Indelible Ink

A/N: I know most people see Edmund as dark-haired, based on Skandar Keynes' performance in the films, but I've always pictured book!Edmund to be fair-haired like his younger sister. Perhaps it's because I've been spoiled by the illustrations of Pauline Baynes since the first time I picked up the books when I was little and a bit of the old BBC Narnia series. But I have grown accustomed to film!Edmund's appearance and like it, and he may well end up dark-haired in my next story.

Many thanks to Keri S. at FictionPress for proofing this.

Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Narnia belongs to the estate of C.S. Lewis. I own nothing except the concept of this story.

The sound of silence greeted Eustace as he stepped into the cabin and shut the door behind him. It had been a long and weary afternoon, and all he now sought was the comfort of a bed and dry clothes.

Had it only been an hour since they fought off that Sea Serpent?

He sighed and proceeded to remove his shoes, setting them down beside the bunk that belonged to him. His shirt and trousers were still quite damp; he really did need a complete change of clothes. Walking barefoot, he headed for a row of trunks that lined the far wall of the cabin. Cushions were placed on top of the lids to create a makeshift bench. Eustace stepped over to the one on the right and set the cushions aside. He bent forward to release the catch on the lock and raised the lid, peering down at the piles of clothing inside. He and Edmund shared the space, with each boy storing their belongings on opposite sides of the trunk. Careful not to disturb his cousin's neat stacks, he grabbed a fresh shirt and a pair of pants from the top of his pile and closed the trunk.

The new garments were placed on his bunk and he quickly began removing his current outfit. He made a small noise of disgust as he peeled his pants off and threw it into a metal bucket that stood beside the bunk. His fingers reached for the buckle of his belt and he quickly unfastened it to allow for his shirt to come off. He grimaced as he tugged the tunic over his head, the wet fabric still clinging to his chest. A small hiss escaped his lips as he felt the linen fibers rub over a sore part of his arm, just above the elbow.

Odd. He didn't remember getting hurt. He pushed the thought aside for now, resolving to deal with it after he got dressed. The tunic he held in his hands dripped with seawater. He reached over for the bucket and held the shirt over it. With both hands, he carefully wrung the bundle of fabric, watching as water drops cascaded into the bucket like miniature waterfalls. Judging from the amount of water collected, he would have thought that he had just taken a long walk in the rain.

Satisfied that every last drop had been squeezed out from the shirt, he draped it on a hook on the back of the door for now. He planned to leave the trousers in the bucket until he could take the clothing upstairs and let the sun and warm air dry them off. From his bunk, he picked up a towel that had been folded neatly on top of the mattress. He shook it loose and wrapped it around his body, patting his damp skin dry. He was careful not to rub too forcefully around the painful area on his arm.

Once he resolved that he was fairly dry, he reached for the new trousers and put them on. It was a comforting feeling to not have fabric sticking to him anymore. He then grabbed the tunic and holding it above him, he poked his head through the collar. As he pushed his arms through the sleeves, he heard the door open and shut. Looking up, he saw a boy close to his age facing him with a tray of food in his hands.

"All right there, Eustace?" Edmund set the tray down on a nearby table, his eyes watching as Eustace fastened his belt around the tunic. "You left the party rather early."

After sailing away from the Serpent, the ship's company crashed on the deck, tired but relieved. Drinian ordered every man not on the current shift to rest and the King had several caskets of rum brought up to celebrate their narrow escape. Edmund had noticed his cousin had slipped away after the first round of toasts and decided to check on him.

"I was tired of walking around in my wet things and had come down to change. I think something's wrong with my arm though. I felt a sore spot just now when I took my shirt off." Now that he was dressed again, he swung his arm up and saw a bright gash extend from just above the elbow up towards his shoulder. "Bloody—"

Edmund cut him off before he could finish that thought. "Let me have a look."

A shadow fell over Eustace as Edmund came and stood beside him. The older boy leaned forward for a closer look at the wound. His eyes traversed the length of the cut, silently assessing the damage with the look of one accustomed to dealing with such injuries. Eustace was a bit unnerved by that countenance; the expression on his cousin's face was not one any twelve-year-old boy should be expected to wear at that age.

