Disclaimer: I own nothing (ESPECIALLY not the words at the end of the words at the end of that one particular paragraph at the end of the chapter) except for Faiana.
Summary: What is there in the making for one who is called 'High King' and 'the Magnificent?' A story of how Peter grew into his position and title with an eventual Peter/OC.
AN: Well, here it is! The moment some of you have all been waiting for! The Battle of the Fords of Beruna!
I'd like to thank Calyn again for her review of the last chapter and if I may take a few lines to make a reply.
Calyn: I had not intended for the boys or the Narnians to find out about Aslan, though it is my suspicion that the Narnians later found out prior to Prince Caspian because of the constructing of Aslan's How over the Stone Table. I also suspect that Edmund himself found out later prior to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader because of the one scene just after Eustace has been de-dragoned and Eustace asks Edmund if he knows Aslan to which Edmund replies:
"Well – He knows me. … He is the great Lion, the Son of the Emperor over Sea,who saved me and saved Narnia. We've all seen him. Lucy sees him most often. And it may be Aslan's country we are sailing to." (emphasis added)
It's my suspicion that Aslan Himself told Edmund and he recorded it in Narnian history. I certainly don't think that Aslan would have told anyone else since, as Aslan told Shasta in The Horse and His Boy:
"I am telling you your story, not [Aravis']. I tell no one any story but his own." (paraphrased to know whom Aslan was referring to)
Chapter Three: The Battle of the Fords of Beruna
Peter slept uneasily that night before. More than once, he was awakened by the sounds of moans and haunts that sounded through the woods. Whenever he'd awaken, he'd always roll over to see that if the rest of them were alright. To him, the others never stirred. At some point in the night, he was finally able to catch a long draught of sleep before being awoken by and uproarious cry that echoed throughout the night. So eerie was it, that he stood and poked his head out of the pavilion flap. When he looked about the encampment, his fears that Aslan was leaving came to light. The Great Lion was nowhere to be found. One of the sentries that stood watch approached him and told him that Aslan had left the encampment a few hours before and that he'd also seen his sisters follow after Aslan shortly.
At that, Peter's heart sank. Now not only was Aslan gone, but so were Susan and Lucy. How he hadn't noticed this with the number of times he'd been awoken during the night bewildered him. He attempted to reassure himself that where ever Susan and Lucy were, they were with Aslan and they were safe. It had taken him a long time to fall back asleep after that.
Suddenly, he as well as the rest of the encampment were awakened just as the sun peeked out from the horizon by what sounded like the worst clap of thunder that had ever been heard by any of them. It was like a Giant had taken a Giant's plate and slammed it onto a table. Peter bolted out of bed, adrenaline rushing through his veins and for a brief moment, he thought he was back in London and the Nazi Luftwaffe had started another bombing. But when he finally got his senses together and realized where he was, it raised an even greater question. What had caused that sound? He wasted no time in rousing the entire encampment (though not much effort was needed as the other Narnians had also been awakened by the thunderous boom).
"Aslan," he muttered to himself. "Please let my sisters be safe."
A Centaur cantered up to him a few moments later. "Sire, we should make ready for battle. The Witch's forces have been spotted to the south of the Fords of Beruna. She and her crew will be making passage across the river soon if we do not make haste."
Peter's face turned over in worry. Now the entire war-effort had been put on his shoulders with Aslan's absence. "How long do we have to make ready before the Witch's forces cross the river."
The Centaur lofted his head for a moment, as if in contemplation before he looked back down at Peter again. "Perhaps three or four hours."
Peter nodded. "That will give us enough time, then. Have the army ready itself and we'll set an ambush for her crew." The majority of the army, being comprised of Talking Beasts needed little time to ready and those who wore armor (with the exception of himself and Edmund who had never worn it) were ready for fighting in under half an hour.
Faiana, it seemed, had already planned ahead for the anticipated fighting and had commissioned the Dryads to fashion for Peter and Edmund surcoats that they would be able to wear over their armor. The base color was a dark hued green with a crimson rampant Lion emblazoned on the front.
"This is the coat of arms for Narnia that the Kings and Queens of old wore before the times of the White Witch." She had told Peter and Edmund as they both donned the respective surcoats and fastened their baldrics overtop them. Faiana smiled. "Now you both look like true Knights and Princes of Narnia."
Both Edmund and Peter smiled at her, though their eyes both betrayed their nervousness about the upcoming battle.
