Hey guys!
Two updates in two days. I'm in awe of myself.
I'm taking a small break before starting on the final part of chapter 15 but it should be up by tomorrow at the latest. From then on, I have five chapters to edit, and five chapters left to write (plus the epilogue). Updates perhaps will come slower but there isn't that much to edit from chapters 16 to 21, so I expect to be done with them soon.
Also, I've been researching and Miraz' helm is called a morion. Just in case anyone wonders about the meaning of that word.
One reminder: As you know, Beth went to Archenland two years before this fic starts. That means she travelled between the two worlds when she was 12. Tor and Torin are twins, and the same age as Caspian so they are 15 when Beth enters their lives. In this chapter, I've added two flashbacks in order to cast a glimpse on the relationship of Beth with both brothers. This will be important for later.
Also, I've added some aspects from the book to the chapter!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters I've created for this fic. Their storylines are also of my belonging.
Please vote, comment and add this fic to your library! Part c of chapter 15 is called "The Last Battle" so stay tuned!
Chapter 15. Part b. "The Lion And The Eagle."
"Little people know, when little people fight, we may look easy pickings, but we've got some bite. So never kick a dog because it's just a pup! We'll fight like twenty armies, and we won't give up! So you better run for cover, when the pup grows..." -Gavroche, Les Miserables (film version 2012)
*Flashback*
No matter how hard he tried, Crown Prince Tor of Archenland couldn't fathom why the snores of a girl had managed to shoo one of the most dangerous followers of the White Witch away.
Still, that's exactly what happened. He'd been riding through the eastern forests or Archenland, near the border to Narnia, when the foul witch ambushed him, making him fall from his horse and almost knocking him out with her cane. Still, Tor had managed to dodge that last blow and, hastily hopping onto his horse, he managed to ride away.
From then on, it had been a chase as Tor rode through the woods with the witch riding just a few feet behind her but then, a powerful snore, had resonated through that path in the woods and before he knew it, the witch was running away with terror.
It hadn't taken the girl too long to scramble awake but it had put Tor in a new predicament.
What was he supposed to say to a girl wearing strange clothes who he'd encountered by running from a witch?
The girl was currently squished against a fallen trunk, her arms tightly wrapped around her bent legs. Her blonde hair was slightly dirty from the soil she had been sleeping onto, but her green eyes shone with intelligence as they peeked from above her knees, studying Tor closely.
Slowly, in order not to scare the girl further, Tor sat on the ground a few feet in front of her. He unsheathed his sword and threw it away before holding up his hands in surrender. "I won't hurt you, my lady. I swear."
The girl visibly took a deep breath before glancing at the thrown sword. Finally, her grip around her legs loosened slightly. When she spoke, her voice was rough and quiet. "Where am I?"
"You're in Archenland," Tor replied easily, refraining himself from exteriorizing his concern. Who was this girl? "I'm Prince Tor, heir to the throne of Archenland."
The moment she heard the word 'Archenland', she snapped out of her stupor. Hastingly standing up, she gazed wildly around her, her eyes wide with panic. "No, no, no! I don't belong here! How did I even get here!?"
"Calm down," Tor stood up too, startled by the sudden change in the girl's demeanour. He took a step towards her but faltered when he realized that too much closeness could upset her further. "Please, tell me where you are from. Is it Narnia? Galma, perhaps? I can help you find your home, don't worry."
"I'm afraid you can't," the girl whispered. She stopped fidgeting, and her shoulders dropped as if a terrible realization had suddenly dawned on her. "I come from England. I come from another world."
Tor tried not to smile at that. The last people who came from this 'England' place were the Kings and Queens of Old, who defeated the White Witch and led Narnia into its Golden Age. After their mysterious disappearance, the lore began to state that people from England were always summoned when they were most needed.
The golden days of High King Peter's reign were long gone and not only in Narnia, but in Archenland too. As the Narnia invaded by Telmarines was no longer a safe space for any creatures, groups loyal to the White Witch had begun to resurface, taking their activities to Archenland instead. Tor had always been hopeful that he would be able to solve the problem of the followers of the White Witch once he was King but, unconsciously, he'd always known that, just like the White Witch had been defeated by the Kings and Queens of Old, this new followers were to be defeated by an outsider as well.
Maybe this girl was the answer. After all, everything happens for a reason.
"My Lady, how did you get here?" Tor asked kindly, taking a step closer when the girl sat on the fallen trunk with an exhausted sigh.
