Edmund ran up the hillside, crying, "No! No!" His lungs burned with the effort, but still he ran toward the Stone Table, where the Great Lion stood. Torches burned with an evil glow in the night air. The witch laughed in Aslan's face before knocking him to the ground.
"No! Please!" Edmund cried as sweat rolled down his face. Why doesn't he fight back? he wondered. He watched in horror as the witch bound Aslan's paws and drew the ropes so tight that they drew blood. Edmund could see the crimson streams staining the golden fur.
Jadis drew a knife and began slicing through Aslan's beautiful mane, jeering irreverently as tufts of hair fell to the ground around them. She mocked the lion, kicking him and laughing at his silent submission. Edmund could not bear to see the kindest, most compassionate being he had ever met subject to this abuse. Even from the distance, the humiliation was apparent on Aslan's noble face. Aslan could easily have killed the witch when he had the chance. So, why hadn't he?
With a strength that far surpassed that of any human being, Jadis dragged Aslan onto the Stone Table. Legs burning, eyes full of tears, Edmund reached the table just as the witch lifted her knife. "No! Stop!" Edmund cried as he grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to face him.
At that moment, Edmund was stunned silent by what he saw. It was not the face of Jadis that greeted him. Instead, Edmund saw the face of a boy of twelve years, whose eyes were full of bitterness and anger toward those who loved him the most. His heart was cold with greed, and immaturity fed with jealousy comprised the only emotions that he felt.
It was his own face that Edmund saw.
Edmund could only back away in shock as the other turned back toward his victim. Edmund looked into Aslan's eyes, which displayed neither anger nor fear. Rather, an overwhelming sadness filled those eyes as the knife was once again lifted.
The Son of Adam watched in silence as the knife plunged downward, and Aslan's eyes grew wide with pain as he absorbed the fatal blow. He died without a sound. Without resistance.
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Edmund awoke, sobbing, his pillow wet with tears. It had all been a horrible dream.
Peter shifted in his sleep but did not awaken. In all of Aslan's camp, Edmund was the only creature that stirred. On the hillsides overlooking the camp, the centaur guards stood unaware of the troubled sleep that their prince had endured. Every creature reserved their strength for the great battle that would come the following day.
Edmund took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he lay there, reflecting on the strange dream. It had seemed so real. He could still see those sad, amber eyes. He could see the torches, the table, the knife. More than anything, he could still see the hand that held the knife...his own hand. What did it all mean?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the wind whistling into the tent. Pink flower petals danced in the air around the two princes. Edmund watched in amazement as the petals began to take the shape of a person. It was a dryad, a spirit of the trees. Edmund was so entranced by her that he was startled when his brother suddenly sprang awake. Peter instinctively grabbed his sword and unsheathed it, ready to fight the dryad if she was an enemy.
The dryad lifted her hand in reassurance. "Be still, my princes." Peter lowered his sword as she continued. "I bring grave news from your sisters."
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The boys could only listen in shock and despair as the dryad delivered the news of Aslan's death. Peter was so distressed that he immediately left their tent and marched off to Aslan's tent to see if it was true. Edmund followed slowly, still reeling from the news. So, that was the agreement between Aslan and the White Witch. Aslan willingly sacrificed his own life in order to save Edmund's.
As he walked, he pondered the similarities between the news and his dream. The dryad had told them of all the terrible humiliations that Aslan endured, as witnessed by Lucy and Susan. Each one remarkably resembled the ones in his dream…the jeering, the shaving of the mane…furthermore, everything about the Great Lion's actual death was almost identical to the dream…being dragged onto the Stone Table, the dancing fire from the torches, even the knife. Especially the knife.
As Edmund walked, the image from his dream flashed in his memory once more. Looking into his own face. Watching his own hand deliver the fatal blow. A cold realization hit the grieving prince. It was true that Aslan's actual death had been administered by Jadis, but in a way, it was Edmund's treachery that had led Aslan to the Stone Table in the first place. The tears began to flow once more as the chilling thought crossed his mind.
I might as well have killed him myself.
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Author's note: This does not reflect my views on the character. It's just my take on how Edmund might have felt when he heard the news. And sorry if you object to my use of events in the movie that never necessarily occurred in the book. I needed a good way to deliver Edmund's realization, and in the book, he never actually finds out what Aslan did for him. So I went with the movie, because it was the best way to go. Anyway, enough explaining myself. Read and review, and be nice, please.