Edmund's time with the White Witch truly seemed to have changed him, Peter found. No longer did he seem eager to "be right there in all the excitement" as Edmund had put it once when voicing how unfair it had been for Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie, his parents to send him and Peter and Susan and Lucy out into the country away from the bombings in London. Instead, Peter could see nervousness written on Edmund's face plainly in the way his eyes were wider than normal and the way they darted about in anxiety. The way he even breathed. Peter went and clapped his brother on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. "We'll make it. Don't you worry." He'd told him. Edmund nodded back and with that, the Narnian army began making their way through the forest toward the Fords of Beruna.
Peter had met with his Lieutenants earlier to discuss the plans for the coming battle. While many of them had advised him on the side of caution when confronting the Witch's forces, Edmund insisted that there was no way they would be able to win if they did not fight with their all. Once they had begun, they would need to fight with everything they had, even to the last man if it came to it. Many of the elder Lieutenants agreed with Edmund, having witnessed the atrocities of the White Witch before. Retreat would not be an option. If they attempted, the Witch would hunt them all down or, even if she left some of them alive, she would make it so they would never recover from their loss. That being said, Peter formed a plan.
Just to the North of the Fords of Beruna, after about a mile of open plains was a narrow winding valley in the woods that offered the quickest route from the Fords to the Witch's house. Peter felt that this would be an ideal place to battle against the Witch. His plan was that he would divide the archers into the army into two groups and have them take position on either side of the valley, hiding amongst the trees in the wood while the main force of the Narnian army would position itself on the Northern side. With any luck – or rather, if it was Aslan's will, Peter reminded himself, they would be able to thin the Witch's ranks enough so that the main force of Narnians wouldn't have to do all that much fighting. The plan seemed a sound one.
With that, Peter took his troops and did as was planned. They crossed the Fords of Beruna and made their way across the plains and one group of archers were positioned on the western side of the valley while another group was positioned on the eastern side. Peter kept a smaller contingent of archers with the main force to reinforce their location and with an hour to spare, the Narnian army was in position and ready. Messages were run back and forth and every so often, it would be reported that the Witch's army was on the move. As her army neared, the Narnian army made ready.
A Talking Eagle circled overhead, its keen eyes looking for any sign of the Witch before reporting back to Peter. "Your Highness," it said, landing just in front of the Peter. "The Witch and her crew have just entered the valley. I would not wait more than ten more minutes before sounding the attack."
Peter nodded in return. "Very well. You've served Narnia and Aslan well."
The Eagle bobbed its head in a bow before it took flight again to hide amongst the trees and swoop down upon the enemy later in the battle. "My life for the Lion and for Narnia!"
Peter took a breath, attempting to put himself at ease, though knowing that danger and possibly their doom was drawing ever nearer, it unsettled him.
"We're all here for you Peter." Said Edmund.
Peter turned to his brother and sighed, shaking his head. "I just wish I knew where those girls were."
"With Aslan." Edmund said, trying to be reassuring, but as he looked back into the valley and say the Witch's army approaching, he muttered "…Where ever He is."
Peter sighed again. "Well I wish they were all here. Especially Aslan." He too, turned his eyes to the Witch's approaching army. The wind rustled the branches of nearby trees as he drew his sword.
This was it.
Raising his sword into the air, he cried in a loud voice. "A sword for Narnia! And for Aslan!" The Narnian army echoed his cry and the horns of war were sounded. The hissing of arrows leaving their bowstrings sounded and from Peter's perspective, it looked like hundreds of insects jumped into the air and fell upon the Witch's army.
The attack had, it seemed come as a complete surprise as the first ranks of the Witch's army fell beneath the Narnian arrows, but the Witch's army quickly regrouped, their own archers taking aim at the ones that had been positioned at the edges of the valley while the main force of the Witch's army surged forward. Peter took comfort in the fact that at least his archers had the trees to hide in and hide behind, but things would definitely get ugly once the Witch's army closed on the main force of Peter's.
Another volley from the Narnian archers sounded and more of the Witch's henchmen fell and, with keen eyes, Peter saw that some of the archers had specifically targeted the Witch herself, but through her magics, she was able to repel the projectiles and turned her hateful eyes towards Peter's army. A Centaur to Peter's left reared and Peter moved to calm it, but as soon as he took a step, the Centaur's features greyed and then it moved no more. Peter stared in shock and Edmund gasped and both turned their eyes to see the Witch holding her wand aloft. Had her aim been slightly to the right…
"Peter! We have to charge now!" Edmund shouted. "We're sitting ducks here!"
Peter had not realized the extent of the Witch's power. So much for his initial plan. It was time to improvise. He felt a lump forming in his throat as chills ran up and down his skin. Like his fight with Maugrim, he did not feel particularly brave, but felt more like he was going to be sick – yet the outcome of that fight had ended with him as the victor and so he raised his sword again. "A sword for Narnia! A sword for Aslan!" Again, the Narnian army echoed his cry as he swung his sword down and began running headlong toward the ranks of the Witch's army.
