Written for the 2012 Narnia Fic Exchange (on LiveJournal) - for turkyish

PROMPT : Edmund Pevensie. Jadis in England - I'm thinking more in terms of memories/hallucinations/waking nightmares/etc., but feel free to interpret this however you wish. :)

Ghost Behind My Eyes

At first he is not sure where he is. His breath is coming in short gasps and his eyes are open wide, staring into the darkness. He can almost feel how completely dilated his pupils are in a desperate attempt to take in whatever sparse light there is in the room. It's another few seconds before he realises that he isn't in Narnia anymore. He's in his bed in the little house in Finchley.

He can hear Peter's steady breathing from his bed on the other side of the room. Thankfully he's still asleep. Edmund calms down a little. It's curious how he still wakes up confused about where he is. One should think that he would have gotten used to it by now. He has woken up like this almost every night for a least a week, the dreams getting increasingly worse and more real every time.

This time he had been in the courtyard of her castle. He couldn't see, her but her voice had kept coming at him from different angles. He kept whipping around, frantically, every time she called his name from another direction, terrified that she would sneak up on him. There were statues everywhere. Every time he turned, he bumped into another one of the petrified creatures. They shattered to tiny pieces at the impact, as if they were made of something more fragile than stone. Aslan could bring statues back to life by breathing on them, but would he be able to do that when they were all crumbled up? Edmund tried to force himself to stand completely still, but then he felt her ice-cold breath on his neck and he couldn't stop himself from whipping around again.

"You're not real! You're dead!"

"Witches never truly die, Edmund. We can always be brought back."

Edmund shudders and reminds himself that it was only a dream - that there was no truth or reality to it.

o0o0o

"I know where Mr. Tumnus is. And don't worry - he's fine."

Lucy's face lights up.

"Come on, I'll take you to him."

"But, Edmund, isn't it dangerous to go in there? Doesn't SHE live there?"

"No, no, it will be fine. She won't hurt you," he lies. He grasps her hand and tugs her forcefully towards the looming castle.

When they enter the courtyard, Lucy digs her heels in. Her eyes go wide as she looks around at the many statues.

"Come on, we need to go further," he says impatiently. His mind is screaming at him to take his sister and run far away from the castle, but his body keeps going, dragging her along.

"Edmund!" she cries, "it's a trap! She'll catch us!" She wrenches herself free of his grip and runs towards the exit, but the large gates slam shut with a boom.

And then there is HER voice. It comes in loud whispers, the word 'traitor' repeatedly echoing throughout the courtyard.

Lucy is screaming. She has stopped in front of the petrified faun and she keeps screaming and screaming and -

"Edmund... EDMUND!"

Someone is shaking him. His eyes fly open and the dream starts to fade.

"You were having another nightmare," says Peter, who is bending over him.

Edmund takes a moment to collect himself. "I'll be fine. It was just a stupid dream. You can go back to bed."

"They're about her, aren't they?" asks Peter quietly.

Edmund doesn't answer. He doesn't want to admit that his brother is right, but there is no use in denying it either, because they both know that he is.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"No," says Edmund and turns over, tugging his duvet around himself and closing his eyes.

o0o0o

The sound of metal hitting metal cuts through the air. Peter looks intently at him as they lock swords.

"What are we fighting for, Ed?"

Edmund does not answer. He isn't sure he even knows the answer. He just knows that he is angry - that he hates Peter right now.

"Whatever it is, we can sort it out peacefully," says Peter. "Stop being such a fool. You know you'll never beat me, anyway."

Edmund lunges again with a roar of fury. He gets in a series of quick swings, but Peter easily parries them all.

She is watching from the side. "Go on, Edmund. Show him who is the more worthy."

The fight rages on until they are both sweat soaked and panting. Edmund can feel his body verge on exhaustion and worries that he might be losing. But, with a last burst of strength, he manages to drive his brother back. Peter moves so fast that he stumbles and falls onto his back, dropping his sword.

He makes to get up, but Edmund points his sword at his neck and shouts, "Stay down!"

Peter looks up at him with an expression of perplexity. "What are you doing? You're being really -"

"Shut up!" growls Edmund. "I'm tired of listening to you!"

She glides gracefully up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, Edmund," she purrs in his ear. "Very impressive. Now finish him off."

"Wha-?" Edmund's hand wavers. "No... that's not what I wanted..."

"But you want his power, don't you? You want to be High King."

"Yes, but - not like this."

She walks over to where Rhindon fell from Peter's hand and picks it up. She returns and holds it out to Edmund.

He cannot deny that he has often wished that Rhindon was his, but he finds that he cannot take it. His anger toward his brother has vanished and anxiety taken its place.

"N-no," he stutters. "I c-can't - I won't... I don't want him dead!"

"Edmund, Edmund," she says, giving him a disappointed look, like a parent would a child. "If you want something you have to make sacrifices, you cannot have it all."