"I'm no lady, Prince Tor. My name is Beth...Elizabeth, in fact, but everybody calls me Beth," Beth clarified before her eyes unfocused as she thought of her journey. Her voice grew more emotional the more she spoke. "There was snow, I...I fought with my father but I don't even remember what about and.. and everything went black. When I woke up, you were gaping at me."
"Nice, thanks for that." Tor scoffed but then, Beth stood up in a haste. "Did you remember something else?"
"Did anyone else come with me?" Beth asked instead, her voice heightened with the desperate urge of knowing the answer. "A baby. Did a baby come with me? Did you see him?"
"We can look but I don't think so," Tor shook his head, his eyes sympathetic as the girl before him seemed to deflate with surrender. "Was him with you? The baby, I mean."
"No, we were on our way to meet him at the hospital," Beth whispered, lowering her head to hide her tears. "My little brother Robin was born today and I abandoned him."
Tor bit his lip, carefully considering his next move. He was almost sure a war was coming that would solve the problems of both Narnia and Archenland, just like before when the Kings and Queens of Old fought the White Witch. If Beth was a part of it, then things would evolve however they needed to in order to bring peace back to the continent. Still, he first needed to get Beth to the castle so they could help each other.
Making up his mind, Tor took another step forward and rested a hand on Beth's shoulder, quickly taking it off when she flinched and backed away from him. "I'm sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I have an idea. Would you be willing to listen to me?"
"It's not your fault, Prince Tor." Beth looked up at him, crossing her arms defensively as she smiled lightly. "Please, tell me."
"I know I've given you no reason to trust me. You don't know me after all," Tor began slowly, carefully studying Beth's features. "Still, I'm an honourable man and so is my father the King. Our castle, Anvard, is not too far from here. Come and stay with us until we understand why you are here and we figure out a way for you to go back."
Beth cocked her head curiously. "Why aren't you surprised I'm from another world?"
"You aren't our first English visitor, Beth," Tor replied, chuckling when Beth's green orbs brightened with curiosity. "Come, I'll tell you all about it during our ride towards Anvard."
"Ah," Beth hesitated while Tor made his way to pick up his fallen sword before heading towards his horse. "I don't know how to ride, Prince Tor."
"Please, you saved my life. Call me Tor," the prince replied before patting his horse' saddle. "You ride and I'll guide the horse. I promise it's easy."
Beth agreed to the plan and, before too long, they were making their way back to Anvard. They'd been walking for a few minutes in comfortable silence when Beth spoke again, her voice now softened. "Thank you, Tor."
"No problem, Beth. I have the feeling we're going to be good friends." was Tor's reply. After a few moments, he suddenly shook his head with an amused chuckle.
Immediately, Beth's voice reached him from behind him. "What is it?"
"I'm picturing my brother's reaction to a guest who isn't nobility. Torin is quite the snob, you see," Tor replied with a snort. "Gods, he's going to hate this. It's going to be hilarious."
The silver lining was that there was no time to focus on anything but the Telmarines heading her way.
Her vision tunneled as the first Telmarine appeared.
Her bow was ready to shoot. Her skill was impeccable and her faith once again strong. On that front, there was nothing to worry about. She was at her strongest and, no matter the skills of the incoming enemy, all of them would drop dead before reaching her.
She felt in her element, taking her time to shoot so she could make each arrow count while making sure it was as fast as humanly possible without missing. For every Telmarine that rode down that path, their swords drawn and their faces pulled into scowls, there was an arrow leaving her quiver, being notched to her bow and finally flying right through the enemy's heart.
She fired arrows as fast as she could.
Still, there were too many coming towards her at the same time.
One Telmarine fell.
Two.
Three.
Still, two more came. And too closely for her to shoot as well.
The first one she managed to dodge by getting down to her knees as he swung his sword right through the space her head had been a moment ago. Quickly, Susan gathered herself and took another arrow off her quiver the moment she realized the soldier continued riding, clearly intending to hunt Lucy down.
She aimed in a hurry, her haste to protect Lucy making her forget her surroundings for a second. Her vision tunneled again for a moment too short before she regained her bearings but it was too late.
She had forgotten about the last man.
Just as she was turning her head to look for the last rider, Susan was suddenly thrown aside, falling against a nearby tree with a pained gasp. She fell to the ground with a thud, forgetting everything as she desperately tried to get air into her constricted lungs.
Lucy, the war, nothing mattered in that moment. All she could feel was the incoming enemy, one she was too weak to fight because she just couldn't breathe.
