Summary: She couldn't understand his cruelty, his coldness, his hurtful words. And she couldn't even get close to him to understand it. EdmundLucy. Dark Edmund.

Warning: Contains M rated incest and dark! Edmund. That means cruel!cold!spiteful!twisted!dark!Edmund. So don't complain that Edmund is too evil, because that's how I intend to make him in this story. You have been warned.

…

The youngest queen had always been joyous, bright and filled with life, with a smile plastered on her face, ready to cheer up anyone, human, animal and spirit, that was down, deep in their heart. She adored everything, she was wild and vivacious and optimistic.

She got along with everyone and made them open to her, reveal their pain, their torment, as well as their joys.

Susan, her older sister, found comfort in her, when she was brokenhearted or struck with sorrow. Peter laughed and smiled with her, when he was conflicted with royal difficulties, with heavy burdens and wars.

But her wise brother never shared anything with her. He never opened himself to her. He never accepted her help, her joy, her laugh. He was the only one that confused her, the one that dismissed all her attempts to cheer him up.

He was also the one in her life that showed her the least affection.

She was aware that he loved her, deep down inside, he was her older brother after all, so he must have surely had the same protectiveness and attachment that Peter and Susan had towards her.

She repeated that to herself, day after day. She tried with all her might to convince herself that was the truth.

But after all her hard times, when she had been hurt and in pain, times when only Peter and Susan were beside her, that belief started fading away.

Because just as he never accepted her gestures of affection, he also didn't offer her his. He was almost never there for her.

It was like he wasn't even her older brother.

She knew he had never been too warm and keen on sharing affection, but he at least used to give her his reassuring smiles and short, comforting hugs, when they were younger. Still, after time passed and they had reached their late adolescence, he hadn't been the same. He wasn't too friendly with the others either, but he at least communicated with them and showed them respect.

Which he barely did with her. If she tried to keep him company or talk to him, he snapped at her and hurt her with painful words, he told her unbearable things. He told her she was a nuisance, that she was immature and a constant bother, which left her in tears and trembling cries. It was like he returned to his initial self again, the dark sibling that betrayed Narnia. Except, this time, that behavior was only directed at her.

The only time he barely acted nice to her was when he wittily teased her, but, even then, the teasing was harsh and his eyes were always too cold. Too cold to her and it tore her insides up. It hurt her and angered her at the same time. It upset her so much, that she couldn't even look at him anymore.

It wasn't in her nature to act like this towards anyone. She wasn't one that gave up easily, but she couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear the burden of his merciless, emotionless, dark eyes, of his hurtful attitude, of the fact that he ignored her most of the time, that he considered her unpleasant and childish and not worthy of his respect and attention.

She couldn't understand him, she couldn't understand why he treated her like that, why he had changed so much, what had changed him. And she couldn't even get close to him to understand it.

She tried not to show that he was hurting her, that he twisting her on all sides, every time he ignored her or addressed to her with cruel words. She tried to be like him.

But she couldn't. She restrained herself on the outside, she tried to remain just as joyous and cheerful as ever, but, as years passed, she started bursting every night. She cried herself to sleep, she cried for him, for her brother, she yearned for him with all her inner strength. She missed his smiles and his hugs, she missed the old him. She didn't want the serious, cold, spiteful Edmund anymore.

She wanted her brother.

And she realized there was nothing she could change.

She got used to it eventually. She got used to the fact that he was barely her friend anymore, let alone her brother. She renounced at her attempts to catch his attention with her antics, with her bright attitude. It pained her terribly, but it seemed he didn't mind that they weren't close anymore. In fact, he seemed to be quite well without her company. Which was why she tried to let it go.

She tried to forget about the pain he constantly caused her.

…

When Susan's hand was asked by a Calormen king, Lucy was happy for her. She hugged her and laughed with her and supported her from all points of view.

She couldn't say the same thing about her brothers, though. Peter was opposing to that engagement, he became more brash and reckless than ever. He strictly and stubbornly refused to give his consent for some time. Edmund was quiet and brooding, he glared at everyone and shared Peter's opinion. Even though, unlike Peter, he relented sooner and was the first of the two brothers to agree after all with Susan's marriage. Which finally convinced Peter to give his consent, reluctant and with a heavy heart.

