This is the last chance
To make your mark
History will know
Who we are
This is the last game
So make it count
It's now or never!
'Now Or Never', High School Musical 3
I stood by Peter in the council chamber as we discussed the coming fight. Now that we'd settled what was on our minds, I didn't want to leave him.
"Cakes and kettledrums!" Trumpkin muttered. "That's your next big plan? Sending a little girl alone into the darkest parts of the forest alone?"
"Its our only chance," Peter said firmly.
"And she won't be alone," Susan added, placing a hand on Lucy's shoulder.
"Haven't enough of us died already?" Trumpkin asked-
Truflflehunter sighed. "Nikabrik was my friend too, but he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn't. And neither have I."
"For Aslan," Reepicheep said boldly and I smiled. More and more Narnians were starting to believe me as the proof of the Pevensies emerged. Would Aslan do the same thing?
"For Aslan!" Bulgy Bear agreed. Peter looked around at him, the at me with a smile.
"I'm going with you," Trumpkin told Lucy decidedly.
"No, we need you here," Lucy disagreed firmly.
"We have to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back," Peter explained.
"If I may…" Caspian interrupted slowly. I looked around at him, it was one of the first times he had spoken. He stepped forward
"Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer," he began. "But as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one in particular that may buy us some time."
He looked at me and I frowned. What was he thinking? And then I realised.
"Caspian it's perfect!" I gasped. Caspian nodded.
"What is, Neia?" Peter asked quietly.
"Single combat," I replied, and Caspian nodded again.
"We send Miraz a challenge," he explained. "He may not take it, but there is a chance. He'll be expected to. It will buy us more time and possibly get rid of Miraz at the same time."
"I suppose you're right," Peter agreed.
"But who would we send," Trufflehunter asked sensibly.
"One of our best swordsman," Edmund replied practically. "The better they are, the longer we can keep them occupied. As well as surprise Miraz, he won't be expecting it."
"Well, it's no question as to who our best swordsman is," Trumpkin said. "Arneia."
"No," Peter said sharply and suddenly. Everyone looked at him. "I'm not sending Arneia in."
"Peter's right," I sighed. "I'd love the chance to fight Miraz as much as any of you, but I can't do single combat with him. As well as be able to fight Miraz, the competitor has to be able to draw him in in the first place. Miraz would never knowingly agree to fight me. For a start, he doesn't believe I exist. He's met me but didn't know my name, and my name he thinks is a myth. Secondly, he'd not agree to single combat with a woman. He'd laugh it off, Telmarine women don't fight."
Peter squeezed my hand. "Not my reasoning but fair enough." I smiled at him.
"We need someone he can believe in," Edmund explained, "but he thinks he can win over, when its someone we know will give him a good run for his money."
"What about me?" Caspian asked.
"No, it'd be the same for you as Neia," Peter disagreed. "He wouldn't agree to fight you, he'd think it was a joke."
My eyes widened, I knew where this was leading. After me, and ahead of Caspian, Peter was our best. Edmund spoke my thoughts for me.
"Then it's you Peter," he said, looking at his brother. "But Miraz won't believe you exist either, like Arneia."
"Unless we send you to present the challenge, Ed," Susan commented. "You're proof we exist but Miraz will think he can beat you both. We're only kids."
Peter nodded. "You're both right-"
"No," I whispered.
"I'll take the challenge," Peter continued, "and Ed, you deliver it. Doctor Cornelius, could you write it now."
Cornelius nodded and drew out parchment and pen. "Of course, your majesty."
"Then, I'll dictate," Peter told him and paused, letting the doctor prepare himself.
"Peter," I whispered.
"Arneia, it'll be fine," Peter replied. "You know it has to happen."
I swallowed, I knew he was right.
l dressed silently in the small alcove the Narnians had provided me for possessions. I changed my dress, shrugging off my navy raid mantle from the night before. Instead I picked up one that had been laid on a stone slab. It resembled the one I had worn against Jadis, a hardy but light gown, of a darker, bloody red. I swiftly laced it up, reaching behind my back to pull it tight. I pulled on a short chain mail overdress that reached my knees, followed by a newly forged breast plate from the dwarves, the lion emblazoned in gold. I pulled on my silver arm plates and my shoulder plates. I belted on my belt, pushing in the daggers, and my double blades, before adding extra daggers about me. I wasn't going in unprepared. Finally, I repulled my hair back into its ponytail to tumble down my back.
I sighed at myself, in the reflection of the small mirror propped against the rock. Another war, another battle to which I would willingly fight to the death.
I sighed again and turned away, beginning to lay out Peter's armour to replace my own. l spread out the chain mail in the small chamber, placing the helmet at the head of the outfit, the armour plates beside it. As I worked, Reepicheep, Trumpkin and one of the Bulgy Bears sloped in. The dwarf looked thoroughly depressed as he picked up Peter's helm.