Miraculously, her vision cleared and oxygen filled her lungs just as she heard incoming hooves. She looked up, reaching hastily for her sword as the soldier before her screamed, his blade pointed straight at her heart.
The next moment felt infinite.
She knew she wasn't fast enough. Not when it came to the sword. By the time she managed to unsheathe the sword and stand up to fight, the soldier would have already run her through with his blade. She didn't even have time to think of her near death.
The shock was just too much and, as stated before, there just wasn't enough time.
And then, a familiar voice yelled her name.
Before Susan could process what was happening, Caspian had rode towards them like a dark shadow and was fighting the Telmarine on horseback. The sight was rather unsettling, as the enemy fought her beloved with passionate hatred but then, Caspian blocked the Telmarine sword with his own, quickly retaliating by slashing his belly.
As the startled horse rode away with a dead Telmarine on his saddle, Caspian sheathed his sword and turned towards Susan with a concerned smile.
Susan smiled back. She had never loved Caspian as intensely as in that moment.
"Still sure you don't need the horn?" Caspian teased her lightly.
Susan swiftly stood up and took Caspian's hand before hoisting herself behind him on the horse. For a few seconds, silence surrounded them as they embraced one another, their relief too great to be voiced.
Then, Susan pulled back with a scowl. "I could have handled it myself."
Caspian snorted a laugh before the couple rode back to the How, when they were being expected. Their job was done there and it was now up to their Valiant Queen.
But, as they retreated, Susan looked back in the opposite direction. The direction her sister took, armed with nothing but a dagger.
The direction that murderous Telmarine headed for as well, hunting his sister down.
Susan could only pray, so she did, her head snuggled against Caspian's shoulder blade.
'Aslan, watch over my sister. Please.'
Just as Beth had feared, watching how someone she loved fought until death was excruciating.
Still, she owed it to Peter to perform her role as assistant flawlessly. Because of that, she managed to maintain a calm façade, even as the duel between the leaders of both Narnia and Telmar intensified, their battle growing heated and filled with murderous hate.
She could feel the anxiety of her companions as well, even without setting her eyes on them. Glenstorm and Bulgy Bear stood on either extreme of their committee's side, their swords drawn and their eyes fixed on the fighting pair. Glenstorm had managed to keep his face relatively expressionless but Bulgy Bear had forgotten all about his whereabouts, since he was licking a paw with abandonment - despite having been warned against it repeatedly.
Then, her eyes were drawn to Edmund only to find he was already looking at her. Like her, Edmund was quite skilled when it came to hiding her emotions but not to someone who knew him as well as she did. She could see his frantic stress fighting against his self-control in order to erupt and, with a small sigh, she realized she wasn't looking at the fear a King felt for his High King. She was witnessing the fear a man felt for a brother as he risked his own life right before him.
She wished to be able to comfort him without being completely inappropriate but, as that was impossible, she settled for shooting him a smile full of understanding. Understanding of what he felt. Understanding because she felt the same.
Edmund smiled in return before the two looked at the pair again. In that moment, Beth realized all she could do until it was over was pray. Pray for Peter's victory. Pray for Lucy's success, pray for Susan, Caspian and Adrien to be alright.
Then, a scream snapped her out of her musings, and made her focus again on the duel.
In a particular swift move, Peter twirled away from Miraz's attack, using the advantage to slash Miraz's back with his sword. Miraz recovered quickly, however, and retaliated by knocking Peter's helm off, his mail coif quickly following.
Peter didn't stay still though and, panting with exertion, he quickly swung low, making a cut across an unprotected part of Miraz's thigh. The first blood had been in Narnia's favour, and a cheering roar erupted from the Narnian army. Beth smirked at Edmund as he looked at her with a smile but then, Beth glanced at King Miraz in time to witness him staring expectantly at General Glozelle's crossbow.
Beth was filled with burning rage, one that seemed to be covering her every nerve with fire, leaving her eager to explode on the backstabbing rats. Still, she knew the best thing she could do at that moment was to be discreet so, subtly, she unsheathed her dagger and held it by her side, hidden by her ample battle dress. Her eyes fell on Glozelle and there they stayed as she prayed she wouldn't have the need to save Peter from the treacherous Telmarines.
Miraz didn't receive a response from his General so, filled with impatience, he attacked Peter with a frustrated scream. Peter flew over Miraz's sword as the Telmarine lunged for him and quickly stood up again, wincing before attacking Miraz.
