Notes from the Author: Hello, everyone! I'm back, and I have a new fic up for you. It's a multi-chapter for once, but I'm afraid you all will have to forgive me for how long this fic will take, since my update schedule is currently nonexistent. As to why it took forever for me to publish this, I'm so sorry, but I took a couple hundred detours getting back to Narnia. The title's a bit of a giveaway to which fandom my wardrobe dropped me off in.

Shoutout to any Ranger's Apprentice fans, there's a scene in this chapter inspired by a book in the series!

General Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia franchise, nor most of the characters mentioned/featured in this story, with the exceptions of Lhiere, Falcon Silverwing, and Falcon Spotfletch. Many thanks to Professor Lewis for the beautiful world he created and to elecktrum for generously allowing me to borrow her characters for my stories. The story plot of the story, however, are my own intellectual property.

THERE, AND BACK AGAIN

PROLOGUE - THE AMBUSH

Narnia

Third Day in the month of Frostmoon, Year 1004

Cair Paravel

A storm was coming.

Queen Lucy the Valiant peered out into the darkening night sky as lightning crackled on the wind. The waves smashed against the high walls of the Cair and the wind howled its song. The young queen's hand tightened on the hilt of the sole dagger she wore publicly, her face pale as the cold, wet raindrops traced their way down her cheeks. A pit was forming in her stomach, and the storm had done nothing to allay her fears.

The soft whispers of her prayer were lost to the eastern winds.

The Northern Borders of the Western Wood

Edmund's grip tightened around Shafelm as the centaur-forged blade sliced through the neck of a shrieking goblin before he ducked behind an abandoned tent to catch his breath. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the (even darker) lighting in the tent before squatting on the grass to wipe his blade of blood. Around the tent, a battle continued to rage on as the dark-haired king closed his eyes tiredly, wiping rain from his face and shaking his hair, small, cold droplets falling around him. The fight had begun at dusk, and now it was two hours left to midnight. It would hopefully be the last battle in a long campaign against the largest gathering of the Fell Beasts to date ever since Jadis' death.

Three months prior, word had come to the Cair that a hag, one of Jadis' more powerful surviving lieutenants, had been stirring up trouble in the North with a party of Fell Creatures numbering a hundred strong. The two kings had set out almost immediately with a good number of their standing army and their captains and general, while the rest had remained as a defensive force at the Cair under the command of the Queens and Sir Peridan.

Since then, the hag's group had grown to number more than two hundred, while Peter and Edmund were left cleaning up and managing the aftermath of the tragedies the Fell Ones had left in their wake. It didn't help that the malcontents amongst the Narnian population (significantly amongst the Black Dwarfs) had emerged from the woodwork, and Edmund wasn't going to lie to himself and say it hadn't affected him; it had. But they'd finally caught up to them tonight, and Edmund was eager for the campaign to finally end. The storm that had struck about two hours prior had washed out the smaller campfires, though there were wildfires about the camp, as the abandoned tents caught the fire of the Narnians' torches.

Taking a deep breath, the King plunged once more into the Chaos. The rain drenched him immediately, making him blink away the droplets of water that had made their way into his eyes. Lightning cracked overhead, making Edmund swear violently as he took a step back. Several shrieks and screams highlighted the subsequent crash of thunder. The Narnian forces had been more or less on par with the two hundred-odd Fell they'd found camping in clearing when the battle had started, but the battle had gone on far too long for Edmund's taste, and the vibrant red worn by the Narnian troops seemed far outnumbered by the lifeless colors of the Fell. Keen eyes spotted more troops flooding out of the Northern and Western borders of the clearing, while the Eastern and Southern borders, where Peter and Oreius remained hidden with their remaining troops, were suspiciously clear. A small weight lifted from Edmund's chest at the added comfort that he didn't have to worry about a large enemy force suddenly overwhelming his men from their flanks.

However, there was still the problem of the still-arriving reinforcements.

