Author's Note: *peeks shyly from behind laptop* Greetings! Marie here, settling into college and with a much longer chapter than last time! Thank you for all the sweet reviews; I almost cried after reading a few of them! This is a bit of a POV change-up—which I don't normally do, I promise, but this just felt right—instead of hearing from Isabelle, here's the battle from Edmund's point of view! As usual, I don't own anything except Isabelle. I do hope you like it…here we go...

"Edmund, what's wrong?"

I looked up at my father as he finished straightening his brown tie and was reaching for his brown coat. After he would swing the coat on, he would reach for the brown leather belt to strap around his waist, grab his suitcase and his hat, and be… "I don't wan't you to leave," I finally forced out.

He looked down at me with strong, blue eyes. "My boy," he began, "fighting to protect Mother England is a great honour. I was chosen to go, so go I must."

"But what if you don't come back?" I asked, feeling rather foolish as tears slipped down my cheeks.

Father buckled his belt, turned to me, and knelt, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Edmund Lewis Pevensie. No matter what happens, I promise, I will come back to you—to all of you. Everything is going to be fine."

"How can you promise?" I asked, though I knew in that moment I would cling to this shard of hope until my hands bled.

Father smiled. "When you have to fight for the people and country you love, Ed my lad, you won't let anything stand in the way of coming back to them."

After strapping on one last piece of armour and buckling a sword around my waist, I grabbed a shield and stopped, catching my reflexion in the mirror-like metal.

What I saw didn't look like a boy from Finchley who missed his father, nor did he look like the boy who had abandoned his family for the sake of just a handful of sweets. What I saw appeared to be…a work in progress. I wasn't entirely sure what I was expecting.

"It takes a little while to get used to," a voice said softly from behind me.

I turned, seeing Isabelle, still in her red dress, but she had put on chain mail, a sleeveless leather jerkin, and all her weapons strapped on and around her. Her hair was pulled away from her face, but it still descended to her elbows. "I still don't know how to feel about all of this." She gestured to herself, and I noticed her hands were shaking.

"Are you scared?" I asked, hoping she would be honest with me.

For a moment, her blue eyes filled with tears. "I'm terrified." As soon as she admitted it, though, she seemed…more confident; she blinked the tears away. "But, I know it's going to work out. Everything is going to be okay."

"How do you know?" I asked, wondering how on earth she could be so confident heading into battle, something we rarely even spoke of in England, let alone imagined participating in at our ages.

Isabelle shrugged. "I don't know. Something inside of me just…is at peace. Narnia—and the people in it— is worth fighting for. We can do this."

"Sir, my lady." A fawn pocked his head through the tent's flaps. "It is time."

Nodding in thanks, I turned to Isabelle and took her hand. "Together?"

She smiled, nodding. "Together."

From my place with the archers (along with Isabelle and Mr. Beaver), Peter looked a little smaller than ususal on his unicorn. I shifted softly, getting a little impatient. A gryphon takes off, soaring into the sky to see about the Witch's army. Moments later, it returns, soaring through the air and calling encouragements to us all before landing on a rock beside Peter, relaying the information he had discovered as the bray of a horn began to come closer.

A minotaur stalks into view, raising his axe and roaring. The horn comes closer.

Then we see them coming over the hill.

"Oh. My. Gosh," Isabelle whispers beside me in shock. They seemed to never stop coming. Our army now looks small and helpless as her army teems with weapons and armor. The Witch herself is seated on a chariot drawn by polar bears, looking more cold and calculating than ever as her silver dress is framed with a long, golden lion's mane.

I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. Aslan's mane.

"There's so many of them," Isabelle breathes, snapping me out of my shock.

"It's like Oreius always says: numbers do not win a battle," a female centaur next to me says.

"No...but I bet they help," I mutter.

"I was thinking the same thing," Isabelle whispered back, causing both of us to smile softly before paying attention to the opposing army as it approached, filling the countryside with their presence.

Peter turned on his unicorn, searching the hillside for a moment until his gaze found mine. I took a deep breath, nodding in approval. Peter turned back around, drawing his sword and pointing it towards the Witch's army, causing a horn to blast and a ripple of weapons unsheathing and warriors cheering. In reply. the minotaur and her army roared, and began to rush our way.