Bruises were already featuring across Peter's face. Beth could only hope Miraz was in a worse state behind his morion.
From then on, there were a few moments in which Peter and Miraz parried, blocked and slashed as quickly as their limbs allowed them, almost resembling a blur of gold and red to the people by the sidelines. Suddenly, Miraz blocked yet another of Peter's blows but moved forward to sweep a leg under Peter's right foot, making the High King fall with a groan. Before he could move, Miraz stepped on Peter's shield, twisting his arm painfully.
Peter yelled with pain and struggled to get up, knowing that he wouldn't be able until his restrained arm was free. By the sidelines, Bulgy Bear gasped and Edmund winced, quickly reaching for Beth's hand.
As Miraz swung his sword down, ready to give the final strike, it seemed as everything was over. However, Peter used the last of his adrenaline to free his arm strapped to his shield from Miraz's foot and rolled out of the way. Miraz followed him, swinging down as fast as he could but still, Peter managed to meet Miraz's sword with his own every time he faced the Usurper. At last, he stopped suddenly, and swung his legs in order to cause Miraz to trip.
That allowed Peter to raise, gaining equal footing once again, but the relief didn't last for long. Miraz quickly stood too and the two opponents studied each other, their postures defensive as they tried to identify any new weaknesses in their adversary.
Peter scowled, his eyes calculating and fired up with adrenaline but then, a movement by the corner of his eye made Peter turn towards the forest.
Caspian and Susan were riding towards him.
Peter straightened, filled completely with utter relief, yet full of questions as to where Lucy was. Before he could decide his next move, Miraz followed his gaze and sneered. "Does His Highness need a respite?"
Peter turned towards the older man, knowing he was mocking him, but deciding to take him up on his offer. "Five minutes?"
Miraz scowled, startled by the fact that Peter actually accepted. "Three!"
Peter nodded before turning towards his family, limping slightly as he used all of his strength to contain his winces.
Immediately, Edmund rushed towards him and helped him walk while Beth set up the medical supplies and water for Peter. Susan and Caspian stood besides her, both of them regarding Peter with anxious concern.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked Susan as soon as he reached his family. His voice was rough from the exhaustion. "Lucy?"
"She got through," Susan answered as calmly as she could in order not to upset her brother further. Peter noticed the dirt on her dress, before nodding thankfully at Beth. She'd been right. "With some help."
Peter looked at Caspian with a small smile. "Thank you."
"Well, you're busy," Caspian replied before shrugging. "Thankfully, this time we listened to Beth."
"And don't you forget that," the princess in question quipped in response. She then took Edmund's place and helped Peter the rest of the way. Then, the two stood on either side of the High King, looking for any other injuries that might have been hidden before.
Peter looked up towards Miraz, the other four following his glance. They all grew silent, just in time to hear Miraz's words as he threw his morion to the ground.
"I'm sure you won't let things get that close again," Miraz growled at Glozelle, his accent harshening his speech even more.
Peter frowned tiredly. "What is he talking about?"
"Leave it to me, Pete," Beth replied before turning back to his shoulder. "You focus on Miraz."
Peter nodded gravely, knowing Beth was right. That's why he had assistants, after all, to rely on them with the things he couldn't focus on while fighting. His sight then drifted towards the How, encouraged by the sea of friendly faces he found. At last, he turned towards Susan. "Better get up there, Su. I'm certain the Telmarines won't keep their word."
Susan nodded with tearful eyes and reached to hug him tightly, wincing when Peter groaned painfully. For a moment, the two of them had forgotten about his injured arm.
"I'm sorry," Susan winced quietly, reaching to inspect Peter's arm for herself but he stopped by resting his hands on her shoulders.
"I'm fine, Su." Peter smiled as she returned his look with motherly apprehension. It amused him that, no matter the circumstances, Susan always remained mother-hen to a fault. "Go. I love you."
"I love you, too." Susan replied. She grasped his hands lovingly before smiling at the others. Then, she was rushing inside the How towards her archers.
Peter followed Susan's retreat with his eyes but then, Edmund nudged him subtly. "Keep smiling, Peter."
Peter quickly nodded, having noticed the concerned expressions of his army. With excruciating pain, he raised Rhindon above his head, smiling forcefully as his army roared in response.
After a few moments, he couldn't take it anymore. He sat on his chair, and hissed as Beth took his shield off. Beth regarded him with pity before making way for Edmund, who knelt beside him to inspect his injured arm.
Peter looked at Beth, who was hushedly explaining something to Caspian, before looking down at Edmund. "I think it's dislocated, Ed."