He felt as if he were throwing himself into suicide yet on they charged. "Don't stop fighting till we've killed the Witch!" He shouted. "Kill her! KILL HER!" It was not in his nature to be overly violent, but the lives of good creatures in Narnia and his siblings were at stake.
He rushed past the first of the Witch's army and faced off against an Efreet. Fire surged around it's form as it leered down at Peter and swung one of its fiery limbs in an effort to knock Peter's head from his shoulders. Peter ducked behind his shield and let it take the blow before he pushed out and thrust his sword forward. He heard the thing shriek as his sword pierced whatever passed as its skin, then he drew his sword back and hacked away until the Efreet lay in a pile of charred ash before him.
First kill of the day. He thought to himself and looked around. All seemed to be dissolving into chaos around him. No ranks had been formed by either army. They had simply plunged together and were now fighting in and amongst each other in the trees. It was going to be a blood bath. Statues dotted the gorge and Peter looked to see the Witch swinging her wand every which way, more statues appearing with each swing. She had to be stopped or they were finished.
He saw the Witch look his way and he ducked behind the figure of a crouched griffon that had been turned to stone with one of the Witch's crew pinned beneath it. He heard the hiss of an arrow being loosed from its bow and looked to his right. Faiana crouched behind the griffon as well, now armed with a bow with a half-emptied quiver as well as her dagger. Sweat poured from her pale forehead as she fired upon the enemy from their cover.
"Faiana!" Peter cried. "Can you get the Witch from here?"
The Naiad turned her head, her eyes staring somewhat disbelieving at Peter before she shook her head. "I've tried hitting her but her magic protects her! I have to get closer!"
Peter nodded to her and peeked up from behind the griffon to spy on the Witch. Her back was to them now as she begin making statues of what was left of Narnia's eastern flank. "Come on!" He shouted and bounded ahead, his shield and sword at the ready and she followed, notching another arrow as they ran. Together, they fought their way through the enemy, getting ever closer to the Witch. Peter swinging his sword and shield to ward away the enemy while Faiana fired her bow at any that approached them from a distance.
Peter looked up to where he'd last seen the Witch briefly and saw that the Talking Eagle which had brought him news of the Witch's arrival was now attempting to snatch the Witch's wand from her hand and the Witch batted at it with a blood-stained stone knife. The hair on the back of Peter's neck stood on end as he heard what sounded like an angry bull behind him and turned to see a Minotaur bearing down on Faiana.
"Look out!" He cried as Faiana turned her head just in time to see the Minotaur swing its axe toward her. She ducked from the swing and disregarded her bow and drew the dagger that hung from her belt in one fluid motion, like water rushing over and under a rock in a fast flowing river and as she rose again, she embedded the dagger into the Minotaur's chest. The monster gave a guttural whine as it fell off balance and moved no more.
Peter turned back to where he last saw the Witch, only to find that she was no longer there, then turned back to Faiana. "Come on! We have to find out where she got to!"
But as Peter turned to try and find where the Witch had gone, he found himself unable to move. It was as though his muscles were frozen. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Faiana's eyes widen.
"PETER!" She cried and leaped behind him.
As soon as she had done so, he found himself able to move again. He spun around and saw Faiana standing tall with her arms stretched out wide, and in front of her...
…Stood the Witch with her wand upraised.
The world seemed to slow and even as Peter yelled in defiance, Faiana's features greyed and then she froze. A cold stone statue now stood where the living, breathing Naiad once had.
Peter felt as if his heart had dropped from his body. The Witch cackled madly, taunting him, mocking him. Tears strung his eyes and for a moment, he stood there in utter disbelief, despair welling up inside him to replace where his heart had once been. He saw the Witch, still laughing in as if in utter delight and ecstasy.
He yelled in defiance again and rushed forward. His life no longer mattered. His despair gave way to hatred as he raised his sword and charged forward. An Incubus stepped in his path, brandishing a thorny whip and lashed it out towards him. Peter blocked with his shield and in the same second swung his sword down, slashing across the monster's chest. The thing fell to the earth, writhing in pain but Peter paid it not even a thought as he continued toward the Witch.
He vaguely noticed that a leopard had joined his right side, it four legs propelling it faster than Peter could run. He was less than twenty feet from the Witch as the leopard leaped forward, letting out a roar, its terrible claws unvelveting as it pounced on the Witch.