"I don't think it's that bad, looks to be fairly shallow. All the same, stay here while I get some salve and bandages."

As soon as his cousin stepped out, Eustace examined the cut more closely. His fingers pressed the skin carefully around it, avoiding the immediate vicinity of the open wound. It was sore but not terribly. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he did to have injured himself in such a way.

It must have happened during the fight with the Sea Serpent. He remembered gaping at the multicolored column that soared up into the air from the sea. When the sun hit the creature's body at certain angles, it seemed to be made of brilliant jewels—emeralds, rubies and bits of amethysts—with the bright light reflected on the scales.

And that was when he did the most foolish thing he had ever done in his life. He wasn't sure what exactly made him do it but there he was, rushing up towards the bulwark with the sword in his hand. Looking back now, it was completely illogical for him to draw a sword against such a creature. He had seen the arrows bounce off the Serpent and should have realized that a sword would fare no better.

The blade grazed the hide of the Serpent but it did not seem to damage it. The monster was barely scratched; it flinched for a mere second when the sword edge came in contact with its body, as if it had suffered the equivalent of a paper cut. But Eustace had tried, and he was rewarded with a broken sword. The blade of the borrowed weapon had shattered to pieces as he hacked at the Serpent, with bits of steel flying in all directions and leaving a few cuts and scratches on his hand where they landed on him.

He remembered hearing Reepicheep's shrill voice telling them to push. With the rest of the ship's company, he had stared in amazement as the Mouse tried valiantly to push the Serpent with all the strength and courage his body would allow. When Eustace finally understood what the Mouse was trying to do, he was the second person to run back towards the monster and add his own weight against the Serpent. It was a hard and slippery task. It was futile when he tried pushing with his own hands so he forced his body up against the slimy and scale-covered torso.

That was when he got cut; he remembered it now. The deck was slick with seawater as the monster bobbed up and down next to them, drenching the starboard side of the boat. As he shifted to get a better position, he had slipped and tore part of his tunic as it snagged on the Serpent scales. He remembered a brief jolt of pain but had ignored it as everyone came up beside him, pushing and forcing the monster back towards the stern.

A small click drew him back to the present. He opened his eyes and turned to the door, seeing Edmund with another tray in hand, bringing medical supplies. The older boy carefully set the tray on the table next to the plates of untouched food he had brought minutes earlier.

"You should eat something. Caspian ordered food to be brought up to go with all that rum we were drinking." Edmund gestured to the bread and cheese he had saved during the merriment that was still occurring on deck. He brought along a water skin as well, knowing his cousin was still unused to the wines and spirits the rest of them were accustomed to taking with their meals.

"I'll have some in a bit. I was just thinking about a few things." Eustace sat on the edge of the bunk while Edmund proceeded to tend to the wound. He watched as Edmund dampened a piece of cloth in the bowl that sat on the second tray, his gaze locking on the curls of steam that rose up from the warm water. He flinched slightly as his cousin carefully wiped the cut clean. "How's Reepicheep doing?" he asked in an effort to distract himself from the discomfort. The poor Mouse exhausted his strength in the efforts to push the Serpent off and had fainted as a result.

"Resting comfortably in Lucy's cabin. He woke up a little while ago and tried to get out of bed, but Lucy stopped him." Edmund chuckled softly, remembering the scene he walked in on when he went to check on the Mouse. At Eustace's questioning glance, he elaborated further. "He was a bit embarrassed at having collapsed like that and tried to brush off her concerns by rising to join the party. But Lu wasn't having any of it."

Edmund felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as the memory came back to him. He had stood in the doorway of the cabin, surprised to see his sister with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face as she stared at the Mouse in her bed. He recognized the look on her face very well; it was one he and Peter often encountered when they returned wounded from their campaigns. Both of their sisters were well acquainted with giving them such looks, though more from Susan than Lucy.