"Okay," Edmund nodded before moving towards his other arm to inspect it. "What do you think about Miraz?"
"I think I can beat him if I get him tired. Miraz is older than me, and heavier. I need to move constantly so that the exertion and his weight play against him," Peter replied before shaking his head. "I wished that was enough to win, though."
"What do you mean?" Edmund asked distractedly. He seemed to approve of the state of his right arm because he went back to his injured one.
"What do you think happens," Peter trailed off, gulping as he looked up at Edmund. "If we die here?"
At once, Edmund looked at him with a frown, his fingers still loosening the strips of Peter's brassart. "You don't get to speak like that. You have plans for your future - whether we stay here or we go back. You want to become a doctor, remember? You don't get to give up. Not now. Not ever."
Peter nodded and bit his lip as he considered everything him and his brother had gone through recently, especially through that last year in England. No matter had undeniably idiotic he had been, Edmund had always had his back. No matter what. If Peter regretted anything, it was not having told his brother how much he cherished his support.
"Ed...you've always been there. I never really-."
Just then, Edmund cut him off by pulling his arm back into place. Peter leaned forward, cradling his arm to himself with a strangled cry. With a small smirk, Edmund patted his arm. "Save it for later."
Peter stood and took Rhindon from Beth's hands. Then, she handed him his helm but Peter shook his head at it. Beth nodded and winked at him before stepping back.
Straightening, the High King glanced at Caspian, Edmund and Beth with a thankful smile. Then, he stepped into the arena again. Miraz, who had also refused his helm, followed him and both kings circled each other again.
This next round felt final.
The end of a kingdom had finally arrived.
And with it, the end of its King.
*Flashback*
King Ersan sat by the head of the dining table, patiently waiting for his children to join him.
Long gone were the days in which Tor and Torin were kids devoted to playing or exploring the castle. The days in which Beth was the scared girl who struggled to understand the Archenlandian court were also ancient.
Now, Tor was the official Crown Prince of Narnia, submerged with the lessons that would prepare him for the day the crown fell onto his head. Torin divided his time between the training grounds and the library as he prepared himself to be his brother's general and most trusted advisor. Beth was no princess, but she had been adopted by King Ersan within a few weeks of her stay with them at Anvard. As such, she'd been taking lessons on how to behave like the daughter of a King, of which Beth had taken particular interest in the strategy' lessons. With them, Beth had grown confident, slightly sarcastic, and incredibly cunning. She'd begun taking part in some council meetings, and her counsel was one King Ersan trusted utterly.
"Hullo, father," Tor greeted warmly as he entered the dining room. He nodded his head at the servants bringing food before taking his place by Ersan's right. "I apologize for the delay. I was discussing with Professor Grima and I lost track of time."
"I hope you managed to understand today's lesson, brother. I do not have the time to explain it to you," Torin quipped as he walked through a lateral door that led to the gardens. He nodded at his father as he sat to his left, and smirked at Tor. "I do pray you manage to grasp simple concepts by the time you become King, Tor."
"Like knowing when to shut up? Because you seem to be struggling with that one as well."
"Boys," Ersan warned gently, an amused smile threatening to erupt from his lips. It was few and far in between the moments in which Tor and Torin behaved like normal siblings and not like princes who carried abnormally large weights on their backs. Ersan enjoyed those moments immensely, as he wanted nothing but for his children to be happy but still, there was an image to be preserved.
"Sorry, father," was Tor's reply.
"Yes, sorry," Torin echoed. He glanced at the display of food before him before grimacing. "Now, if only our sister could join us, then we could busy ourselves eating, instead of arguing."
"So is it to eat or to fight? My brother, I thought you deemed yourself as superior than that."
Ersan smiled as Beth marched into the room wearing a royal green dress with golden embroidery and an ample skirt. Since his wife and the boys' mother passed away from a grave case of influenza a few years before, the absence of a woman's presence in their family had been especially felt. Beth was younger than all of them but with her headstrong personality - which she had quickly began to show once she overcame the shock of being in Archenland -, the three royal men often found themselves seeking the presence of their newest addition to the family. Even Torin, who had been initially opposed to having an outsider living at Anvard, found himself cherishing Beth's interesting stories and descriptions about the English society she'd been living in.
"I do, but I'm starving," Torin quipped. He looked at his father pleadingly while Beth sat besides Tor on the table. "May we begin?"