Edmund looks at Peter, who is lying on his back, staring nervously up at the Witch. The sense of guilt overwhelms him.

"Well," she continues in a cool voice, "since you are obviously still not quite ready, I will help you this one time."

He wants to shout 'NO', wants to lunge forward and stop her from slaying his brother, but he finds that he cannot. His tongue is thick in his mouth and his feet glued to the floor. He stands helplessly, staring, as she brings down his brother's sword.

It takes a moment for him to realise that he is back in England, that he has just woken from the most terrifying dream yet. He scrambles out of bed and reaches the other side of the room in two long strides.

"Peter!" he cries urgently and shakes his brother violently.

Peter wakes with a start.

"What - what's happening?" he asks, looking around, disoriented.

"Peter, Peter!" Edmund repeats and keeps shaking him. He almost dares not believe it. He needs to make absolutely sure that his brother is alive.

"Edmund! What's going on? Will you stop doing that!"

"You - you were dead - she - she killed you - and I -"

"Jesus, Ed," says Peter, rubbing his eyes. "You scared the living daylights out of me!"

Edmund realises that tears are gushing from his eyes, but he is too relieved to care right now.

o0o0o

Edmund yawns as wide as his jaws allow. He has finally decided to go to bed. Not that he is going to sleep in it. He is just going to lie down and rest for a while. Aslan knows he needs it. He hasn't slept for three days - not counting this morning when he dozed off at the breakfast table.

He knows, of course, that he cannot stay awake forever, but he will do it as long as he possibly can. He has no desire to find out what is awaiting him in his sleep.

"Go on," she says in her most seductive voice, "- do it!"

Edmund's one hand is clutching mercilessly at long thick hair. The other presses a knife to the throat of the young Telmarine king. He can feel Caspian's pulse beating rapidly under his thumb. He is confused. How did they end up in this position? He doesn't like it, and yet he can't seem to make himself lower the knife.

"He's the only thing standing between you and the throne."

"I don't know..." he says doubtfully.

"You want it, don't you?"

"Yes - but Caspian is my friend. I can't -"

"Friend? A friend who used you and your siblings to help him claim power over a country that is not his to claim?"

Edmund feels himself grow angry. Of course she is right. Who does Caspian think he is, anyway, waltzing in here, whining about how his evil uncle has stolen his kingdom from him, when he, himself, is just as much an usurper? A Telmarine, who has no right to anything Narnian. And he had the audacity to call on the Kings and Queens of Old and expect them to fix everything for him!

"Edmund," breathes Caspian. " Please let me go!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" snaps Edmund.

"That's right! Show him his place. Teach him to show respect for a King of Old."

"Kneel!" Edmund commands and yanks Caspian down onto his knees. He repositions himself behind him, so he can hold him in a good grip and keep the knife pressed to his throat.

Caspian gasps, but Edmund gives his hair a hard tug, warning him to keep still.

"You are jealous of him, aren't you? He has everything you ever wanted. And he does not even have any siblings to share with, like you."

Of course Edmund is jealous. When Aslan told them that Peter and Susan would never return to Narnia, Edmund should be next in line. Would be if it weren't for Caspian. Now, whenever returning to Narnia he will only be second in command - like he always has been.

"You will make a much better king than he could ever be. Get rid of him. You owe it to the Narnians."

Edmund hesitates. "I don't want to kill anybody..."

"But you already have. And you had every right to. Like now."

Edmund swallows heavily. He feels guilty for the death and suffering he already has on his conscience - even if he had only been the indirect cause of it.

"Kill him, Edmund, and you will have proven yourself worthy to all. To me."

Edmund yanks Caspian's head back, exposing his throat.

"Please, Edmund," Caspian begs, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Please don't do this!"

Edmund feels sick. He doesn't want to do it. But it is like he doesn't have control over what he wants and feels and does anymore.

"Just a quick slash and it's over," she coaxes.

Edmund presses his eyes shut, so that he doesn't have to look at Caspian's pleading face.

He wakes with a scream, sitting bolt upright. Her laughter is ringing in his ears and the smell of blood is overwhelming. Shaking, he tries to get his hectic breathing under control.

"A dream," he thinks. "Just another dream. I'm in England - not Narnia."

But he can still feel the knife in his hand and the warm liquid flowing down his forearms to his elbows. He holds his hands up in front of him so he can get a good look at them. It is night, but the room is bathed in moonlight and there is no mistaking - they are covered in blood.

"It's just my imagination," he tries convincing himself.

But the blood is warm and wet and has that distinct iron smell. His hands start shaking violently and he screams again. He barely notices that Peter is there.

"Edmund!"

He doesn't react. He just keeps screaming and staring at his bloodied hands.

"Ed - snap out of it!"