"When she realized that he wasn't going to be swayed by her gentle words, the suggestion became an order. By command of her Royal Majesty Queen Lucy, Sir Reepicheep is to stay in bed until he has completely recovered from his fatigue."

Eustace let out a short laugh as he tried to picture his youngest cousin overruling the objections of the fearless Mouse. He then fell silent as he absorbed the rest of Edmund's words. The fact that his two fair-haired cousins (and their dark-haired older siblings) were royalty in this world was still a strange thing to witness and understand. Whenever the two other children were referred to as "Your Majesty", "Sire" or half a dozen other honorifics, he had laughed it off. The idea that they were monarchs of a magical country was beyond all logic and comprehension. But the mocking had ceased; he no longer teased them about it like he did before, when they were in Cambridge and at the start of this adventure. His experience on Dragon Island taught him many things, and it was then that he started to see the two Pevensies as the King and Queen they truly were.

They did not laugh at him even once as he gave his account of what happened to him, from his transformation to his restoration. Nor did they pass judgment over his selfish actions. He expected to see disappointment or reproach but it never happened; indeed, he only saw looks of concern, of sympathy and later joy and relief as he explained how he became himself again.

He was himself again, wasn't he? Or did he become himself now? That the Eustace before the dragon wasn't really him, and he had finally found his true self after that insufferable experience and seeing the Lion.

There was a lot for him to think about.

A sudden pain seized him and he hissed loudly. He had been caught up in his thoughts and didn't realize that Edmund had finished cleaning the wound and had reached for the tin of salve on the tray. The ointment smelled pleasant enough but it stung badly. For a brief moment, Eustace thought to glare at his tormentor but then remembered who was tending to him and why.

His cousin paid him no mind; he had picked up the roll of bandages and was wrapping the strips of cloth around Eustace's arm. The younger boy watched as Edmund expertly tied the bandages in a knot that was snug enough to keep in place but still allowed for normal movement. And there was that look on his face again, the one that was more suited to an adult than the boy that faced him.

"There," Edmund sat back, satisfied with his work. "You should be fine. The bandages can probably come off in a few days. It's not a perfect job, but I think Lucy would approve."

"Why Lucy?"

"She's the healer among the four of us." There was no need for Eustace to ask whom the four referred to. "It was only natural since she was given the cordial."

"So Lucy never fought then?"

Edmund laughed. "Oh, she and Su rode to the wars with us from time to time. Both of them led the archers, though Susan was the expert in the entire kingdom. No one could match her skill back then, and they still couldn't during our last trip to Narnia." An image of Trumpkin and the apple orchard at Cair Paravel flashed through his mind. "When they weren't fighting on the front lines with us, my sisters would care for the wounded in the healers' tent."

It was hard for Eustace to think that Lucy—his little golden-haired cousin who was up on deck at this very moment—could walk among the horrors of a battleground. To see blood pouring from the bodies of soldiers, wounds that may never heal, limbs that could be lost forever.

"Peter and I couldn't always protect the girls from war." The young King had seen the shudder from his cousin; it was barely perceptible but his sharp eyes were ever observant of even the slightest movement from others. "And both Susan and Lucy were witness to the outcome of battle since our very first days in Narnia, when we all fought to end the Hundred Years of Winter." He did not wish to speak of the Witch to Eustace just yet. It was still an uncomfortable subject for him after all these years, and even the other boy agreed that they shouldn't speak of Edmund's treachery. Maybe he would talk about it one day, when they were back in England and further away from the reminders of those days before the battle at Beruna.

Eustace felt rather awkward with this topic; he was beginning to feel sorry he had even brought it up. He cast his eyes around the cabin looking for something to draw his mind away from the images of a bloodied battlefield. As he glanced around the room, his gaze fell upon his bandaged arm and a new thought occurred to him.

"Will this go away?" he asked his cousin, head tilted toward his arm.

