Chatter and murmurs echoed through the camp. Centaurs and Fauns spoke in hushed tones beside the red and yellow tents littering the clearing of grass, a few cheetahs prowling around the gathered ground menacing. It was clear, everyone was watching tensely as The White Witch, Jadis, marched onto Aslan’s grounds. Everyone shouted insults and expressions of hate in her direction, some already drawing swords.

But you, Edmund Pevensie, were the most scared of all. You had only been rescued from her torture yesterday, and now she was here to retrieve what was hers, which was you.

Your older brother, Peter, instinctively stood in front of you in an effort to shield you from her cold gaze. Susan glanced at you worriedly as she comforted the youngest, Lucy.

She circles you, her gaze never leaving your lowered eyes, as if you were trying to avoid her. Aslan watched, stepping closer slightly as he growled.

“You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan.”

She stopped suddenly, pointing at you as everyone’s eyes laid on you.

“His offence was not against you.”

Aslan stated calmly, his eyes briefly flicking over to you.

“Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?”

Jadis stepped closer to you, her eyes narrowing at Aslan, who lets out a low, fierce growl at her comment.

“Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written.”

Everyone looks on as Aslan glowers at the White Witch, his tail slashing behind him.

“Then you’ll remember well that every traitor belongs to me. His blood is my property. You know that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned, and perish in fire and water.”

She yells loudly for everyone to hear, snapping her head to you as you back away, whimpering as you flinch.

“That boy will die on the Stone Table. As is tradition.”

Aslan glared, demanding everyone to silence as the whispers got louder. He motioned his head towards a tent and walks in, Jadis following shortly after, to talk alone.