Disclaimer: I wish I owned Narnia, but I don't. So I'm comforting myself by writing this little fanfiction.

Now that that's out of the way, this is my first Narnia FanFic! It starts close to the end of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe movie, when Edmund is being held captive by the White Witch.

Chapter 1

This is it. I'm going to die.

Stop being so melodramatic. You're not gonna die.

Am, too!

Sorry. I do that sometimes, argue with myself. Maybe that's what got me into this mess, but I'm not sure. Karma or something, you know.

Does that make any sense? Probably not.

Honestly, though, I have no idea what happened. One second I was in my room, happily reading a fantasy story and drinking hot chocolate. The next, I was face to face with some nutjob calling me an intruder, a spy for The Lion, and some other things I will not repeat.

Whatever or whoever "The Lion" is, if he's willing to get me the heck out of here, I'll be whoever or whatever he wants me to be.

But let me back up a little, so you're not even more confused than I am. My name is Zaylie Aralynn Hepburn, I'm 13 years old, and a total bookworm. There's nothing I love more than a good book. As a matter of fact, if I had one, I think I could be happy sitting here, with my hands tied to a tree behind me, and a bunch of really scary animals staring at me like I'm a Bacon McDouble. Which, especially to that one who looks like a very hairy cow walking on its hind legs, I just might be.

Maybe this is what I get for eating that burger at McDonald's, while my best friend, Denise, had a salad.

One of the problems with being a booklover, though, is that it makes my imagination seriously overactive. Which is a very large problem in a situation when I need to keep my cool. Because I swear I'm looking at a dwarf with one eye and some dude who has no freaking head. His brain with a face stuck on it is all I can see.

OK, avert my eyes before I get sick. Oh boy, I am so gonna puke.

OK. Concentrate. There has got to be someone human around for me to stare at while pretending I'm still inside the not-so-safety of my imagination.

But all I can see is that crazy lady known as the White Witch and, for some reason, there seems to be this chill about her. She's almost as scary as that mangy wolf guy over there, who's slobbering all over something big and red. Oh wait. Oh gosh, the red is blood. Gross! I always was a big dog fan, but now... I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a puppy again.

"Brought you some company!" A growly voice mocks, throwing down a pale something onto the ground beside me. I close my eyes and breathe in carefully, trying to shut out the dwarf's rotten egg stench, all the while praying that the new person beside me will be human.

I know it's safe to open my eyes when I can breathe in without gagging. Very slowly, very carefully, I turn to the tree next to mine and...

YES! It's human! And not only is it human, it's a boy.

I only just started liking boys, so I'm not too well-versed in who's hot and who's not, but I think the boy before me is pretty darn good-looking. He has brown eyes and kind of curly black hair, at least I think it's black. It might be like mine, though, which is actually such a very dark brown, that it appears black. I guess you'd call it brown-black.

Sorry, I'm rambling again.

I need to do what Denise says and con-cen-trate on the boy. He's wearing a brownish sweater and gray shorts with gray socks and brown shoes. Not particularly interesting or particularly good-looking attire, but it's his face that I notice. It's sort of, well, attractive, I guess. Especially with the cute dark hair that flops over into his face, contrasting adorably with his pale skin.

"Hello?" I whisper.

He looks over at me, and it's his eyes that strike me the most. I could see them a little before, but when he turns to face me, the regret in them is almost painful. He can't be more than twelve or thirteen, and I've never seen anyone so young look so sad. I don't know what he saw that put that haunted horror in his eyes, but I do know that I never want to meet up with it.

And that no one our age should ever have to.

"Hello," he whispers back, and when his mouth moves, I notice a bad cut on his lip. Besides that, he has a bruise on his cheek, and maybe more everywhere else. I wonder if someone's been beating him.

I'd bet it's that White Witch.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Edmund Pevensie." It's only then that I notice his British accent.

He doesn't ask my name, but I offer it anyway. "I'm Zaylie Hepburn."

"Zaylie." He repeats, and I like the way he says it, like its something amazing and exotic. Even though I've always known that it kind of is. "That's a very nice name."

I smile and so does he. He seems like a very nice boy. "Edmund's a great name, too."

You'd think he'd be happy about a compliment, but instead, the smile slips. "Yes, well, I haven't been a very great person as of late."

"Everybody makes mistakes, Edmund." I jump to comfort him. "I'm sure yours wasn't that bad."

He shakes his head though, and a tiny tear runs from his right eye and trickles down the side of his face, running over the bruise on his cheek before dripping onto his shirt. "It was terrible," he murmurs.

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, leaning back against his tree. "You don't want to hear about it."

I frown in the following quiet. Of course I want to hear about it! Didn't I just ask? But I can tell the problem has more to do with him not wanting to talk about it, so I won't push it.

Even though I'd really like to know.

I'm desperate to talk to someone, though, so I try another path of conversation. "Have you... have you been here long?"

"Been where? With the Witch?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Sort of. I think it's been a couple of days at least." He frowns. "I guess I'm not exactly sure."

Edmund doesn't elaborate, doesn't mention anything about being swept away in the middle of a good book, so I figure he's always been here.

Darn. Maybe I'm dreaming or something. "Do you know how we can get out of here? Get away from her?"

He scoffs. "I don't think it's possible, Zaylie."

"Don't be silly!" I say, because I've gotta go and be my normal optimistic self. "Nothing is impossible."

He looks at me, squinting a little. "You think so?"

"Of course."

There's such hope in his eyes when he looks at me that I wonder if, maybe, I should've kept my mouth shut. "And you think we'll find a way out?"

But my head nods without my consent. "Of course we will," I repeat. "Promise."

He smiles a little. "Thank you, Zaylie," and settles happily back against his tree.

I lean into mine, too, though not with a smile on my face. I've got the feeling I might've just made a very dangerous promise, because I'm really not sure if I can keep it.

So what do you think so far? Hope you like and please review!