"Of course," the older boy waved his hand dismissively. "It was a minor cut and the salve will keep any infection from spreading. I'm not an expert healer but I've had quite a bit of experience in treating wounds... mostly Peter's." He sighed as he thought of the number of times his older brother tried to hide his injuries but Edmund would always figure it out and insisted on treating the High King himself.

The younger boy shook his head. "Not that. I mean, there's going to be a scar, right?"

There was a puzzled look on Edmund's face. He wasn't sure what Eustace was getting at but he nodded in response to the question. "There's always scarring as a wound heals."

"So the ointment won't make it magically disappear?" Edmund shook his head no. "What if you used Lucy's cordial?" Again, the other boy answered in the negative.

"All wounds heal naturally, just like they do in England. Lucy's gift will cure most injuries but it doesn't make them vanish to seem as if you weren't hurt in the first place. You would still feel some aftereffects of being wounded." A frown appeared on Eustace's face, only to be replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "What are you thinking of, Eustace?"

There were a few minutes of silence between the two boys. Edmund waited patiently; his cousin seemed to be thinking deeply about something. It wasn't his wont to disturb another person's musings trivially, especially when accompanied by such a serious expression. During his family's reign in the Golden Age, he himself would issue harsh words to those who disturbed him as he thought carefully before passing judgment over even the smallest of matters.

And finally, Eustace answered.

"So if I was injured here and I'm left with the scars, what would happen when we return to Cambridge? Would they still be there or will they disappear as soon as we are back in our world?"

Understanding dawned on Edmund. Just two years prior, the Pevensies had asked themselves the same thing when they stumbled out of Narnia and found themselves once again in the spare room of Professor Kirke's great house. Fortunate or not, the answers to those questions were obtained easily enough. He wasn't sure if Eustace would like the answers to his questions, so he decided to reply in an indirect manner.

"I suppose it would depend on when we get back to England," Edmund began, his dark blue eyes watching his cousin carefully. "This journey that Caspian has undertaken could last a few more weeks or months, even years. By the time we return to our world, the scars could have faded enough that they would barely be visible to anyone but yourself. And when we do go back," for that was certainly a given; a King of Narnia he may be, but if Peter and Susan weren't allowed back, surely he and Lucy will meet the same fate in the future, "there are a few things you should be fully aware of."

Eustace sat up straighter in his seat, curious as to what Edmund would say next.

"Time travels differently between worlds. However long we may stay in this world, when we return to England you will find that no time at all has passed there. So one day, we will find ourselves back in Lucy's bedroom in your house in Cambridge as if we had never left.

"And while we may have grown older in Narnia, our bodies will revert back to what they were in our world. We could have aged by weeks, months or years here, but our bodies will not show any signs of aging when we return to England." It was a harsh realization that he and his siblings faced when they came back through the wardrobe. To have lived fifteen years in a world and become fully grown adults, only to be forced back into the bodies of children. Though the bodies were their own, they were ones that had been left behind a lifetime ago.

Edmund paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in.

"However, everything we've done here, we'll still remember. The memories and experiences will not fade as we travel between these two worlds. And not only do we remember things in here," he tapped a finger to his head, "but our bodies won't allow us to forget either."

It took a few minutes for Eustace to process what his cousin had said. His eyes went wide as something clicked in his head. "So what you're saying is while our bodies go back to what they had been months ago, anything done to them will remain?" The older boy nodded, pleased that Eustace understood. "Oh. Dear." He suddenly frowned and stared long and hard at his arm. "How am I going to explain this to Alberta?"

The young King chuckled. "As I said before, it may fade enough that Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold will never notice it. Otherwise, just tell them the truth."

Eustace looked at the other boy in disbelief. "Are you mad? Do you think they'll believe me if I tell them I got cut while fighting a Sea Serpent in a magical world?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't believe you either if I hadn't experienced such adventures before." Edmund smiled at him. "No, what I meant was that you should tell them that you had injured yourself when you tried to pull the picture frame off the wall in the bedroom."