Then her time of betrothal came. She, herself, wasn't too eager to accept anyone's hand. She considered herself too young and not prepared enough for such a serious commitment.

But she accepted the Archenland nobleman. Because she knew Narnia needed support and friendship from the other lands. And she knew she could get used to it. She hoped so.

Lucy expected Susan to react just like she had reacted when her older sister had become betrothed. Eager and ready to offer her help. She was sure Peter would strictly oppose again, just like he had to Susan's marriage. But he was more used to the experience, so he accepted Lucy's commitment sooner and easier this time. She expected Edmund to be indifferent to everything that happened to her because she was painfully aware that he didn't care about her.

She expected him to find her engagement as something insignificant to him. So naturally, he would've been the first of her siblings to give his consent.

He didn't say anything at first. He just silently watched the events that unfolded in the Throne Room as Lucy announced that a nobleman had asked her hand in marriage. He watched how Peter burst in anger and refusal, how Susan radiated with joy, how Lucy was conflicted and nervous about her oldest siblings' reactions.

A few weeks passed and Peter gave his consent too, after all.

Which left Edmund. Who still hadn't said anything yet. So everyone assumed that he was alright with Lucy's betrothal.

When the kings and queens gathered again to come to an agreement regarding Lucy's new consort, she decided to make herself presentable for her older siblings. She wanted to appear more mature, to convince them that she was prepared for such a commitment, that she was ready to help the kingdom by reuniting it with the other land. She could feel her pulse strong and wild, her hands tremulous, shivers prickling her skin, but she tried to compose herself. She tried to be valiant, just like she was supposed to be.

The young queen descended the castle stairs, evening her breath and nervously fumbling with the folds of her dress, before she found herself in front of the large, wooden doors that hid the great room where royalties dined. She was acutely conscious of her siblings' gazes upon her as she entered and took a place next to Peter, at the dining, royal table.

Their eyes were like a burden, like a heavy tension on her shoulders, even though she tried to ease it. She intended to look mighty and respectable like a true queen.

The first she dared to look at was Susan. Who was also the first one that addressed to her.

"You have truly matured, Lucy." The Gentle Queen smiled warmly, her bright, blue eyes filled with pride for her younger sister. "Your wedding will be marvelous."

Lucy offered her a bold smile, straightening herself in her chair, gathering more courage and finally daring to cast looks towards her brothers. Even though she held Peter's gaze longer, she couldn't look into Edmund's dark eyes for more than a second or two.

As she met the intimidating brother's eyes, she felt her courage slightly fade away and her gaze quickly fell on a small, invisible spot on the table's white sheet.

A heavy sigh disturbed the silence.

"I suppose she has." Peter's voice remarked, agreeing with Susan's earlier statement. He sounded downhearted and resigned, as if he had barely succeeded to let go of his little sister, but there was also a hint of pride and affection. Lucy felt her heart swell with love and joy. She raised her head and stared at her oldest siblings, a small smile grazing her features.

"So…you agree?" She tentatively inquired.

The king paused and looked at his youngest sibling, appearing slightly harsh in the room's golden torches and candles, but the young queen knew it was just a trick of the light. That was how he always looked when he took important decisions.

She waited with her breath almost gone for her brother's answer, even though she already knew his opinion. She had anticipated this for quite long, so, when the golden haired king confirmed his approval and nodded, smiling warmly, she jumped and twirled and exclaimed, her dress swirling around her, dancing along. Susan and Peter's laughs that followed next made her happier than ever.

It wasn't that she was particularly happy they had accepted her next-to-be betrothal. She was happy because her oldest siblings, through their consent, had acknowledged that she had matured and become a capable queen, an independent and responsible person. Someone who didn't need protection all the time, who didn't have to be treated like a child anymore.

She was a grown-up.

"So I guess we're all in agreement now that Lu is officially committed." Peter spoke, shaking his head at Lucy's bright demeanor and antics.