Even in her delirious stupor, the Witch raised her wand again and the leopard was turned to stone. Its form frozen in mid-pounce. It only served to fill Peter's rage all the more and he barely noticed the figure of another person baring a surcoat of the Narnia coat of arms. The Witch's wand was still upraised when a sword flashed down upon it. Steel met gold and there was brilliant flash of blue, white and yellow and in the next second, the Witch took a step back, her eyes going wide. Only for an instant did she stare in shock at the golden stump in her hand that was once in her wand, then she turned with her stone knife and parried away the sword that had shattered her wand.
Edmund stood in all defiance against the Witch, sweat beading off his brow as he brought his sword up again to make another strike, and in his attempt to finish the Witch once and for all, he dropped his shield and took his sword in both hands. Even as he brought his sword down, the Witch struck like a viper, her stone knife plunging into Edmund's gut.
It felt to Peter like a cold icy hand had gripped his stomach and wrenched it out from inside him as the Witch pulled her knife away and Edmund fell.
If rage had been what Peter felt before, then whatever filled him now far surpassed it. He felt as though fire and ice now rushed through his veins as he raced forward. The Witch attempted to bring her knife down upon Edmund again but Peter intercepted it with his shield and pushed his arm forward, following through by thrusting his sword. The Witch had been thrown off balance but with an unearthly grace, stepped back and regained her footing. At the same time, she flung her other arm forward, the stump of her wand catching Peter's sword, forcing it back. But Peter was relentless as he pressed forward again. This time, the Witch fell back, more toward the center of the battlefield and Peter rushed to pursue her. He barely noticed two bears and a Centaur rush up to drag Edmund away.
"Don't just stand there fools!" The Witch cried. "Crush the human vermin! Crush him!" Yet all of the Witch's crew were engaged in fighting off what remained of Peter's army. They had all seen the flash of light when Edmund had shattered the Witch's wand and hope of a victory kindled in their hearts and they fought with renewed vigor.
They were now in the center of the battlefield and, having none of her crew heed her call, the Witch turned to face Peter. He swung his sword in a downwards motion and the Witch stepped back to dodge it. His arm tensed like a stretched rope and the elasticity from the momentum of his last strike served to propel his arm around again in a backslash. The Witch barely had time to bring her knife up to parry the attack, sparks flew as steel struck stone. Peter continued relentlessly hacking at the Witch as she in turn did her best to ward away his attacks only able to get out an infrequent thrust or slash which Peter easily blocked with his shield. Though the Witch no longer had her wand, the battle would not be over until she was dead. In the back of his mind, Peter prayed that not too many of his troops had fallen or been turned to stone in order for that to happen, but he had no intentions of allowing the Witch to finish him.
The faces of Edmund, Faiana and other brave Narnians flashed through his mind with each sword stroke. He gritted his teeth in determination. This would be that the Witch fell. By Aslan he swore it.
A low rumble reverberated in his chest long enough to make him pause in his fighting. It seemed as if the same feeling had overcome the Witch, for she too, paused. He chanced a glance at his troops and was only vaguely aware of more Narnians rushing into battle, but then his mouth fell open in awe.
In the middle of all the Narnians rushing into the fight stood Aslan, glorious and tall with His muzzle opened wide in a roar, Susan and Lucy by His side with their hands clasped over their ears. At that moment, Peter felt the ground shake beneath him and he tumbled forward, barely catching himself with his hands and stared at Aslan in wonder. Was this truly the extent of Aslan's power? That all of Narnia would tremble before His roar if He so willed it or was His power even greater than that?
Then Aslan leaped from that great distance, bearing down on the Witch. Peter's gaze followed Aslan's form and the instant before Aslan had flung Himself on the Witch, he saw her head lifted up towards Him with an expression of terror and amazement. Then Lion and Witch rolled over together, but with the Witch underneath; at that same moment, the war-like creatures that had accompanied Aslan joined the fray, Dwarves with their battleaxes, Talking Beasts with their teeth or claws or talons, Unicorns with their horns, Centaurs with their swords and even a Giant with his club (and his feet also crushed dozens of the foe). And Peter's tired army cheered, and the newcomers roared, and the enemy squealed and gibbered till the wood re-echoed with the din of that onset.
Aslan's arrival had changed the tide of battle and soon, the whole of what remained of the Witch's army was in retreat. The Narnians all rejoiced. At long last, the Witch's reign upon Narnia was over.
Peter made his way over to Aslan and found Him as well as Susan and Lucy huddled around Edmund. His face was pale and his breathing was shallow. Peter was surprised that there was relatively little blood spilt, but nevertheless, at the sight of Edmund, he was closed to panicking when Aslan turned to his youngest sister.