Eustace opened his mouth to disagree when he suddenly snapped it shut. Strangely enough, what Edmund said made sense. And it was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. He had forgotten that it was that action that caused them to be swept up and into the painting. He turned to find his cousin staring at him, blue eyes twinkling and a mischievous smile on his face. In that brief moment, he thought Edmund did look like the schoolboy he physically appeared to be.

"I suppose I could tell her that," he replied a bit grudgingly. "It is partly true."

"It's absolutely true," the older boy corrected him. "After all, we wouldn't be here and done all these things if you hadn't tried to take the painting down. You shouldn't have to lie to your parents. And if they came to ask us, Lucy and I would tell them the same thing. After all, it wouldn't be proper for a king and a queen to speak untruths."

"But you're not a king and queen in England," Eustace pointed out; he was always a stickler for facts.

"True, but it's not as if we could forget that we were royalty once. We've had many lessons ingrained into us from ruling Narnia that the things we learned then are a part of who we are now," Edmund simply replied. He gave his cousin a faint smile as he returned the conversation back to the original topic. "So the answer to your question is yes. The scars you have gained in this world will remain while you are still here and they will be there as well when you go back to Cambridge."

Eustace gave his cousin an accusatory stare. "You seem to have thought this through already, haven't you?"

Another mischievous smile appeared on the King's face. "I've had plenty of practice and experience in this."

Of course. This wasn't the first time the Pevensies had been in this world. And Edmund had earlier spoken of participating in wars and battles. Eustace took in his cousin's appearance, looking for signs of having been injured. There was nothing out of the ordinary from what he could see. But he didn't know what lay underneath the boy's tunic. Ever since they began sharing the cabin with Caspian, the two Kings had always risen early and were usually at breakfast or on deck by the time he got out of bed. As for the scars he could see, it was impossible to tell if they were a result of Narnia or England. Perhaps he should ask him directly.

"So, um, Edmund," he winced at the tone coming from his mouth. He could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he spoke. "Do you–would you mind showing me your scars?"

The other boy was startled; his eyes had widened at the question and he felt his shoulders stiffening slightly but the surprise gave way quickly to a more somber expression. He stared hard at the younger boy for a few minutes, studying his cousin carefully as he quietly thought about his decision.

Eustace felt uncomfortable from the look being directed at him. His first instinct was to look away but he fought against it. He lifted his head up and looked straight into those dark eyes, deep and blue as the oceans that surrounded them. It was hard not to fidget in his seat as his cousin's gaze bore down on him, as if it pierced him like a knife.

King Edmund the Just. The thought rose unbidden in his subconscious. He remembered the tales Reepicheep told him during his dragon days about the Pevensies. That his cousin was known for his council and wisdom in the Golden Age of Narnia. Though Peter was High King of the land, Edmund was judge and jury for he treated everyone fairly and carefully considered everything before passing judgment.

He could clearly see that it was King Edmund that sat before him now and not Edmund Pevensie.

The younger boy dropped his gaze first. "Forget it," he muttered. "It's fine if you don't want to—"

"No." The response came so quietly that Eustace almost missed it. He looked up and noted that Edmund seemed to have returned to his old self again; he no longer felt the kingly aura that had been there a minute ago. The older boy shook his head, his blond hair swinging slightly from side to side. "No," he repeated, "I'll show you if you really want to see them, Eustace. But be warned, it's not a pretty sight. Even Caspian looked troubled when he first saw them."

Eustace gulped, swallowing the anxiety that rose from those last words. It was not very reassuring to hear that the current King—a seasoned warrior himself—had difficulty looking at Edmund's scars. But he had asked to see and his cousin was agreeing to let him do so. He nodded quickly before he could change his mind.

"Very well then." Edmund unbuckled the belt from his waist and set it down on the bunk. He stood up and faced his cousin while his fingers reached down to grab the edge the tunic. With a quick glance at Eustace, he pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it beside the belt.

There was a gasp and Eustace sucked in his breath sharply. Up and down, left and right, it looked as if someone had taken a pen and scribbled across Edmund's body. There were lines short and long, some sharp and others blurred at the edges. They were everywhere, written in pale-colored ink, mostly white and almost invisible with a few tinged in a pinkish brown color. The majority was of the whitish color, just a few shades darker than the unblemished parts.

