I hope everyone likes this chapter! Undoubtedly, some of you will notice some changes from the movie version, so I hope you like my take on things better. Don't forget to read and review!

Chapter Nineteen: Betrayals

"I'm not the one who abandoned Narnia!"

"You invaded Narnia. You have no more right to lead it than Miraz does. You… him… your father… Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"

The words tore through Caspian's mind over and over again. The expression of pure rage on King Peter's face when he spoke them continually hovered in front of his mind. He couldn't believe the younger man's gall when he screamed those words at Caspian. King Peter knew nothing of Caspian's father. He had no right to judge him as worthless.

Caspian had come so close to taking a swing at Peter and cutting the High King down. He had no doubt that he would most likely have died in the attempt, but he would have had the satisfaction of seeing the man who had besmirched his father – who had besmirched him - die as well. The anger and the rage he had felt as he held his sword mere inches from the High King's throat confused him, because he had never considered himself a violent man. He was a soldier… a prince. He would kill in battle to save his life or to defend someone who was innocent, but before the previous night, he would never have killed a man in cold blood, the way he had wanted to with his uncle and now with Peter.

Caspian sighed and rested his forehead against the cool stone of the wall outside the chamber where the High King's other siblings and the Archenland rulers were meeting to discuss plans to defend the How. He knew he should be in there with them – King Edmund had invited him to join them, but Caspian didn't dare. He didn't know where he stood with the other King and Queens, and not knowing if they agreed with or would follow through on their royal brother's decree had kept him back. He'd been betrayed too many times to want to risk it again.

But what had gone wrong? Not even a day ago, Caspian would have been willing to swear that he considered the two Narnian Kings friends. He'd never had any real friends other than Doctor Cornelius, so he wasn't sure if that was really what they were, but the two Kings had listened to him, and consulted him before making plans. They had trusted him to help bring their people to freedom again, and in such a short time, he and the High King were at each other's throats.

All he wanted to understand was why. What had happened between them?

Caspian pushed himself away from the wall and headed off down the passageway, not really going anywhere in particular, just wanting to be alone to think. He was still determined to fulfill his promise to the Narnians, and if he had any chance of doing so, he needed to discover what had caused the conflict between himself and the Kings and Queens.

He thought back to the events of the previous day. There had been the first sign of conflict between them when they were meeting to discuss an offensive against the Telmarines. It wasn't until King Peter had suggested a raid on the castle that Caspian had begun to question the High King's decision. Caspian knew how paranoid his uncle was, and knew that it would be impossible to sneak in and capture Miraz without being caught.

It had been odd watching the Narnians consent to follow High King Peter's plan. The way that they had suddenly looked to him and his siblings as their leaders, when he had been leading them for almost a week before their arrival. It had felt…like another betrayal. First his uncle – which wasn't really that surprising – then General Glozelle, who had instructed him in tactics and weapons work for most of his life, then the rest of the Council, who did nothing to stop his uncle, and now the Narnians, whom he was trusting to help save his life even as he worked to give them back their kingdom.

All he'd ever wanted was to fulfill his duty by becoming the King of Narnia – claiming his birthright as the son of Caspian the Ninth. To that end, he had studied hard with Doctor Cornelius and General Glozelle, learned the protocols of court and the laws of the kingdom, waiting for the day when he would turn eighteen and be legally old enough to assume the crown that his uncle and the council were holding in care for him.

Was all of this simply due to the fact that Caspian was tired of people turning on him? Could that be the reason that he had snapped at King Peter? Caspian hated to think that he could be so petty, but he knew he at least had to consider it.

As he approached a cross-corridor, he spotted King Peter moving in the opposite direction and he paused, not wanting the younger boy to see him. Oddly enough, King Peter's steps seemed lighter, and he carried himself more proudly, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Even in the dim light of the torches that lined the passageway, Peter's blue eyes sparkled and a small smile was on his face.

What was going on? When he had seen King Peter just a short time ago, the younger boy had been first angry at Caspian, and then completely shell-shocked when the dark-haired woman who had arrived with the Archenlanders had slapped him full across the face.

He waited until King Peter was out of sight, before he continued on his path, still trying to figure out the change that he had seen in the High King. He truly didn't understand it, and when added to his previous confusion about the confrontation between them, it was enough to give him a splitting headache. There was too much going on here for him to cope with. This was never something that the professor or Glozelle had taught him about ruling a country.