His attention was grabbed by a whirl of skirts and steel to his left, eventually resolving into the bloodstained figure of Lhiere of Aisla. "Your majesty," she greeted with a half-curtsy that apparently gave her a better angle to throw a dagger at a minotaur somewhere behind him. The shield-maiden's hair was drenched, much like Edmund's own, and hung around her head limply. Her dress was soaked through with rain and blood, and the red Narnian tabard she wore over it was nothing but tatters, the golden lion barely distinguishable. Edmund rolled his eyes at her formal address. Lhiere was a good friend of his, a former slave-girl who'd rescued him during an unpleasant encounter with Calormen slavers about a year prior, and Edmund had gratefully repaid her by buying her freedom and making her a member of Narnia's Royal Court. "You never bothered with formal address in Calormen, Lhi," he complained dryly as they fought back-to-back. Lhiere grunted behind him. "You weren't a king in Calormen, and I don't believe my method of address should be your priority right now. Did you see the reinforcements?"

Edmund nodded grimly before he remembered that she couldn't see him. "Yes, I did."

"Well, they seem to increase whenever the hag chants some nonsense or other," she grumbled. "Did you notice?"

Edmund's gaze turned to the small hill in the center of the camp, where the hag was raging furiously at the mob that she was notably staying clear of. She looked to be a head shorter than Edmund, clad in gauzy, dirty robes and a hood that hid her face from view and leaning on a warped old wooden staff that had a white crystal on the tip. Edmund pursed his lips; she didn't look threatening or intimidating, just a little suspicious, but she was the reason for so much devastation across his kingdom. She seemed to be chanting another spell, and Edmund watched as yet another wave of Fell Creatures flooded out of the North and West.

"Someone needs to take care of that," Edmund murmured, making Lhiere snort. "My skirts have a lot of daggers in them still," she replied. "And my dirks are still sharp. I'll cover your back."

The two teens moved as one, though their coordination wasn't as smooth as it would have been if Peter had been his partner. But Lhiere had trained long and hard under Captain Xati, determined never to be counted as defenseless. The dynamic of moving with another person trained to fight with dual blades was also a different one, one that Edmund appreciated as Lhiere seemed more prone to anticipating his moves and adding her own attacks to compliment his. "Duck," Lhiere ordered, voice low. Edmund obeyed immediately, watching as a fury suddenly screeched and crash-landed into a troll, a dagger embedded in his forehead.

"Nice," he complimented, and he could hear Lhiere's grin in her voice. "Your sister taught me how," she replied, making Edmund pause. Lucy, his bright, innocent, sweet baby sister? "She even showed me how to hide all the daggers in my skirts."

Edmund shook his head. You learned a new thing every day, it seemed. He'd be having a talk with Lucy when they got back to the Cair.

They were almost to the hag, when a werewolf emerged from the throng and barred their way. It was hideous, fur matted with rain and blood, eyes almost completely black. Edmund prepared to engage, but Lhiere sidestepped him, teeth bared. "Go, I got this," she hissed as she danced to the side, taunting the creature. Edmund tried to protest before realizing that it was pointless and that the two were far out of his reach. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on his swords and made his way up the hill unaccosted. Lhiere was right, even if he didn't like it. The hag was his priority.

Cresting the hill, he got his first real look at the hag. Her limbs were stick-thin and withered, and her skin was shriveled up and wrinkled, covered with spots and sores. Her fingers had sharp, talon-like nails. Her eyes were small and beady, with a cruel and harsh light shining from them, and instead of a normal nose and mouth she had a beak. A dangerous, cold aura emanated from her, making chills run up Edmund's spine. Rumors had danced around during the campaign that the hag had the capacity to use black magic and the experience left no doubts in Edmund's mind that it was the truth. When she spoke, Edmund shuddered- her voice was hoarse and raspy and had a sickly-sweet undercurrent. "At last, the Traitor King reveals himself to us," she rasped.

"I was beginning to wonder if we'd need to burn down the whole of the Great Western Wood to get your attention." Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating the hag in a way that made her seem even more sinister. Edmund saw red- the grove of burned dryads, the naiads' poisoned stream, the hares' collapsed cave system, the village of small animals slaughtered in their beds- a distraction, to get his attention. He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his sword.

"Hag, you are under arrest by order of the Four Sovereigns of Narnia for the destruction of her lands, the mass murder of her peoples, and treason to her crown," Edmund said, voice firm and cold. "If you end this battle now, your life will be spared and you will be given the chance to speak in court." Because as much as the thought of this, this creature who killed innocent Narnians like it was nothing, coming to the Cair and standing in his court for a trial- as much as it made his blood boil, if he had the chance to spare the lives of his soldiers, then he would.

