A/N: Hi Readers! I've finally managed to update, so sorry for the wait! This is a lot of the rest of the Pevensie siblings in this chapter, and a new character who will be introduced further towards the end... I'm sorry that there is no Edmund drama in this chapter, but there will be plenty in the next one. I know that most people (myself included) are going to think this chapter is really boring, but trust me, it's important that I get it in. So enjoy, and R&R if you can! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia books. If you think I do, then that means I am apparently a man who has been dead for a good number of years. That's really likely.

Peter panted heavily as he ran through the complex and dusty maze that was the interior of Aslan's How, his eyes darting into every twist and turn he could reach. Where was he? He looked as carefully as he could but to his annoyance there was no sign of the long haired Telmarine. How Prince Caspian had managed to sneak away from them the High King didn't know, but all he knew was that it wasn't exactly to go chasing fairies.

He knew that something bad was about to happen; the eldest Pevensie child could feel random blots of fear rising inside his conscience as his body shook with panic. Where the hell had that idiot got to? It was bad enough that Edmund was missing; he didn't need Caspian to disappear on him too…

He turned a corner and realised at that moment that he had been running around in circles. He had rushed right back to where he had started his search: the main armoury, where countless dwarves and other Old Narnians were busy melting metal, the loud clang of the steel against the mallet was usually as peaceful as a lullaby to him, but now all it was doing was stressing him out even more as his eyes once again scanned the room recklessly.

"Peter!"

He turned to see Lucy, who had been trying to catch up after him all this time. She bent over and sighed in exhaustion. "Have you found him yet?"

Her elder brother shook his head. "You know how big this place is, Lu. He could be anywhere."

"He can't have gone far…" She straightened up again and smiled breathlessly at him.

Her grin faded and her soft blue eyes growing alarmingly wide as she stared at the space behind her brother; he turned to follow her gaze and saw that a large blue glow had burst from the end of a long tunnel in front of them and as they watched it began to grow brighter, dancing across the patterned walls. Peter knew now that that was the passageway that the Prince had shown them the day they arrived here, the long tunnel that led to the Stone Table. But this wasn't Aslan's magic. If anything it was a lot colder than that; he could see now that clouds of breath erupted from his sister's face, and he felt the blood slowly freeze in his veins. He shivered slightly. It was dark magic indeed, and yet horribly familiar.

It was only a few seconds before he bolted forward into the dark tunnel, ignoring the surprised calls from his sister as she unwillingly joined him in his mission, which he knew now had become increasingly dangerous.

"No, this isn't what I wanted…"

He stalled a little as he heard Caspian's frightened voice echo into the tunnel; Peter had never realised how brave and confident the Prince usually was until now. He sounded different; restrained, like he was tied down or at least outnumbered, and the High King could sense the weakness in his voice. It somehow reminded him of his younger brother being bullied by the kids from their boarding school, and it pushed him on, making him realise that although part of him didn't want to believe it, he actually really liked for the Prince, and somehow he didn't want him to die, because he still hadn't managed to apologise to him yet…

The two royals swerved round the last corner, and for the first time Peter could see the Stone Table.

His heart skipped a beat. It was her.

She was encased in a thick wall of ice, her hair floating as if she was in a tank full of water. Her skin was that same sickly white, her dress flaked like snow. She looked exactly as she had done the day that Aslan killed her, except in her current form she seemed, if he even dared to admit it to himself, more powerful and deadly than he had ever seen her before. Her lips seemed a lot darker, contrasting greatly with her pale face, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her new look reminded him of a creature he had once read about in one of Edmund's fantasy novels back home in England, although for the love of Aslan he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was called…

It was then that he stopped staring at the Witch for a moment and noticed the other Narnians by the table; a wizened Northern hag, a hooded figure, that Black Dwarf Nikabrik…and Caspian the Tenth, standing frozen in time, his arms helplessly outstretched towards the evil Queen of Narnia…

"Stop!"

