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Edmund Pevensie lay on his back, arms folded across his chest, on the top of his bed, enveloped in satin sheets. Light beamed in through the large, glass window, painting constellations on the bedroom floor. The heat was mind-numbing and he found himself quickly losing the will to live, stuck in the castle of Cair Paravel.
It was high noon and the boy had already spent the majority of his morning practising archery with his older sister, Susan and duelling the palace servants in the lush, verdant gardens. He had soon grown bored, however, of being easily beaten by Sue, who had become an even more skilled archer than she was when battling the White Witch and disarming his assailants without even flinching. So instead, he had retired to his bedroom to pass the rest of the day staring at the cream walls and extravagant paintings, which danced across the ceiling.
A knock sounded at the door and Edmund (glad for the presence of another) called whoever it may have been to enter. He hoped for his gleeful sister Lucy or possibly some entertainment in the form of the jester, but instead was greeted by Peter, much to his solemn disappointment.
"Hello, Ed," Peter smiled.
Edmund groaned and propped himself up on a stack of velveteen cushions. "Hi, Pete. What's wrong?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Why do you assume that something's wrong? Can I not just want to talk to my little brother?"
"You could, but you don't," Edmund returned. "So just tell me what the matter is, otherwise feel free to excuse yourself."
Peter sighed at his brother's frustrating (yet, probably justified) impertinence. "Aslan has decided something important regarding you, Edmund. I have already discussed matters with him, but he insists that as your brother, I must be the one to tell you."
At the mention of the Great Lion, Edmund immediately perked up, bolting upright. He threw off his covers and stood up to face his brother. "Aslan? What did he want you to tell me?"
"Relations with neighbouring kingdoms are beginning to deteriorate..." Peter began to trail off, unable to speak the next few words, miserably aware that what he was about to say would break Edmund's heart and throw him into a temper.
"What do you need me to do then? Sign a peace treaty?" He began to grin. "Wait, are we launching an attack? And I'm leading it, as Narnia's best swordsman."
Peter was ready to chastise his younger brother and inform him that he was a far superior swordsman, yet decided to let Edmund have a moment of slight pleasure, before the soul-crushing news he was about to deliver.
"Ed, Aslan says that to strengthen relationships with nearby countries once more, we need to marry a Narnian royal to a princess from another kingdom... We chose you."