Light reflected off a burst of color on the walls of the passage and he turned to see what it was. A moment later, he realized that it was the painted images that told Narnia's history during the reign of the Kings and Queens. The image that had caught his eye was of the four of them standing beside their thrones, crowns gracing their heads, joy and excitement on their faces. He reached out and allowed his fingers to brush over the image of King Peter. How could he fix this? How could he convince the High King of his sincerity and his loyalty to Narnia?

"Are you so glad of that magic horn now, boy?" Nikabrik's sneering tones pierced the quiet of the passageway. Caspian turned to look at the Black Dwarf as Nikabrik continued. "Your Kings and Queens have failed us. Your army's morale is gone. Your uncle is on his way, and soon enough we'll all be dead." He stepped closer to Caspian.

"What do you want? Congratulations?" Caspian snarled. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Nikabrik's taunting. He knew the dwarf would have been much happier if the Narnians had killed him rather than joining him. As of late, Nikabrik had been relatively quiet on the matter, which Caspian considered a small miracle.

"You want your uncle's blood? So do we." Nikabrik's face was twisted into a sinister look as he mentioned Miraz. "You want his throne? We can get it for you." The dwarf moved past the prince, heading down the tunnel in the direction of the Stone Table.

Caspian hesitated, wondering what the dwarf could possibly mean. Even though he disagreed with King Peter about the best way to handle the situation, he had no doubt that the Kings and Queens had Narnia's best interests at heart, or they wouldn't have agreed to offer their assistance with the rebellion.

But perhaps…

After another moment of indecision, Caspian followed Nikabrik down the corridor. Perhaps the dwarf had an idea about how they could end this war…something that he could bring to King Peter and his siblings that would restore their faith in him so that he could fulfill his promise to the Narnians. He didn't know why the Kings and Queens approval meant so much to him – after all, they had just denied his right to claim his birthright. By all rights, he should want nothing to do with them anymore.

But there was something about the way the four monarchs held themselves and interacted with their people and their allies that made him want to gain their approval – that made him want to learn everything that he could from them, so he could fulfill his promise – so he could be the same kind of king that everyone claimed his father and grandfather had been.

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"Oh, Mother…" Aislynn embraced her mother tightly when the older woman told her the news. It was something that they had dreaded hearing from the healers for several years now, and something that they had tried everything they could to prevent.

It was because of Krisalyn's current situation that she didn't understand why her mother was so cautious about trusting her father. If Peter knew…Aislynn had no doubt that he would do everything in his power to help. According to all the stories about her father and his siblings, they never gave up, even when things seemed to be hopeless, and they always managed to come through the storm.

"I'm all right, Aislynn," Krisalyn whispered as she returned her daughter's hug. They stayed that way for several more seconds before Aislynn finally pulled back, somewhat reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I wish I could stay here with you and fill you in on everything that has happened, but I will be needed in the planning council."

"You're not going to fight in the battle?!" Krisalyn asked, her voice tight with fear and mild panic racing across her face at the thought of her only child fighting for her life. Aislynn knew where her mother's fear was coming from. Yes, she had been trained by Oreius how to fight with sword, dagger, bow, and staff, but standing on a training field, learning to defend oneself wasn't the same thing as picking up a blade and fighting off an army.

"I don't know, Mother," Aislynn replied honestly. "If Father and the others need me, I certainly will, but I don't think that anything has been decided yet." She hesitated for a moment. "You should come to the meeting Mother. You're a Queen of Narnia, you have every right to be there."

Krisalyn smiled weakly and shook her head. "I'm afraid not, darling. This falls under your father and his siblings' area of expertise. Under all the laws of Narnia established by Aslan, the rule of the country is in the hands of the four of them. I don't rule in my own name and right as they do."

"I don't understand," Aislynn said with a frown. "Aslan crowned you Queen of Narnia."

"I'm a Queen of Narnia by marriage to your father, Aislynn. Aslan's law states that Narnia is to be ruled by the four. They are the ones who sit in judgment and it is they who pass the laws and decrees that govern Narnia. I only assumed the full burden of rule after they disappeared because I was the sole remaining Queen, and Narnia needed a monarch. While your father and his siblings ruled, my responsibilities were more on the domestic side. I acted more as a representative for them, but I never took over Peter's place in Court. Now that they've returned, my title is more ceremonial than anything."