"This is not what I meant. I should be the one doing this," I heard a familiar voice arguing, growing stronger. Caspian was approaching, and I could guess who with.
"I think we've already tried that," Peter replied. I heard a pause, as I watched the floor. I didn't like eavesdropping on them but I had grown fairly used to doing it. "Look, if there's ever going to be peace with the Telmarines you have to be the one who brings it."
"I cannot if you won't let me!"
"Not like this," Peter said. "If I don't make it, Narnia's future is in your hands…" The pair entered the chamber but didn't seem to have registered us.
"What about your own future?" Caspian asked and I frowned. A curious question and I was just as curious to know the answer.
"I was thinking about a career in medicine," Peter sighed and he looked around at us. He glanced at me we locked a blue gaze for a moment before I broke the contact. Peter stepped forward and took his helmet silently. I watched sadly as Peter stared down at the helmet. A career in medicine... and we were all waiting for him to win our battle for us.
"Your highness…" the Bulgy Bear began, and Peter looked up suddenly.
"Yes?" he replied.
"I'm a bear… I… err…" the bear stuttered and I sighed. We may be there a while.
"And a fine one, I'm sure," Peter assured him, with a trace of a faint smile.
"B-b-begging your pardon, but tradition holds that you pick your marshals," the bear explained hesitantly.
"He's right, you need to choose your seconds," Caspian agreed, leaning in the stone doorway.
"Don't choose him," Trumpkin advised, glancing at the Bear. "He'll fall asleep and suck at his paws."
"Sire, my life is forever at your command but… I had thought perhaps I might represent you on this challenge," Reepicheep spoke up, as gallant as always. Trumpkin snorted in amusement.
Peter paused, I could see him thinking it over. "As you know, my good Reepicheep, many humans are afraid of mice. It wouldn't be fair for Miraz to have anything in sight that could menace to dilute his courage," Peter explained logically.
"Of course," Reepicheep agreed after a moment. "Your majesty is the mirror of honour. That is exactly what I was thinking."
Peter turned back to Caspian. "Caspian, call Glenstorm. I want him, Ed and…"
"Please…" the Bear persisted. "Your majesty..."
Peter paused and glanced around at me again. Caspian stood straight.
"Arneia," he realised.
Peter looked at him then back at me.
I sighed. I wanted to go, but the Bulgy was correct. "Take him," I aid gently.
"It is your right…," Peter agreed. "and my honour."
"And you could still take Arneia," Caspian suggested. I frowned.
"But-" I began, but Caspian interrupted.
"The rules state three marshals only but it doesn't mean someone else could not go if they wre not a marshal."
A hopeful look dawned on Peter's face. "Arneia?"
I swallowed. It sounded risky but I trusted Caspian's judgement. And if it would allow me to go with Peter, I'd take the risk. "Alright."
"But you must remember not to suck your paws," Peter said seriously to the bear.
Trumpkin glanced over at the bear with a sigh. "Oh, he's doing it right now!" I span around to see the bear dropping his paws with a sorry look on his face.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Peter asked him, picking up his shield.
"Are you sure that you are?" Caspian asked. Peter looked at him, then sighed. Caspian turned and made to leave. "You'd better get ready."
Reepicheep, the dwarf and the bear followed Caspian out of the room, leaving Peter and I alone.
"Do you think this will work?" Peter asked and I sighed.
"It's the best plan we have and the best chance we've got."
"They outnumber us by such a huge amount, Neia, no matter how many they think we are. Numbers may not win, but they help."
"That's what you said last time," l replied and Peter looked at me. "And we're both still here. Besides no one ever knows what the outcome will be."
Peter touched the chain mail. "Well, it's now or never." He looked up at me. "Can you help me?"
l smiled, and turned to pick up the plain brown undertunic as Peter
pulled off his jacket and shirt.
We stood in silence as we finished donning Peter's armour. l smoothed the front of his tunic and stood back, quiet.
I suddenly felt a twinge in my right arm. My cut! I had forgotten it, though how I had done so while changing, I had no idea. I pushed up my right sleve and slowly unwrapped the thin bloodstained rag I had swiftly wound around my wound from the raid. The blood was stuck to the rag and I shuddered at the sight of it.
"Damn it, Neia, you know better than this," I muttered, laying the rag over my arm as far as possible to inspect the cut closer. It was deeper than I had thought and the blood around it was thick, clinging to the rag. I would have to wash it to loosen the blood and get the rag off. My arm was suddenly taken from me as Peter strode forward and gently took my arm, raising it to inspect it.
Horror replaced the concern on his beautiful face. "Neia, what in the name of Aslan happened?"
"It's nothing, Peter, we need to get you ready!" I insisted earnestly.