"Not yet," Ersan replied, ignoring Torin when he groaned and sank against the back of his chair. He intertwined his fingers on the table and regarded his three children with a contemplative gaze. "I have something I'd like to discuss with the three of you."
"Is everything okay, Father?" Beth asked. Ersan smiled at that, knowing how hard it was for Beth to call him like that.
Of course, adoption papers didn't mean Beth was supposed to forget all about her English family or that she was supposed to love her Archenlandian one instantly. Beth had only spoken a little about her family in England, quickly sheltering herself when the topic of conversation was dangerously near the man who mistreated her and her mom for years on end.
Ersan still remembered the day Tor brought that girl from the forest. He noticed with concern how she didn't want to be touched by anyone and how the presence of strangers, especially those of men, seemed to make her uncomfortable. After Beth went to sleep that night, Ersan summoned Tor to his study. His son told him the story from that day in the woods and how that girl travelled to Archenland.
Like Tor, Ersan knew right away that Beth was needed for the battles to come. However, he didn't offer Beth shelter and a family because of her possible role when it came to ensuring the safety of her people. He offered all of those things because the girl deserved a healthy home in which to grow up and prosper whilst being loved by a true family.
To hear Beth call him 'Father', meant that she was healing, and that she was happy with them. That made Ersan feel like the luckiest father in the world.
"Everything is okay, dear," Ersan assured her. "However, today I had a meeting with some of my council members, in which we discussed your situation, Beth."
"My situation?"
"You've been an official part of our family since the adoption papers were signed, Beth," Ersan explained gently. "But we still need to consider your royal title."
"I thought royal titles were only for those members of the Royal Family by blood," Torin interjected before shrugging when Tor glared at him. "No offense."
"None taken," Beth shrugged. "I actually have the same question."
"The law does say that, though it states that it can be changed if the person in question could be of value for the prosperity of Archenland," Ersan replied. "Now, I've been studying your progress, Beth, and I'm impressed. You show an instinct for survival and a cunning mind that rivals even Torin's. I think that giving you a title, and therefore allowing you to prosper in our court, would give you countless opportunities."
Torin straightened, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as soon as Ersan compared him to Beth. "What are you saying, Father?"
"What I'm saying is that I'll make Beth a Duchess...for now," Ersan replied, undeterred by Torin's glare, Tor's shocked expression and Beth's apprehension. "I would like her to start attending war councils and strategy meetings, just like the two of you. She has leadership running through her veins and I would like for her to develop it."
"But I'm still going to be High Lord and General once I'm of age, right?" Torin asked with dread. "I've been preparing for years, after all."
Ersan studied his children again, giving them the luxury of a few silent moments to gather their rushing thoughts. He first looked at Tor, his pride and joy, the warrior that would succeed him in the Throne. Then, he looked at Beth, the girl who had managed to charm him utterly with her mind and resilience and of who he expected nothing but great things. Finally, he rested his eyes on Torin, his cunning son who had grown much too ambitious for his own good.
Ersan knew enough about the history of royal families to know that a trio like that one could only do great things together, or fight each other until only one was left standing.
It was a risk worth taking.
"Nothing has changed about your future, Torin," Ersan replied, "But that future was settled when it was just you and Tor. We might need to rethink this once Beth comes of age."
The second round was even more brutal.
The cheers from both armies quickly drowned as the two Kings attacked each other with unreserved violence, both of them eager to end the duel once and for all.
After the initial blow, Peter attacked again but Miraz expertly diverted Peter's blade with his shield, using the momentum to hit Peter in the face with it.
After repetitive hits that prevented Peter from regaining his footing, Peter turned and ran into a stone pillar, falling at last. Not wasting any moment, Miraz screamed, his face red with heat and sweat, and advanced towards the fallen High King, his sword poised to strike. Edmund, Beth and Caspian all held their breaths in horror, the moment too short and eternal at the same time. Above them, Susan tightened her grip on her bow, taking a deep breath to ready herself.
Then, Peter sat up just in time to block Miraz's sword with his own before leaning backwards and swinging his legs. Miraz tripped, and the four monarchs watching the duel breathed deeply with relief.
Both Kings straightened at the same time, and swung their blades at each other. In that moment, all polite pretences were forgotten as they used their hands to disarm the other. Peter finally managed to grab Miraz's sword for himself and hit his jaw with its hilt before lunging at the disarmed King, who had no option but to protect himself with his shield.