But the hag only sneered at him. "Pretty words and lies, King Edmund, pretty words and lies," she hissed. "Whatever trial you'll give me will be filled with hate and disdain, and I'll be sentenced to death afterwards, and for what? You have no right to arrest me, Traitor King! I have only rendered justice onto those who betrayed Jadis the true Queen of Narnia, who owns the lands you claim I have defiled, and whom I have never betrayed! If you're looking for a traitor, O King, one stands before me now, wearing a false crown!"

Emotion swarmed Edmund- guilt, shame, horror, relief, disappointment- and he did his best not to let his voice shake as he spoke. "You have publicly declared your allegiance to Jadis, the White Witch, who unlawfully usurped and reigned over these lands without the blessing of Aslan for a hundred years. Since her death, my siblings and I were lawfully crowned and named Kings and Queens under Aslan over this kingdom. By aligning yourself to Jadis you have declared yourself an enemy of Narnia, her crown, and all her peoples, but I have granted you the chance for mercy. Do you yield to my authority, servant of Jadis?" Edmund intoned, keeping his eyes centered on the hag as he spoke. Most commanders would have given in, for the sake of their troops, but the hag didn't strike him as the kind of person who cared about the people under her. Instinctively, he gripped his swords and tensed up, his senses screaming that he was in danger. The hag's expression morphed into one of utter hatred as she brandished her staff. Never," she hissed.

Edmund attacked.

It was a well-known fact across the different lands in that world that both of the Narnian Kings were well-accomplished swordsmen, skilled and held in high regard by their opponents (those who lived to speak of it). And it was a common debate amongst the warriors of other nations as to which of the brothers was the better of the two. In passing, most assumed that it was Peter, who was older, taller, and physically stronger than Edmund. The opinion often sent Peter and the Narnian sword-masters doubling over in laughter, for Edmund was far more versatile and agile than his older brother, and dedication made him perfect his technique and skill to an art form. In brute strength, Peter could best his brother with a single devastating blow; but Edmund knew three different ways to redirect that blow to his advantage and use it against Peter. However, Edmund refused to allow the Narnians to brag about his skill for the best advantage it gave him: it tricked his opponents into making the mistake of underestimating him.

All too often, it was the last mistake they ever made.

Edmund's swords, named Shafelm and Liabra, flashed amber and gold in the firelight as he wielded them with grace and very little effort. His blows were still powerful and the mesmerizing movement of the blades made it hard for the naked eye to follow and defend against, and the hag was quickly tiring. She realized that she was far out of her depth in this fight; the boy before her was nothing like the helpless, weak creatures that were her normal prey. He was a warrior, well-versed in his craft and determined to see the fight through to its bitter end. There were none of her followers that she could summon to distract him while she made her getaway. While her forces still outnumbered Edmund's, his were far more skilled, and every blow they made counted. In time, her followers would be overwhelmed and slaughtered.

The hag felt like screaming in rage- her plans were falling apart before her, her forces were little use against their opponents, and her magic grew weaker and weaker with every spell she cast. She would not win this fight, but- she could have her revenge on those who destroyed her plans. She still had her tongue and her magic- it was all the weapons she needed.

"Do you know why I gathered my followers, boy?" she rasped, shuffling backwards. "I wanted them to be witness to my greatest feat- the summoning of Jadis." She cackled as it made Edmund draw up short- so, her Queen still had a hold on the boy. He clearly still felt the guilt and shame for his actions years ago. She could use this to her advantage.

"Jadis is dead," Edmund said flatly. "Aslan killed her on the fields of Beruna. Everyone saw."

"So?" the hag cackled. "Jadis is a Witch of an ancient bloodline from another world, boy, one older than this one. She existed before this world even came into being! Something as petty as Death cannot hold a complete sway on her. She will return, and she will reward my loyalty when she takes back her crown to continue her rule over Narnia. And then," she added, smiling wickedly, "she will have her vengeance, on you."

Edmund felt cold, icy terror run through his veins at the hag's words. He'd been having more nightmares lately, not that he'd told Peter. In his dreams, she'd often threatened she would, and the hag's words built on those fears. A mist seemed to fall over his mind, and he didn't notice the hag's cackling as she stalked closer to him, pulling a dagger from her robes. The battlefield faded from his mind, replaced with an empty, desolate landscape completely covered in snow. Jadis stood where the hag had, a cruel smirk on her face. "I told you, Edmund," she purred. "You'd never escape me."