Peter grasps his wrists and tries to force them downward so that he can catch his brother's gaze.

"What is it? What are you staring at?"

"Look! LOOK!" Edmund cries, shoving his hands into Peter's face.

"What am I supposed to see?"

"Are you blind? Blood - they are soaked in blood!"

Peter turns on the little yellow lamp on the nightstand.

"No. There is nothing there."

"Yes, there is!"

Peter holds Edmund's wrists steady, looks him in the eyes and speaks in a calm voice, "Edmund. Calm down and take another look. There is nothing there."

Edmund takes a deep breath and focuses on his hands again. Peter is right. There is nothing there. The blood is gone.

"All right?" asks Peter, letting go of Edmund's hands.

"But..." says Edmund, his gaze darting from his hands to his brother's face. "It was just there! I killed him. Peter, I killed him!"

"Who?"

"C-Caspian."

"Of course you didn't kill him, Ed. Caspian's in Narnia."

"So was I!"

"No, you weren't. You were dreaming again. It wasn't real."

"How do you know that?" demands Edmund, angry at Peter for not believing him. "I'm telling you - I killed him! He's dead. I'm a murderer!"

"You're not a murderer, Ed, and he's not dead. Just like I wasn't dead when you dreamt that I was killed. Remember?"

Edmund calms down a little. Peter is making a good point. Still, it doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right.

"I don't know... I... how can I be sure? I can't check on him like I could you."

"Trust me, he's fine. It's like with the other dream."

"You don't know that for sure," says Edmund darkly. "You might be safe because you're here, but things are different in Narnia - she is in Narnia. She could be... she could have been resurrected and using me in some way. The dreams - they are becoming more and more real, like she's gaining power."

"Edmund," says Peter, taking hold of his shoulders and looking at him seriously. "You can't start believing in this. In her. She is dead - Aslan saw to that. The dreams have no more power than what you give to them."

"But why does she keep haunting me in my sleep, then?"

"It's that old guilt playing tricks on your mind. We all forgave you long ago. It's time for you to forgive yourself."

o0o0o

"You have done well, Edmund."

She stands before him, smiling coldly.

Edmund is terrified. What is going to happen now? What horrible things is she going to make him do this time?

"However, we are not quite done yet. There is still the Lion to consider. We have to make sure that he cannot come back here and meddle, so that you and I can rule Narnia undisturbed."

"We can't do that," says Edmund, sceptically. "Aslan is almighty."

"Oh, but we can. YOU can." Her hand motions toward an arch formed by a thin young willow.

The space within the arch looks hazy, shimmering with magic.

"Draw your sword and cut the tree down. Destroy the passageway. Then the Lion will never again be able to enter Narnia."

"If it's this easy, then why haven't you done it yourself long ago?"

"Mind your manners, child!" she thunders, her eyes flashing and face turning ugly.

Edmund trembles and cowers before her.

The Witch composes herself and flashes him her customary false smile. "Now then," she says, "I will answer your question. This magic will only work if YOU, the traitor for whom the Lion sacrificed himself, do it."

Edmund feels like he has just received a massive punch to his midsection. "No... no..." he gasps. "I can't... I can't do that!"

"Of course you can. All you have accomplished so far - you don't want it all to be a waste, do you?"

Tears of desperation well up in his eyes. "Please," he begs, "please don't make me do this!"

The sweet smile vanishes from her face. "I'm losing patience with you, Edmund. Do as I say or you will regret it!"

With shaking hand Edmund draws Rhindon from its scabbard. Tears roll freely down his cheeks as he raises it, preparing to strike. His eyes fall upon the golden pommel shaped as a lion's head.

"The dreams have no more power than what you give to them," Peter's voice sounds in his head.

"No," he says, fixing her with a determined gaze.

"No?" She looks taken aback.

"NO!" he shouts and tosses his brother's sword at her feet. "I'm DONE listening to you! You're dead. You have no power over me anymore!"

She stares at the sword and then at Edmund, her expression a mix of rage and shock. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. Her figure suddenly seems to blur. It grows more and more unclear until she is completely transparent. And then she is gone.

At the same time Edmund sees someone approaching through the archway. His heart leaps when he recognises the great cat. "Aslan!" he breathes.

"You have done well, Edmund."

"I - I haven't," Edmund stammers. "I've done horrible things, I've cheated, deceived, killed -"

"No, my dear child. That was only happening in your mind. Your uneasy conscience shows that you have a good heart, but you have blamed yourself long enough. You must let go of the past and look to the future now."

"But Narnia -"

"Narnia is thriving as it has not done since the Golden Age."

"And Caspian?"

"Is alive and well."

Edmund sighs in relief.

"You and Lucy shall see him soon. Do you like the sea?"

"Um, yes," Edmund answers, a little puzzled about the question.

The Lion smiles - as much as a lion can smile. "Good."