The Valiant Queen took her seat again and nodded eagerly, her rosy cheeks, radiant smile and heavy breathing still showing her enthusiasm. She couldn't remember being so happy in quite a long time, she felt so content and euphoric that nothing could have changed her state of mind. But she was wrong.

So wrong.

"When have I agreed?"

All three of them turned their heads towards the source of the voice, taken aback by the quiet sibling's interruption.

Lucy felt a sharpness carve into her chest in the moment she processed his words. She didn't even know how she should feel. She didn't even know what he actually meant. If she had to feel downhearted and disappointed that her dark-haired brother didn't trust enough in her to give his consent, that he didn't consider her mature enough yet, or happy because he actually showed a sign that he still cared about her.

A storm of feelings shook her heart and mind as she gazed at Edmund, who returned the stare, his harsh eyes hurting and confusing her at the same time.

Susan suddenly broke the heavy silence that fell between them.

"We all thought you agreed since you haven't said anything until now, Edmund." She countered astounded and perplexed all the same.

"I admit that I am surprised myself," Peter started, looking somewhat pleased by the turn of the situation, to Lucy's demise, "But I am quite relieved by Ed's disagreement."

"Peter!" Susan admonished him, getting quite upset by this point, "Lucy's wedding has been planned for months! Everyone knew it was going to happen sooner or later, at least until you gave your consent." She threw Edmund a reprimanding look, "But it turns out that you are not the actual problem." She concluded in annoyance.

"I won't agree with this, Susan." Edmund replied coldly. "She's not ready yet for something like this."

"Yes, she is." The older sister contradicted him. "Lucy is now mature enough to understand what true commitment actually means."

Edmund furrowed his brow and stood up straight into his chair, almost as if he had been challenged.

"She is two years younger than you were when you got married. " He spoke. "She is not you." He turned and cruelly looked towards the youngest queen, who stood in her chair, small and quiet. "She's just an immature, spoiled child."

Those were the words. The words that he always dug with through her heart and hurt her, hurt her so badly, that tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to burst out. But she tried to control herself, because she didn't want to cry there. Not in front of her brothers and sister. Not in front of him.

Fury clawed at her mind and boiled inside her. She dug her nails into her palm so hard that her knuckles turned white. He didn't care about her. He just liked to make her suffer, he liked to be cruel to her, to torture her with his venomous words.

He didn't disagree because he was protective of her. He just wanted to rub into her face that she was a prat, an annoying, little snitch, who could never be a true queen.

He wanted to rub into her face that she was nothing to him.

When no hurtful words for him came in her mind, she just deflated and looked down, avoiding everyone's stare. Her eyes were blurry and filled with tears already, although she hid it quite well. But not for long.

She couldn't stand it anymore. She just stood up, turned and left the room before anyone stopped her, running on the castle's corridors and letting her tears fall freely on her face.

She tried to restrain herself, she tried not to let that horrendous emotion take over her, but she couldn't help it.

Because she almost hated him.

…

She didn't know how much time had passed. All she knew was that she cried in her room, her face buried in the soft sheets. She wasn't even used to cry. She hadn't cried so much in a long time, but it was too unbearable.

He didn't deserve her tears, her suffering, her anger, but he got all those, against her will.

She remembered, dazedly, that both Peter and Susan had passed and knocked at her door, but she didn't want to answer them. She didn't want them to see her like that, weak and pale and simply pathetic.

She had moments when she was angry, so angry, that she almost went outside her room, decided to confront him.

One evening, she really did it. She went after him in her nightgown and barefooted, furious and fiery, with an iron will, decided to tell him that she was going to ignore his advice from now on. That she didn't need his consent anymore.

Night almost came when the young queen managed to find him after all. He was in his usual place, the one that he frequented the most, the old, large castle library. The candles burned and threw a dim, yellow light over the thick, dusty books, and she raised her head and saw him sitting at a tall, wooden table, reading something. He didn't seem to hear her at first, but after Lucy's steps approached, he raised his dark eyes and stared at her, emotionless.

They stood like that in silence for a few moments, staring at each other. It was quite hard for her to hold his gaze, but she strained herself to do it.

