The queen paces. She is not satisfied with sitting still; not with everything so close to perfection. Jadis hates waiting. She is the queen! She deserves to be first... Perhaps when she has solved the Aslan problem she will be free to go and subjugate Time. But that is a concern for the future.

The sun is nearly below the hills, kindling her realm of ice into a sea of fire. Tomorrow by this time the Lion will be dead, and all Narnia will be hers. The White Witch smiles. The thought of power carries The Witch down the long passageway, footsteps echoing behind her, cracking the silence. Soon it will be night, and she will stand at the Stone Table, her enemy slain and vanquished forever. Nothing will remain in any world that can possibly stand against her might. And she will indeed be Queen, as she had been in Charn.

No uncertainty will spoil her victory. She will not be like those who wait, as a spider waits, for power and might to be ensnared by their webs, a sluggish morass of indecision. She will be like an eagle, strong, proud, and beautiful. She will swoop down and seize what is hers, making off with it to her eyrie. And she will not wait on Chance or anyone else. Victory will come by her own hand; her own power will triumph.

The witch strides to the end of the passageway and out into the twilight beyond. Now her land has reverted to its chilling blue. But this night holds more of the warm purple of a summer evening - so different from the icy blue of winter. The queen scowls. She does not care to know how closely failure has stalked her path. But she will not fail. She shall certainly defeat an enemy who was so foolish as to sacrifice himself for a traitor. And by sacrificing himself, he has doomed his whole army to destruction. He was so unwise to choose humanity to rule this land. Humankind are so weak, so fallible. If the Lion had truly been all-knowing, he would have chosen someone like her... wise, strong, and beautiful. But no, he preferred children. She fumes.

But this night, she will make herself queen, since she has not been chosen as such. What does it matter who Aslan chooses? He is a fool, and his host with him. Let them die for him. And die they will, for his is a lost cause. Tonight, she will seal the fate of Narnia forever; she will instate herself in her rightful position, never again to be challenged. And in the darkness of night, when she stands before all who have pledged their allegiance to her, the Witch will wait no longer. She will have what belongs to her, and there will be no more delay. Again, carmine lips smile in an alabaster face. She is the cold that burns.

A/N: Yay! A little fic about the White Witch. Time frame for this would be after Aslan agrees to die for Edmund, and right before the Stone Table. I did this for a writing assignment, and I can't wait to see what my teacher thinks about it. And speaking of which, I would love to know what you think of it too! Please review!

NOTE: I do not agree with what the White Witch thinks, in fact, pretty much the opposite about everything, but she's just a blast to write.