Fearless • P. Pevensie

Jadis and Aslan

"Jadis, the Queen of Narnia!" A dwarf introduces her.

She's carried towards us on a throne, her cyclopes soldiers carrying her in their hands. Thinking herself too high and mighty to walk amongst us peasantry?

The Witch herself is laughable, really. She's not but a tall, thin woman of an indiscernible age. Her hair is matted into locks, and she wears a long white dress. As is fitting for her powers of ice. Sat atop her head is a crystal crown. Perhaps they're ice crystals? Either way, it gives her a fearsome appearance nonetheless.

"Go away, Witch!" Someone in the crowd yells.

I stand high and tall. My shoulders back, by chest forward. My head held high as I stare down the witch as she approaches. I know my place, my place is here. Among my people. As High Queen of Narnia.

I will not let her frighten me.

Beetee stands behind me. In case anything should go wrong today, he holds a horn. If he blows upon it, the loyalist soldiers are ready to come bearing down the hill in full attack at any moment. It's very reassuring to know that my people have my back in such a way.

"Empress of the Lone Islands!" The dwarf announces her again.

The Pevensies run up to us, and I greet them with a solemn look. Peter stands to my right. I'm thankful, for him to be here. For all of them to be here for this.

"You don't belong here!"

"Go away!"

The Narnian soldiers are not handling her arrival well. I suppose we couldn't have expected them to. She's a false queen. A stain on Narnian history. Of course they would wish her gone.

The cyclopes set her down. Aslan rises to meet her. It's oddly civil, considering everything that's gone on between them for the past hundred years or so.

My nerves are shot. Why would the witch want to meet with Aslan? For what purpose, other than deceit?

Jadis rises.

She steps carefully towards Aslan, holding her head high as she pretends to be Queen. As she passes us, she looks at Edmund. Spite rises in me as I glare at her. She passes by me, not giving me so much as a second glance as she approaches Aslan.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan." Jadis is the first among them to speak. My heart sinks, knowing now what her desire is with this meeting.

She wants Edmund.

My hand finds the hilt of my sword. I don't draw, not yet. But it rests there. Should I need to defend him, I will.

"His offense was not against you." Aslan reminds the White Witch.

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?" Jadis asks him, as if he doesn't already know.

"Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written." The lion reminds her. He holds his head high, a true king, as he looks down at Jadis.

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me." Jadis tells him. The hilt of my sword, firmly pressed into my hand, feels more and more comforting as we allow the Witch to speak. False words of a false queen. "His blood is my property."

"Try and take him, then." Peter pulls his sword, stepping up to meet the Witch. He's got courage, I'll give him that.

"Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little King?" She asks him.

I draw my own sword, stepping out ahead of Peter. The White Witch seems amused by this as she stares down at me.

"And what is your right, Witch?" I ask her, my gaze never breaking from hers.