "Oh, I think the circumstances suit me just fine," he said, and turned to his crew. "Take him back to the ship."
~❄️~
Edmund was held in the brig for roughly an hour or two, judging by the shift of the sunlight he could see through the small porthole in the hull. Then he was unceremoniously dragged to the captain's quarters. The captain was luckily not there, and Edmund took the opportunity to survey the room. His eyes quickly landed on an old dinner plate with a knife sitting on it, and said aloud to himself, "Oh, it can't be that easy."
Edmund quickly snatched up the knife and started working it in the lock of his shackles. But he only had a minute before there were voices outside of the door and Edmund hastily slipped the knife up the sleeve of his shirt.
The Calormene captain entered as if he thought he was gifting Edmund with his presence. "Forgive me for keeping you waiting, your majesty."
Edmund scowled. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries. What do you want with me?"
The Calormene captain looked him up and down. "I should have thought that was obvious," he said, with what he no doubt thought was a charming grin. "You are an investment, my young prince. I may have paid handsomely for you, but I believe you'll fetch an even more handsome ransom."
Edmund couldn't help the bitter chuckle at that. "If you're expecting my mother to pay for my return, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed." She was far more likely to cut the man's throat and be done with it.
"That's a shame," the Calormene said. "But she would, perhaps, be willing to pay to keep you out of the hands of the rebels. And the rebels, I'm sure, would pay a pretty penny for you."
Edmund swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. It was true, Jadis would stop at nothing to keep him from falling into the hands of the rebels. The civil war in Narnia that had been raging for the last seven years was, in part, being fought over Edmund. But he had made his choice, and he could never return to his siblings now, not after—Peter's betrayed, battle-marred face flashed through Edmund's mind. No, he could never return.
"I also heard that you were on your way to the king of Telmar before you got diverted by this little detour." The Calormene flashed a grin. Miraz was an opportunist, and after years of Narnian civil war, he had sensed blood in the water. The moment he'd seized the throne of Telmar he'd started an invasion, leaving Narnia to fight wars on both its eastern and western fronts. He would relish the chance to strike a blow against Narnia by executing their crowned prince.
"I anticipate we'll have quite the bidding war on our hands. In the meantime…" the Calormene ran his eyes slowly over Edmund's body. "I'm sure I can find a use for you."
An unpleasant shiver ran down Edmund's spine. But while his mother was unequaled in cruelty, she was also unnaturally beautiful, and Edmund had spent many of his formative years watching her wield her beauty like yet another weapon in her arsenal, and he had learned.
Swallowing down the rising bile in his throat, Edmund stepped closer to the Calormene, until he could feel the man's foul breath on his face. He looked up at the man from under his lashes and said, softly, "Sounds like I have incentive to convince you to keep me for yourself."
The Calormene licked his lips hungrily and Edmund fought the compulsion to retch. "I had planned to spend that coin on at least three new slaves," he said, hooking his fingers under Edmund's chin and tilting his head up sharply. "I certainly hope you're worth it."
Edmund held up his shackled wrists. "Might be able to make it better for you if I didn't have these."
The Calormene smiled cruelly. "What makes you think I'm the kind of man who wouldn't enjoy having the prince bound and at my mercy?"
Edmund sighed. "Well, it was worth a try," he said, then smashed his manacles into the Calormene's face. In the moment of shocked recoil, Edmund slipped the knife out of his sleeve and drove it between the man's ribs, through his lung and into his heart. Edmund held his free hand over the man's mouth to stifle any noise and watched the light leave the man's shocked eyes, then dropped him unceremoniously to the floor. It was hardly the first time he'd taken a life, and he doubted it would be the last.
Edmund cleaned the knife and resumed working at the lock, now feeling slightly more pressed for time. He didn't know how long he worked at it before he heard a commotion outside.
He cracked the door to the captain's cabin open and peered outside. For a moment, Edmund thought a mutiny was in progress, but then he saw the Narnian ship pulled up alongside the Calormene one, grappling hooks and ropes attached to allow for a boarding party. Edmund looked at the skirmish with new eyes, and what he saw made his stomach drop. The invading crew was clearly Narnian, but it was such a mishmash of Narnians he couldn't tell on what side of the divide they fell. There were humans and fauns, but there were also dwarves and a Minotaur. There was no flag on the ship either, no emblem of the queen and no golden lion flag of the rebels. But what finally caught Edmund's eye was when a short grey mouse dashed across the deck, tiny sword held aloft. Edmund knew that none of the mice were loyal to his mother. That meant that this could only be a crew of rebels.
Edmund spared one short, panicked moment to wonder how they had found him so quickly. Of all the three factions, it was the rebels that he would rather die than have to face. He couldn't bear to think of what kind of revenge his siblings likely had planned for him.
Edmund's only choice for survival was to fight on the side of his Calormene captors. Once the rebels were defeated, with the Calormene captain dead, perhaps Edmund would be able to strike a deal with the rest of the crew. It was a long shot, but it was better than the alternative.
Edmund quickly ducked back inside the captain's quarters and retrieved the scimitar from the dead captain's belt. It wasn't his weapon of choice, and his hands were still bound, cutting off access to his magic. Still, he'd fought under worse circumstances.
Edmund burst from the door and struck out at the first Narnian he spotted, a red dwarf. He quickly dispatched the sword from the dwarf's grip and kicked him down the stairs to the deck below, only sparing a moment before he sighted his next opponent.
