A/N: I watched Prince Caspian the other day and came to a conclusion: Technically Edmund defeats Jadis three times; Peter never does. While I'm sure this isn't a terribly original idea, I had to do it anyway.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Like always, I own nothing you recogize.
No Longer Captive
The first time he faced Jadis, he defied her.
Even if he'd had a choice to stay, he wouldn't have. Of course not. He wasn't that much of fool. As soon as he had learned her true intentions for himself, he regretted having anything to do with her. He had been utterly deceived but was in far too deep to get out by himself. How had he managed to make so many wrong choices? They should all have had to pay horrible consequences for his pride.
His siblings would have had every right to have despised him, Aslan even more so a reason. And yet Aslan called for his rescue, and his siblings forgave his treacherous acts as soon as they had laid eyes on him. He couldn't have been more grateful or more humbled.
But it wasn't over yet. She came back, called for his blood, and he had never felt more guilty about anything in his life. Not because he had foolishly brought on his own death, but because now his siblings would have to suffer yet again because of him.
He saw the look on his brother's face, the look that fairly screamed, 'Not again, never again, you can't have him!' And so he was fairly relieved when she renounced her claim, and he no longer had to worry about his big brother doing something rash.
But it still wasn't over yet. They still had a battle to fight. And suddenly Aslan was no longer beside them, and his brother was doubting his ability to lead. He knew it was at least partially his fault; Peter had failed to keep his family together, so how could he lead an entire army? So he said the only thing he could think to say to try right the situation.
"Aslan believed you could. And so do I."
And so they went to battle. Not that his brother would let him any nearer to the battle than he had to be, but he was determined to be there, to help right the wrongs he had caused. He heard the horn calling the troops to fall back and regroup. If the battle was drawing near to him, he couldn't help but have to fight - not that he was really any good with a sword, but he had to try. He moved towards the battle. He saw his brother fall. He saw when the Witch turned to using her wand instead of pure brute force. He heard his brother call out to him over the din surrounding them.
"Edmund! Get out of here!" A pause as he struck down another foe. Peter was already ten times the warrior he would ever be. "Get the girls, and go home!"
He started to obey, fear driving his movements. They couldn't win. Not without Aslan. And Aslan was gone. Because of him.
No. He couldn't - wouldn't - back down now.
He vaguely heard Mr. Beaver's words appealing to reason, telling him to listen to his brother and get off the battlefield.
He turned around anyway. Even if it got him killed, he couldn't let her win. Not after everything Aslan had done for Narnia. Not after everything Aslan had for him. He wasn't much good with a sword, but there was one thing he could do.
Aslan, give me strength!
Jumping from above and slightly behind her, he aimed for her wand - and missed. He had only a second to step out of the way of the sharp point before he would have found himself the next stone victim on the green grass. And in that second, he made a decision.
As the point narrowly missed his side, he swung his sword around with all the strength he could muster and brought it crashing down. In a flash of blue light, he knew it was over. She wouldn't be turning anyone else to stone.
Even as he felt what was left of her wand pierce through his armor and into his side, he couldn't help but smile. She didn't own him.
The one who had held him captive by fear, he had defied.
The second time he faced Jadis, he conquered her.
When he stumbled onto the scene behind his brother, his stomach dropped. Aslan had already defeated her once; surely he was dreaming? But there she was again. And this time she had in her grasp another young man, desperate for power, albeit for a much nobler purpose than his had been. Despite the purpose, that didn't make it right.
But standing between him and Caspian was a werewolf and hag, altogether nasty creatures to deal with. They had to hurry or they would have a bigger problem on their hands than Miraz and his giant army. Peter was going for the hag, so he would take the werewolf. He knew Trumpkin and Lucy were behind him and could easily deal with Nikabrik.
The werewolf turned out to be much more of a fight than he had anticipated, and by the time he had take care of the beast, he turned to find a new and equally unpleasant sight.
"Peter, dear, I've missed you."
No. His brother had successfully knocked Caspian out of the way and broken her spell on him, but now she was eying his brother. What was he waiting for? Peter knew first hand what she could do, so why was he hesitating to get rid of her?
"You know you can't do this alone."