Peter could hold it in no longer and sprinted forward towards the table, his sword Rhindon drawn from its sheath. He had only managed to gain a few yards closer to the Table when the hooded figure savagely ripped off his coverings and lunged upon the High King, tearing the fabric from his back. As the beast landed beside him he turned sharply and stabbed it in the chest, its pitiful howl bouncing off the walls as the dead body of what was obviously a Werewolf slipped with ease off the boy's sword. He could see out of the corner of his eye that his sister had armed herself and was now fighting the traitorous Dwarf, which he knew left him with the Hag.

As this thought crossed his mind the old crone herself rushed from behind him, wielding her badly made sword and screeching through her vulture like beak. Peter smashed his blade against hers; a big mistake as he felt her twist his wrist and hit it sharply against a boulder. His sword fell from his hands, and he scowled; Hags were really some of the foulest of the Witches loyal followers. They were often skilled fighters, but practised in the magical arts as well. None of them had ever forgiven the Pevensie children for "usurping" their Queen: the High King knew very well that it had been Hags who were behind most of the uprising in the first few months of their Golden Age. So he wasn't that surprised that one of their kind, 1300 years later, was still trying to bring her back. Well, he would make sure that she wouldn't succeed.

He forcefully shoved her into a rock, knocking her out instantly. The sheer force that it had taken to knock her down made him fall to the floor, and as he clambered back up he gasped in fear as he saw that Caspian was still standing in front of the Witch, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance. He saw the Witch reach out for the Prince's hand, which was moist and sticky with red blood.

With an impulse born of madness and fear, he ran forward and shoved the Telmarine out of the way, pointing his own sword into her ice cold face. She froze, and her arm retreated back into the icy prison.

"Get away from him!"

Peter didn't notice that he was now standing in the middle of the enchanted circle, and so the Witch focused her spells on the unfortunate boy. She smiled at him.

"Peter dear, I've missed you."

"Missed me?" The magic rooted itself deep into his soul as he became lost in his trail of thought. No one had missed him since he got back here the first place. Ever since they arrived, it had always been the same: a bunch of depressed malcontents complaining about how they had been abandoned by their Kings and Queens, how they weren't as great as they were supposed to be, how they never lived up to any expectations… Aslan hadn't even bothered to show his face. Yet here was the greatest evil in all of Narnia telling him how much she missed him.

"C'mon now, just one drop." She extended her hand towards him, causing the boy to flinch slightly and back off, sword still raised, "You know you can't do this alone."

As hard as he tried to shake off the enchantment, Peter gave in and let his free will leave him. She was right: he had been completely useless ever since he had come here. Hell, he practically killed half the army, for God's sake! His only confident at times like this was his brother, once the wisest in all of the land, but even he was out of reach now, and it was his entire fault…

The High King lowered his sword, and it fell from his clammy hands with a clang onto the stone floor.

"Peter?"

Susan Pevensie saw her brother standing in front of the ghastly spectre as she finally ran in, Trumpkin getting there only a few seconds earlier but being delayed by a vicious Nikabrik as he stabbed him, after the Black Dwarf raised his own dagger in a bid to kill a defenceless Lucy. The youngest Pevensie now lay on the ground and regarded her elder sister with worry as Susan began to yell frantically, "What are you doing? Stop!"

She was too late. Peter had taken a small dagger, and had made a thick cut down the palm of his hand, the blood beginning to clot in lumps and splattering onto the floor. Before anyone could stop him, he reached out and stained Jadis' pale fingers.

There was a ferocious smash as the ice wall broke, causing the semi-conscious Caspian to awaken and quickly hold his hands over his eyes. The rushing inferno of swirling snow seemed to last for an eternity, but when the shards finally cleared to their horror they saw the White Witch, breathing heavily but very much alive, and Peter laying asleep in her arms. She took one look at the Queens, and gave them a malicious smile.

"Time for my revenge" she hissed, and with a burst of magic she and the High King vanished.