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~ TWISTED ~

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A/N 1: Inspired partly by The Devil Within by Digital Daggers and a thought of mine. I was thinking about how you can't kill a witch, at least that's what Lewis said in Prince Caspian (which is where I took the summary quote from). I HIGHLY recommend listening to the song as you read, it adds to this stand-alone AU vignette.

It was bitter cold; the full moon shining through the bare branches to the snow upon the forest floor gave the only light. A tall, pale man with long raven locks disentangled himself from the shadow of a giant oak he stood beneath, coming into the center of the forest clearing he had been standing at the edge of, until the moon shone down upon him.

Opposite him, a bent shadow approached paused, ragged and filthy garments hanging from its haggard frame loosely, cutting a rough trail in the snow.

"How Master Magician, do I know you shall keep your promises? How can I trust you after what your poseur siblings have done to those loyal to the White Queen?" a thin, hostile voice whined from among the dark rags.

Silence fell, only made more acute by the heavy snow that softened and quieted every living thing in the world at that moment. A small blade, a twisted Calormene dagger, glinted for but a flash in the moonlight before the tall man grasped it tightly in his other hand, dragging the sharp blade swiftly over his palm.

The dagger disappeared from whence it came; into the folds of his black cloak brushing the ground around his ebony boots. He held his hand out, and then turned it so his palm faced downwards. Red blood fell on white snow, and the creature across from him uttered a faint reed-like cry of approval to his actions.

"Here, O my liege, loyal Son of Jadis, this wand is truly yours to possess. You desire to call her back to this world?" a hopeful longing came into the Hag's thin voice.

A delicate yet well-wrought wand of three feet in length was held out towards him. The tall man regarded her, his head tilting slowly as he observed. At last he stepped forward, reaching out with the cut hand to grasp the wand once belonging to Jadis of Charn, the White Witch.

His long fingers wrapped around the icy wand until his warm blood ran down over the delicate silver hand-hold, dripping onto the Hag's fingers.

Slowly, the Fell creature removed her hand, bringing her fingers to her mouth and licking them with her tongue, tasting the man's blood. He watched her with an expression of cold indifference.

Without time to comprehend it for herself, the man pulled out a fine-tempered steel sword and removed the Hag's head from her shoulders. He stared as the body fell into the snow at his feet; it trembed for a moment before lying still.

Her sludge-like black blood sunk into the pale snow, staining it in a way he found repulsive. He grasped the wand more securely and turned, cleaning his sword in the snow before returning it to its sheath.

Returning to the shadows of the bare forest, a wolf stood seemingly in wait. They comprehended one another.

"Mordred, see to it that none who came here this night survive it. Do not fail me." the man commanded. A low growl issued from the Wolf.

"Sire," he snarled, before keening into the night air a summoning howl. Silver, white, and black wolves leapt out from the forest into the clearing and passed it. Mordred soon followed. The man merely twisted the wand around in his hand, inspecting it, before continuing into the forest to where a great black charger stood silently, tied to a low-hanging birch branch.

"At last, witch, I shall repay you what you have caused me to suffer all these years," he whispered to no one in particular as he mounted up, turning the horse toward his private home in Darkening Wood.

~o0o~

He stared into the pale blue flame, at the ice filling the inside of the circle he'd drawn around the small fire. A smile of pleasure came to his lips. Everything was going according to his carefully crafted plans. He whispered the incantation he had spent many sleepless nights composing for this moment.

"Aleawdat i'r byw, gwraig y șmecherie. Brenhines o eira a chwerwder, femeia a alshr a lledrith, yr wyf yn eich galw afară o'r carchar tywyll o ble tunam yn cysgu yn nivis ddi-dor."

The flame grew, ice rising around it. The blue seemed to reflect every color of its spectrum. He turned, seating himself on a dark marble throne not many feet away from the circle. Resting his chin on his bandaged hand, he waited.

Years had made him superior at such a difficult game as waiting, and his eyes sparkled in amusement.