"What are you doing?" He asked after moments that seemed like hours to her.

Her mouth formed a tight line as she inhaled and gathered the courage to speak to him.

"Why are you treating me like this, Edmund?" She inquired and she slightly grimaced when she noticed that her voice was trembling. "Why are you so cruel to me?" She staggered as she looked at him, filled with sorrow. Maybe it was her imagination or her desperate hope, but she saw a flicker in his eyes, a flicker that went as soon as it came.

The lack of compassion and emotion that he displayed, as he fixed her, angered her terribly.

"Just go back to your playpen, Lucy." He harshly retorted, before he returned to his book. She needed to cry, she seriously needed it. Instead she just forced herself to approach the table.

"I won't listen to you anymore." She shakily spoke again. "I don't need your consent, I will marry, whether you agree or not."

That definitely attracted his attention. He looked up from his book, his usual intimidating gaze, now filled with burning anger. She could feel shivers engulfing her and she stepped back in fear when he stood up from his chair.

"No, you won't. Not as long as I say so." He spoke lowly, almost threateningly, his dangerous stare piercing her like a sharp sword.

The young girl shared his heartless gaze and shook her head, bitter.

"I'm sorry." She retorted softly. "But you're not my brother anymore." It felt painful to say those words, but, to her, it was true. He hadn't been a true brother in years. He treated her like dirt, he hurt her and ignored her. He didn't have affection for her. Not anymore. It broke and tore her heart when she truly acknowledged it, but she didn't have a choice. She couldn't hope in vain all her life for his acceptance, for his love.

She had to go on.

Surprise flashed in his eyes as the girl held her stance with defiance and a finality that shook the room. Lucy threw him one last glance before she turned.

She didn't walk for more than a few feet, because she suddenly heard his steps following her, like a silent storm, and Lucy felt the paralyzing, overwhelming fear of him take over her entirely.

When he caught her wrist with a brutality that hurt her and turned her around, making her face him, she gave a short cry in pain and fear.

His eyes were the most terrifying sight she had ever had the chance to encounter. They were dark and angry and possessive and she found herself backing away instinctively, although his tight grip on her wrist impended her from making any move. As she tried to escape again, he forcefully dragged her closer and her head and chest almost imploded from the anxiety.

"You will listen to me or I'll take care that you won't have what to listen with anymore, my little Lucy." He seethed venomously, his face so close that she thought he was going to steal her breath. Her heart was wrecking her ribcage as it hit it repeatedly, fast and violently.

She wasn't in her right mind, she knew she wasn't for intending to defy him, but it was the only way. He was physically and mentally maltreating her and she was not going to tolerate it her entire life. She had to stand up for herself, she had to stand up while she still could. She had to be strong and prove that she was not just a little plaything that he could toss around whenever he felt like it. And even though she was terrified, she still protested.

"No." She weakly retorted, her blue eyes conflicted with fear and anger at the same time. "I won't do it."

She immediately regretted her choice of words, because he twisted his features into a menacing grimace and forcefully pushed her into the shelves from behind her. The girl yelped and struggled for a desperate escape, but he pressed his whole body into hers, trapping her completely.

"Let me go, Edmund!" She cried, trying to push him away, but her strength was nothing compared to his, as he didn't budge at all. In fact, her struggles angered and fed him, because the more she opposed him, the more he pushed into her. When she looked up, she noticed that he appeared almost possessed, as if her fighting satisfied him in some sort of twisted way.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Edmund inquired, glaring into her eyes, overpowering her.

He pushed into her so hard, that the rough corner of the wooden shelf started digging into her back, making her gasp, hurt. She wriggled and fought, but he caught her wrists and ferociously pinned her.

"Stop it!" The girl yelled horrified. "You're scaring me!"

A strange glint glazed over his eyes, a glint that she couldn't recognize, that panicked and frightened her terribly.

"Don't I always scare you, Lucy?" He sneered, staring at her in disturbing fascination.

She froze when his stare slowly descended from her helpless, blue eyes, to her round breasts, slim waist and lower. She felt herself trembling as one of his hands began to caress the side of her body, all the way down to the curve of her hip. Those gestures made her breath grow heavier and her blood flow faster, and she couldn't believe it, but she realized in shock that he was actually feeling her out.

