Disclaimer: very glad am I, to admit I do not own such evil. Happy Halloween, have a villain's thoughts.
Beta'd by trustingHim17.
A/N: so, I wrote this before Halloween. It's not fluffy. I am working on a fluff story, and on my Christmas stories, but no, this is not the fluff I promised.
He is hunting me.
The foolish prince. I'd stung his mother, the star's daughter, the one in my place. Narnia was mine. I had waited, how long I'd waited, till they came here. My place of retreat lay just behind me, and as soon as I stung her I wiggled away, letting him chase me to a thicket, then vanishing down the smallest hole connected to my tunnels. But I needed it to be here. For here was where I would draw the prince, draw the hunter far from his father, his friends, his people. He would be mine. To let myself be hunted was the beginning.
"The Prince took his mother's death very hardly, as well he might. After that, he was always riding on the Northern marches of Narnia, hunting for that venomous worm, to kill and be avenged. No one remarked on this, though the Prince came home from these wanderings looking tired and distraught."
The next day he came, heedless of the forest he and his mother had come to celebrate, blind to anything but me in his grief and anger. He came to find the snake, to cut off its head with his sword. Brave hunter! Too foolish to know there were deadlier stings than venom.
I watched. I let him catch glimpses of me, drawing him closer and closer to the place his mother perished. She had seen me, for she had the eyes of the stars that cannot be fooled by mere form. But anger blinds her son, and he hunts me.
Slowly. Slowly. Draw the net around the hunter. It has been but two weeks, and he radiates rage. Not ready to be enchanted. But I have him away from the Northern Marches. He feels it now, the quiet of the woods. His heart stills, his body worn, weary. Oh yes. Such a weary hunter. Not calm enough for peace; see how he spurs his horse still! But weary enough his rage is tempering. See his head slumping. Soon it will be time.
Oh, but he did not want to come today. I see his reluctance in the slow pace of his horse. This will not do. I will take a risk. I will be hunted again. Now see me, prince! Yes, I hear you shout! Follow me! Further, further, towards the fountain! A day's ride away; closer than I dared to come before. But you are following; you are mine. And the anger rises in your heart. It rides you hard, harder than you spur your horse.
Another week. You seek me ceaselessly. Soon, quite soon, you will seek me for another reason.
One more week, I think. You are back to your slow pace, hardly glancing towards the fountain. Rage has worn you to threads, the rage that stems from grief. Oh, I took her from you. Now I take you as well.
"But about a month after the Queen's death, some said they could see a change in him.
There was a look in his eyes as of a man who has seen visions,
and though he would be out all day, his horse did not bear the signs of hard riding."
This day. This day at last. I will sit above the fountain, to the north. You mean to come here, to face your fear of it and grieve. I saw your glances yesterday.
But you waited too long. You will find me instead. Me, your temptress, your captor, your mistress. You will be all mine.
Just a glimpse. But you looked up to face your grief and saw my beauty. You were enthralled. You could not look away. I changed to a small snake in the blink of an eye (the smaller the form the easier the change), and to you it looked as if I vanished, but I watched you, hunter. You stared at the empty space where I had sat, and your face was filled with peace.
Oh, the sweet relief that beauty gives the hurting; my beauty, so consuming you forget all else. You forget your pain, your grief, the weight of your sorrow, the burning away of your spirit by your rage. Oh yes, you will forget them before my beauty. It will feel like healing, and you will thirst for it again. Indeed you did; you stayed all day, looking for me.
Not hunting me. Not as before.
Foolish Prince. I am deadlier in this form than the other, at least to you as you are now.
And yet you came again. The net is laid, but you are not fully in it yet. You came, and I let you look at me for longer. Already you cannot take your eyes from me. Tomorrow I will smile at you.
Oh, haunted one, it worked. The net is closing. I smiled and you stepped forward; had I led you through the forest you would have followed me. But not yet, not yet. Your kind crave sunlight, and to darkness we must go. Yet in three days I have your heart. It is well. Six more and I will be sure of you.
On our fourth day you sat at my gesture; already you listen. I am safe, here above you. At a moment I can vanish. But you come alone, cutting yourself off in your love as you did in your grief. Oh, you are all mine!
On the fifth I spoke, just your name. You were caught by it more. So enthralled you could not speak back. I waved my hand over you and you slept, and I fell to my snake form. Oh, a part of me wanted to bite you! I could smell the burning fire of your grandfather in your blood, feel the stern strength you got from your father. My stomach turned. Venom dripped from my mouth, and I longed to lunge forward and bite.
But no. The net was not complete. You would be mine to twist and mar, in but four days more. I could wait. I would smother the fire in your veins with dirt and lies, and bend that stern strength to support me, and only me. Narnia would be mine through you. What could even the great Cat say, if I had you?
I turned and left, letting you wake.
The sixth day I waved you to rest, and sleep came quickly. I put my lies in your dreams. I showed you a kingdom where there was no pain, no grief; where you would only exist to do my bidding, and my joy would be your joy, and when I gained my kingdom, my right, my joy would abound, and so would yours. I showed you the soothing numbness of the dark. I let you wake, and there was longing on the pale face, the dark hair dishevelled as you glanced wildly around. You looked for the sun.
Ah. You did not believe the dream completely. But soon. A few more repetitions...
And so the seventh day went, where I wove into your dreams what your life would be as mine, but added what I had forgotten; how I needed you. False fantasy! I need nothing but to possess you. I need only for you to be mine.
And then, then! Wretched knight! For you came with another, an old man who also had clear eyes, though not enough to see my form. But he had looked for sight too long to be enchanted. And I could say nothing, nor could I make you sleep! All because of this one knight! Wretch! I would bare my teeth, I would wrap my coils around and squeeze, I would drag both of you underground and-
No. I had waited too long. My plans were set. Still you loved me, and I could use that. The net still caught you. I beckoned you, giving you that command, vanishing from your sight, knowing you would long for me as men long for their dreams. I could not take you with him there, but I would wait! This would not be as satisfying for you as before; this might even make you fear to lose me, and you could come again, just you. Alone.
I did not sleep that night; I tore into the walls of the large tunnel underground, slicing, digging out supports and snapping them to ribbons. I crushed two earthmen in my coils, and sent a slave to fetch the silver bracelets. I had not meant to use them, I meant to make you completely mine, no remembered truth, but now I could not wait for it! Oh, my anger burned! I would drag you where none could reach you!
But none of my anger or hate showed on my face when I waited for you to come.
And you came. Dismounting in a rush, looking only at my seat, and did I not reward you? And when I beckoned you came, as I had planned, and at last I put my hands on you, clicking the metal bracelets around your wrists. They were from the chair, made of enchanted silver, and they chained you. Your mother's blood raged at their touch and you awoke! But my voice was in your ear, the earthmen holding your arms, your legs, your sword useless at your side. Confused, you did not remember how to fight. We easily took you underground. Then they hit you on the head, and I quickly wove your dreams. Sleep, hunter. Sleep. When you wake your thoughts will be all of me.
For now the hunter is mine.