"Most of these occurred during the first years of our reign." Edmund's voice drew his attention away from the scars and up towards his face. "We were still stamping out the remnants of the Witch's army and were still beginners with our swords. As you can see, those have faded the most since they're at least a decade old. The more recent ones came from our battle to put Caspian on the throne not too long ago."

"Lion's Mane," Eustace swore, the words coming out in barely a whisper. It was the first time he referred to Aslan outside of relating his story of turning into a dragon. He knew the others all swore by the Lion, and it seemed appropriate to do so now. "So how did you explain it? To the adults I mean. What did you say to your mum and dad?"

"We were in the country for a long while during the war. They had sent us away to keep us safe from the bombings. So we told them we had done all sorts of things during our stay at Professor Kirke's house. We learned to ride horses, climbed trees and did plenty of exploring on the grounds. They assumed we got into all sorts of trouble from all our activities." Edmund grinned. "Which of course, was the truth. The Professor told our parents the same as well, for we did do all of that in Narnia and on his estate."

"But how did they react?"

"Well, Mum wasn't too happy about it. Father handled it better. He figured two boys roaming around on a country estate were bound to get into all sorts of scrapes. Actually, all four of us had plenty of scars left over from our reign. Peter and I had the most of course, since we led the armies into battle." Edmund noted the other boy's gaze had drifted back to the scars, the expression on his face seemed to be a mixture of fascination and morbid curiosity.

Eustace lifted his hand up toward his cousin's chest. His fingers reached towards a set of evenly spaced scars just below a large circular depression beneath Edmund's ribcage. He came within an inch of contact before he sharply drew his hand back as he realized what he was about to do. Terrified eyes looked up at the King. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just—" he stumbled over his apology, "I'm surprised I didn't notice before. Not even when we were sharing my room in Cambridge."

"They appear to be less prominent back in England. I suppose that's why our parents weren't more surprised than we expected. But here, in Narnia," Edmund paused as he took a deep breath, taking in the clean, crisp air of this world into his body, "everything seems to be much more clearer and more real than in our world." He looked thoughtfully at the younger boy. "You know, you're taking this a lot better than Caspian did."

He remembered when he had first changed his clothes in front of the Telmarine King. Shortly after their arrival on the Dawn Treader, Caspian had shown the two boys to the cabin and left them for a short time as he went to retrieve his belongings from what would be Lucy's cabin. Eustace had immediately claimed the bunk and dropped onto the mattress with his back facing them, ignoring everything else including the other boy in the room. So Edmund practically had the cabin to himself as he changed. The current King returned as Edmund was rummaging through a locker looking for fresh clothes. Caspian had gasped at the sight of the other King's naked back and his face had turned quite pale.

"Edmund, what happened to you?" was the response once Caspian found his voice again. "Did you fight wars in your world too?" While the King was closer in age to Edmund three years prior, he could not bring himself to think any boy of that age could be injured as much as the one that stood in front of him. Caspian himself did not receive as many wounds when he had been training under various teachers during Miraz's rule and even now during his own reign.

As he had just done with Eustace, Edmund had to explain to the new King that he was seeing the aftermath of sixteen years' worth of battles in service to Narnia. During their last trip back, the two Kings of Old had been given their own chamber in Aslan's How as they prepared for the duel with Miraz. Neither boy required assistance in removing or adjusting their armor; they were both experienced soldiers and knew exactly how to make sure the other's mail fitted properly. So that was how none of the Old Narnians or the Telmarine prince saw the battered bodies of their legendary kings.

He recalled the guilty look that came upon Caspian's face as the King realized some of Edmund's scars were a result of the war that helped to put him on the throne. It took a few choice words to help reassure the current King that he held no animosity towards him for the marks left on his body. After all, it was Aslan's will and command that both he and the High King fought for Caspian's right to the kingship of Narnia.