She smiled at her daughter. "Go on, dear heart. You can act where I cannot, because you are Narnia's heir. I'll find something that I can do to help the Narnians while you help to make the plans."

"Are you sure, Mother?" Aislynn asked, and Krisalyn nodded, shooing her off to assist her father. Aislynn hugged her again before heading for the corridor. She turned back to look at Krisalyn who had closed her eyes wearily and appeared to be deep in thought. Aislynn ached to stay with her mother and support her, but now wasn't the time. She would be needed in the planning session.

Turning, she headed down the corridor back towards the planning room that they had set up a few days before, thinking about her parents' relationship. She didn't know what – if anything – she could do to help them, and it hurt. Everything was so confused. She had finally "met" her father, and she knew without a doubt that he loved her and her mother, but her mother was still hurting from being abandoned by Peter. On a larger scale, the assault against the Telmarines had failed, Caspian had been effectively disinherited by her father, and the Telmarines were moving for a final strike against the Narnians. They were outnumbered, even with the extra aid that her cousins had brought from Archenland, and there was no sign of Aslan.

Voices ahead of her caught her attention and she slowed, recognizing Caspian and Nikabrik. She was trying to decide how to address the prince. She had started to form a friendship with him over the last week of working together to help the Narnians, and she admired him for his bravery. He was kind and quiet, almost painfully shy, actually, and she found it rather endearing. Now, with the situation between Caspian and her father – and the way that she had supported her father over Caspian during the confrontation outside – she wasn't sure how he would react to her.

"You want your uncle's blood? So do we. You want his throne? We can get it for you," Nikabrik was saying.

Aislynn frowned. What was that all about? Her father and the others were already working on a plan to stop Miraz. Nikabrik didn't have the authority to act without the approval of her father and his siblings. Who else was he talking about?

"What do you mean?" Caspian's voice asked, drawing closer, along with the sound of two sets of footsteps on the stone of the passageway. Aislynn hesitated for a moment, and then ducked into a small room off to her left, waiting until the footsteps passed her by. Once she heard them round the corner, she moved out of the room. For a moment, she paused. Should she follow them and see what they were up to? Caspian was already on thin ice with her father, after all. Or should she go straight to the meeting and tell someone?

Tell them what? That I heard Nikabrik and Caspian talking in the corridor? Aislynn let out a frustrated sigh before turning and following the dwarf and the prince down towards the Stone Table. There was no law that said Caspian couldn't talk to Nikabrik, but something was telling her that there was more to this encounter. She didn't like the tone that Nikabrik had been using, nor his choice of words.

She followed them silently through the passageway, down to the chamber that held the Stone Table. Nikabrik had yet to answer Caspian's question, and Aislynn hovered outside the chamber, listening. She wasn't comfortable with the idea that she was spying on Caspian, but she had never really cared for Nikabrik. The Black Dwarf had always seemed bitter and angry to her. At the time, she had blamed it on the fact that he was angry with the Telmarines, and that Caspian was a Telmarine. But now…

"You tried one ancient power. It failed. But there is a power greater still. One that kept even Aslan at bay for near a hundred years."

Aislynn stifled a sharp gasp as she realized what Nikabrik was speaking of. There weren't that many ancient powers in Narnia, and the only one with the distinction associated with a hundred years was the White Which and her Hundred Year Winter. The same witch who had been defeated by Aislynn's father and his siblings.

She had to tell him! She turned, intending to race up to the room where her father was working with her mother's cousins, when a low, ominous growl froze her in her tracks. The sound of Caspian drawing his sword made her turn back and peer around the corner, into the room holding the Stone Table.

A dark cloaked figure was moving out from the corner of the room, a hood pulled over it's head but not fully concealing the pointed snout that extended beyond the edge of the fabric. The growling was coming from it.

"I am hunger. I am thirst. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show…me…your enemies!" The hood was flung back, revealing the scarred visage of a werewolf.

A second figure, this one unmistakably a hag, was moving toward Caspian from the other side of the room. "What you hate, so will we. No one hates better than us," she cackled.

Caspian was quiet for a moment, before he looked between the three creatures. "And you can…guarantee Miraz's death?"

