A/N: I decided to go with the 2008 Prince Capsian movie version of this scene, despite my deep reservations about doing so. However, as you'll see, it simply made more sense to go in that direction.

Well guys, it's been a year and a half in the making, and finally we reach the end. Thank you to all of my loyal followers and reviewers of this story, especially you guys who stuck with me through the story, and every overly long hiatus in between chapters, and to those of you who just started reading. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

A short sequel will be posted soon, called Kareema, explaining what became of her, if anyone was worried. I was going to put it in this story, but there simply wasn't room for it, so it will be a standalone.

It was entirely by accident that they happened upon the awakening of the White Witch at all, and Edmund was sure that they would not have done so if not for the fact that the room which now held the Stone Table was the only place they had not yet gone in search of Caspian.

Edmund heard the eerie chanting from within at the same time Peter did, standing beside Lucy and the newly healed D.L.F. in some confusion after having watched Ginnabrik disappear after Prince Caspian. The dwarf had made no secret of his dislike for the young prince since their arrival, and so Edmund found it strange that Ginnabrik chose now to seek him out in comfort.

Peter, it seemed, did not have the same reservations. He was still too furious about the failed attack on the Telmarines, and Edmund wanted desperately to grab him and Caspian, when they found the young prince, and knock their heads together.

He privately thought it would do them both some good, but that it should probably wait until after the upcoming battle, as the Narnian morale was already poor enough. Who knew how it would suffer watching King Edmund go at the High King and their newest Prince.

But the moment they heard the sound, both kings jerked toward the direction of the monument which now held the Stone Table, eyes locking in dread.

Without a word spoken, the two Kings raced down the cavern, Edmund grabbing his sword as the Narnians called after them worriedly. Behind him, Edmund could hear Trumpkin the dwarf heave a sigh, mutter about nothing ever just being all right, and shuffle after them.

Peter rushed into the room holding the Stone Table, sword at the ready. Then he froze.

Edmund was right behind him, so he managed to barrel into his older brother before glancing up and seeing with shock the sight before him. His jaw fell open and he instinctively tightened his grip on his Narnian sword.

Caspian stood in the middle of a circle of ice somehow ingrained in the stone floor, holding out a bleeding hand to the figure before him, her ice cage held blasphemously between the two stone pillars before the cracked Table.

No. Edmund had thought that last time had put an end to it.

He thought there was no more need to worry about something like this happening again. Aslan had promised that the Witch could harm them no longer in her death.

It was the one thing which got Edmund threw his nightmares, which had persisted even in their own world, that she was dead, that she could never harm him again.

But apparently Aslan hadn't anticipated this event.

Because between those stone pillars, encased in a layer of ice yet somehow able to move quite freely inside it, was the one person Edmund had been glad he would never see again on this, his second trip to Narnia.

The White Witch.

For a moment, Edmund feared that this was simply another one of his nightmares, another night horror that Pete or Lucy would wake him from at any moment, and that everything that had happened beforehand - the attack on the Telmarines, the slaughter - was only in his mind, as well.

But it felt too real, and Edmund had become adept, over the years, at distinguishing his nightmares from reality while he was in them, even if they often terrified him still.

He had thought this was over, that he would never have to see the wicked woman again. Edmund had thought she was defeated for the last time before, back during the Golden Age when Peter destroyed her. Aslan had said as much. So how was it that she was still haunting him, more than one thousand Narnian years later?

Images popped unbidden into his head: images of dark, icy dungeons and Turkish Delight, images of the last time Edmund had met the White Witch at the Stone Table. The sickly sweet smile she afforded Caspian was all too familiar, and Edmund shuddered at the sight of it.

Fortunately, Edmund did not have long to ponder on these images, for a strange werewolf creature that he felt certain he had seen before, a long time ago, attacked him, and he barely had time to bring his sword up in defense and duck before the creature would have sliced off his head.

They both went tumbling to the ground, Edmund flipping over a rock and just managing to keep from bashing his skull against it.

Behind him, he could hear Peter give a shout like a war cry before going after the hag-loathsome creatures, hags were, and Edmund didn't envy him his opponent. Then again, if what Susan had once told him was to be believed, Peter had plenty enough experience killing hags.

Trumpkin the dwarf went after Ginnabrik, Lucy joining them from out of nowhere a moment later, and the small battle raged on around the ice prison and Caspian, but the Witch ignored them completely, her eyes only on Caspian. Her prey.

Edmund glanced up once from his fight with the werewolf, and noticed the Prince just standing there, his sword discarded, holding his bleeding arm out stupidly to the White Witch as if he thought he could pull her through her prison but wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He seemed to be in some sort of a daze, and Edmund, noticing the expression on the Witch's face as she desperately reached out to the young prince, flinched in realization.