"Thank you," Edmund blinked, his reverie interrupted by the sound of Eustace's voice. "I know you didn't want to show them to me, but you did. So, thank you."

"If I didn't think you could handle it, then I would have refused to let you see." The older boy looked down at the spot where Eustace almost touched him. "That particular one," he gestured towards the circular indentation on his skin, "is the oldest. Unlike the others, it won't fade away as easily."

To Eustace, it was a very unusual mark. As soon as his eyes caught it, he felt drawn to that scar for some unknown reason. As Edmund had said, it did not seem to be lighter than the other ones that surrounded it even though it was the oldest. He glanced up at Edmund, who nodded briefly. With the permission given, he reached out and touched his cousin's chest.

His eyes widened as his fingers came in contact with the scar. It felt like any ordinary scar, slightly rough and raised higher than the surrounding skin. What he didn't expect was the coolness; it may have been his imagination but he suddenly felt as if a slight chill had entered the room.

"The Witch's wand," Edmund said softly. There was no point in holding off the mention of Jadis any longer. "It turned the living into stone and enabled her to rule with her endless winter. I sliced it in half with my sword and in return, she stabbed me with its remnants. If Lucy hadn't been there with her cordial, I probably wouldn't have survived."

"I'm sorry." Eustace could find no other words to say. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for his cousins and how they felt to see one of them so close to death.

"Don't be. You weren't there and in truth, I probably deserved it." Those blue eyes darkened slightly. "Betrayal to my family, to Narnia, and to Aslan. And then to the Witch herself." Edmund shook his head to clear those thoughts away; it wasn't healthy to dwell on those mistakes. He had been forgiven by the others so long ago, and had finally learned to forgive himself and move on. "But in a way, I'm glad it's still there."

"But why?"

"Because it's a reminder of who I was before Narnia, and who I became after. It was Jadis who made me see the person I was back then, but it was Aslan who showed me the person I truly was. That scar is a sign of my repentance and it reminds me of everything I learned in Narnia even when I'm back in England. It will stay with me forever."

Edmund reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. In the blink of an eye, those remarkable lines were hidden under the folds of linen once more. The belt was quickly fastened around his waist. He then stood up and smiled at his cousin. "I should head back up before Lucy comes looking for me. She saw me come down here with the tray and I'm afraid she may think you're more injured than I've told her. If you're feeling up to it, come back to the deck and join us." He picked up the tray and exited the cabin.

Eustace watched as his cousin's retreating back disappeared into the corridor. He listened as the footsteps grew fainter before fading away completely. Silence descended upon him once more.

He was surprised by Edmund's view of his scars. Before, Eustace had always thought of himself as being better than the Pevensies but it turned out to be quite the opposite. His cousin had apparently done a lot worse things than he could ever have imagined but had learned from his mistakes and became a better person for it.

He wondered if he would be able follow in their footsteps. As he sat there staring at his bandaged arm, he let out a small laugh. Without realizing it, he had answered his own question. Here on this voyage, wasn't he already becoming a better person? His experience as a dragon changed him. The old Eustace died away as the Lion peeled the scaly hide from his skin. And he had learned to accept the friendships from his cousins and the Narnians after that.

If he hadn't changed, then he wouldn't have gone charging for the Serpent. The old Eustace would have just sat back and complained instead of helping to get rid of the monster. He wouldn't have taken Caspian's second-best sword and smashed it to pieces and get injured in the process.

He wouldn't have been left with the scar that was now forming on his arm.

In that instant, Eustace hoped the scar wouldn't fade away completely. That he would still be able to see it once he was back in Cambridge. As it is for Edmund, it would serve as a reminder for him. That he really stepped into a painting and entered a magical world. That becoming a dragon wasn't just a dream. That Aslan wasn't something he conjured up in his otherwise logical mind.

The scar would remind Eustace of when he started to become a better person. And if Alberta asked, he would follow his cousin's advice and tell his mother the truth.

With a grin on his face, he stepped out of the cabin and made his way toward the stairs, his feet bringing him closer to the sounds of laughter and music heard on deck.

End.