Caspian! You fool! Aislynn couldn't wait any longer. She didn't know what these creatures had in common, but she couldn't let it happen. Turning again, she raced up the passage, grateful for the soft soles of her shoes, which made no sound on the stone. She had to reach her father and his siblings. They were the only ones who could put a stop to this. She had a horribly sick feeling that it had something to do with the Witch. Caspian simply didn't know enough about Narnia's history to understand what he was getting into, associating with Fell Creatures.

She sped through the passageways, towards the room where the council was meeting, wishing that it was closer to the Stone Table so that they would have more time to get back. She picked up the skirts of her dress and moved faster. She had to reach her father.

Voices ahead caught her attention, and she recognized her father's ringing tones. Almost there! She tore around the final corner and sprinted into the room, causing several people to reach for their weapons.

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Peter entered the room where his siblings were meeting with the rest of the war council. Parchments spread across the table showed that they were hard at work. He moved towards his siblings, sending a smile at Edmund when his brother slid out of the way to make room for him and the head of the table.

"I apologize for being late," Peter said during a lull in the conversation. "Thank you for your patience."

"You're right on time, Peter," Lucy assured him. "We were discussing ways that we could neutralize Miraz's cavalry, since Doctor Cornelius has indicated that they're the strength of the Telmarine army."

Peter studied the parchments in front of them. "Before the raid last night, we had discussed the possibility of utilizing the cave system of the How to give us the chance to run a flanking maneuver. Does anyone have any ideas about how we might accomplish that?"

Cor and the rest of the council studied the maps of the How's cavern system. After a moment, Corin indicated one area in particular. "These run directly under the ruins and the field outside the How, don't they?" When he received a nod from Glenstorm, he continued. "What if we crafted exit ramps…say…here and here," he pointed out two places on the map, about halfway between the ruins and the forest. "If we could stop their charge somehow – perhaps a volley from the archers?" He glanced at Susan and Trumpkin. "If we could stop them in the right place and get a charge of our own going through the caverns, our forces could come up the ramps and hit them from behind before they have a chance to build their momentum back up."

"Our archers are limited. Depending on the size of the cavalry, we might not have enough archers in place to bring them to a full halt," Susan pointed out. "We may need to find another way that we can be certain will stop them."

They debated the issue for another few minutes before agreeing on a plan that they were certain would stop the cavalry in their tracks and allow them to use a powerful flanking maneuver. It would take some careful coordination but they were all confident that it would work.

Before they could continue, however, Aislynn burst through the doorway, her skirts hiked up as she sprinted into the room. "Father!" she called.

Everyone in the room reached for their weapons out of instinct, before Peter realized who it was. "Aislynn?" he asked, sheathing his sword and gesturing to his siblings to put theirs away as well. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Aislynn has stopped abruptly to keep from running into the table, and she was panting as she tried to catch her breath from the mad dash. "Father, you need to come quickly! The Stone Table! The…the White Witch!"

All four Pevensies, as well as the Narnians, paled. "What about the Witch?" Edmund demanded. "She's been dead for over forty years."

"Nikabrik is at the Table with a Hag and a Werewolf," Aislynn told him. "They've convinced Caspian that they can help him get Miraz. Nikabrik was talking about the Witch…I don't think Caspian knows what they have planned!"

Peter nodded abruptly, a scowl on his face. "Edmund, Trumpkin, come with me!" he snapped. He ran around the table and sprinted towards the door, his brother and the dwarf right behind him. Aislynn picked up her skirts again and started to go after them, despite calls from Cor, Corin, and Oreius for her to stay put. As she ran along the corridor, she realized Lucy was right beside her.

They had to get there on time. They couldn't let the Witch return.

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"Let the circle be drawn!" the ugly old woman hissed.

Nikabrik moved to stand on the lowest step of the Stone Table, while the werewolf circled Caspian, drawing a line in the dirt with his claw as the woman chanted, the chant building in intensity once the circle was closed.

From inside her robes, the woman pulled out a wand that appeared to be made of silver and crystal. She held it high as she continued to chant, her voice rising before she suddenly spun and drove the wand into the steps leading up to the trilithion that framed the image of Aslan.

At the point of impact there was a flash of white before ice began spreading across the floor and up the sides of the stone until a solid sheet of ice had filled the vacant space between the upright stones. The circle around him was glowing with the same ice-white light. A moment later, Caspian realized that he was very cold. His breath was coming out in little puffs of frost, and it was all he could do not to shiver.