Edmund whirled and his blade clashed with the man's. Edmund stumbled for a moment at the sight of him, tall and unmistakably handsome, his strong jaw framed by the stubble of a short beard. His shoulder-length hair was partly pulled back from his face and was a dark brown that reminded Edmund of the rich drink the dwarves of the court drank in the mornings, not unlike coffee. The man's eyes were somehow an even darker brown, and they widened at the sight of Edmund, no doubt taking in the picture that Edmund presented and putting the clues together as others had done.
Edmund took advantage of the man's brief shock and swung his sword once more.
His opponent barely managed to block his attack and the metal of their swords screeched together. The man made a wild, sweeping strike and Edmund easily dodged the blow, his feet carrying him swiftly out of the way. He moved quickly, using the momentum from the dodge to his advantage.
His opponent was off-balance, and Edmund saw his chance. He lunged forward, his scimitar aimed for his attacker's exposed side. Edmund didn't expect his attack to be anticipated.
His attacker's sword rose and met his. The force of the impact jolted Edmund, and he stumbled back a few steps, barely recovering in time to avoid his attacker's next blow. He blocked another of his attacker's strikes and the two of them danced around each other as they fought, parrying and attacking and striking, swords flashing in the sun.
His attacker was a formidable opponent, but Edmund had been taught to fight by the unforgiving instruction of dwarves and minotaurs. The man had enough skill to make Edmund work for each blow, and Edmund could admire the way his opponent fought.
It had been a long time since anyone had been able to match Edmund.
His palms itched for his magic to even the playing field, but he didn't need magic for this. He had learned to fight without it.
As Edmund fought, the sounds of battle grew fainter, replaced by a roaring in his ears and his own, harsh breaths. He blocked another of his attacker's hits, his feet sliding across the deck and nearly tripping over the prone body of a sailor.
Edmund swung his blade in a sharp arc, and the sound of metal scraping against metal rang out across the deck. His opponent recovered more quickly than Edmund expected and used Edmund's momentum against him, spinning Edmund so his back was pressed against the railing.
When his attacker's sword came crashing down again, Edmund met it with his own and the two weapons remained locked together. Edmund's arms shook from the force of the man's attack. Their faces were mere inches away from each other.
"My prince," the man said. "I don't wish to harm you." His attacker's voice was surprisingly soft, his breath hot against Edmund's cheek. He had a Narnian accent but the vowels lilted slightly.
The wood of the railing dug into the small of Edmund's back. "You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it, given the circumstances." He hooked his leg behind the man's knee and shoved, sending him careening backwards. Edmund spun and in a flash brought the tip of his blade to the man's throat, but in that same second he felt the sharp edge of metal against his own neck.
They both froze, staring down the lines of their swords at each other, locked into a seeming stalemate. Edmund clenched his jaw, mentally calculating his chances of escaping unscathed if he pressed his blade forward. The man seemed to be working through similar thoughts by the look on his face, but after one tense moment, the feel of cool metal at Edmund's throat vanished, and the man took a step back, lowering his sword to his side.
"Lay down your sword, and no harm will come to you. You have my word."
Edmund's shock kept him frozen in place. He spared only the briefest glance at the fighting below, noting in a moment of frustration that there were far more Calormenes down than Narnians. He shook his head. "You're a rebel."
"I'm not," the man said, and the earnest sincerity in his voice sounded almost foreign to Edmund's ears.
There was no reason to believe him. Still, after a moment, Edmund found himself lowering his sword. "Then who are you?"
"Captain!" a voice called, and it seemed Edmund had his answer, at least partially. An older man with a bald head and skin just starting to go leathery from his time at sea stepped up to the handsome man, who was apparently the captain of this invading crew.
"What is it, Drinian?"
"The Calormene crew has surrendered," Drinian said. "We found their captain in his cabin, dead."
Both men cast Edmund a dubious look, apparently coming to the correct conclusion about how the former captain had met his untimely end. Drinian slid a look sideways to the captain then, and said, "Your orders, sir?"
The captain seemed reluctant to pull his eyes from Edmund, but after a moment he sheathed his sword and placed his hand on Drinian's shoulder in a show of almost deferential camaraderie, and Edmund frowned at the unfamiliar display. "I'll address the prisoners. In the meantime," he turned to Edmund, "You may share my cabin, as my guest. It's not every day that we are host to royalty."
Drinian coughed, and he spared a dark look for the captain who just grinned back with a glint of sharp humor in his eyes. But then he schooled his expression and stepped forward towards the prisoners, taking a deep breath as he looked down on the men assembled on the deck below.
"I lay claim to this vessel, by the laws of the sea and the pirate code," he said, his voice ringing clear and containing a note of courtly manners that Edmund found out of place in the sea air. "Your captain has trafficked in stolen goods and human slaves, and as such I am within my rights to throw you all in the brig and turn you over to the authorities when we next make port. However, I understand that his crimes are not yours, and so I offer you this deal. Join my crew, serve with loyalty, and you may be granted pardon. I know some of you may hold loyalty to your former captain, but for you I say that it would be better to choose the brig, because anyone who acts against my crew will be thrown to the sea to take their chances with the merpeople and the sharks. For now, you will all have a night in the hold to consider your choice."
And with that, Edmund was led across the gangplank to the Narnian vessel. It was a well-made, beautiful ship, with an elaborate dragon head carved into the bow. Underneath the bow, in gold lettering, Edmund read the name of the ship as he boarded.
Dawn Treader