She couldn't believe her own actions as well, because she stopped struggling and instinctively heaved her bosom and hips at him, as if she encouraged him further. As if she wanted him to do all those things to her, to touch her like that, to see her different, not as his little sister, but as something else.

Then he committed something scandalous, something mortifying and immoral, proscribed in all the worlds that existed. It shocked her, but what shocked her most, was that she responded to it. She arched her body and her breath quickened as he fiercely grabbed her waist and grinded his hips into hers, hard.

It was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't help but like it, like it more than anything she had ever experienced, because that was some form of affection and it was from him. It scared her, but she kept moving and rubbing against him as he thrust into her again and again.

His hand brushed the back of her thigh, then went higher, reaching under her nightgown and fumbling with her smallclothes. Her face was burning, her whole body was burning in delight and she thought she was going to burst from the overwhelming amount of emotions when he started planting small kisses on the side of her face.

"You don't know how much I love you." He viciously grumbled into her skin, between kisses, before he pressed his lips right into the corner of her mouth. "I won't let you get married, ever."

She whimpered as he covered her mouth with his own, then pried it open and deepened the kiss. The young girl responded dazedly and let his tongue entwine with hers, urgently and hungrily. She bucked her hips in a slow rhythm up against him and pushed herself into his chest, as his strong arms wrapped her up into an embrace.

When she felt his manhood hard against her stomach, she gave a strangling sound and cried into his mouth. It was like she couldn't get enough of it, enough of him.

She yearned for him to love her, to love her in all kinds of ways, she wanted him to make up for all the times he had tortured her with his cruelty and cold demeanor. And she was aware that what she wanted wasn't right or even close to normal. But she loved him so much that she couldn't bring herself to be concerned about right and wrong in that moment.

She loved him more than anything.

"Edmund…" She cried softly and her face was practically on fire from all his bruising kisses and indecent touches. Edmund growled and met her dazed gaze with his dominating one, before he opened her legs and lifted her. She gasped into his ear, holding him hard around his neck, spreading her legs properly by wrapping them around his waist, tilting her hips. And felt how his manhood brushed against her nub through their clothes.

They both moaned, suddenly creating a breathless sort of anticipation. Edmund's arms tensed around her, his hands were twined into her hair and he fisted it as he roughly bucked his hips so the head of his member rubbed her nub, making her cry and squirm up against him. Lust flushed hot and strong through her body, turning her ache dully between her legs, disturbing her breathing so hard that she couldn't even catch it anymore.

He pressed his weight on her and squeezed her bottom, studying her intently, while starting to roll his hips up, so every thrust rubbed the full length of him against her, creating such a heavy flash of arousal that she arched against him in burning need, whimpering in pleasure.

Lucy hurriedly lowered herself down, trying to press him against her entrance, but he moved sideways and the friction disappeared in an instant, leaving her with a painful throbbing, aching for more, for pressure and fulfillment, disappointment filling her whole body.

"W-wait," She mumbled, sounding too desperate for her own good. She met his gaze and tried to press him towards her so his manhood could tease her entrance through the thin clothes, longing for the feeling. Unfortunately, he turned out to be impossible to move. "P-please, Edmund." She whined, squirming up against him, so aroused that she felt like she would die on the spot if she didn't get a release soon.

He stared fixedly at her, looking captivated by her shameless behavior.

"Please what?" He teased her, well aware of the torture and the embarrassment he was putting her through.

His hand brushed her stomach and moved higher until it touched the edge of one of her breasts. He let it rest there and watched her intently as she automatically heaved her breasts towards him, pushing them higher, trying to feel his entire hand on her.

"Please..." She tried to work up the courage to say the words, but she couldn't. She felt her blood rushing to her face, hot and dizzying, as he kept staring intensely at her. Then he roughly cupped her whole breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers, before he started pushing his hips against her thigh, making her give a small cry in despair.

Her fevered need was so strong she didn't think twice about her dignity.

"Please touch me there." She blurted out, her head whirling from all the feelings and sensations that coursed through her.

