And back to Narnia! I actually wrote the first scene in the middle of writing chapter 10, I had an idea that I wanted to incorporate, then I looked at the other prompts and figured that this was the first I could really get into what I wanted to get into.

Prompt #13: Union. Whether two people, two countries, two pieces of metal, or something else entirely, write about the joining of two.

It was only when he returned to Cair Paravel—stepping with a thin smile between the two would-be assassins on guard, and one hand lingering at his dagger—that the truest horror was revealed to Edmund.

The fact that he had been able to hear what the creatures were saying meant that they were fearless about it, not expecting anyone to object.

It meant that the entire forest was against him.

Why Edmund? Because he was King Edmund the Just? Because he had been a traitor? Aslan had told him that even a traitor may mend, during that long conversation the day he was returned to his family. But did his people still hold it against him?

Whispers in the forest had turned into roars. And Edmund, unaccountably, was truly afraid, with a fear he had not felt since he battled his way through the press of war to reach the wand of the Witch.

Even a traitor may mend, but only if he was given enough time to do so.

He wondered if he ought to tell Peter; whether his brother's terrible anger would rise again, heavy hand ready to crush those who promised Edmund harm. He thought of Lucy's cordial, thought of how close to death he had been when he was revived by it, and determined not to talk to Peter until a day or so before his birthday.

But it did not stop him being afraid.

"You did not ride today, King Edmund," said a familiar, animal voice, and he turned to see his beloved horse, Aeron, regarding him. "Nor yesterday, nor for a full week before that. I have been exercising, of course, but would you not ride again? I long for a long ride deep into the heart of the forest."

It was nine days since Edmund had discovered the plot, and in those nine days he had scarcely ventured from the comparative safety of Cair Paravel, citing various paperwork and policies as the reason for his reclusive behaviour. He disliked letting his sisters go for their accustomed rides or walks, but he could hardly order them to remain indoors without divulging the true reason for his fear, and he did not intend to do so, for both would go to Peter in a moment to tell him.

"Very well," said Edmund, a sudden spirit of recklessness seizing hold of him. "Let us go, then, Aeron, to meet our fate: whatever lies deep within the dark heart of the woods."

Plainly confused, Aeron said, "Sire?"

"Do not worry about it, Aeron Glynsire," said Edmund, forcing a laugh. "'Tis only I, being half-mad with being shut up for so long. I declare that I have not gone so long without riding for many a day; ever since I was crowned King, I do declare!" With a smile that was outwardly merry and inwardly fearful, he hastened alongside the horse to the stables, where Edmund prepared the horse for the ride. While grooms hovered about, longing to help, Edmund was determined to put on his own saddle every time, for there could come a time in which he had no other option.

He swung into the saddle with the easy competence of a natural-born horseman, and they set off at a brisk trot. The guards bowed as he passed; one was Peepiceek, one of the known traitors. He barely looked at him, and saw the mouse's ears droop, as if disappointed.

Of course the betrayer was not going to look at him, then was going to be upset that he was ignoring him. Edmund grew angry at the thought, and said, in quite a harsh tone, "Let's go, Aeron. I want to feel the wind in my hair."

"As you wish, King Edmund!" said Aeron, and Edmund clutched at the air as he hurtled off down the road, speeding up as swiftly as he was able. Edmund kept his seat by a miracle, then settled in close to the horse's body and closed his eyes. If he was to ride often at the incredible speed Aeron was capable of, he would have to wear some kind of glasses.

Aeron's direction changed, and Edmund became aware of the rough ground beneath the flying feet. He opened his eyes again, squinting against the roaring wind, and discovered they were heading for the forest, overhead darkening as the trees grew taller. In actual fact, he was beginning to suspect that they were venturing into a part of the forest that Edmund himself had only gone to once before, and that with his royal siblings: the Dark Heart, a deep, rocky valley filled with enormous trees that shut out almost all light.

"Aeron, what are you doing?" he asked, for a moment afraid that Aeron, too, was one of his betrayers. But the wind tore the words from his lips, so he crouched down and yelled into the horse's ear, "Where are you taking me?"

