Chapter Text
“ This piece is extraordinary, Edmund.”
The man took a step back to better admire the artwork.
The painting was immense, stretching across nearly the entire wall. Its ornate gold frame, adorned with intricately handcrafted silver vines and leaves, was designed so masterfully it gave the illusion of peering through a window. Within the painting, a grand castle perched atop a cliff, surrounded by lush foliage and trailing trees. Beneath the cliff, a beach stretched along the shore, painted with such lifelike detail it almost seemed to shimmer with movement. The forest brimmed with fantastical creatures in mid-celebration, their joy frozen in vibrant strokes. And in the distance, barely visible yet unmistakably present, a faint image of a lion stood along the beach—clear, proud, and enigmatic.
“I say this is your best work yet.” The man clapped Edmund on the shoulder. “Will you be presenting this at the showcase next month?”
“Im afraid this one is a gift Mr. Charlie. I will be taking it on the train with me to London.”
The man standing beside him was short and stout, with a head of gray hair and a mustache that curled at the ends like wisps of smoke. His khaki-brown trousers hung loosely at the ankles but strained around his waist, held up by a pair of suspenders that matched the fabric. He wore a crisp white button-up shirt, slightly wrinkled, and clutched a wooden pipe between his teeth. As he exhaled, a perfect ring of smoke floated from his mouth and drifted lazily into the air.
“It's a shame really you would make a lot of money from this painting. Possibly enough to keep you afloat the rest of your life.”
Edmund frowned at that but continued to watch as 2 men came along and took the painting off the wall to prepare it for safe travelling.
“Mr. Charlie, is all you ever see in my work just profit for your showcases?”
A deep hearty laugh that seemed too big for his short frame echoed through the bustling warehouse.
“Nonsense, my boy! You know I adore your artwork—I’d proudly show it off to admirers across the world. Truly. With all the effort you pour into it, I can't help but feel you ought to be paid handsomely for your hard work, all things considered.”
Charlie Jameson, better known as Mr. Charlie, was what most would call a true entrepreneur. Born into old money, he used his wealth to scout raw talent wherever it could be found, funding their ambitions not only to help dreams take flight but also to turn a tidy profit. Everyone he worked with was paid generously, and he had a reputation for being both charming and fair. Still, when it came to finances, Mr. Charlie was relentlessly persistent.
That was how he met Edmund.
Edmund was just finishing school when Mr. Charlie first heard whispers of his extraordinary talent. A true art prodigy, Edmund’s work adorned the hallways of his school like hidden treasures. One piece in particular, a striking profile of a majestic lion, captured Mr. Charlie’s attention and sealed his decision.
After Edmund graduated, Mr. Charlie offered to fund his college education. In return, he asked only that he be allowed to represent and sell Edmund’s artwork. Edmund agreed. Nearly eleven years had passed since then, and the two had worked together ever since. Over time, Mr. Charlie had become more than just a mentor or patron—he was like an uncle to him.
“I appreciate the gesture but don't worry I'll be back next week for the showcase as well as creating more art pieces."
Edmund was now approaching his 30th birthday, and over the years, he had gained not only fame for his artwork but a fair amount of attention for his looks as well. His dark, nearly black hair was thick and wavy, falling over his forehead and eyebrows in an artfully tousled way, yet still neatly styled enough to reveal his large ears. His jawline had become more defined with age, though a hint of boyish softness still clung to his cheeks. When he smiled, faint dimples appeared, and scattered across the tops of his cheeks and nose were light freckles, like traces of sunlight.
But it was his eyes—warm, brown, and doe-like that seemed to leave the strongest impression, capable of drawing people in with a single glance. He had grown taller and leaned into a subtly athletic build, the result of morning runs he began in his teens and never gave up.
Still, in spite of the admiration he received, Edmund often joked that he simply looked like the male version of his sister Susan—who, in her own right, was a beauty as well.
“Please be careful on your way there. I've heard rumors of robbery around the area where you're headed. If you need me to send someone with you just in case I can make that happen!” Mr. Charlie huffed as he took another slow drag of his pipe.
“Nonesense, I will be fine besides my siblings will be meeting me at the platform when I get there and if anyone tries to rob me they would have to get through my brother Peter first.”
Peter was the eldest of the four siblings, followed by Susan, then Edmund, and finally Lucy. After graduating, Peter followed in their father's footsteps and enlisted in the military. Leadership came naturally to him—he was decisive, driven, and unafraid to act. Over time, he steadily rose through the ranks, earning the title of Captain nearly four years ago. He had only recently returned from a two-year station in Australia. Though Peter was known for his kindness and hard work ethic, his stern expression and intense presence often made people keep their distance.
Susan, ever steady and compassionate, chose to stay in London and fulfilled her long-held dream of becoming a nurse. Susan also had recently married a fellow military officer she met at a formal gathering while she was accompanying Peter. Their connection had been immediate– built on shared values, quiet strength, and mutual respect. Though he was often stationed away, they made the most of their time together, and Susan found comfort in the stability and understanding he brought into her life. Despite the demands of her work as a nurse, her love for him had remained.
Lucy, the youngest, took a different path. She became a grade school teacher, beloved by her students, and spent her free time writing whimsical children’s stories, many of which she had begun to publish and sell with growing success.
“I best be off then. I have to be on the train by 11 if I want to make it to London while there is still daylight.”
Edmund then embraced the smaller man and thanked him for the help getting the painting packed and loaded neatly into the bed of a truck.
After saying his goodbyes to the warehouse staff and other comrades he hopped into the passenger side of the car as one of the helpers slid into the driver while the other rode in the bed making sure the painting was safe.
On the way to the train station, Edmund found his thoughts drifting uneasily toward what awaited him in London. He hadn’t been back in some time—not since Susan’s wedding—and the idea of returning filled him with a quiet dread.
After that final journey to Narnia with Lucy and Eustace, everything had changed. The moment they’d returned to the guest room, while the sea water slowly seeped back into the painting, he noticed something strange. The wonder and clarity that had lit Lucy’s eyes, the awe on Eustace’s face… it all vanished. Their expressions grew vacant, confused, as if waking from a dream they no longer remembered.
Within moments, Eustace was back to being his old, spiteful self, acting as though nothing had ever happened. Edmund had tried to talk to them about it, about the voyage, the ship, the stars in Narnian skies, the serpent that nearly killed them, Eustance turning into a dragon, but they looked at him with blank stares.
Even Peter and Susan claimed to remember nothing.
Peter, once High King, dismissed his tales as nonsense, and over time grew cruel about it, brushing Edmund off with the same sharpness he once wielded when they were boys. The rift between them widened, each conversation driving them further apart.
But Edmund couldn't forget. Not a single detail.
The colors of the sea, the weight of his sword in his hand, the voice of Aslan—gentle yet mighty—all of it stayed with him like a memory burned into his soul. It haunted him, not just because the others had forgotten, but because he hadn’t. Aslan had told them they would outgrow Narnia, that they wouldn’t return. That they would forget.
But Edmund hadn’t.
The memories were so vivid they bled into his waking life. He had begun painting—something he never had any talent for before—but somehow, the images poured out of him effortlessly. Castles bathed in gold light, forests alive with magic, Cair Paravel rising proud on its cliffside perch.
The painting he now carried with him was one of his finest. He hoped, prayed even, that when his siblings saw it, something would stir. Maybe just a flicker of memory. Maybe it would be enough.
But the unease clung to him. Why did he remember so clearly, when everyone else had forgotten? Why had Aslan never come to him again? And why, after all these years, did Narnia still feel closer to him than the world he was returning to?