The battle continued to rage on around him, and Edmund was completely oblivious to the imminent danger as the hag stalked closer and closer to him, until she stood right over him. She grinned mirthlessly into his sightless eyes, raising the knife. Meanwhile, Edmund watched as Jadis stepped closer and closer to him, a soft smile on her face. "Join me, Edmund," she murmured, reaching out her hand. "Look how much more beautiful Narnia is like this- peaceful, tranquil, perfectly preserved in ice and snow."

Edmund's heart raced. "You're dead," he said hoarsely. "You can't be real- Aslan killed you years ago!" Jadis laughed at his protests, the way one laughs at one's pet dog when it chases its own tail. "Oh dear, dear Edmund," she said, her face serene, but Edmund could still see the cruel light in her eyes, "Do you really think that Aslan's the only one who can come back from the dead?"

Jadis's words were meant to instill fear in Edmund, but it did the opposite- instead of focusing on the threat, it reminded Edmund of the moment Aslan had come to their rescue at the fields of Beruna. He'd hardly been in the best position to see when Aslan and the girls had arrived, but he'd pushed his head up enough to see the way Aslan had looked on the top of that ridge when Aslan's roar shook the earth. For the briefest of moments, the cold had seeped from his limbs. Hope, pulsing, warm, and all-encompassing had flooded his being, even when he lost feeling in his legs. The sight of Aslan resurrected and loving him still had been the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced.

That same hope filled him now, and Jadis looked about her in horror as her snow-white landscape melted into the vibrant, new colors of spring. Edmund took a deep breath as the crisp, icy air gave way to a warm summer breeze, carrying a familiar scent and the memory of golden eyes filled with unconditional love. When he opened his eyes again, his body reacted entirely on instinct, diving to the side to dodge the hag's thrust, his swords living extensions of his arms as Liabra sheared through her staff and Shafelm dealt her a nasty slice to her side. The hag howled in pain and outrage as Edmund climbed to his feet. "Narnia is Aslan's, hag, as it ever has been and ever will be," he said, his pulse racing with adrenaline and an otherworldly strength. "And so am I."

The hag screamed in outrage, and Edmund barely had time to brace himself when an invisible force threw him backwards, crying out in pain as he hit the ground.

Peter breathed in deeply as he tugged Rhindon free of the wolf's body, the Beast's eyes still tainted red with bloodlust, even in death. Edmund was smart to have left a reserve force in the woods to the south and east of the clearing, even if Peter wasn't happy about not being able to guard his brother's back.

Wave after wave of Fell Beasts had charged through the forests, intent on reaching the clearing. Peter had had his troops stretch out along the perimeter as they saw fit. Narnian soldiers had a wide variety of attacks that suited them individually depending on their species and where they'd grown up, and Peter saw no need to limit them to a specific attack of his choosing. As long as none of the enemy made their way to the clearing and were able to ambush his brother and their forces.

The familiar call of a falcon made him pause, glancing up to see the flash of silver as another bolt of lightning appeared overhead. Being in a forest during a thunderstorm made Peter feel slightly nervous, but there was nothing for it. Thunder crashed in reply, and the rain came down harder as he gestured for a faun to take his place in the battle line.

Peter wiped the rain from his eyes and made his way to the rear of the perimeter, where Oreius was talking with Silverwing, who was perched on a branch that hung low, at the same height of Peter's head. "Ho, Silverwing," Peter greeted. "What news from the battlefield?"

If ever a peregrine Falcon appeared apprehensive, it was then. Silverwing dipped her head, turning her head slightly so she could look Peter in the eye. "High King Peter," she said, "it's your brother."

Peter's heart dropped, his vision going red. He opened his mouth to question Silverwing further, but the Falcon screeched in alarm as a bat suddenly dropped from the trees and knocked her off of her branch. Oreius shouted a warning, giving Peter just enough time to drop into a defensive stance as a goblin launched itself at him.

Two Furies dropped from the stormy clouds above him and pinned Edmund's arms to the ground. Sharp talons pierced his skin as he writhed and struggled, the pain forcing him to release his grip on Shafelm and drop it to the ground. Liabra was nowhere in sight, thrown from his grasp when the hag's spell had struck him to the ground. A ring of Fell Beasts had formed around him, and a howl went up as the blood where the Furies' talons were buried in his skin fell onto the wet grass. Edmund shook his head, trying to shake the rain out of his eyes. "The traitor's blood is spilled!" a dwarf near him cheered.