Oh.

So this was how it was done, her Awakening, the last time. This was why the boy had been needed, to free her.

Edmund paled as the werewolf came at him again, but he didn't have time for his fear, not now. He had to get over there, to her, before Caspian did something horribly foolish.

The words of Ailyan the Wolf came crashing into his mind even as Edmund lifted his sword for the last time against the werewolf and brought it down on the creature's belly, effectively slicing him open. The werewolf let out a howl of pain even as he lunged forward in one last desperate attempt to bring Edmund down with him.

He was reminded of Ailyan's confession with that thought, and the blood drained from his face. For one insane moment, he thought he saw the now-dead werewolf grinning at him.

The werewolf fell on top of Edmund, pulling them both down behind the rocks, despite the fact that it was already dead, blood spurting onto Edmund's clothes. So it was that he didn't notice Lucy enter the room, but his thoughts were too far away to have noticed in the first place.

"I...see what fools we were now, but then it was wretched. We lived like dumb beasts in the wild. None would accept us because of how faithfully we had served the Witch. I was among those who thought things would be better if only the White Witch could return and restore order. We thought you Four were causing the Chaos."

Edmund jumped to his feet, pulling his sword from the werewolf's body and cleaning it off on his fur with an almost spiteful gesture, though he felt only pity for the creature. Then he turned to join the fray, taking stock of the situation.

Peter had successfully downed the hag, the creature lying on the ground in a pile of her own blood, and Ginnabrik the dwarf lay between Lucy and Trumpkin, no longer a threat.

Caspian still stood before the Ice Queen, hand held out dumbly, as if in a trance.

Peter noticed this at the same time that Edmund did, running toward the Prince.

"How? It required a blood sacrifice, bringing her back to life. A drop of human blood. There was a boy, from Calormene."

Peter shoved the confused Caspian aside and the prince fell to the ground with a small crash, that dazed expression never leaving his face. Then the High King turned on the White Witch, Rhindon held threateningly in her direction.

The Witch reared back in her cage at the sight of Peter, as if she had only just now noticed him, and then her features twisted, if only for a moment, into fear.

Edmund inwardly cheered at the sight, though a part of him felt an unreasonable envy. For he had heard the story plenty of times, how Peter had fought the White Witch, how Susan had defeated her, in the end.

He still had nightmares about her. Nightmares he could never seem to put out of his mind, not even in the Other World.

Some part of him always believed she was still alive. Could still torment him, or the nightmares would have faded by now, like all the others had.

The White Witch watched her one chance at salvation groan on the floor, but then she turned her eyes on Peter and smiled eerily, ignoring the sword pointed straight at her.

"And there was a hag, chanting a strange song that somehow summoned Her. She held the Witch's knife."

"Peter dear," she said, her voice smooth as silk, "I've missed you."

And Edmund would have snorted if his brother was not suddenly listening.

She reached out her hand through the ice, reaching desperately for him. Peter suddenly appeared unsure, took an unsteady step forward.

Edmund cursed his brother's stupidity in that moment, and moved. What in Aslan's name was he doing?

"Just one drop," the Witch coaxed, as Peter copied Caspian's earlier stance and the Witch reached through her ice cage for him.

Did no one else see what was really going on here? Was Peter's doubt of Aslan so strong?

The Witch didn't care about the Telmarines; she didn't care about any one but those she could rule over.

Yes, she would probably be able to defeat the Telmarines with very little difficulty, but in the next moment she would turn and do the same to them.

All she wanted was her freedom, and she would do anything to get it. But the moment she was free...Edmund shuddered to think what she would do with that freedom. It had been rather difficult to get rid of her the last time, after all.

Of course, he hadn't been there. Peter had been the one to face the Witch down for everything she had done to them, had been the one to swing that sword. Susan had been the one to fire that last arrow.

Edmund was not going to let her get away from him a second time. He wasn't going to allow her the chance to keep tormenting him, not when he had here and now the chance to defeat her for himself.

Edmund hurried toward the icy cage, going around behind the rocks so that he would have the element of surprise.

And perhaps, if he was being brutally honest, also to avoid speaking with the White Witch, his tormentor, his enemy, if at all possible. If he had to face her again, at least he didn't have to speak with her.

That was always the worst part of his nightmares.

"The werewolf, I don't know why he was there. He said he had waited for this moment for one thousand nights. That is all I remember of him, and that he was terrified of her when she was finally returned to herself."

Edmund suddenly found himself standing behind the ice cage. Strange; from behind, it looked as though the Witch wasn't even there, didn't even exist. All he saw was blue ice, swimming about in the encasement, as if inside it was purely water, and, just barely, Pete and Caspian through the other side, both looking dazed and confused from his vantage point.

