Disclaimer: I don't own The Chronicles of Narnia, or any other works.

One ~

The first dagger she threw his way managed to puncture the soft flesh that adorned his chest, and the rib-cage that sheltered his very heart.

Though he was only a young boy at the time, oblivious to the ironically warm feeling that festered inside him that most common humans would call 'love', he still felt it nonetheless. And he carried that mindless first-crush feeling with him to what would soon be his adolescent years.

Despite the fact that he would soon despise her for manipulating him into doing her bidding, by enticing him with the very idea of being in charge of his own self, and having his own brother and sisters put below him to rule and command whenever he so pleased.

And although the thought was, at the time, very tempting, deep within his tiny, pulsating heart, he knew that what he truly desired, more than anything, was to be appreciated and accepted by his older brother Peter. And treated not as an unruly, spoiled younger brother, but as a decent, equally intelligent younger sibling.

And the white-haired witch could never give him anything more desirable than that.

Or so he thought...

Two ~

The second dagger sent his way was a cold shock to his system. A small puncture in the previously wounded area where she had struck him before. Though not as enticing or empowering, it still left a mark on his chest, and caused his heart to swell.

She had hypnotized him again, so easily and so suddenly. Reaching out and grabbing him like a desired book on a shelf, while he had let her leaf through his pages, seeing what he really felt for her inside him. She was close to conquering him again, and he was near gone from his sanity, when his brother, Peter, had cried out to him, effectively pulling him back to reality.

She was just an illusion, he knew. A clever mind trick being played upon him relentlessly.

Yet still, there was an empty feeling after he broke away from her grasp. A curious mind that could only wonder what would have happened had he succumbed to her lovely spell.

And he was forever stuck with the feeling of having but half a heart inside his chest.

Three ~

The third dagger was the final blow. It was hurried, and desperate, but it came nonetheless.

It was becoming awfully hard these days to pull away from her, when she kept reaching back. Especially when his spirits were low, and he tired of fighting her. He didn't want to leave her behind, he realized. He wanted her with him, beside him. She had never left his mind, he found, so why did she have to leave his sight?

Maybe, just maybe, he should let her take him. Just this once. So he could have a few moments of ecstasy.

But alas, he could not. For if he were to let himself be taken with her once more, he his mind would surely be gone.

And he'd be left to wallow in a cold pit inside his head, while his poor heart suffered frostbite.