It sent his companions into a frenzy, and the next few minutes was nothing but a blur of pain; Edmund was kicked, lashed, beaten, punched, and scratched as the Fell creatures worked themselves into a bloodlust. He choked on his own blood as a goblin dropped a club on his ribs, and he barely bit back a scream as the Furies were pushed and jostled by the others, twisting their talons in his arm. Vision blurred with pain, he growled as the dwarf from earlier kicked his head repeatedly, cackling as he unwound a lash from his belt. A hoarse scream finally escaped his lungs as a minotaur, carrying a heavy pikeaxe, slammed the flat of the blade, and a sick feeling crept into his stomach as he heard the bone snap.

Sir Kanell of the Ettin's Keep frowned as the minotaur he'd been fighting suddenly disengaged from their fight. His blood was racing, telling him to pursue, but his strategist's mind insisted on waiting and taking stock. The rain continued to pour nonstop, and he shook his head slightly, letting the cold clear his head. He glanced around, exchanging a worried glance with Xati as the two stamped nervously, eager to pursue the battle. Xati's foal, Lhiere, frowned as she managed to catch her opponent, a turned dryad in the back with one of her daggers. "Why are they running?" she asked, confused, absently wiping her blades on her ruined skirts. Xati's eyes narrowed as the Fell retreated behind the hill where the hag had been standing earlier.

Most of the fires were washed out by now, and the battlefield grew darker and darker as the sky continued to weep. Kanell pursed his lip as the Fell, apparently having regrouped, cheered lustily. His troops had regrouped as well, looking at him for orders to charge, but Kanell shook his head. There was something they were missing.

A chestnut Stallion approached, and Oreius nodded as he recognized Phillip. The Horse seemed worried as he tilted his head sideways. "Have you seen Edmund?" he asked. Kanell's brow creased in worry. "No," he responded. "I have not seen his majesty since the battle started."

"I last saw him just as he was about to take on the hag," Lhiere interjected, and Phillip whinnied angrily at her. "And you just left him?" he demanded. Lhiere clenched the hilts of her dirks. "I had to lure off a werewolf that wanted him for dinner, sorry," she snapped. Xati galloped up and swept her young protégé onto her back. "Peace, foal," she chastised.

"Where's the hag!" Phillip demanded. "Where's Edmund?"

Kanell's face paled as Edmund's pained scream rose above the Fell Beast's cries.

Edmund dropped his head back, breathing heavily. His face felt hot, and the cold rain was a relief. He knew he should be taking stock of his injuries, but honestly, everywhere hurt. In a pinch, he could (probably) move into a semi-defensive position. Of all his injuries, he was fairly sure his broken ribs were the worst.

He was jostled out of his musings as the hag suddenly appeared above him. "Behold, False King, the faithful of Jadis!" she cried with a flourish, to the roars of her followers. "Do you know, I've spent these past years searching every spellbook, every record, every warped and stained old scroll for a spell capable of bringing the White Queen back?"

"I don't suppose you failed and decided to give up?" Edmund remarked semi-hopefully. The hag cackled down at him. "You have your sense of humor still? No, no I didn't. I found an old parchment with half a spell written on it, but enough. No, I have the power and capability to return Jadis to us, don't you worry, boy," she sneered, "but I found that I lacked one essential ingredient."

"What, did you need to fall in love?" Edmund mused, remembering the many, many fairytales that he'd read in That Other Place. The hag snorted. "No, nothing so drastic. Just your blood."

Edmund felt his blood freeze at the thought before lunging at her. His vision went white with pain, and he was forced to collapse on the ground, even as a flash of green caught his eye, emerging from the crowd. It was an evergreen dryad; she smirked cruelly down at him, her sharp features cold and sinister. There had been a number of evergreens who'd supported Jadis during her reign, Edmund remembered. The dryad cradled a bundle of rags in her arms, which she presented to the hag with a bow.

The hag cried out a word he didn't know, and bowed to her waist to the small bundle. Trepidation ran through Edmund as the rest of the Fell followed her example. The hag met his gaze and smirked, pulling the rags apart and lifting out the item wrapped within.

Edmund's blood ran cold as he recognized the shattered remains of Jadis's wand.