He ceased counting the minutes and hours, but at last, the ice rupture outwards and upwards, disappearing and leaving a woman, smaller than he knew she had been, lying on the floor, the pale blue flame ringing her in a perfect circle. He watched, and not long after, she stirred, lifting her head to gaze around the dark room. More a large prison cell than room, for it was far beneath his residence of Valkilandor in Darkening Wood, a stronghold near the Twilight Mountains.

Her eyes eventually found him. He stood, moving closer as she stared back.

"I have waited years for this day. Jadis, you shall suffer the hell I have suffered beneath your torment since I was crowned!" he whispered sharply. A smile came to the woman's pale face, though it did not light her clear blue eyes.

"You remind me of a boy . . . a mortal I saw potential for. But you are fiercer, better. You cannot possibly make me feel pain like any I have inflicted on millions!" she mocked him, taunted him.

He laughed softly. "I've been learning all your tricks, you wouldn't have suspected a thing." He turned to leave, but when he heard her rise, coming after him, he whirled, black cloak twisting around him.

He caught her arm as she tried to plunge a shaft of ice into him. He leaned forward, smiling in her face, his fingers tightening around her wrist. She gasped, terror filling her cold eyes. Screaming, she tore herself from his grasp, gasping on the floor at his feet.

He straightened, tilting his head as he watched her. After a moment, when she began trembling, he released the spell, crouching before her. She swallowed with great effort, turning her head to him.

"I am quiet, you won't know when I'm here. You cannot be rid of my until I decide. I crept into your heart and feel rather at home. You won't know when I come, or from where. When you believe you're alone, I'll be here. I shall be the devil within, as you so long have been to me."

She watched him go, eyes widening in fear.

~o0o~

A scream echoed up from the bowels of the castle in Darkening Wood, and a black Wolf pricked his ears at the sound, before resting his large head once more upon his paws.

"Respite, respite!" the pale woman shrieked yet again, pressing her hands over her ears, though it did nothing to stop the fear and pain and noise assailing her. She fell to the stone floor, gasping as pain coursed like frostbite through her body.

"I will not release you until you are broken, witch! The pains of death are agonizing, are they not? It felt like an eternity when I was a boy, at Beruna! The pain . . . never seemed to end. I can still feel it at night, when you haunt my dreams."

"Who . . . are you, for, I cannot. . ." she groaned and shivered where she lay, unable to speak through the pain and spells.

"I am what you designed, Jadis! How can you not recognise me? But, how can you not recognise this?" He held up the wand, pulled from his robes. She gazed upon it, eyes widening in desire and anger and awe.

"Edmund . . . the boy who would betray his brother and sisters for my favor? Oh, child, you have become a terror even to me," she purred, suddenly seeming pleased. He shouted a spell which threw her up against the wall so forcefully her head slammed back against it. She grimaced, but the smile soon returned.

"Your time . . . with me . . . in this little . . . game . . . is nearly expired. Know this, Edmund . . . Even I shall . . . fear you after . . . this day." The light faded from her clear eyes, and he cursed under his breath, watching her body disintegrate.

He whirled, hand grasping the wand until the silver designs cut into his palm. He pivoted sharply on his heel, walked to the throne, and placed the wand upon the seat, turning and leaving the room, whispering a spell as he left to plunge the room into darkness.

The only light came from the faintly shining wand; a pale ice-blue.

A/N 2: I have no idea why this is so dark, but I hope you enjoy this more deadly Edmund Pevensie! Please do tell me what you think in the box below (I may be interested in writing a collection of VERYdark!Edmund vignettes and one-shots.) Roughly, this is what Edmund's spell means:

"Return to the living, woman of the darkness. Queen of snow and bitterness, trickery and magic, I call you out of the dark prison from which you sleep in unbroken rest."

I took words from Welsh, Latin, Arabic and Romanian. I own nothing that you recognize, merely the idea.

Happy reading,

WH