Peter gave me a look of complete disbelief. "Arneia, I know you're modest, it's one of the things I love about you. But even you can't admit this is nothing. Sit down, we need to wash it." He pushed me down a tone boulder and brought over a basin of water, ripping a rag from my discadrd navy dress. I swallowed as he sat down beside me and began to soak my arm.
"How did you do it?" Peter asked.
"Last night," I replied. "One of the Telmarines got me as we were leaving. I forgot about it until now..."
Peter nodded. He managed to loosen the blood and the wound looked much cleaner, as he peeled away the rag. He picked up another piece of my navy dress and redressed the wound. As he finished, he didn't release my arm, instead gently taking my hand. I paused, before putting my other hand on his.
"Thank you," I murmured and he looked up. I frowned. I knew Peter, knew he could be as reserved as Edmund but usually I knew why.
"What's the matter?" I asked quietly.
"The number of battles we've been through together," Peter replied. "Everytime I wonder if this is one when you'll be taken away from me."
I stared at him. He'd never told me this before. I squeezed his hand. "Peter, I promise you, I'll never be taken away from you for good. Alright?"
Peter sighed, and I rested my forehead against his shoulder. I decided not to tell him that my feelings were a mirror image of his. I'd lived under the same fear during the Golden Age, and then lived the fear itself when he disappeared. Now he was back with me, I didn't want to lose him again.
"All right," Edmund sighed in the doorway. "Ready to go Pete?"
Peter hesitated, and then nodded. He gave my hand a last comforting squeeze. l drew a sharp breath as he did so. He looked at me and we locked eyes. I never wanted to lose him again...
"You're coming aren't you?" he asked weakly. "With Edmund?"
l smiled sadly. He knew l was, it was part of the plan, but l understood his own meaning. l nodded.
"Of course I am," l told him. Edmund stepped towards us and picked Peter's sword and scabbard, while l took the helmet. Peter moved to stand at the entrance to the how, with Edmund on his right, l his left. l breathed in and swallowed. There was no going back now. Peter looked around at me.
"Here we go again," he whispered.
"Don't say that," l replied sharply. "You can do this, you've done it before."
"Thirteen hundred years ago."
"That makes no difference to the fact that you're High King Peter of Narnia, the best swordsman here, with every Narnian behind you," l said gently. "If I have to reel off all your titles to prove it, I will."
Peter sighed and turned to look out. "I don't know I can do this. As you said Ed, he's twice my age."
"As Arneia said, age makes no difference to who you are," Edmund parried.
"We've seen you do this a hundred times, I know it's in you," l agreed. "Besides, we'd say more that you're fifty times his age," l added, Edmund smirking at her.
"You're behind me?" Peter asked almost urgently, looking back to me.
l touched his gloved hand with my bare one. "All the way."
Peter nodded and turned.
"For Caspian," l said.
"For Narnia," Edmund continued.
"And for Aslan," Peter finished.
We strode out to erupting cheers from the Narnians.
As we approached the pavillion, l saw Miraz sit up and look a little closer. Peter halted, Edmund on his right, I his left, Glenstorm to my other side. l handed Peter his helmet. Mid pass, Peter's hand passed over mine and we paused.
"Be careful," l murmered. "Remember, Telmarine armour is weakest at the knees." Peter nodded and pulled the sword from the scabbard Edmund was holding.
"You brought a lady to battle, not very honourable I don't think," Miraz smirked from the other side of the pavillion.
"Oh, but I'm sure you recognise her. This lady would be the lady my brother King Edmund mentioned," Peter replied with a glare. "My wife, High Lady Arneia, Swordmaiden of Narnia, Aslan's Daughter."
"Arneia?" Miraz muttered. l watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened slightly. Of course he recognised my name from the old tales, just as he did the Pevensies. And he recognised me from his childhood breaking into the castle, haunting his dreams ever since, yet l looked exactly the same. He hadn't known that the strange warrior girl in his dreams and the mythical swordmaiden were one and the same. Yet here I was, Aslan's daughter. I smiled to myself; everything Miraz had believed to be an old story was coming to life before his eyes. Peter, Edmund, dwarves, centaurs, me.
"As much as I would often like to, I would not prevent my wife from coming to a battle, she has survived every fight she has partaken in in fourteen hundred years, after all," Peter added calmly. I continued to stare at Miraz, who swallowed at the mention of my age.
Peter looked away and muttered to Edmund. l zoned out, knowing they were speaking brother to brother. Then he turned his head toward me.
"I love you, Neia," he whispered. l looked back, and placed one hand against his cheek.
"I know, I love you too," l murmured back.
Peter pressed his forehead against mine briefly, before stepping forward, tossing his sword in one hand.
Miraz advanced simultaneously, as they began to circle.
"There is still time to surrender," Miraz told Peter.
"Well, feel free," Peter replied firmly and l smiled. This was my Peter.
"How many more have to die for the throne?"
l watched as Peter gathered himself, and l knew there was no going back now. "Just one."