Aeron slowed just enough to be audible, and called back, "Sire, if you do not wish it we shall turn around directly, but I thought you wanted to go to the Dark Heart?"

Edmund wondered where Aeron had got the idea from. "When did I say that?"

Now Aeron's head turned back and he looked at Edmund. "I believed you asked to go to the Dark Heart when you said we should go riding, sire. Forgive me, I was wrong."

"No," said Edmund. "I did not mean it, but I might not have thought about what I said. We shall go to the Dark Heart, then." There was more than a little trepidation within him, but he crushed it with a thought, and said, "Faster!" trying to imagine himself the brave youth who had fought through ranks of the Witch's troops, and risked death (nearly getting it, in fact) to break her wand. He had been that, once, and though now he felt a perfidious, craven fear, he would ignore it and continue to do what he felt was right.

The woods got darker and deeper. It grew damp and cold, so that Edmund shivered, and wondered what time it was. He wondered if Aslan ever roamed these woods; there was a vague clinging sense of evil to them, dank and dreary and menacing.

Still they went further, neither one speaking. Edmund wished Susan were there, to talk practically and dispel his fear as if it were nothing. Mist clung to the ground, and Aeron had to step over countless rotting logs that would have broken his leg if he had stepped in them.

The ground dropped away from them, though the trees continued up, and Aeron propped sharply and snorted in fear, the most horselike sound Edmund had ever heard from him. They had reached the edge of the Dark Heart.

A howl sounded, far distant and terribly animalistic. Not the sound of a Talking Wolf, but that of an ordinary wolf who was hunting for prey.

"Aeron," said Edmund, in a voice that did not quiver, "I'm not particularly happy here, right now."

"Sire, we can go," began Aeron, but Edmund shook his head.

"No. We will continue."

They turned and walked along the edge of the valley. Presently Edmund told Aeron to stop, and got down and walked as well. The soil seemed to cling to his feet, enticing him to stay there forever, every step a little harder than the previous one.

His hand on Aeron's bridle, Edmund walked down the small path that presented itself a hundred metres later, dropping into the cold, clammy darkness of the Dark Heart. Here the cold and evil were more pronounced, as if a whisper of the Witch still remained.

"You can always get them back," said a voice in his ear, and he jerked his head up and around, shouting, "Who's there?"

There was nobody. His voice seemed dead, muffled by the dangerous mist. Edmund became aware that his fingers were very cold, and he shivered violently. His fingers slipped from Aeron's bridle, but he kept on walking, trusting to the horse to follow him. When he turned again, several metres later, there was no sign of Aeron, and he was alone.

"Aeron!" he called, but without any real expectation of success. The path, and the place, had seemed so much less ominous when he was joined by Peter, and Lucy, and Susan. Now it was the stuff of nightmares, and he knew he would be seeing it in his dreams. The idea of being betrayed and killed by his own subjects no longer seemed such a problem as it had before; now he was fearing the land itself would never allow him to leave.

Aeron, as expected, did not reply. He did not know where the horse was, only that Edmund himself was very alone, and helpless. He carried a sword, but nothing more than that and a small dagger, and was not dressed for this kind of climate. He wanted his bow.

When he had come here with the others, it had felt eerie and strange, but in the good sort of scary way, where they could be scared but come out of it perfectly fine, and then get warm and happy again, all the more so for the tang of fear that had entered their day. Now, on his own, it felt completely different.

It felt evil.

"You can always get them back," whispered the same voice again. It sounded near, but Edmund could not place it, nor see amidst the near-darkness, the pale mist serving only to make everything still more obscure.

"Who's there," he said, this time only in a whisper.

"It's me, dearie," said the voice, and he strained his eyes in the gathering mist and saw the mouth of a cave, with a strange vaguely blue glow coming out of it. "Come into my cave and see me."

"No fear," retorted Edmund. "I won't come into your cave! You'd kill me, and worse, sure as anything." He drew his sword.

She responded with a hiss, confirming his growing suspicions that this was a Hag. "Dearie, I would not. Just come into my cave and I will show you everything you ever desired! Remember the White Lady? She offered you what you really want, I know that she did. You cannot pretend forever that you did not want the White Lady's gifts. And... I could give you more Turkish Delight, if you liked." A thin, skeletal hand protruded out of the darkness, holding a box very similar to what he remembered from the Witch.