"Quick, Lucy!" Aslan commanded and she looked up at Aslan, seeming at loss.
"But what can I do?" Lucy cried, shaking her head with a bewildered look.
Susan turned to her. "Don't you remember what Father Christmas gave you?"
Then Lucy blinked and looked down at the cordial. Hastily, she took it from her neck and opened it, and put but a droplet of it in Edmund's mouth. As soon as the tiny droplet entered Edmund's mouth, he swallowed and let out a quiet moan, and fidgeted.
"Ed? Edmund?" Peter called, his voice barely a whisper as Edmund blinked his eyes open, a small smile spreading across his face. Peter smiled back at him. "You jolly foolish chap. That had to be the stupidest, bravest thing I've ever seen you do." And Peter couldn't help but give a relieved laugh.
"Come, there are many others who are wounded." Said Aslan.
Lucy looked up at Him, frowning. "Yes, I know. Wait a minute!"
"Daughter of Eve." Aslan said in a reproachful tone, a low growl in His voice. "Daughter of Eve…" He spoke again, this time only in a slightly more gentle tone. "Others are also at the point of death. Must more people die for Edmund?"
Lucy looked down, an expression of guilt on her face, as did Susan. Peter peered at the both of them, a frown crossing his face. Must more people die for Edmund? What had Aslan meant by that? He did not give voice to his question, however as Susan and Lucy moved on to the next person that had been dragged away from combat due to wounds.
Only then did Peter look up. The dead and dying lay everywhere and the statues – so many statues of Narnians who had fought bravely against the Witch and were denied even the respite of death, forever frozen and never to move again until the world's end.
Sorrow overwhelmed Peter when his gaze fell upon the statue of what had once been his new found friend, Faiana. Tears streamed down his face as he made his way to that statue and raised a hand, caressing the cold cheek of the Naiad statue, her face immobilized in determined defiance to protect the only hope of Narnia – himself. As guilt and sorrow both welled up inside him, he heard a quiet noise behind him and turned to find Aslan standing there. An expression of sorrow on His glorious face. A sorrow so deep that Peter felt that to even compare his own sorrow to that of Aslan's would be to spit in the Great Lion's face.
Peter quickly wiped his eyes and spoke quietly to Aslan. "It was near hopelessness, Aslan." He said. "The Witch was turning our ranks into statues left and right and all would have been lost had Edmund not had the brilliance to destroy her wand instead of just attacking her outright like so many others had tried to do. Just as the Witch had turned one of your leopards to stone, he shattered it, but then she wounded him."
Aslan nodded slowly. "Stand away, Son of Adam." Said He and Peter blinked and glanced at Faiana's statue and slowly stepped aside. Then Aslan stepped right up to the statue and took in a deep breath. Peter stared in wonder at the Great Lion, then Aslan breathed upon the statue and Peter's mouth fell open.
Color spread over the statue's face where Aslan had breathed over it and then the color continued to flow, like the edge of a piece of paper that had caught fire, the color spread over the Naiad's form until there was no more statue, only the pale skin and deep blue dress the Naiad wore.
Faiana inhaled sharply and stumbled. An expression of shock and wonder over her face and then she noticed Aslan and gave a low curtsey to the Great Lion.
All Peter could do was let out a wonder-filled cry. No more was the statue. Only Faiana remained. Aslan turned and leaped over to the leopard and breathed on it. The leopard finished its pounce and then crouched low, its head swirling from side to side as it saw no sign of the Witch. Then it noticed Aslan and bowed low. "Hail, Aslan!" It cried and followed Aslan over to another statue.
Finally recovering from his shock and gladness, Peter turned to Faiana to find her smiling that secret smile of hers and Peter saw in that smile something that needed no words to voice. Aslan will put all to rights, just have faith. Peter gave a shaky laugh as tears of joy and gladness welled in his eyes, and he voiced only what he could bring himself to say.
"You were right, Fai."
AN: And there we have it. I hope that was an, at least somewhat accurate rendition of the battle. I wish I could be more certain, but as my Kindle was broken a week ago, I cannot be sure. One thing I can say is that I had to rewrite a bit of the chapter since I had originally intended to have the battle take place to the South of the Fords of Beruna but then I recalled that Aslan and the Narnians which Aslan un-stoned at the Witch's castle never crossed the Fords to get to the battle, so I shifted it to being North of the Fords.
As I said before, my overall hope is that it was a somewhat accurate rendition of the battle. It had just always bothered me that in the books, the battle takes place in only a single paragraph so I consider this my chance to expand on it a bit.
As always, reviews and constructive criticisms are most welcome. Next chapter, the coronation at Cair Paravel. Until next time!