"At last, the correct price will be paid," the hag murmured in his ear as she waved the wand before him. "The lion should never have died in your place, or the prophecy would have remained unfulfilled and Jadis would still be queen." Edmund glared at her, and the hag leered at him. "I was there that night, you know. I saw the hopeless look in Aslan's eyes as he approached us, I sheared his golden mane from his head, smelled his blood staining the ground as he breathed his last."

"Aslan is alive," Edmund hissed, clenching his fists as he glared at her. "Nothing can keep Him or stop Him, not even Death."

"And if Aslan can come back from the dead, boy, then why can't Jadis?" The hag retorted. "Granted, the methods required are trickier than whatever your precious Aslan pulled, and it requires a human sacrifice, but she can come back. I only regret that she could not claim her revenge on you herself, but I'm certain your siblings will suffice."

The hag cackled and stepped back, waving at a minotaur, the same one that had broken his ribs. He was still holding his pikeaxe, and Edmund watched impassionedly as he raised it aloft and began to spin and toss it, demonstrating his skill and strength to his fellows. Occasionally, the minotaur would drop the blade within a hairsbreadth of Edmund's skin, but the Just King refused to flinch. It made his tormentor angrier and angrier until finally, he stopped, panting and glaring down at his intended victim. Edmund met his gaze steadily. "Not bad," he remarked casually, as if he was teasing Peter at the training areas at the Cair. "Think I might have a go now?" he asked. The minotaur grunted and stalked up to him, bracing himself. Edmund met his gaze defiantly, refusing to look away.

I am Aslan's, he thought to himself, watching as the minotaur began to lift the pikeaxe. And that's more than I ever deserved.

The mob surrounding him roared in approval as the minotaur roared a victory cry. "Death to the traitor!" he bellowed, positioning the blade. Edmund watched in dreading anticipation as the blade rose up, up, up- and frowned in confusion as it continued past the point where it should've swung down to deal the killing blow. Silence fell upon the mob as the minotaur fell backwards, a red-fletched arrow in his back. Edmund's heart swelled with hope as a horn blew a rich note out over the silence and familiar battle-cries echoed in the clearing.

"FOR NARNIA, AND FOR ASLAN!"

The horn blew a clear, noble fanfare as Peter and Oreius galloped down into the clearing, their soldiers right behind them. The Narnians already in the clearing cheered, strength renewed as the two groups joined forces. Kanell and Phillip, the latter carrying Lhiere on his back, galloped up to join Peter and Oreius in the charge while Xati made her way for a small outcrop to the South-west, where gryphons and eagles were dropping off a troop of dwarven archers, the centauress already unslinging her bow from her back.

As they approached the mob of Fell Beasts, Arthur Ravenwolf emerged from the pack and jumped a snow leopard, killing the creature with a swipe of his paw. "To the King," the Wolf howled, standing over his kill. The gryphons and eagles took to the skies, despite the rain, dispatching the circling vultures, bats, and furies. Xati's cry reached Peter's ears as a rain of arrows took out the Fell nearest the center of the mob- and Edmund.

Xati's volley took out the two Furies that held Edmund in place. Wincing as he tore himself from their limp grasps, he flung his hand out- catching the hilt of Shafelm as he did. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, blocking out the pain of his injuries enough for him to get on his feet and slay the Fell in his immediate reach. Those set to retaliate fell to a rain of red-fletched arrows. Edmund ducked his head to avoid arrows as best as he could, unknowingly leaving himself open to a stab from the Black Dwarf from earlier. The Dwarf grinned as he prepared to kill the defenseless boy before him, just as the jaws of Arthur Ravenwolf closed around his neck.

The hag screeched furiously as the Narnians broke through the mob in defense of their king, even as the dark-haired youth stood shakily, gripping his sword in his right arm. Blood loss and pain made his movements sluggish, but he was clearly still capable of defending himself from a direct attack, and the wolf was doing a good job defending him from anything else. There would be no chance for her to cast the spell she'd been planning.

Gesturing to the evergreen, she lay Jadis' wand in the rags once more; it had taken them far too long to retrieve it. It would not do for all their efforts to be lost in one night. Bowing deeply, the evergreen turned and made her way through the melee: she would hide and protect the shattered wand now.

Blood seeped from the wound the boy king had dealt her earlier and the hag snarled as she realized there was very little chance she'd escape the field alive. Her followers' numbers were depleted and it would take time for them to recover their strength. She would die, and with her the secrets of the spell-books she'd found to bring back their queen. Months of work, lost! Because of one would-be king.