A shadowy image began to form as Caspian watched, and a moment later he could make out the features of a tall, regal woman with icy eyes and long hair that floated around her as if she was underwater. She was trapped within the slab of ice, and everything about her was cold and haughty.

An ancient power…kept Aslan at bay…the White Witch! Caspian's thoughts were in a whirl as he realized who he was looking at. He didn't know much about Narnia's history, but his professor had stressed, time and time again, just how evil the Witch was and how she had been defeated by High King Peter and his siblings.

"Wait," Caspian gasped, his eyes fixed on the Witch. He started to back up, out of the circle. "This isn't what I wanted." The werewolf seized him in an iron grip, holding his hand out toward the Witch, keeping his claws pressed into Caspian's wrist to force his hand open.

"One drop of Adam's blood and you free me," the Witch said, her tone soothing and sounding as if it came from a great distance. "Then I am yours, my king."

The hag stepped forward with a sharp knife and quickly drew it across Caspian's palm, slicing his hand open. Blood welled up in his palm. "No!" he fought to get free, but he couldn't fight the werewolf's strength.

The Witch reached out and her hand slipped through the ice as she reached for Caspian. Her icy eyes were locked on his and Caspian suddenly wondered why he was resisting. Having the Witch on his side…that was a power that his uncle would never be able to counter. She had been defeated once…surely once she had seen to it that his uncle was dead, he could kill her again. After all, if High King Peter had been able to kill her when he was younger than Caspian and had never held a sword before, surely Caspian, who had been training since he was old enough to swing a blade, would be able to kill her just as easily.

He stepped forward slightly, and the werewolf released him as the Witch stretched out further. She wasn't invincible, and he had the Narnians…they had stopped her once, they could stop her again. His blood would allow him to command her, so she wouldn't even have a chance to subjugate Narnia to an eternal winter again.

Yes…it would be a great help to have the Witch on their side.

"Stop!"

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Peter didn't know why he was so worried. Aslan had killed Jadis forty years ago. Dead was dead. There was no power in Narnia that could resurrect her – there was no power that could resurrect the dead.

But something about the very idea filled him with dread. Aislynn knew the stories about the Witch – she had to know how much the subject bothered he and Edmund. She wouldn't joke about this. But if there was a way that the Witch could be brought back, how had Nikabrik learned of it? Why had Aslan not warned them that it could happen?

He sprinted along the corridor leading towards the Stone Table, sensing that Edmund was right behind him. Edmund had more reason than anyone to fear the Witch. After all, she had tricked him, abused him, turned him against his family, and nearly killed him when she stabbed him on the battlefield at Beruna. He glanced over at his brother, seeing the pale features, the dread at the idea of confronting her again. As experienced and wise a King as Edmund was, he was once again twelve years old – the same age he'd been when he and the Witch last crossed paths.

As they drew close to the chamber, Peter realized something was wrong and felt his stomach sink. The light in the chamber should have been a warm gold, and instead it was a strange combination of gold and shivering silver, as if the silver was trying to suppress the gold. The air suddenly felt cooler than it should, even considering how deeply underground the Table was.

And…somehow, it made sense that the Stone Table would be the place where the Witch could return. It had been the scene of the ultimate battle between Aslan and Jadis. Jadis had thought that she had won on the night before Beruna, when she had taken Aslan's life with her black stone knife. But Aslan had broken through the bonds of death, his act of sacrifice for Edmund enough to allow him to turn back the Deep Magic and bring her triumph to an end.

They hurried around the last corner, so they were able to look into the Stone Table chamber, and Peter's mouth went dry with dread. In the center of the stone trilithion that framed the image of Aslan, a slab of ice had formed, and inside the ice was the image of the Witch. Her hand was reaching though the ice towards Caspian, who was actually reaching back towards her.

For a moment, Peter couldn't breathe. Caspian really couldn't be that ignorant, could he?

Or was he not ignorant, but truly betraying them because of his anger at Peter from earlier?

After a moment, he found his voice. "Stop!"

The Fell Creatures all turned at the sound of his voice. Peter drew his borrowed sword from its sheath – again missing the familiar weight and heft of Rhindon – hearing Trumpkin and Edmund drawing their weapons as well. They had to get to Caspian and stop him. If the Witch was brought back…

The werewolf leaped on top of the Stone Table and crouched, ready to spring, just as Edmund and Peter reached it. Nikabrik immediately headed for Trumpkin, who moved off to the left. The Hag was heading around the Table from the opposite side. Peter glanced and Edmund, who gestured towards the Hag. "Go, Peter! I've got this!" He swung at the werewolf, engaging it's attention.

