Okay, so this is just I short story I wrote about a battle Peter may have had after he was crowned. I figured, hey, there are probably still some of the White Witch's forces out there. This is really just pure fluff.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, save the plot.
Impossible
Night had fallen, and rain was pouring down in sheets over the field. High King Peter stared grimly at the immense mass of black advancing upon them. In the front line he could see serpents, minotaurs, wolves – all that remained of the White Witch's troops (which was quite a lot). Behind him stood the small army he had gathered – eagles, fauns, gryphons – the Narnians who fought for the freedom of their land.
Peter sighed, shaking his head. This is impossible, he mused grimly.
Suddenly, a voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. And why do you say that? The voice was deep and majestic, compelling an answer from the young king.
They far outnumber us, he replied. We have no hope of winning this fight.
High King Peter the Magnificent, the voice stated. Through me, nothing is impossible. A great thunderclap sounded in the heavens, loud and ferocious like a lion's roar.
Filled with new strength, Peter hefted his sword high, rallying his troops, and the two armies clashed. The battle raged through the night, and despite the vast number of the White Witch's remaining forces, Peter's army continued fighting, never seeming to tire.
Finally, as dawn broke, the combat ended. Not a single creature of evil stood alive on the battlefield. Grinning, Peter gazed up at the sky. The rain had ceased, and the clouds had parted, revealing the sun's rays. And Peter thought he could just make out a huge lion, mane and fur golden bright, standing on the crest of a faraway hill, smiling proudly at the High King.
I hope you liked it!
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