For a moment, Edmund let himself believe that was all there was. He felt oddly detached from the whole situation, as if he was looking on from one of those

"We all were. We thought we were saving Narnia, only to doom it. Forgive me, my liege. I am at your mercy."

Edmund lifted his sword silently, so as not to alert the Witch to his presence from behind. A thousand stray thoughts invaded his mind then.

"Little Prince. Don't you like your Turkish Delight? Lashes with a whip, I believe. Oh, Edmund. You condemned me to a fate far worse than death. That boy shall die on the Stone Table. I wouldn't be so sure."

Edmund lifted his sword high above his head, hands shaking for reasons he couldn't understand, and he was glad that she couldn't see him in that moment, glad that he couldn't see her. Just do it! His mind shouted at him, but that only made his arms shake in sequence with his hands, and then his whole body was quivering.

What if this didn't destroy her? What if someone just kept bringing her back, over and over again? What if she never left Edmund in peace?

Edmund brought the sword flying downward, until it landed in the ice holding the Witch prisoner.

He wasn't entirely sure this would actually kill her rather than accidentally set her free, but the sight of Jadis enticing his brother to help her sickened him too much to let this go on for another moment.

How could Peter even be listening to her, after everything she had done? Had he lost so much faith in Aslan that he thought this was the only solution?

Edmund had to get rid of her. It was something he had regretted ever since both of her deaths; that he, though he should not crave vengeance, had not been given the opportunity to destroy her either time.

It wasn't revenge that caused him to raise his blade, caused him to break through the ice without a blink of remorse. No, for Edmund was not one for revenge, as he never found the good in it. No, this was something much different.

As his blade pressed against the ice prism, Edmund felt only a sense of inner peace, a sense of freedom that couldn't truly be explained. And he knew that, this time, she wouldn't be coming back in his nightmares to haunt him.

That this time, he, not Peter, not anyone else but maybe a bit of Aslan, giving him this sudden courage, would defeat her and would finally be granted freedom himself. This time, Edmund delivered the killing blow, casting her out, and she went.

The sword drove deep into the ice, cracking it from behind so deeply the sound reverberated through the cave that was really a tomb and, if Edmund hadn't been the cause, he'd have thought it was caving in.

He saw a part of the Witch then, her frightened expression through the ice, and then there was the sound of more ice cracking, splintering, breaking into dozens of huge shards that resembled blue glass.

There was a loud crashing sound as the ice all fell in a large pile at the bottom of the steps, and Edmund dared to open his eyes once more, sword still held in both hands above him.

Part of him had truly believed the White Witch would simply turn around and fight him then, without the ice hindering her.

He found himself staring back at Peter, crouched on the ground, who was watching him with a mixture of horror and appreciation, his eyes almost pitying as he realized what this had meant to Edmund.

Then there was Caspian, who stepped forward after the ice fell away stared at Edmund in bewilderment and a new appreciation. Lucy was behind them, grinning like the little girl she was when they had first entered Narnia. Grinning for Edmund, at this, his chance at victory.

Slowly, Edmund lowered the sword clenched in both his hands, still unbelieving that the Witch was actually gone.

This suddenly all felt so surreal, and he wanted to jump with glee. Or maybe throw up.

He glanced at Peter once more, hoping the prat had done with his delusions of grandeur by now, after this encounter with the Witch. They needed a High King who was level-headed right now, a High King from the time of the Golden Age, not the boy from England.

"I know," Edmund said, sounding a little more snappish than he had intended when he was met only with silence, his eyes lingering on Peter. "You had it sorted."

Peter's eyes widened as Edmund moved away from the icy pillars, sheathing his sword, free of blood, and making his way over to Lucy to make sure that she was all right.

He certainly didn't want to check on Peter, at that moment, too annoyed to care, as he was obviously fine enough to consider the Witch's offer.

What if the Witch returned again to plague him? What if she couldn't just stay down this time?

Then he would just keep fighting her, keep beating her back. Because, in the end, she had already lost long ago.

That night, the nightmares that had constantly plagued him since their first time in Narnia, since his time as the Witch's prisoner, did not come. He slept peacefully, a dreamless sleep full of a long sought after rest.

And his deep, even breaths calmed his brother as Peter lay beside him, worrying over the battle to come.

It was the first night that Peter could remember in Narnian years, as well as the year they had spent back in England, that he was not awoken by his brothers' haunting dreams.

For that night, at least, the nightmares were gone. And when the two brothers awoke in the morning, Edmund, refreshed and suddenly feeling quite calm about the battle they had yet to face, reflected that this was the best night's sleep he'd ever had.

Nor did the nightmares come again.