CHAPTER ONE | the rising

xxxxx

'Beautiful can be evil.'

"I was thinking of someone else."

There was no answer, and for a few minutes it was so still that Edmund could hear the wheezy and snuffling breath of the Badger.

"Who do you mean?" said another voice at last. It was Caspian that spoke.

"I mean a power so much greater than Aslan's that it held Narnia spellbound for years and years, if the stories are true," Nikabrik, the black bearded dwarf clarified.

Edmund seized his breath, his heart slowing. He knew it could only be one person…

"The White Witch!" cried three voices all at once, and from the noise Peter guessed that three people had leaped to their feet.

"Yes," said Nikabrik very slowly and distinctly, "I mean the Witch. Sit down again. Don't all take fright at a name as if you were children. We want power: and we want a power that will be on our side. As for power, do not the stories say that the Witch defeated Aslan, and bound him, and killed him on that very stone which is over there, just beyond the light?"

"But they also say that he came to life again," said Trufflehunter sharply.

"Yes, they say," answered Nikabrik, "but you'll notice that we hear precious little about anything he did afterwards. He just fades out of the story. How do you explain that, if he really came to life? Isn't it much more likely that he didn't, but it's very different with the Witch. They say she ruled for a hundred years: a hundred years of winter. There's power, if you like. There's something practical."

"But, heaven and earth!" said Caspian, "haven't we always been told that she was the worst enemy of all? Wasn't she a tyrant ten times worse than Miraz?"

"Perhaps," said Nikabrik in a cold voice. "Perhaps she was for you humans, if there were any of you in those days. Perhaps she was for some of the beasts. She stamped out the Beavers, I dare say; at least there are none of them in Narnia now. But she got on all right with us Dwarfs. I'm a Dwarf and I stand by my own people. We're not afraid of the Witch."

Memories of the White Witch flashed through Edmund's mind. Memories of her cruelty, torture, beauty and kindness and the way she lured him into her ways, the last time he visited Narnia. He would never forget, and he wouldn't ever want to. It was an important experience. There was a part that stung his gut while he thought about it, but another thought of joy as he thought of the promises and the bait. Turkish delight. The thought of it crept a smile up on his face. He was craving it now.

"Ed," Peter interjected, in a hushed tone interrupting Edmund's thoughts. Edmund stared at his brother with a fixated expression. "What's happening," he whispered. Peter shushed his brother, and pointed towards the scene, which rose the voice of King Caspian like thunder.

"So that is your plan, Nikabrik! Black sorcery and the calling up of an accursed ghost. And I see who your companions are-a Hag and a Werewolf!"

The next minute or so was very confused. There was an animal roaring, a clash of steel; the boys and Trumpkin rushed in; Peter had a glimpse of a horrible, grey, gaunt creature, half man and half wolf, in the very act of leaping upon a boy about his own age, and Edmund saw a badger and a Dwarf rolling on the floor in a sort of cat fight. Trumpkin found himself face to face with the Hag. Her nose and chin stuck out like a pair of nut-crackers, her dirty grey hair was flying about her face and she had just got Doctor Cornelius by the throat. At one slash of Trumpkin's sword her head rolled on the floor. Then the light was knocked over and it was all swords, teeth, claws, fists, and boots for about sixty seconds. Then silence.

"Are you all right, Ed?"

"I - I think so," panted Edmund.

Before anyone else could say anything, the sound of popping and crackling ice occurred, behind them. The men shifted their gaze towards the noise to see a huge ice wall forming in front of them. Ice formed from the ends of the silver staff, spreading rapidly across the ancient cavernous walls.
Peter reached his hand out for the staff, trying to pull it out of the ground. The freezing touch of the metallic wand bit at his fingers. He stepped back, parting himself from the staff, but the wintry feel climbed across his skin towards his head, knocking him out.

Edmund watched in horror, as a dainty figure began to shape from the inside of the wall. It was a woman. Her face became clearer, the features sharp and stunning. Caspian stood directly in front of the block of ice, staring at the woman in awe, "No. This isn't what I wanted."

"One drop of Adam's blood and you'll free me. Then I am yours, my king," the witch whispered to Caspian. Her voice made Edmund tremble.

"No," the King repeated.

The White Witch extended out her hand, offering it to the king, breaking some ice in the process. Caspian extended his arm out as well, as if in a trance.

"Come," said the White Witch, "Come to me."

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Peter cried, getting up from the floor, with the help of Doctor Cornelius. He pushed Caspian away, holding up a sword threatening the white queen. Trumpkin and Trufflehunter helped Caspian up, and Doctor Cornelius rushed to his side, together moving away from the icy block.
The White Witch shrunk back a little, appalled with amusement. A grin formed on her face. "Peter dear, I've missed you. Come," she persuaded, offering him her hand, once again, "just one drop." Peter stared at her with a serious, troubled look. "You know you can't do it alone," she finished. Peter lowered his sword a bit.

Suddenly, streaks appeared on the wall, shattering slowly. The blonde king watched in confusion, as the witch jerked herself back a little. Then a loud cry and crash intensified the room. Peter ducked down, protecting himself from the shattered shards of ice.

Behind all the remains, Edmund stood behind the broken wall, with both hands clutched onto a sword raised above his head. He lowered his arm in a swift motion, staring at Peter and Caspian who stared back at him.

Without another word, Edmund walked away from the older boys into the tunnel. He grabbed his flashlight, which guided him through the dark tunnel toward the grassy green fields outside. He sat down on a large boulder, examining his sweaty palms that were covered in wet, sticky blood.

"Thank you," the voice whispered in his mind. "Thank you, King Edmund." The words lingered in his mind, soundlessly as soft as a breeze.

"A pleasure to serve you," Edmund replied out loud, breathlessly.

Author's Note:

Hope you liked this chapter and the story so far and I do not own any of the characters, books, movies or anything. Just the new plot, my best friend and I created. Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 will be written by my friend, and will be in Hermione's view.