This came to me while I was watching the battle scene of LWW, and it pretty much wrote itself. I hope Peter's not OOC, but I think he's justified to be a little bloodthirsty for the witch, considering everything that she's put his family through and she's just stabbed his younger brother.
Disclaimer: C.S. Lewis is dead. I'm not- I don't own.
"EDMUND!"
The scream tore from his throat, unearthly in it's shrill rawness, filled to the brim with fear, anger, pain.
His little brother had just been stabbed.
It was just another strike in the face to Peter, saying just how much he had failed his baby brother in the past months. He'd failed to protect him, failed to love him. He'd failed to be a brother. And now he might never be able to make amends for that, all thanks to the cruel witch standing before him, her blood red lips smiling cruelly as she surveyed the dark haired body at her feet.
A hate so intense it made him gasp filled Peter to his very core. She stabbed my little brother. It was a mantra repeating itself over and over again in his head, his heart. Peter welcomed it, gave himself to it. With a roar he swung his sword point down into the chest of the Minotaur on the ground, not caring about the blank eyes that stared up at him. All that mattered was the woman who was watching him coming, all that mattered was that she was going to pay.
He cut down a satyr with a deft flick of the glimmering blade in his hand, crimson red staining it's length. The witch tore his brother's sword out of the ground where she had beaten it away from it's previous owner to face him. Peter didn't even waver, bringing Rhindon down with a force he didn't know he possessed. Over and over again they struck each other, Peter desperate to hit her, just once. For Edmund.
What became clear to him in a matter of seconds however, was that no matter how much he was fuelled by rage, three days of training weren't much help here. He still didn't try to run, very aware of how his brother must have known the same thing when he ran to break the witches wand. Though none of his rage receded, sadness clawed it's way into Peter's body, silent tears coursing down his cheeks as he fought.
Then the witch threw him and he landed on his back with a thud that wracked his limbs. Peter reached for the helmet that was no longer there and clambered to his feet, noise tearing itself unbidden from his chest as he hit out, over and over again. A smile was on the witch's lips, like she was playing a game. Peter wanted to beat her till it resembled nothing but a bloody mess. That was the least this monster deserved.
The sounds of metal clashing, the weight of the sword in his hand, the black unrelenting eyes of his opponent. That was his world now. Two words echoed through his mind. For Edmund.
For Edmund.
How did my first little plot bunny turn out? Thoughts?