"No!" said Edmund, more firmly, and sprang forward, wielding his sword with practised efficiency and cleaving her hand and arm, so that the hand lay severed at his feet. The shadow in front of him, that was probably the Hag, withdrew with a screech of pain that made his ears hurt. Edmund took a hasty step back, determined not to blunder into her domain.

Now he knew why it was called the Dark Heart. It was where evil lurked.

An indefinable time of wandering in the dim mist later, Edmund became aware of his name being called.

"Prince Edmund! Prince Edmund!"

He had never been prince, not really, for he had been in the Witch's thrall while the others had been aware of their royalty, and then after it was all over and done they were crowned. The name Prince Edmund evoked only a memory of terror and disgust and of the Witch herself, for she had called him so, and had promised him many things that she could have given him, if only he would succumb to her.

Aslan had put a stop to that before it was too late, and Edmund was eternally grateful to him.

"I do not go by that name," said Edmund in a voice as cold as that of the Witch. "I am King Edmund the Just of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, redeemed of Aslan." His voice grew stronger on each new epithet, and he lifted his sword slightly in defiance.

"Come here," said the voice in a harsh whisper. "You have seen yourself, that Narnia is not always governed as well as it could be. Your brother and your sisters mean well, but they fail, as we all do. You yourself fail. Why, you have been shunning your faithful and beloved horse, on the whispers you heard of those you are too quick to suspect! You claim to be King Edmund the Just, and yet you are nothing but somebody who jumps to conclusions like any little boy. Children your age should not run the kingdom. It should be men and women, those who have had the experience to manage it. Come here, Edmund, and listen to me. I have seen kingdoms rise and fall. I saw King Frank and Queen Helen, old and ancient though they were. I saw Fledge, the first flying horse, father of all the rest. You do not have their kind in Narnia now. But if you look into your history books, you will find that Fledge was once a horse from the Other Place from which hailed the King Frank and the Queen Helen, and the two children, the Lord Digory and the Lady Polly. They came to Narnia from Another Place, bearing bright rings on their fingers. Did you know this, little king? Were you aware of what the start of Narnia looked like? I was born later than that. I was born by the benevolent arts of the Witch—for yes, I call her Witch. She did many things that were abhorrent, but a few that were not. Did you know how she came to be in Narnia? Little king, if you speak to me and come nearer, I can tell you all of the history you lack, and your Narnian historians lack. I have lurked here, in the shadows, watching the rise and fall of Narnia."

"No," said Edmund, shaking a little, and staring fixedly at the shadow from which the voice was issuing. "No! I will not listen to you for even a moment. You have no power over me, Hag or Witch or whatever you may be. You will not control me. You will not persuade me. I shall not listen any more."

"Oh, but you have lingered, little king!" said the voice, with a laugh in it. "You have lingered to hear me speak, you have not moved on immediately. Little king, I remain apart from time. Time has no effect on me."

"Are you a Hag?" he retorted, ignoring the rest of her speech.

"I am not a Hag, small king... Consider. Think of what I could possibly be. In your heart you know the true answer."

Edmund gasped. "You're a vampire."

"Too true, small king. I know that you have a name and yet I shall not use it, for kings pass and kingdoms pass and still the land and the office stays the same. I see you reaching blindly towards me with your blade, but I know you cannot see me. I am only to be found here, in the Dark Heart, little king. If you are to attack me you must do it now. But I would say you ought to listen to me. I have wisdom you do not."

"No," said Edmund sharply. "I shan't listen to you another moment." He swung around and strode away, hearing the vampire's pleas fade into the swirling pale mist.

Aslan, Aslan, Aslan... where are you, in the Dark Heart of Narnia?

Please review and tell me what you think of it! I feel there were a couple of places that weren't very good, especially as transitioned between events. Also I'm not very good at writing spooky!

The prompt was answered in the joining of Aeron and Edmund in their ride, in case you were wondering where it came. I intended to have them reunite, but I wanted to post today so I figured this was a long enough chapter already! And it ended right, so I did that.