Set after LWW

I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia. I wish I did, but I don't.

It was cold. The chill of the wind and snow had ripped the previous warmth that enveloped around his limbs from him. The small figure shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself, before squinting at the path ahead of him. He froze—where was the path? His breath halted in its path into his lungs. The snow had covered the trail!

The boy shook his head, ridding himself of the gloomy thoughts of going astray. The thoughts retreated, but stayed close to his mind, snarling fiercely. No matter, he thought, trying to cheer himself. He scanned the horizon and his eyes sought out the two hills the queen had mentioned. Ah! He angled his body a few degrees to the right. That should be enough, he decided, nodding sharply before continuing on his way.

His steps soon sped him to the hills. He paused to rest for a moment and kept his eyes fixed on the castle between them.

"Not far now," he muttered to himself. His mind was instantly entertained by visions of beautifully wrapped sweets and he licked his lips hungrily. Then he set off, trudging through the snow.

He felt a jerk and blinked open his eyes to see a frozen throne room. The icy walls emitted an eerie blue glow and he stared, awestruck, at them. His eyes searched around the room before they widened. She's here.

The boy felt his heart stop as her gaze rested on him. Those eyes bored into him and froze him, seeming to suffocate him. He felt like a mouse under a viper's hungry glare, powerless against the fate that seemed to loom over him, unavoidable and terrifying.

She seemed to glide toward him and he felt rooted to the spot. Powerless. I am powerless, he thought, too afraid to tremble. Her lips turned up in a malevolent smirk and a frigid wind buffeted around him, tearing at his clothes and making his eyes burn.

He tried to open his mouth and scream, but his mouth didn't respond. Help me, he whimpered silently.

She still approached him, seeming to laugh at his helplessness. Her voice rang in his ears. "His blood is my property." He wanted to cringe away, but felt rooted to the spot.

The scene changed again, and he was curled in the corner of a dungeon cell. He winced at the pain that racked through his body as he coughed. His legs throbbed and sharp jolts ran up and down his entire frame. Suddenly he realized that there was something wrong. His gaze traveled down his arms and legs, observing his bruises and cuts anxiously. Then he saw something in the cell beside his and he tilted his head and peered in. A terrified cry escaped his lips as he saw the cell's occupants.

He saw his siblings, but there was something wrong…

They were made of stone.

"NO!"

Edmund sat up, his breath coming in gasps. "Just a dream," he whispered, rubbing his eyes, trying to reassure himself, but he still trembled and his hands clenched into tight fists.

Footsteps startled him and his eyes darted to the door a moment before it flew open. He stared, wide-eyed with fright, at the dark shape before it stepped out of the shadows and into a pool of moonlight that flooded in through the window.

"Peter." Edmund's breath gusted out of him and his fists relaxed.

"Are you all right?" Peter whispered, worry creasing his brow.

Edmund nodded tiredly, dropping his eyes to his sheets.

Peter crossed the floor and sat on the bed next to him. "You were screaming again," he murmured, his eyes resting on Edmund's dark mess of hair.

Edmund didn't look up or answer. He smoothed the blanket under his hand, his heart finally slowing its beat.

"Ed, you can tell me," Peter said gently, his tone unreadable.

Edmund gritted his teeth and shook his head ever so slightly, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to keep the images from his dream at bay. He heard Peter sigh and felt a gentle, warm hand stroke his hair. Warm, he reminded himself, opening his eyes. He's alive, warm. Not cold stone.

But the thought didn't stop twin drops of moisture from falling on the sheet. Edmund tried to wipe his cheeks and hide his tears from his brother, but Peter just made a small, choking sound and enfolded him in a warm embrace. "Shh… You're safe," Peter soothed, his voice sounding a little strained. "We're all safe, Ed."

Edmund nodded into his shoulder, leaving wet trails on the sleeve of his brother's shirt. After a few minutes had passed, he sat up and wiped his nose on his own sleeve, choking out, "I'm so sorry."

Peter chuckled a little. "It's all right, Ed. I don't mind you waking me up."

Edmund shook his head. "I'm sorry for everything. It was my fault. I was so stupid, and—"

"No, you weren't. Each of us was at fault."

Edmund looked up and met Peter's eyes. "But mine most of all."

"We forgave you, Edmund. Aslan forgave you. Isn't that enough?"

"It is." Edmund buried his head in his hands. "I just never seem to remember that in my sleep."

Peter smiled sadly at him and nudged him. "Go back to sleep," he said softly. "I'll stay here for a while."

Edmund closed his eyes and snuggled further down under the sheets. Silence fell between the two for a while before a small, sleepy voice called in the darkness.

"Peter?"

"Yes, Edmund?"

"Thank you."

The elder of the two smiled at the figure curled up beside him. "You're welcome."

Author Note:
So I don't really know what I was thinking as I began writing this. I'd appreciate it if you could review and tell me what you think! I will be writing more, I promise. I'd like to write at least one chapter for each character, if no one says otherwise.

So please, please, please review!
~Elissa Penworthy~