Cold anger settled in the hag's gut as she raised her hands and began to chant. She refused to lose everything and have gained nothing, no- she would have her revenge. She remembered a spell that had caught her eye in her search- a dangerous one that would drain her of her power for all its potency, but that was no surprise, and she was more than willing to pay the price. It was expected if one was casting a spell to reweave the threads of time.

A dread feeling rose in the pit of Edmund's stomach as an eerie chanting reached his ears. The hag. With everything that had happened, he'd completely forgotten about the hag. He whirled. She was just meters away from him. Vaguely he registered that whatever spell she was casting, she was using her hands and Jadis' wand, along with the evergreen dryad, had disappeared, but it was something he could worry about later.

The storm picked up above them, but now the wind seemed to have added a sinister note to its song, setting him on edge. Gripping his sword, Edmund made his way to her. He had no idea what she was doing but he knew she had to be stopped at all costs. There was no time to flag down another Narnian to have the archers do it or one of their air troops. He needed to take care of it- now.

At any cost.

Edmund breathed heavily as he crossed the scant ten meters to the hag. Every step felt like setting his body on fire, but he needed to stop her. She glared at him as he approached, and now the spell seemed to be entirely focused on him. The chant reverberated in his skull, making him pause, and a mist seemed to be rising from the ground. He grit his teeth, stumbling as his knees nearly gave out.

Strength, dear Heart- Remember Me. I am Here."

Edmund breathed heavily, focusing on the Voice. Warmth spread through his body, numbing the pain, and he took another step forward. Another. Another. Dimly, he registered Peter calling his name through the dim haze that was his mind. No, no distractions. Edmund focused on the memory of Aslan, the hope and love and acceptance and grace of the Lion. Mind cleared, he met the hag's gaze. Her eyes were practically ablaze with fury, voice high-pitched and hate-filled.

Edmund glared back at her and raised his sword.

The hag's spell reached its climax as Edmund yelled a fierce battle-cry, and a bright light blinded him as he swung Shafelm through the hag's neck. There was a choking sound, and Edmund fell to his knees as a loud and brilliant ZICRACKKKKK!" filled his ears and his vision turned to a blinding white. It stole his senses- his nerves felt exposed and his muscles trembled, his vision was white and his hearing was nonexistent. His throat felt raw, and he vaguely thought that his hearing was clearing because he heard screaming-

Oh. That was him.

Edmund collapsed completely in the grass, Shafelm dropping from his nerveless grasp. Everything seemed so infinitely far away now- the clash of battle was muffled, and his vision was clearing slightly, but it felt like he was in a tunnel and the rest of the world was on the other side. Wet drops hit his suddenly dry skin, and he mused in annoyance that it was still raining. Breathing, moving, existing- it seemed like such a burden, and he thought that it would be nice to pass out right about now.

His eyelids fluttered, and he couldn't hear anything anymore. It was completely silent. He still felt raw, exposed, but- the tunnel was closing, and soon all he'd see was darkness, so he didn't think it would hurt much longer. He'd worry about everything else later, like how mad Peter probably was. Peter.

As if by magic, his brother's face suddenly filled his remaining vision, and he dimly thought he could hear his brother's voice calling his name. Peter's face was crumpled, and it looked like he was crying. Edmund tried to speak, to reassure his brother, but found he couldn't and his throat still hurt, so he settled for squeezing Peter's hand. Peter's mouth was moving, but Edmund still couldn't hear him, so he just smiled at Peter.

The tunnel was closing faster, so Edmund tried to speak again, succeeding a little better this time. "Gotta go, Peetah," he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. The last thing he remembered before darkness claimed him was Peter's voice, screaming his name.

Edmund was (unfortunately) all-too-familiar with the feelings associated with the return to consciousness after long-term unconsciousness, as well as the symptoms that came with it.

Memory loss, nausea, confusion, headaches, irritability, discoordination of limbs, loss of appetite," Lucy listed off tiredly, glaring at her very sheepish older brother. Peter smirked from the sidelines as Lucy went into what they'd fondly termed as 'Healer Mode' on Edmund, who'd nearly died, again. Their youngest sister was indomitable on her own. In 'Healer Mode,' she was practically a force of nature.

