Edmund tries (oh, how he tries), but he feels eternally like Sisyphus, pushing the same damn boulder uphill forever, never stopping and never truly making any headway. And he's been trying so hard to right his greatest, darkest wrong, trying to make up for one truly horrific lapse in judgement (a child's selfish, terrible choice), with years of good deeds, he's been trying to teach his kingdom that his is not a bad man, that he has fallen but once, pulled low by the mingled tastes of Turkish Delight and of glorious, rebellious freedom. But no matter how deeply Edmund tries to bury memories of his involvement with the White Witch, they still rise to the surface like corpses and he, and every creature within his country's borders, watches the youngest king closely, just waiting to see if he'll fall once more.