The werewolf leapt over Edmund's head and the younger King spun around, ready to do battle. Peter's attention was drawn to the Hag, as he swung at her head, and he had to focus on his own battle.

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Aislynn and Lucy hurried into the chamber right after Edmund, Trumpkin, and Peter began fighting. They both hovered in the entry, watching, looking for someway to help.

Nikabrik and Trumpkin were fighting it out, swords clanging. They appeared to be evenly matched, so Aislynn concentrated on her father and her uncle. Edmund was clashing with a werewolf, who had just leapt over his head and was preparing to spring again. Edmund charged the beast, but the werewolf was ready for him. He grabbed Edmund around the middle and flipped him to the ground, leaping over him at the same time.

It turned out to be a poor move, because as Edmund fell, his sword went wild and slashed a deep gash in the werewolf's leg at the moment it leapt, making it howl in outrage and pain.

Aislynn's attention went over to her father as she heard him grunt. He had just swung at the Hag's head, and the Hag had ducked the blow, grabbing Peter's arm and twisting it, causing him to drop his sword, which clattered to the floor next to the Table.

"No!" Lucy cried, running further into the room and heading, not for Peter or Edmund, but for Trumpkin, who was on the ground in front of Nikabrik. The Black Dwarf was poised to stab his friend, but Lucy scooped up Trumpkin's fallen sword and grabbed Nikabrik from behind, holding the blade at his throat and making him drop his own.

Unfortunately, the Dwarf was stronger, and he twisted free of her grip, before twisting her arm behind her back. Lucy cried out in pain as he wrenched the sword free from her grasp and shoved her aside, causing her to sprawl on the dirt and stone floor.

Aislynn wasn't sure if she could help. She wasn't even carrying a dagger at the moment, and trained as she was in different fighting forms, she was hesitant to get involved in a fight when she had no weapon. A grunt drew her attention back to her father, who had wrestled the Hag to the floor and managed to get his legs between them, even though he was on his back. He kicked out, hard, and the Hag went flying, slamming into one of the stone uprights that ringed the Table. She dropped and didn't move any further.

This was something she could do! Aislynn hurried forward and scooped up her father's sword. As he rose to his feet, she tossed the sword at him, hilt first. He snatched it, before his eyes went wide. "Aislynn, move!"

She spun and saw the werewolf charging at her. She grabbed her skirts and tried to spin out of the way, but the werewolf's claws caught in her long skirt and tripped her, sending her to the floor. The monster loomed over her, it's foul breath right in her face.

Her uncle suddenly came between them, slashing at the monster and driving it back. He regained it's attention before he turned and ran for a slab of rock that was lying on the ground. The werewolf pursued him, and he leapt into the air, using the stone as a vault. He spun in mid-air, his sword flashing down, intercepting the leaping werewolf and cleaving it's head from it's neck while they were still airborne.

Peter ran over to her and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right, daughter?" he asked, panting for breath.

"I'm fine! Get Caspian!" she told him, pushing him away, towards where the Witch was still trying to touch the prince's hand. Her father cast one last look at her, before he turned and ran for the far side of the Table.

Aislynn looked around and saw Edmund regaining his feet, while Lucy was being threatened by Nikabrik, who was stalking her with the sword he'd taken from her while she tried to scramble backwards, away from him. He moved as if to stab her, only to freeze as Trumpkin came up behind him, Nikabrik's sword held in his hand before the blade ran the Black Dwarf through.

Aislynn and Edmund hurried over and helped Lucy to her feet. She didn't give them a chance to find out how she was as she turned towards the Witch.

"Come on! Come!" the Witch called, within inches of touching Caspian's hand.

"Get away from him!" Peter cried, stepping into the circle and knocking Caspian away. The High King pointed his sword at the Witch, who drew back, contemplating the change.

"Peter, dear," Jadis said, a sinister smile on her face. "I've missed you."

"We have to stop this!" Aislynn whispered tensely.

"Peter can handle her," Lucy assured her. "He won't fall for her trick."

Edmund shook his head in denial. "Peter's been under a lot of stress lately. She might be able to convince him."

"You think so little of my father?" Aislynn asked, looking between her uncle and her aunt.