His sword was lowering. Idiot! Was he really going to listen to her? ...But why not? He had given up on Aslan; he had stated as much. And she had figured him out; she had figured out his weakness - what he needed right now but didn't have - and was playing with him, dangling a solution just out of reach to get him to fall into her deadly trap.
His heartbeat sped up. He had to do something before it was too late.
Aslan, give me strength!
He sprinted to the other side of her icy prison, and without another thought, put all the force he could muster behind his sword, and shoved it clean through the middle of the sheet of ice.
A moment later it shattered, leaving behind his very contrite and very guilty brother. He wanted to berate the idiot before him, yell at him, scream until he was hoarse about how stupid he had almost been. In the end, he settled for the only words he could come up with through the chaos in his head.
"I know; you had it sorted."
As soon as he was out of sight from his brother and Caspian, he collapsed to the floor. The night had been long as it was, and he had already been exhausted when they reached the Howe. He closed his eyes. The only place his strength could have come from in that moment was Aslan.
He leaned his head against the rough wall. He had faced her unafraid. She didn't own him.
The one who had held him captive by hate, he had conquered.
The third time he faced Jadis, he broke every last hold she had on him.
Although he would never admit to anyone in a million years, he was terrified to enter Dark Island. Despite the years that had passed (for if one counted their Narnian reign, it had been many years indeed), he still had no desire to meet the shadows of his past that still lingered in his mind. He would simply have to do his best to keep his thoughts on Aslan and his sister and their whole purpose for sailing into this accursed mist in the first place. They had a goal, and as long as he didn't allow his mind to wander, he would be perfectly fine.
The darkness closed around them, and he began to hear the mutterings of the other crew members. The mist was already at work playing tricks, but he wouldn't let it win over him. The past was in the past; it couldn't be changed so it shouldn't be dwelt upon.
And yet…
He couldn't help it, and suddenly there she was, tinted the strange green of the mist, drifting towards him.
"Edmund. Come with me. Be my king. I'll let you rule."
Lies. He knew her ways. Besides, none of this was real anyway. "Go away. You're dead."
"You can't kill me. I'll always be alive in your mind, silly boy."
"NO." But even with the one word of defiance, he knew it was true. She had been conjured from his subconscious, so anything she said wasn't completely untrue. While his past deeds no longer haunted him, he couldn't deny that once in awhile they would sneak up on him, and it would take a firm word from one of his siblings to pull him back. Would he never truly be free from her grip?
She dissipated back into the surrounding mists, and Lucy stood in front of him, a look of concern on her countenance, as if she had known what he was thinking. He assured her he was all right, even if he himself didn't truly feel all right.
Only a short time more passed before they reached their goal and, with a little help from Eustace, brought the lost lord on board. Drinian turned the ship about, but before they had moved at all, disaster struck.
He would forever curse Drinian for bringing up sea serpents in the first place, but at least it wasn't the White Witch.
Or, he mused to himself as the serpent began to tear away at the ship, perhaps the Witch would have been better. At least he knew how to fight her, and with so many able-bodied warriors on board, they would have made quick work of her. A giant snake curling around their vessel was another story entirely.
But, as they fought, Caspian discovered that they could, in fact, win. The rest of the crew readied and fired the harpoons, dragging the vile creature in as close as they could, as he climbed up to the fighting top so as to have the best position possible.
"Edmund."
And then it happened. At the most inopportune moment possible. Time slowed to a crawl, as he met her gaze once again.
"What are you trying to prove Edmund? That you're a man? I can make you that. I can make you my king. Just take my hand."
He hesitated, distracted from the task he had been sent to perform. The harpoon cables snapped. He had lost his chance, and he wasn't even aware of it.
"Just give in."
No. He had defied her. He had conquered her. And, by Aslan, she would have no sway over him any longer.
Aslan, give me strength!
In that exact moment, Aslan answered. He was taken off guard by the strange, blue light, but he knew all the same.
Without another moment's hesitation, he spun away from her, dared the serpent to attack him for the second time, and drove his brother's sword straight into the creature.
Behind him, he heard her yell as she disappeared once again. She didn't own him.
The one who had held him captive by guilt, he had broken her hold.