A Prison of Ice and Fear || Peter Pevensie x OC || Narnia

Chapter 14

The Witch's camp is loud and crowded. The tree coverage and smoke of burning forges make it dark as well, sinister and grey. Ropes bite into my skin as I watch Ginarrbrik bind Edmund to a tree not far from the one I'm currently anchored to.

We're both gagged, though I'd never risk talking. Ginarrbrik taunts Edmund, scrapping a dagger along the bark above the boy's head and whispering who knows what into his ear.

Subconsciously, I lean closer, knowing how much Edmund means to his siblings and to Narnia. I can't help but want to reach out to him. Protect him.

He's so young, much closer in age to Lucy than Peter. He looks so different to his brother, too. They have the same chin and the same nose shared by all the Pevensie siblings, but that's about where the similarities stop.

Edmund, with his raven hair and dark eyes, is a stark contrast to his golden-haired, blue-eyed brother.

Age plays a part, too. Edmund still has his boyish features, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen to Peter's sixteen or seventeen.

Edmund's eyes meet mine. In them, mostly I see fear, but still, there is that hint of something else. An almost jealous expression. Suddenly, his eyes flare wide, and I turn my head in the direction of the stare.

Jadis saunters towards us, wand by her side and Otmin following close behind,

"Cressida dear, it's time you and I had a little...heart-to-heart."

Ginarrbrik pulls the gag from my mouth. I flex my jaw and lick my chapped lips, wishing more than anything for a little water. I hadn't had anything to eat in almost two days, and on our walk, I ate snow to stay hydrated.

"Cressida, I have a little proposition for you to get back in my good graces."

"Why would I do anything for you."

"Well, I could include a little reward for you as well, for good compliant behaviour and all that." She grins. "After all, this has been your first slight against me, so I'm feeling...forgiving."

"What reward could possibly be worth betraying Narnia, that is what you're going to ask me to do, isn't it?"

"All I ask is that you infiltrate Aslan's camp and convince the children to come to me." She smiles, purely predatory. "How you get them here is up to you, but I want to put this all to rest quickly."

"How could you possibly think I'd help you lead them to their deaths, are you mad?"

The Witch's eyes grow dark, but her smile stays firm,

"You haven't even heard the best part. The prophecy speaks of four children to defeat me, but if that number was reduced to, say, one, that one wouldn't pose a threat."

"What are you saying?"

"Bring me the children, and Peter is yours. I'll spare his life, and you can have a little companionship for the rest of your days."

"You're asking me to betray his family, and you'll let him live?" I ask slowly.

"Exactly, a simple request, really, little princess."

She hasn't called me that in years.

"No."

"No?" She growls.

"Screw you, and your fools bargain." I seethe.

"Understand this, Cressida," the Witch bends down to whisper in my ear, "if you don't do this, I will take great pleasure in slowly ending that boy and making you watch every moment. I shall take him apart piece by piece until he is begging me for death."

I shudder, and my stomach lurches. My eyes well, and tears threaten to spill. Tears full of anger, frustration and regret.

"Long live Aslan." I reply.

Jadis' hand cracks across my face for the second time today, reopening my lip and splitting my cheek, too.

"Take her to the post, it's twenty lashings for her."

"You wouldn't." I snarl.

"I told you I would show you what it's really like to be my prisoner." She quips. "Make it twenty-five for good measure."

Otmin slashes my bindings and grips tightly to both my arms. I struggle left and right, digging in my heels and clawing at the minotaur.

"Stop, don't touch me." I huff, pushing back against him.

"You're just lucky I'm not doing the whipping, girl." His foul breath curls around me.

As rancid as the day he slung me over his shoulder and carried me far from my family.

The post arrives too soon, and my wrists are fastened into the cuffs.

"If you won't be beating me, who has the honour?" I ask Otmin through gritted teeth.

"That'd be me, little princess." Ginarrbrik laughs. "The Witch wants you scarred, not torn to pieces."

I close my mouth and lock my jaw as Otmin rips my gown straight down the back from nape to tailbone, pulling the fabric apart so it hangs loosely to my sides.

I can hear the crowd gathering, and I close my eyes. Focusing on my breath, I steel myself against the pain.

Stay standing for as long as possible, don't give them the satisfaction.

The first crack of the whip has me gasping for breath; my back arches and I inadvertently drive myself against the post, my body begging for support.

The next strike is worse as I feel the first trickles of warm blood slip down my back. For a dwarf, Ginarrbrik has a strong arm and an inexplicable bloodlust.

Lash five earns the crowd their first scream. The sound tears from my throat as I stumble into the post again. The blood isn't just a trickle now, and I can feel it soaking into the fabric of my dress at my waist.

By the eleventh lash, my knees buckle and give out. My breathing is ragged, and my throat aches as though I've swallowed shards of glass. The contents of my stomach lie around me.

I slowly turn my head to see Jadis watching. Her mouth is set in a grimace, and her eyes are unwavering. I know she doesn't care for me, but I thought maybe, just maybe, after almost a decade, she'd have even a small capacity for compassion.

I was wrong.

I pass out somewhere between number nineteen and twenty.