A hard slap woke Peter after the brief rest he had gotten. He must have fallen asleep. His cheek stung and felt like it was on fire. Before he could even make a sound, the cloth was ripped out of his mouth.

"Drink," a deep voice insisted. Without much more of a warning, a metal rim of what could only have been a cup was jammed painfully between his teeth, and a claw yanked on his hair to keep him still.

With the blindfold on, he could not see who was hurting him, but it did not keep him from squirming. One painful tug on his hair pinned his head back, and water started flowing into his mouth.

It was too much. Choking on the overwhelming amount of water, Peter could not swallow any of it. Instead, as soon as the claw released his head, he toppled over to the side of the chair, spitting out most of the water.

Peter coughed repeatedly, trying to clear his throat. While just the water being in his mouth offered a minor respite from his thirst, the coughing only highlighted the rawness in his throat.

"That will be all the water you receive for today," the voice warned him. Peter only coughed a bit more before claws scratched at his wrists until his chains were undone.

Peter yanked the blindfold off before the werewolf grabbed a hold of both of his wrists. Even though he had to helplessly watch as the werewolf tied his wrists together with rope regardless of his attempts to pull away, he was glad when the werewolf did not put the blindfold on again.

He really hated being restrained like this. Not only was the terror of the entire situation reaching him, but being prevented from seeing or even speaking was unnerving. He hated how powerless he was here.

With his hands tied in front of him, the werewolf pulled him to his feet. As they walked, Peter noticed that the distance from where he was being kept and the throne room was not too far from each other. After a short walk, they were back in the throne room. Unlike all the other times, he was not blindfolded for this walk, and he had used it to his advantage. He tried to memorize the way they came to the throne room. He would need to know it to escape. He remembered entering from the opposite side of her throne when he was first brought in the castle. If he could get out of his iced cell, he could get out of the castle. He just needed to be patient.

Wait for a moment where your enemy makes a mistake, that is the time to strike, Oreius's voice ran through his head. He just needed to get through what the Witch had in store for him.

However, as he saw her there, holding her stone knife, he was uncertain how well he was equipped to handle it. Even though it was futile, he pulled to get out of the werewolf's grasp. All that did was cause the werewolf to grab onto both of Peter's arms and hold him in front of him as they walked.

Peter was brought in front of Jadis, and the werewolf pushed down on the back of his knee, forcing him to his knees before her. She looked pleased.

"I know that look," she claimed. "Putting on a brave face will not change the weakness you have or the fear that is evident."

"And hurting me will not change that my siblings will defeat you once more, and you will go back to the dead."

"Your hope in them is so endearing. It's nearly sickening," she sneered. Her joy returned to her as she said, "I have something exciting for us to do together today," Peter swallowed hard as she continued, "I will ask you questions, and you will answer them."

Without warning, the dwarf to his right came over and slashed a knife across his arm. The cut stung, and he yelled out in surprise and pain.

"Every time you lie, every question you do not answer, one of them will inflict pain on you."

"I am not telling you anything," Peter declared. He was unsure how she could tell if he was lying, but he was afraid to test it. "I will not betray my family or Narnia."

"No, no," she said with a lightness in her voice that sounded fake. "We have not seen each other in five years. So much has happened. I just want to know about your life."

"I doubt that very much," he said. She just smirked in reply.

Her first question was, "You are High King, correct? Are all four of you on the throne together?"

It was bait. One Peter did not take. It was an easy question. One she knew the answer to. He did not yield and neither did she. The dwarf went to slice him again. This time, Peter was not going to idly wait to be cut again.

Instead, Peter took his tied hands and swung them at the dwarf, knocking him down. Peter got to his feet, trying to hit the satyr coming towards him, but one of the minotaurs just smashed him to the ground. Hands held him down, pinning his shoulders to the ice until he stopped struggling as much. He squirmed under their hold.

Jadis strolled over to him. Expecting to see a face of fury, he was surprised to see her amusement.

"Oh, I have missed this," she claimed. With that said, she sliced across his leg with her stone knife. Pain surged through his body, and he struggled to get out of their hold.

They all just laughed. More cuts landed on his body as she asked him more questions about his family and about ruling.

He squirmed as she asked, "Did you forgive your brother for betraying you?" Yes. A slash came across his chest when his silence was the only answer he gave.

"Do you think you are worthy to be King?" No, but I will be. A cut grazed his arm.

"Do you trust your siblings with ruling when you are not there?" Entirely. All she heard was silence. Her knife slashed across his stomach.

She kept trying to pry, and with every question, he remained silent. Most of the questions were harmless; he assumed they were meant to be. He did not answer all the same. For every refusal, he was cut on his body.

He had nearly twenty cuts when she asked, "As High King, do you hold ultimate authority in Narnia?"

To this question, Peter actually answered, "Aslan does."

Fury overtook her at Aslan's name, and he thought for certain she was going to cut him. She did not.

Instead, with deadliness in her voice, she threatened, "Do not say his name in my presence again."

It was ill advised, yet he could not help but say, "Does he really frighten you that much?"

For a moment, her mask had faltered, and Peter saw the anger flow through her. Her fury was quite terrifying. For that moment, his defiance was open and proud.

It was short lived.

Her rage never left her as she plunged her stone knife into Peter's stomach. He gasped in pain, trying to sit up, despite the hands that held him.

Oh, there was so much blood. As it pooled on his stomach, Jadis came to his face, crouching down closer to him. He was shaking and bleeding. He was losing too much blood. He had to be. But as she yanked her blade out, she seemed all too calm. She was not afraid of him dying.

His body jerked towards the now open wound. Her stone knife was covered in red sticky blood. His blood.

As he shook, she grabbed a hold of his face, forcing him to look at her. When he did, that was when he felt the new intensity surrounding his stomach. It felt like someone was ripping his wound apart.

Burning and bursting in pain, Peter cried out, screaming, "Stop!"

For a brief moment, the pain stopped. All of the pain stopped.

She just looked down at him with a hateful glare, saying with absolute certainty, "Only when you belong to me."