ADDENDUM TO A/N: So, I wrote this and totally forgot about it, silly me. Here it is now ^-^
A/N: I have returned! By request, I went back and wrote out the duel between Miraz and Peter, along with how their little sojourn affects the face off. Admittedly, I did consider doing this from the start, but I planned on closing my alternate scenario back into the movie at some point, and I felt that perhaps the strength Peter showed in the movie duel could be from his reconviction in his role as a king.
But who am I to deny fans what they want to see? Miraz still has time to mess with Peter's head, and maybe it's the fight itself that drives Peter back into conviction. So here it is! Thanks to WillowDryad for convincing me to do it!
Peter squinted as they emerged into bright sunlight. When was the last time he got to see weather like this? His prison cell had been without a window, so he had no sense of passing time while locked up, and they hadn't taken him to the camp until after sunset. But now was not the time to be admiring the scenery; he had a difficult task in front of him.
The Telmarine entourage was already settled at stone pavilion outside the How. Peter saw their reactions—to some satisfaction—when they realized he indeed intended to fight. The general looked a little sick, in fact. Miraz pushed his surprise and anger into battle fury. Never mind that he already cut a formidable appearance with full battle armor…
"I see his highness has recovered. Or else he is very foolish," growled the swarthy usurper.
"I warned you not to underestimate us," Peter retorted with all the authority he could muster. His mind's eye replayed his first conversation with Miraz, the beating ordered on him. He saw, felt the interrogations that had followed. No! He was stronger than what he'd suffered. He would make himself stronger.
The dark king seemed to pick up on the moment's hesitation. "There is still time to surrender."
"Feel free."
"How many more must die for the throne?"
Aslan did not make him High King by accident. "Just one."
Closing his visor, Peter launched himself off a rock at his opponent. They clashed heavily, and the duel began. He definitely held his own considering the size difference. Though the Telmarine king had many more years of experience (even against Peter's 'lost' years as a ruler of Narnia), age and years of peace began to show in the older man. But he still had plenty of sheer muscle to throw around at Peter.
A blow to Peter's head knocked his helmet clean off, a rapidly swelling bruise encompassing most of his left cheek and eye. Miraz pressed the advantage, and drove his younger opponent back. However, Peter managed to score a clean slice to his thigh. The man's rage redoubled.
"You think by simply showing up to face me, you will gain an upper hand?" Miraz spat in Peter's face. "I who have made you scream, made you beg for mercy. Such power is not taken away lightly." Unprepared for the verbal onslaught, Peter's foot caught a crack in the stonework. He went flat on his back. Their swords clashed once, twice…then Miraz stomped down on Peter's outstretched shield.
"Ahhgh!" He felt his left shoulder pop violently out of place, rendering the arm pretty much useless. Miraz pursued him as he rolled away, until his back met rock. An idea struck him—he rolled the other way, tripping the Telmarine, who fell heavily. The crowd's roar echoed in his ears. That's when he saw it, a horse galloping in their direction. Susan clung tightly behind Caspian. What? No…
"Does his highness need a respite?" Miraz threw at him. Peter fought to control his pain and shock.
"Five minutes?"
"Three!"
They parted ways for the moment. Edmund immediately rushed to Peter's side to help him, but Peter went straight to Caspian and Susan. His sister's face was white, taking in his appearance. He himself could care less how he looked right now.
"Lucy?"
"She got through," Susan assured him, throwing a quick glance to the prince beside her. "With a little help."
Peter felt genuine gratitude toward Caspian for the first time. "Thanks."
"Well, you were busy," shrugged the young warrior. Peter couldn't argue with that. Still on the alert, however, he turned back to Susan.
"Better get up there, just in case. I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word."
Susan wore her ever-mothering expression, and wrapped her arms around her brother. The movement sharply reminded Peter that his left shoulder was limp and excruciating at the moment. He couldn't suppress the quiet cry that rose; Susan quickly apologized.
"'S alright," he replied. They shared a serious gaze.
"Be careful."
"Uh, keep smiling," Edmund muttered to them.
They all realized the worried crowd of Narnian eyes fixed upon them. Despite his pain, Peter gritted a smile and raised his sword to the troops. The collection of creatures roared its encouragement. Susan darted off to join the archers while Edmund sat Peter down to ready him again for battle. The injured shoulder throbbed as his younger brother slipped the shield off his arm.
"Ahh!—I think it's dislocated." This would not be fun to rectify. And how much use of the arm would he have afterward? Peter studied Miraz and the Telmarine marshals, who conversed discordantly. Especially with a wounded thigh, Miraz looked about as tame as a prized fighting bull. The outlook from his view was suddenly very grim. "What do you think happens back home, if you die here?"
Edmund appeared caught off guard that Peter would dare think such a thing. But this was a fight to the death—he had to be realistic. So he pressed on. He had to get this out.
