~92 years ago~
"My dear prince, you're getting bigger every day. Just to think, it's only been six years since I rescued you from those horrid parents. Now, my darling, it is time to receive your destiny. As my child shall my doom come, you will resurrect me, but to do so, my prince, you need magic of your own," the witch said, guiding her six-year-old son to her throne, "now sit and accept the power given to you. It will only hurt a bit."
Edmund nodded. He's ready; he's born for this, born to bring their enemies to their knees, to accept his place as his mother's prince, his mother's white warlock. He watched as his mother drew her staff, pointing it at him, and the last thing he remembered was a bright white light and excruciating pain.
He strode into the throne room with his wolves following close behind. The creature is dead, and the news he brings is a warning towards the prophecy, that is, if he tells her. On the walk back, Edmund has been thinking through his options, he should tell his mother what he's learnt, but he doesn't know whether to wait to find out more about Aslan's rumoured return before telling his mother everything. She won't be impressed, Edmund's sure of that, but she would forgive him if he knew for sure whether Aslan has returned to Narnia and if the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve have already stepped foot in their world.
"My prince, you've returned with good news," his queen said from her throne.
"Of course, your majesty. The creature is dead," Edmund said. His mother rose from her throne and strode towards him; her cold hand touched his face.
"You look troubled, my prince; what is it?" she asks; one look at her face and Edmund's resolve cracked; he can't keep this secret from his mother; it is too much.
"The creature before it… died spoke of Aslan's return," Edmund said. The witch snatched her hand away from Edmund as if his words scolded her.
"And have you confirmed whether this return is true," she asked.
"I have not, Mother," Edmund answered, and the back of her hand smacked his face. His cheek throbbed, but he was familiar with this pain. For the 100 years he's lived in this world, he knew that his mother didn't take well to failure.
"Then you have failed me, Edmund," she gripped his shoulder tightly, "I want answers. Has Aslan returned, and if so, are there any children of Adam here?"
The witch released his shoulder before storming back to her throne, "Get out of my sight this instant; I don't want you to return until you know for certain whether Aslan has returned, where he is and whether he's gathered the children from the prophecy destined to overthrow my kingdom."
"As you wish, your majesty" Edmund bowed before marching out of the castle; he had work to do.
Edmund set out alone, trudging through the forest, listening. The quiet forest spoke to him, whispering in his ears, guiding him. The trees were loyal to his mother and therefore serviced him greatly; if someone spoke of Aslan's supposed return, the trees would've heard. All he needs is a location for Aslan's camp or the place the creatures still loyal to the lion gathered; if Aslan isn't here, then Edmund can wipe the supporters off the face of Narnia, a warning to others who dare try to defy his mother, yet if Aslan has return then that will complicate things.
"My prince," the trees whispered, "a fox only two miles away speaks the name of the lion."
Edmund smiled. So, they speak the name of Aslan surrounded by his loyal subjects, amateurs.
"If you head there now, Aslan will await you! Soon the white witch's reign will end," the creature spoke to the two beavers. Edmund watched from the side; the fox or the beavers seemed to notice his presence.
"We'll spread the word, let everyone still loyal know of Aslan's return and where to find him," Mr Beaver said before the two beavers scurried off. It didn't matter if they left; he could find them later. He'll let them spread their hope; it'll reveal who are traitors and one back, one Edmund can pick them off.
"Aslan, you say," Edmund smirked as he stepped into the clearing staring at the fox; his hands glowed white as he summoned a magical barrier trapping the fox with him.
"I won't tell you anything! I'll happily die in the name of Aslan," the fox growled.
"I don't need your words," Edmund smirked as he slowly approached the creature, "Unlike my mother, my power doesn't come from a flimsy staff; it's part of my very being, which means I can manipulate it more than her. I don't just have ice powers."
He called to the air still trapped in his barrier, and it answered him. Swirling around the fox, the air lifted the creature from the ground and carried it to him.
"I can just pull the memory from your head; I'd warn you, it's hurt," Edmund laughed. His hand glowed as he grabbed the back of the creature's head, his fingers dug into its skin. Closing his eyes, Edmund pictures his magic moving from his hand into the creature's body, travelling up to its brain and forcing his magic inside. He could hear the creature squeal in pain but didn't care. Imagines filtered through his mind; first, it was the stone table, then a valley of tents near the frozen river, different creatures arming for the war to come and there he was, Aslan, stepping out of the largest tent.