I drew my own sword, trying not to tremble as Isabelle pulled an arrow out of her quiver and fit it to the string of her bow, nodding to me in confidence. The opposing army drew nearer.

With a flick of Peter's sword, all the gryphons with us soared over our heads, rocks in their talons. "Go!" Mr. Beaver cheered as they released their burdens on top of the army. It did some good, until some of the Witch's army began shooting at them, forcing them to retreat.

They came closer still.

"FOR NARNIA, AND FOR ASLAN!" Peter's battle cry reached us as his unicorn brayed, then our side began the charge. My heart began to pound as I watched my brother and our army race closer to them, their imminent collision happening in slow-motion, as we stood and watched, trying to keep an eye on Peter and Oreius, the pair fighting side by side. We celebrated over their small victories, hoping and praying that they would add up to the Witch's downfall when a flicker of moment caught my eye.

The polar bears were moving.

She was coming.

The centaur woman that had spoken earlier handing a black arrow to Isabelle before setting the tip alight. "You shall have the honours, my lady." With shaking fingers, she accepted, looking to me for the signal.

I nodded. "Fire!" She turned and shot skyward. As soon as it left her bow, it began to spark, then exploded into a red and black bird. With a loud cry, the phoenix

soared in the air for a moment before catching fire, then landed, creating a fire wall, and a barrier between our men and the rest of the Witch's army.

"A fine shot!" A dwarf praised as the Narnian reinforcements below us cheered; Isabelle bowing her head in thanks.

"Yes!" Mr. Beaver cheered.

"Now," the centaur lady smiled. "Try and get through that." The army continued on, approaching the wall. In a touch of blue, the wall was extinguished, giving them a clear path. We just stared as the Witch broke our boundary.

Suddenly, our ears picked up our horn call. "That's the signal!" Mr. Beaver shouted to me. "Come on!" Isabelle pulled out another arrow as we began to move to our new place in the rocks, the archers all waiting for me to give them the signal.

As the Witch's army approached, I nodded, and they began to shoot oceans of arrows, the weapons falling down like rain. As arrow upon arrow fell, I began to look for Peter again, having lost track of him in our move to the rocks.

No.

I saw my brother lying on the ground, his unicorn a few feet from him with an arrow in its leg, and the rest of the Witch's army rapidly approaching. He eventually stood to my relief, but Oreius and a rhino took off to protect him from the Witch, the rhino dying before he reached her and Oreius being turned to stone.

"That stupid wand of hers!" Isabelle hissed, shooting things that tried to attack our men from behind. Mr. Beaver tugged my tunic gently, and I knew it was time for us to join the battle. I took a deep breath to steel myself.

"Ed, wait."

I sighed, trying to make her smile. "Isabelle, now's not the time for long dramatic speeches."

"I know that!" She exclaimed, stopping shooting for a moment to turn to me. "Just...be careful." I nodded, and then went down the hill with Mr. Beaver to aid in any way that I could as the Witch came nearer still.

"Edmund!" Peter shouted to me what seemed like ages later. "There's too many! Get out of here! Get the girls, and get them home!" He turned back around to the opponent he was fighting.

"You 'eard him! Let's go!" Beaver started to drag me away. I looked to the archers, but I couldn't see her.

"Beaver, where's Isabelle?" He looked to the archers as well, but even with an extra pair of eyes, we couldn't spot her. I looked around frantically, finally spotting a flash of red.

"Isabelle!" I shouted. She turned, looking for me.

"Behind you!" Beaver warned. She whipped around, expecting us.

Instead, she got a minotaur.

She didn't even scream, she just picked up a shield from the ground and started fighting. I tried to get to her, but it seemed everyone in the Witch's army was determined that it wouldn't happen. In what seemed like a few seconds, her shield has gone, and she had sustained several bad blows.

"Isabelle!" I shouted, pushing yet another person out of my way. The minotaur succeded in throwing her down on the ground, pinning her there with a small sword. She actually screamed that time, and the minotaur raised his arms for the final blow. "No!" I shouted. This made the minotaur look up, and Isabelle managed to stab the beast in the heart. It groaned, then fell, landing on her.