"You know, you've always been there, and I've never really—"
Pop!
"—Auugh!" Of all things, Edmund had to cut him off by putting his shoulder back into place.
"You'll have to save it for later," his younger brother declared, and continued to get him ready. Peter refused his helmet; pain and adrenaline hampered his breathing enough. Everyone resumed their positions. The armies cheered.
Yeah, if there is a later…
Miraz's renewed attacks pressed Peter to his limits. The blows were faster, harder, and laced with pounding memories of being tortured. Peter didn't want to give in to the traitorous thoughts. Everyone believed in him, depended on him! His brother and the crown prince had risked everything to rescue him from Miraz.
"You are nothing! Nothing but a whelp of a boy who only dreamt of grandeur!" the tyrant shouted over the noise. "I broke you, and I can break you again. Is that a true king? Your foolish beliefs can't protect you forever, boy!"
Miraz slammed into Peter's bad shoulder. He fell heavily, but in turn swung his legs to bring the big warrior down. Somewhere in the chaos he lost his shield. He tried to compensate with offense, tangling the guards of their swords until he wrested his opponent's away. Then Miraz started pounding at Peter with his round shield. Both blades fell to the wayside. It was all he could do to avoid being knocked unconscious by the decorated metal plate.
But he was still able to turn the move to his own advantage, twisting the king's arm until it wrenched painfully behind his back. That is, until Miraz elbowed Peter in the face. The larger man stormed after him, and Peter was thrown against the broken rocks. Miraz had regained a sword, too, leaving Peter with only his gauntlets for defense. He blocked, swung the blade away, and seized the resultant opening to land a hard blow to the Telmarine's injured thigh. They broke apart, both gasping for air.
"Respite!" cried the older man. "Respite…" One arm stretched up to cover his unprotected head.
Peter halted as he poised to throw another punch. He actually wasn't sure what to do. Despite his rage and adrenaline, he was never one for continuing to attack in cold blood and disrespect. Such tactics were the opposite of true kingship. They weren't in his nature.
"Now's not the time for chivalry, Peter!" Edmund shouted from the sideline. His brother had a point. Miraz was not likely to give him the same dignity; why should Peter acknowledge this show of desperation? However, the pure fact that respite was asked for held him to his honor. He would not bend to anger-fueled whims when he had agreed to a fair fight. It may be more than he could ever expect to receive, but that didn't change his obligation. Peter stalked passed the kneeling figure.
He heard the scrape of steel before the warning.
"Peter, look out!"
He turned in time to duck once, twice, and on the third swipe, caught the blade in his gloved hands. Peter didn't even really think about what he was doing—he spun around and brought the sword right up into the lunging king. The end slipped cleanly underneath Miraz's breastplate for a critical blow.
Everything stretched into slow motion. His shocked opponent wobbled to his knees, fumbling for where he'd been stabbed. Peter already had the sword raised for a killing strike. Everyone watching seemed to hold their breath.
He had every right now. The fight was to the death, after all. Part of him wanted so badly to do it, to end this terrible man's life. Miraz had hurt so many for his own gain…and yet, Peter couldn't do it. If anyone should truly have power over the Telmarine's fate, it should be one of his victims…
The wounded king leered at Peter the longer the moment held out. "What's the matter, boy? Too cowardly to take a life?"
Yes, this is the right choice, thought Peter. "It's not mine to take." And he turned, offering the sword to Caspian. The prince had to shake off his amazement before he stepped forward. Peter gratefully retreated to where Edmund stood. He looked forward to a good long rest after this latest beating.
Tension coagulated in the air around them. Caspian's body shook with what could only be righteous anticipation—he could finally take revenge for his father, after all—as every soul present watched. Miraz growled something low that only his nephew could hear. Everyone waited. Peter couldn't see Caspian's face to guess what he was thinking.
Suddenly the prince let out a strangled cry, and thrust the sword down. It bit deep into a patch of grass in front of Miraz's knees. He hissed something back, straightened, and returned to the Narnian side of the field. The How erupted with triumphant cheers.
He does have the makings of a true Narnian king. Peter smiled through his weariness. He and Caspian exchanged a nod. They had won.
At least they thought so, until Miraz gasped and staggered out of his lieutenant's arms. The wounded man collapsed face-down, with an arrow sticking out of the base of his armor. A red-fletched arrow. Peter's gazed whipped back to Susan's position. But he'd never heard an arrow pass by! She looked just as confused; Caspian's expression had gone dark.
"Treachery!" cried the Telmarine lord. "They shot him! They murdered our king!" Already the general had retreated to their front lines.
"Peter look out!" warned Susan.
So much for avoiding a full-scale battle. Exchanging glances with Edmund and Caspian, Peter geared himself up to fight once more.
