Winter's Dream

Alone.

That's what he thought when in the clutches of the White Witch. Not truly alone, but more alone in the way that really matters than he had ever been before. On all sides, he was surrounded by enemies- the Witch, her Dwarf servant, her Minotaur general, her army of dark creatures and accursed demons.

But he dreamed. When she would let him sleep, he dreamed the same dream over and over again. He stood beside a lion, a great kindly lion full of power, and he knew this lion was a king, a king of kings. His great, golden eyes filled him with hope, gave him comfort.

And walking toward him where he stood with this kingly lion, as if she had all the time in the world, was a girl. Her hair was a brilliant silver blond, like the Witch's hair. But this girl, her hair glittered like a thousand threads of living silk. It was different from the dull ice-whiteness of the Witch.

Her eyes, though... it was her eyes that drew him to her. Like the swirling of the sea, or the thundering rain clouds, or a rushing river... he couldn't describe them to save his life. But he didn't need to. It wasn't important to describe her. She merely was. That was all.

They walked together, not saying anything. He didn't need to speak to understand her, or to be understood by her. They watched the sun's dying rays light up the sea, and the swirling, pounding waterfalls that reminded him so much of her eyes.

That was in dreams. It gave him hope. He had to hold out, had to hope that one day, he would meet that lion... and the girl.

He clung to that hope when the Dwarf came at him with the stone knife, ready to slit his throat and kill him, spilling his blood and destroying any chance of the prophecy being fulfilled.

Edmund knows a secret. No one else alive, save Aslan and the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea know this secret.

The Dwarf's hand was stayed by a knife's blade. In the dark, something gleamed like moonlight on pearl, and the Dwarf cried out in pain. The gleaming thing, a strange knife that glowed like milk and starlight, had missed anything important. All it needed, however, was one little cut, and the Dwarf dropped the stone knife he'd held and clasped his hand to his chest, yelling madly.

Then Edmund was rescued. It was the girl from his dreams that cut his bonds, and helped him to his feet. It was the girl who helped him mount a centaur with wild, dark eyes. She clambered up behind him, holding tightly to his torso as the centaur took off at a gallop.

"Who are you?" He cried.

"Ayadine," she replied over the rushing of the water. "Ayadine waBerun."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To Aslan," she said, and laid her cheek against his back.

"Aren't you worried about that knife?" He asked.

"Not really," she said. "Now keep your head down before you get hit by a tree branch."

He did as she said, and after a while, fell asleep on the centaur's back, lulled into slumber by the tune Ayadine was humming under her breath.

Oo8oo8oo8oO

"Ayadine waBerun?" Caspian asked. They were leaning against the wooden railing on the back of the Dawn Treader. "That's... doesn't waBerun mean 'of Beruna?' Was she human?"

"No," Edmund replied. He stared at the sea as it rushed past them. He could see Ayadine's eyes reflected in the ocean's depths. It made his heart tight in his chest, a cracking ache like shattering porcelain. "No, she wasn't. But it didn't matter. Aslan warned me to take care of her, but it was my own folly that let her..."

With a guttural cry of loathing and heartache, he threw himself away from the railing and raced down the stairs to his bunk. Throwing himself down upon it, he clenched one fist until his knuckles ached. He never wanted to remember Ayadine. Why did Caspian have to bring it up!?

But as he relaxed his hand, as he tried to calm himself, memory swamped him, and he could do nothing but let it have its way.