"So, Aslan's camp is in the valley near the stone table. Interesting, he'd set up base there. Maybe he's ready for his defeat and for his body to be dragged across the stone table when my mother will take his life," Edmund said, dropping the creature to the ground and disbursed the barrier. He didn't care whether the creature was still alive; it wouldn't be much longer.
Edmund headed straight toward the camp he saw in the creature's memory; there it stood, active with creatures rushing around, sharping swords, cleaning armour and welcoming any recruits who stumbled across the camp by accident or were led here. Edmund hid among the rocks in the mountain, looking down. Aslan stood out among the rest, his majestic mane blowing in the breeze as he spoke to those around him. So, the memory and rumours are true, Aslan has returned to Narnia and preparing an army against his mother.
"You're not meant to be 're," a voice said, the sword point pressed into his back. Edmund laughed; these stupid creatures still knew nothing. Pulling his hidden dagger from his boot, Edmund swiftly turned himself around, lunging at the faun with speed. The faun stumbled backwards. He used this shock to his advantage, knocking the sword from the faun's grasp before throwing it from reach; Edmund dropped to his knees and swung his leg out, catching the faun's leg and sweeping them out from underneath him. The faun threw its arms up to protect itself. Grabbing one arm, Edmund pinned it down, stabbing his dagger through the palm of its hand into the stone beneath before doing the same to the other hand with another hidden dagger he kept on himself.
"You should've run, warned the others, but now it's too late for you. Everyone who opposes my mother will perish," Edmund said as he summoned the largest icicle he could and shoved it into the faun's chest straight through its heart.
Edmund looked back down at the unsuspecting camp, then to the dead faun. It will serve as a warning to Aslan himself that the white witch and her followers know of his return and are ready for a fight.
With a spring in his step, Edmund calmly walked away from Aslan's camp back into the dense forest and towards his home. He was walking past the odd lamppost and into the forest when he heard something.
"We must go as quietly as we can," the voice said quietly; it darted past, pulling something smaller behind him. Edmund raised his eyebrow as he watched it go past with little interest, he didn't care for people who made noise, and neither did his mother, yet for some reason, he didn't carry on his trek home and instead stood quietly in the shade and listened for the voice to speak again, and it did, "The whole wood is full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her side."
Turning fully, Edmund followed the voice, interested in what the creature was hiding from his mother; the way it spoke held hatred for his mother; like most creatures who have loyalties to the old ways and Aslan, they spoke with the same hatred in their voices before his mother turned them to stone for decoration in the castle gardens. Stepping back into the clearing with the unusual lamppost, Edmund saw a faun standing beside it with a… oh my… no wonder the creature was in such a hurry.
"Do you know your way from here, Daughter of Eve?"
The girl seemed to stare at the trees for something before turning back to face the faun. "Yes," she said, "I can see the wardrobe door."
"Then be off home as quick as you can," said the Faun, "and c-can you ever forgive me for what I meant to do?"
"Why, of course, I can," the daughter of Eve said, shaking the faun's hand. "And I do hope you won't get into dreadful trouble on my account."
"Farewell, Daughter of Eve," the faun said and off ran the girl into the woods. The faun watched her go before looking around his surroundings, his eyes slipping over Edmund without even realising he was there, the perks of having magic, before running back the way it came, not noticing the red fabric which he left behind. Edmund stepped fully into the clearing walking towards the lamppost; kneeling, he scooped up the red fabric, a handkerchief with the words 'Lucy Pevensie' sewn into it.
"So, a daughter of Eve has come," Edmund said, smirking, "How interesting."
~81 years ago~
Edmund stood in front of his mother, her arm reaching out towards him, a silver apple in the palm of her hand.
"Consume this, my child, and we will rule over this world forever," she said. Edmund took the apple from her hand and raised it to his mouth. His mother nodded her head as if to say, 'Go on, take a bite'. The apple tasted sour, and it took all of Edmund's strength to eat it without throwing up straight after.
"I'm proud of you, my child; now Narnia will have no power against us," the white witch said, her eyes filled with glee.