For a few moments, it seemed as if Peter had the upper hand. He slashed and slashed and slashed, hitting all angles in the hopes that any of those blows would injure Miraz. At last, the Usurper King dodged and grabbed Peter's sword. He threw it away before slapping Peter backwards, destabilizing him in the process. Miraz tried to copy Peter's previous move by hitting him in the face with his shield but, by the second blow, Peter had regained his bearings. He grabbed the shield just as Miraz thrust it at him and twisted it behind his back, making Miraz groan with pain.
Miraz managed to get one of his arms free to elbow Peter in the face. As Peter scrambled away, Miraz turned and pushed him roughly into a pillar, quickly following as he slashed his sword in Peter's direction but the Narnian King blocked his blade with his brassart and, before Miraz could retaliate, Peter reached down and punched him on his wounded thigh.
Roars erupted once again from the Narnian army as Miraz scrambled away and Peter straightened with a weary pant.
"Respite!" Miraz wheezed as he stepped back. Falling onto his knees as he held onto his leg. Peter tried to help him up but Miraz held up a restraining hand. "Respite!"
Peter straightened as hesitation washed over him, diluting his former rage and intensifying by the confusing chaos around him. He could hear the cheering of the Narnian crowd, growing louder as they noticed that Miraz wasn't rising to his feet anytime soon.
"Now isn't the time for chivalry, Peter!" Edmund's yell resonated, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.
Peter looked up to the archers, Susan returning his look with a determined nod. Then, Peter turned to Beth, who was focused on Miraz's minions, her glare as intimidating as always. As his eyes fell on Caspian, he made his resolve. His next step was clear.
Peter's face hardened as he lowered his hand, which had clenched into a fist. He dodged Miraz as he walked around him and towards his family.
Then, he heard a metal clutter behind him.
And before he could process its meaning and turn, Edmund screamed.
"Pete, look out!"
The sudden adrenaline seemed enough to stop his heart but, just in time, Peter turned and dodged Miraz's attack. As he twirled away from the treacherous King, Peter grabbed Miraz's sword out of his hand, twisted, and stabbed Miraz beneath the arm.
With a breathless gasp, King Miraz the Protector fell to his knees.
The end had come, and it had come for the Telmarine Empire.
Peter straightened with a scowl, and aimed the sword towards Miraz's head.
And then, the decision he made before came to his mind again, making him forget everything about his rage.
It didn't matter that Miraz was a backstabbing rat. He wasn't meant to be his kill.
Miraz, who had hung his head with a hand against his heart, noticed his hesitation and looked up towards the High King with a malicious sneer. "What's the matter, boy? Too much of a coward to take a life?"
Peter's stare hardened and he lowered his sword with a growl. "It's not mine to take."
And, without hesitation, Peter turned and offered the sword to Caspian. Caspian looked at him doubtfully but, after confirming the High King was dead serious, he nodded and slowly walked towards Peter.
Once Caspian took the sword from Peter's hands, the High King limped his way towards Edmund and Beth, who hugged him before the three turned to the scene before them.
The scene in which Prince Caspian the X, true heir to the Telmarine Crown took justice for the murder of his father. The scene in which a heroic nephew raised a sword against a murderous uncle.
Meanwhile, Caspian could think of nothing but his father as he raised his sword. He thought of the years he spent as an orphan under the care of a man that would stop at nothing when it came to stealing the crown. A man that had no qualms when attempting to kill his own family, over and over again. He welcomed the rage he felt for those horrifying events with calmness, as if it were an old friend.
Caspian studied the face of his uncle, now under a new light. His uncle had always been his worst enemy but now, now he saw him for the mortal man he was. A weak, old man who had no space for love, faith or happiness in his heart. A man that only lived for his ambition. A man with a bruised face, dark eyes and an armour decorated with gold, as if gold made him better.
The murderer returned his stare calmingly.
And then, he spoke. And those words would haunt Caspian forever.
"Perhaps I was wrong, Caspian. You may have the makings of a good Telmarine King. After all."
Then, Miraz bowed his head, accepting his demise.
Caspian widened his eyes with horror.
The worst of it was that he could see what Miraz meant. He could see himself in his uncle. After all, hadn't he fought with Peter because of his ambition to be a leader? Hadn't he taken part in Jadis' almost resurrection because of his pride? Hadn't he threatened Beth because of his violent nature?
He could feel the panic rising within him, panic that made him want to drop the sword and run away, never to return but then, he remembered what he had told Edmund.
It doesn't matter the mistakes we make, but what we do to fix them.
And he didn't want to be just a Telmarine King.
