I'm updating early! YAY! Go me! Anyway, still don't own and apologies in advance.

"What should we do? We only needed one."

"Yes; this one. This one has been influenced by darkness already; the other would be far more difficult to control."

"Don't be a fool! The other is the High King, this one is little more than his lackey."

"Shut up! I think he's waking up."

The persistent whispering fell silent and Edmund, who in fact had been awake and listening to the two voices for some time realized his deception was no longer useful. He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus on anything that stood out in the nearly complete darkness. There was a rustle somewhere to his left and a moment later a spark of light flared to life. He blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the light and found himself staring up at two cloaked figures.

He found that his hands were bound and his back was pressed against something rough and cool; something which felt like rope was wrapped several time around his chest, forcing him to sit upright. The faint light revealed he was in a cave of reddish stone, broken occasionally by patches of dark earth and twisted tree roots from which vines sprouted like blind snakes.

Across the cave from him the light reflected of a glint of gold and the standard of a red lion. Peter. The high king seemed to be asleep, his head lolling to one side and a peaceful expression upon his face. He was lying against the largest of the tree roots and the twisting vines seemed to have grown around him, wrapping themselves like ropes around his torso and limbs. Edmund realized then that it was not ropes which bound him, but the vines. The thing his back was pressed against must be the root of a great tree.

Edmund tried to call out to his brother but his voice caught in his throat and he coughed painfully instead. When he had somewhat recovered his breath Edmund scowled angrily up at the two cloaked figures. The taller inclined its head slightly in a mocking bow.

"Our mistress bids you welcome, Edmund. Consider it an honour that she has sent us to speak with you. It was not a courtesy extended to your royal brother."

The shorter figure stepped forward with a strange slithering movement. For a moment Edmund thought he saw a scaled, reptilian tail beneath the dark cloak. "Our mistress bade us find the son of Adam whose blood was tainted by treachery. You are the traitor king; you will serve our mistress' purpose."

Edmund found his voice at last though his throat still felt terribly dry. "What have you done to my brother?" he demanded.

The taller figure hissed in something like laughter. "We sent him home, son of Adam; in his dreams, he is home and has come to no harm. He may yet be of use to our mistress."

"Who is this mistress you speak of?"

"We are not worthy to speak her name! She is far greater than any of us; she defeated death itself and has returned to save her faithful servants."

Edmund felt as if a sliver of ice settled in his heart. No. it couldn't be. "Only Aslan has defeated death." But his voice shook.

Again, the figures laughed their hissing laughs. "Your lion no longer holds the power to protect you. You will all bow before our mistress or you will die." They turned as one and disappeared into the shadows their steps strange and slithering. Edmund watched them go and shivered; his head ached abominably and he realised with annoyance that his fever had returned. If I make it out of here, Susan is going to kill me.

"Peter!" He tried to keep his voice low but when his brother did not stir he abandoned caution and shouted his name. "Peter! Wake up!"

Peter lifted his head slightly and blinked blearily across the room. "I'm dreaming; you aren't real." He closed his eyes.

"Peter!" Edmund fought against the vines that held him but they only grew tighter until he could scarcely breath. "Peter, wake up!"

"I'm sorry Edmund. I'm sorry that you died for us." But before Edmund could respond in protest that he was very much alive Peter was once more fast asleep. Edmund fought the vines in frustration but only succeeded in tightening them further still until they cut into his wrists and his vision swam from lack of oxygen. At last he closed his eyes and tried to think.

Peter was alive and seemed unharmed and that, it seemed, was where the good news ended. He had no idea what had become of Philip and Asterius or of Peter's own guards. It was likely they too were imprisoned somewhere nearby or that they were dead. Peter was disoriented, possibly drugged or enchanted, and would be of no help. And Edmund himself was ill and bound. Escaping on their own seemed unlikely if not utterly impossible and Edmund cursed the ease with which the trap had been sprung and his own stupidity in falling into it. Aslan, in your mercy defend us.

He had not meant to sleep, but when he opened his eyes Edmund knew at once that he must have fallen asleep. He stood on the hill of the Stone Table and before him rested the table itself; cracked in two by Aslan's sacrifice and the deepest of all magic in Narnia. The sun rose slowly in the east and against the golden disk stood the silhouette of a great Lion. Aslan looked down upon Edmund as he knelt before the table and for a moment Edmund felt the familiar peace of Aslan's presence. Then quite suddenly Aslan turned his face away and vanished. The light died as clouds covered the face of the sun and a cold, dead wind blew from the north, freezing the summer trees and silencing the woodland animals. Edmund shivered in the sudden winter and turned, dread filling him to face the north. A great storm was approaching, swirling snow and bitter wind obscuring all in its shadow and Edmund knew then with terrible certainty that the Witch was there at the centre of the storm.


The high king's dreams were troubled. Once, he thought he woke to hear Edmund calling out to him; for a moment, he saw his brother's face, older then when he had last seen him, pale and streaked with dirt but alive. For one moment of pure hope Peter believed that this was the reality, that Edmund's death was the dream, but then he knew the truth and turned away from the apparition which had come to haunt him. He woke and slept no more that night, choosing instead to walk the silent halls of Cair Paravel alone with his grief and guilt.

The next morning, he rode out without a word, journeying to the ground on which the Battle of Beruna was fought. Ten years had changed the landscape very little. Statues still littered the landscape, a testament to the devastation the Witch had wrought with her wand before Edmund destroyed it. Flowers were around and hung upon many of the statues, tributes by family members to their fallen loved ones.

Peter blinked back tears as he neared the pile of stones that marked his brother's grave. The memory of his desperation when he found Edmund lying still and silent beside the body of the dwarf who had killed him returned to him painfully. If only Aslan had been there to help them. If only he had defeated the Witch more quickly. If only someone had been there to save Edmund, who had fallen, gravely wounded by the Witch and yet had somehow managed to kill Ginnabrik, her lieutenant even as the dwarf struck him a mortal blow. Lucy and Susan, arriving too late for even Lucy's cordial to save their brother could only watch helplessly as Peter held his brother and cried.

Now Peter knelt next to the pile of stones and rested his forehead against them. "Hello Ed, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've visited you. The girls are at the castle; they're safe. We've finally hunted the last of the Witches forces; Narnia is free of her at last. I wish you were here to see it." He blinked away the tears that clouded his vision. "We couldn't have done it without you Ed, everyone knows that. You're a hero." He closed his eyes and for a moment it seemed reality shifted.

He was in a cave, dimly lit by a single candle. Directly across from him, with his back against a tree root and his hands bound with vines sat Edmund. He was older, it seemed the same age as he would have been if he were still alive. He seemed to be sleeping, trapped in some nightmare, for his face was twisted in an expression of pure fear.

Peter shuddered and opened his eyes to sunlight and the old battle field. He stood stiffly and wiped the drying tears from his face. "I miss you Edmund."


Edmund woke, shivering to find himself back in the dim cave. He blinked and found himself looking into the face that forever haunted his nightmares. The Witch smiled down at him, her red lips starkly contrasting her snow pale face. "Edmund dear, how I've missed you."

So...I guess everybody misses Edmund. Too bad Peter doesn't know he's alive. If you happen to leave a review maybe you would also be interested in telling me what you think is actually real and what is a dream. Hopefully it's clear that at least some things are not as they seem. It's pretty obvious that Edmund isn't dead, hopefully, but does that mean that Edmund's current version of reality is the true version? Let me know what you think about that question!

Cheers,

A