Edmund stopped rubbing against her leg and brought his face close to hers. "Where?" He said in a low, dangerous voice.

'Where?' He knew very well where. He wanted to make her say tainted and indecent words, he taunted and tormented her even in that abnormal situation, even when they were in such compromising positions. He moved his pelvis closer to hers, to stir her, and Lucy tried to make them touch, but he was practically holding her body captive with his own, so she just wriggled a little without reaching anything.

"Say it." He ordered, as he pushed harder into her leg. She could feel the heat of his touch burning her even through her clothes and she spread her legs wider in anticipation, tilting her hips wantonly in her eagerness for his touch.

"Please touch me between my legs." She implored him, panting with her need. "Take me, please!" Her fiery pleading was enough to send him over the edge because he savagely attacked her mouth as he rubbed his member along her cleft, the fabric of her gown magnifying the sensation of his touch so she thought she would find her release right then and there. Her cry of pleasure was muffled by his mouth, intent upon her own, kissing her firmly as if tonight was their last night on earth, having her moaning shakily as his tongue slid against hers.

As he changed the rhythm and went faster and harder, her body screamed for relief, pulsing with every rolling thrust when their hips met, pressing against each other equally eager. His mouth left their heated kiss to trace the line of her neck and she cried louder at the sensation his lips sent tingling down her spine. Her hands stroked his back tightly, feeling the hard muscles underneath her fingers, hands wandering up to the nape of his neck, tangling in his black hair.

And that was when Edmund edged his large hands under her bottom and thighs and hitched her hips higher, giving a totally new kind of friction to the movement. She just peaked. Her release sending cascades of lightning bolts showering through her body, back arching, pressing her full breasts into his broad chest and helplessly moaning loud and clear. Edmund had raised his head, and she opened her eyes in the middle of her release to meet his gaze; dark eyes hazy with lust and pleasure. He groaned, burrowing his face in her hair, his whole body going rigid as her hips continued to buck of their own accord, her fingers digging into his powerful shoulders.

In the silence that fell, as he lay on top of her a moment more, Lucy listened to her furiously beating heart, as well as his heavy breath that made his chest push into hers.

Her eyes fearfully sought his face, wishing for some kind of confirmation of the shared experience. He looked down at her with so many emotions rolling in his deep eyes that she couldn't distinguish them from another. His black hair was partly obscuring his face and she slightly sensed her fear of him returning, but she tried to restrain it.

She felt a sharp pang of disappointment when the storm of feelings in his eyes died down and he untangled from her. The disappointment was quickly replaced with fury as he threw her a cold look and turned around, leaving her there, bruised and disheveled.

"So you keep treating me like dirt, like you've always done until now?" She inquired, her trembling voice betraying the hurt, the anger, the tears that were about to spill.

When he didn't answer, she stubbornly stepped forward and followed him.

"After you abused me, Edmund!" She accused him furiously. "After you abused me and forced yourself on me!"

Just as she dashed at him, he turned and forcefully grabbed her wrist, making her give a small squeak in fright. He had the menacing, hostile expression again, the one that always made her recoil and back away, as if she was a kicked, small animal. Which infuriated and upset her, because she didn't have enough courage to face him, not more than a few daring words.

"Strange, because you seemed to enjoy and want that abuse." He spoke in contempt, his dark eyes boring into her wide, blue ones, until the young girl averted her gaze in embarrassment as a burning sensation spread on her face.

His fingers grasped her chin and lifted it towards him, forcing her to bear his powerful stare. Then he approached his face to hers and her breath suddenly became shallow and quick as he lightly brushed his lips past the side of her mouth.

"I meant what I said, Lucy." He fiercely, possessively whispered into her lips, bringing one hand to caress the side of her waist, waking tremors on her skin. "I won't let you ever get married." He kissed her and she felt her blood running fast again, her heart breaking her chest as it filled with warmth.

It was the affection, the love that she had dreamed of for such a long time. A twisted and vile and immoral love, but it was there. And she wanted it. She wanted it so much, that she barely cared that it was wrong.

"Because you're mine. You always were mine."