"No, I don't think poorly of him at all," Edmund said, disregarding her comment about being Peter's daughter. "But I know the Witch better than he does. She nearly had me convinced that she would be helpful, and I had been under a lot less strain than Peter has been." He looked around before heading off. "I'll take care of it."

"Come. Just one drop." The Witch reached out towards him. To Aislynn's horror, Peter actually seemed to be wavering.

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The instant that Peter stepped into the circle to knock Caspian away, he knew he'd made a mistake. With the Witch's attention off of Caspian, she brought all her malevolent power and beauty to bear on him.

An icy cold swept over him and he shivered, feeling his breath chilling even as he breathed it in, and expelling a cloud of vapor each time he exhaled. The ice seemed to invade every inch of him, and his eyes were fastened on Jadis. He tried to blink, to look away from her, but her power was mesmerizing and intense.

"Come. Just one drop," Jadis coaxed him, and he felt a trickle of blood running slowly down his temple from his fight with the Hag. How easy it would be to wipe it off and then touch her hand…to bring back a power that could save Narnia once and for all.

NO! Don't think that! I know what she is, what she almost did to Edmund…what she did to Aslan…she's evil! His thoughts pummeled him and he almost shook his head, feeling her grip on him receding.

"You know you can't do this alone." Her voice pierced his thoughts, soft and gentle sounding.

Those words froze his soul and doubts began to creep in. Was she right? Could he save Narnia this time? He had so much that was weighing him down. If Susan hadn't been there last night, he probably would have ordered the attack despite the alarm having been sounded. He hadn't wanted to give up when they had a perfect opportunity to end the war.

Even more…what about Krisalyn and Aislynn? By fighting the Telmarines, he was endangering his wife and daughter.

Aslan's eyes pierced him as he looked at the lion. He felt Krisalyn's hands in his, her gentle grip reassuring him of her commitment to him. Her words had been heart-felt and had touched his soul. Now he looked to Aslan, waiting.

After a moment, the lion spoke. "High King Peter, you have chosen to bind yourself to Lady Krisalyn and claim her as your wife. Will you remain true to her, in all the trials and blessings that your lives may bring, and use your love for her to enrich both your lives to the fullness of your ability? Will you cherish her and her love and use all your strength to protect her?"

He had failed in his vows, he realized. He had stayed true to her, and loved her…but he hadn't protected her. He had abandoned her, and because he had not been there, her protection had been placed in Oreius' hands, and she had been forced to flee and live in exile. Now she had come back…and she and his daughter were both in danger. If they lost this battle, and the Telmarines made it through…he didn't know what they would do. Would they simply kill Krisalyn and Aislynn? Would they be taken by the Telmarines and tortured before they were killed?

If he couldn't even fulfill his wedding vows to the person he loved most, how could he possibly hope to defend Narnia? He and Caspian were at odds, he'd pushed his siblings away in his grief and worry, their allies doubted their identities, and the Narnians weren't sure if they should support Caspian or he and his siblings. There had been no word from Aslan…

I really can't do this alone…Aslan, why haven't you come? Why did you do this to us? You told me that our subjects were your family, that day on the hill above the camp. You said that all you wanted was for them to be safe…but now they are in more danger than ever, and you're not here to help.

Slowly, he lowered his borrowed sword, barely registering the movement. What did it matter? He had failed in his duty as High King…the Narnians were badly over-run…Aslan had abandoned them…

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All Edmund could think about was the deep clenching in his stomach as he gazed at the Witch. She had done so much to turn him against his siblings…she had nearly killed him twice. She was the last person he had ever wanted to see again, yet here she was, her unearthly power and haughty demeanor making a lump of ice form in the pit of his stomach.

He had barely noticed his fight with the werewolf…it had been on instinct, mostly. His only real awareness had been the wolf's teeth…he couldn't allow himself to be bitten. All the rest of his attention had been on her.

Even after the werewolf lay dead at his feet, his attention had been on her. When Lucy and Aislynn had stepped up beside him, and Aislynn said that they needed to stop it, at first he had wanted to agree with Lucy. Peter was strong…he had never been intimidated by the Witch, and he had faced her bravely at Beruna.