"Isabelle!" Beaver and I shouted, and I sprinted to her, trying to roll the giant creature off of her, but I couldn't, not by myself.

"Ed," she whispered, her voice barely audible as I pushed the minotaur's arm away to see her face, a scratch on her cheek.

I brussed some of her hair out of her eyes. "Isabelle?"

She took a shuddering breath, and nudged her sword towards me. "The wand," she whispered. "B-Break the Witch's wand. She...she can't turn people to stone...without it."

I took her sword, putting the thought aside for a moment. "'Belle, stay with me. You'll be okay."

"Ed…." Her blue eyes fluttered shut.

"Isabelle?" Beaver put a paw on my shoulder. She...she can't be gone…

"Edmund!" Peter snapped me out of my thoughts. "Get out of here! Now!"

I turned around, seeing the White Witch. Tightening my grip on Isabelle's sword, I began to pick my way towards her. "Peter said get out of here!" Beaver protested.

"Peter's not king yet," I replied. I took off towards her on the small rock ridge, then jumped in front of her, using a little bit of surprise. She jabbed her wand foreward, and I dodged it, bringing Isabelle's sword down hard. The wand shattered with a burst of blue, and I smiled. That was for Isabelle.

I had to dodge her again, but I was too late. A sharp, stabbing pain hit my stomach, and I froze. The Witch pulled back, her eyes still icy.

"EDMUND!" Peter's voice was the last thing I heard as I slumped to the ground, still gasping.

Her wand was broken. At least I finally did something worthwhile.

My eyes had just began to drift shut when I was awoken by a roar.

No, His roar.

I forced myself to try to catch a glimpse, to try to find…there.

Standing on a hill and shining like gold in the sun, was Aslan Himself.

"When you have to fight for the people and country you love, Ed my lad, you won't let anything stand in the way of coming back to them."

I stared skywards, watching the clouds and trying to imagine what shapes they were forming as I began to gasp for breath. My abdomen was throbbing, my fingers and toes had started to grow cold, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open, fighting for one more breath, one more heartbeat, one more…

A dwarf stood over me, the one who dragged me around with a scrap of rope, a smirk on his face and an axe raised.

One last deep breath, even though it hurts…

"Edmund!"

Susan?

A red-feathered arrow imbedded itself in his chest; the dwarf groaned, but the fell and was still.

Keep fighting, someone whispered in my ear as I eased my eyes closed. Keep breathing.

I forced air in and out of my lungs, my gasps getting more and more raspy as someone reached me, pulling my helmet off of my head and propping my head up on their knees. A hand found mine, and one more person fell on their knees last.

My side was on fire. Why did it hurt so?

A small drop of something hit my lips, and my mouth closed around something that tasted like cinnamon.

After a moment, I stopped gasping, not fighting the pain any more and letting it take over. The world slowly started to slip into darkness…

"Edmund."

I looked and saw a lion—The Lion. "A-Aslan?" I coked out, starting at him dumbfounded.

He nodded, his golden eyes warm. "Your family is with you, Edmund. All is well, dear one. It is finished."

My family…

I began to cough, and suddenly found that I…I could breathe! I took one deep breath after another as warmth flooding to my extremities, the pain had disappeared from my side, and I opened my eyes to see…

Peter. Susan! Lucy! I could tell that Peter's face had been pinched with worry, though now it was flooded with relief. My head was in a laughing Susan's lap, and poor Lucy's face was splotched with tears, though she was laughing.

Peter grabbed me by my shoulders before wrapping his arms around me, and I could feel him shuddering. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears when I realized: he thought I was dead. When he pulled away, there was a teasing smile on his face. "When are you going to do as you're told?" he demanded, making me smile before they all swallowed me. Everything was as it should be.

Except…

"Isabelle," I whispered, standing up.

"What about Isabelle, Ed?" Peter asked.

"She-She's hurt! This way!" I took off running, my family not too far behind. We finally approaced the minotaur where she was trapped, it taking all
four of us to roll the beast off. Lucy got her cordial and did the same thing she had done for me, and we did the only thing we could do.

We waited.

A/N: And there it is! Hope it was worth the wait! Be back soon! ~Marie