The dark-haired teen grimaced at the thought of his (undoubtedly furious) siblings. They would surely be insufferable after this. He doubted he'd be able to escape his and Peter's suite for a month, at the very least.

Which he didn't really mind right now. He was still exhausted and tired, and his limbs felt odder than usual, and the headache was particularly noticeable. Maybe he'd even listen to Lucy for once and take his medicinal teas like he was supposed to instead of substituting it with coffee. Anything to get rid of this pounding headache.

Someone shook his shoulder roughly, making Edmund groan in response. While he was pleasantly surprised to find that such rough treatment wasn't making him scream in pain like he expected (did that mean his condition had been bad enough to merit taking the cordial?) he was rather peeved to be so rudely handled after his ordeal. Shifting, he frowned as the sheets scratched against his exposed skin. The clothes he was wearing felt threadbare and old, which was… odd. He and his siblings had long protested their subjects' tendency to give them such luxurious belongings, but they'd been treated to aghast expressions and very serious lectures on the propriety required of royalty, along with the Narnian customs of creating clothing that was functional, comfortable, and beautiful.

Someone shook him again, making Edmund shake his head and prop himself up on his elbows, blinking unhappily as his eyes readjusted to the dim lighting. Again- odd. Peter hated it when it was dark, which was why the hearth in their suite was almost always lit. And the room felt small, the air stifled and stale. Their bed suite had soaring ceilings and tall windows that let the wind flow through the room freely.

"Oi. Stop being such a selfish little prat and get up already, will you?"

Edmund froze. Shaking him was a much younger version of Peter than the one he was most used to. Not-Peter glared at him angrily, dressed as they had in That Other Place, his hair still in that old ridiculous haircut and not the shaggy mop it was these days, and with actual loathing written on his face. "Stop acting up, will you? Mum's upset enough as it is and she doesn't need you making this day worse," Peter snapped, getting up off of his haunches and standing. Edmund glanced down at himself with a sinking feeling in his chest. He was also dressed differently, and his body– which had undergone a series of ridiculous growth spurts over the years- was much shorter than he was used to. The room he was in was a small, cramped space with bunks built into the walls and scratchy mattresses on the floor, like the one he'd been lying on. Nearly hyperventilating, he lifted his shirt and ran his hand over it- smooth, creamy white skin, untainted, unmarred.

"Peter?" he called hesitantly, confused and very, very, very afraid. "What's the date again?"

Something in his brother's voice made Peter stop and look at him questioningly. Edmund just shook his head self-deprecatingly. "I forgot is all, sorry."

Peter frowned. It had been a long, long time since Edmund had last sounded like that- had sounded anything that wasn't either smug, angry, or brattish. Almost as long as it had been since his apologies had sounded that sincere. He turned, looking at his brother. Edmund looked confused, and there was a strange light in his eyes that Peter couldn't explain. "September the twentieth, nineteen-forty," he replied hesitantly. "You alright, Ed?"

He didn't miss the pause before his brother replied, getting up from the mattress. "Yeah, Pete." Edmund murmured.

You alright, Ed?" Peter asked, gripping his brother's arm. Edmund gave him a wan smile, donning his helmet. "Yeah, Pete. You?" Peter stared at him for a long moment. Edmund knew that Peter wasn't happy that they wouldn't be going into battle together for this- what would hopefully be the last battle of the campaign. Suddenly, he was being held in his brother's arms, and Edmund tensed for a second before returning the embrace. "Don't go where I can't follow, Ed," he murmured, and Edmund closed his eyes. "Promise me."

I-I'll try my best, Peter."

"I'm just fine."

Notes from the Author: Whee! It's up! Hahahahaha yes! A 'quick' stop in the Hobbit archives gave me an irrational love for time travel and all the nuisances that come with it. Unfortunately, I decided to bring that love with me back to Narnia, and poor Edmund has become the victim.

Thanks again to elecktrum for the use of her fantastic characters; I highly recommend you all check her stories (if you haven't already). Just a warning though, the length of the prologue won't be the basis for the rest of the chapters; I don't have a required length for my chapters and most will likely be shorter than the prologue.

Reviews are loved, as always, as is criticism. I am sorry if I don't really reply much to the reviews, since my wifi's crap and I generally don't have the wifi strength to reply (or I just plain forget to.) I will try to work on that and reply to comments and questions.

Thanks for reading!

-M