But Edmund knew the truth. Peter wasn't thinking clearly. That was why he had been so angry at Caspian…all of the pressure on him…losing Krisalyn, going back to England, trying to resume his life there…then coming back to Narnia, having to convince the Narnians of their identity, trying to save their beloved country, coming face to face with Krisalyn and being rejected by her…

Peter wasn't in his right mind, and the Witch would play on that. Edmund knew her and her tactics all too well. She was manipulative and sinister.

The hand holding his borrowed sword twitched. Once, a long time ago, when he had been different, he would have told himself that he didn't care what happened to Peter. Then Aslan had rescued him…shown him that his thoughts were petty and below a King. He had become Edmund the Just, King of Narnia. His brother and sisters meant everything to him.

"No, I don't think poorly of him at all," Edmund replied in answer to Aislynn's question, barely registering her comment about being Peter's daughter. Now wasn't the time to think about that. "But I know the Witch better than he does. She nearly had me convinced that she would be helpful, and I had been under a lot less strain than Peter has been. I'll take care of it."

He would take care of it. The Witch was a specter from his past. He had tried once to defeat her, to end her existence in order to save Peter, and he had failed. The legacy of what she had done to him had haunted him for years. More than anything else, he wanted that legacy to be gone, one and for all.

Moving swiftly, while her focus was still on Peter, he headed to the far side of the room and circled around to the right. His sword was in his hands, and he was determined that this time, he would not come out for the worst when facing the Witch.

"You know you can't do this alone."

Those words stabbed him painfully and they weren't even directed at him. Once, he would have been happy to be alone – to be above his siblings and watching them serve him. But that was before Aslan had shown him the truth, before he had learned what it meant to be a ruler. He knew those manipulative words would affect Peter, given his older brother's state of mind at the moment.

He was behind the slab of ice now. At his back was the relief of Aslan, but it felt as if the lion was really there, giving him the strength to lay his demons to rest. Gripping the hilt of his borrowed sword in both hands, he raised it high above his head. "For Aslan," he whispered quietly, before he plunged the blade downwards, stabbing it right through the Witch's mid-section.

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Caspian blinked and shook his head as King Peter shoved him out of the circle. He was dizzy and disoriented. What had just happened? He could feel warmth seeping back into him, and his hand was hurting fiercely.

He looked up and saw King Peter facing the Witch as she sought to sway him into releasing her from her icy prison. The High King – for the first time that Caspian had known him – looked truly shaken and uncertain. His sword trembled in his hand before he lowered it.

Caspian honestly didn't remember what had happened. He had been fighting to get free of the werewolf, and…his memory was blank from that moment on. He didn't remember anything that had happened from the time the hag had cut his palm until just now. He knew that King Peter must have been the one who shoved him out of the area of influence, given the way he currently looked, but other than that…

The tip of a blade suddenly appeared right through the ice and the Witch's abdomen. A cracking sound filled the air and huge cracked began appearing in the ice. The Witch looked absolutely shocked, and Peter suddenly blinked, freed from the spell she was weaving, the same confusion that Caspian was feeling showing on his face.

"Nooo!" the Witch screamed, just before the slab of ice shattered into a million pieces and tumbled to rest on the floor in front of the circle.

Caspian looked behind the ice and spotted King Edmund standing there, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon, a shaken but pleased look on his face as he lowered his sword. The younger King stepped forward and looked at his brother seriously for a moment. "Are you all right, Peter?"

The High King looked badly shaken, as if he was just coming to the realization of what happened, but he nodded. "I'm fine, Ed…thanks."

The younger King turned to Caspian. "Are you all right, Prince Caspian?"

The use of his formal title stung. He had apparently lost a serious amount of ground with both Kings. He swallowed and managed to pull himself to his feet. "I'm fine, King Edmund."

Edmund nodded curtly and stepped closer to his brother. "Pete, we'll see you back in the council room?"

Peter nodded slowly. "In a few minutes, Edmund. I need to think about some things."

Lucy and Aislynn both stepped forward. "Peter…do you need one of us to stay?" the youngest Queen asked softly.

Peter shook his head. "No…thanks, Lu. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The others began filing slowly out of the room. Caspian hesitated for a moment, his eyes going to the relief of Aslan carved into the wall. The stone eyes looked down at him and for a moment, Caspian was willing to swear that the eyes were full of disappointment. The thought brought a sharp stab of pain to his heart.

But why did it matter to him? He had never had reason to believe in Aslan before, yet all of the Narnians swore by him. Why would his conscience be bothering him so much?

He had a lot to think about.