He also wanted to be a Narnian one.
At last, he raised the sword over his head with a heart wrenching painful scream.
Then, he stuck the sword on the grass before Miraz.
In response, Miraz looked up with shock, faltering as he met Caspian's hard glare.
"Not one like you," Caspian growled. "Keep your worthless life for all I care. I'll give the kingdom back to its rightful people."
Before Miraz could reply, Caspian backed away from him and headed towards his real family, enveloped once again in cheerful roars as the Narnians celebrated their victory.
As Beth and Edmund patted his back with pride, Caspian looked up and met Susan's gaze.
Her proud nod was all he needed.
Behind the winning army, Lord Sopespian headed for his defeated King, helping him up not without difficulties.
"My King," Sopespian said as he turned Miraz's back and his own to the Narnians.
Miraz towered over his High Lord with rage as he clutched his shoulders tightly. Then, he sneered threateningly. "I will deal with you when this is over."
Sopespian smirked evilly.
The time had come for him to put the next phase of his plan into motion. Luckily, the circumstances were ideal, almost as if he had conjured them himself.
"Oh, but it's over," he whispered smugly.
He discreetly pulled Susan's missing arrow, the one she shot at one of the Telmarines who was about to drown Trumpkin.
It was the painful cry that made Caspian, Peter, Edmund and Beth turned towards the Telmarines. The cry managed to reach even Susan, who diverted her eyes from her family to the Telmarines.
At once, five pairs of eyes widened in shock as they took in Miraz's inert body falling, an arrow sticking from his back.
The arrow was unmistakable.
Beth raised her dagger, ready to kill Sopespian but he was faster. The High Lord gasped with outrage and alerted his companions before anyone could stop him.
"Treachery! The Narnians shot out King!" Sopespian screamed as he ran towards his horse, Glozelle right behind him. "They've murdered our King! To the arms Telmar!"
"To the arms!"
Adrien found himself in the same forest he'd been walking on for what seemed like infinite hours yet, he was suddenly alone.
He studied his surroundings carefully, sensing a presence with him, even if he was unable to see it. The particularly intense white light around him and the eerie silence told him it was a dream but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to remember falling asleep.
Also, where was everybody?
"We meet again, young one." His voice said from behind him.
Adrien turned immediately and bowed as Aslan appeared before him, the warmth and radiant joy that seemed to be emanating from Him soothing Adrien's soul completely.
"Your Majesty," Adrien replied, his head still bowed. "I'm honoured to be in your presence once again."
"The honour is mine, Adrien. You have been an infinite source of comfort for my daughter, and the only one she relied on the most during her darkest days," Aslan replied, something his voice letting Adrien know it was okay to raise his head. The centaur looked up, and smiled as he locked eyes with the Great Lion. His golden eyes reminded him of Beth. "However, your job isn't over and now, I have a new task for you."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Adrien nodded with enthusiasm. "I'll follow your command gladly."
"Good," Aslan replied with pride. "Your new sister told you there are many ways in which a person can fight. You've listened to her so now, you're heading towards safety. Do you understand why she sent you away?"
"I do, but I wish I could have stayed with her." Adrien admitted, trying his hardest not to scowl.
"You still followed her order, because you knew she would feel better if you were safe," Aslan continued. "By doing that, you've forgotten your own needs in favour of those of a person you love. That's what makes a true warrior and now, I know you're ready."
"Ready for what?"
"A task that will help your sister win this war," Aslan replied. Adrien could have sworn the Great Lion was smiling. "You've already been given the weapon you'll need. Now, you need to use it to free a god. You know where to go."
"Adrien! Adrien, are you okay?"
Adrien's eyes opened slowly, immediately narrowing as the sun shone right into his pupils. Gradually, his sight focused, and it was then that he noticed the badger inching over him. "Trufflehunter? What happened?"
"You passed out," Trufflehunter explained distractedly as he busied himself checking the centaur's vitals. "You don't seem dehydrated but perhaps the heat has been too much for you. Do you need to sit down? Maybe some water or a fruit?"
"I'm okay," Adrien cut the badger off gently, holding his head with his hands as Trufflehunter and a few others helped him up. He was slowly getting flashes of his dream, Aslan's message for him filtering in bits and leaving him even more confused.
He had no weapon on him, how was he supposed to free a god? And what was the place he needed to go?
Adrien turned towards Trufflehunter, ready to confide on him with his dream but then, a silver gleam reflected on his eyes, making him look towards a group of bushes a few feet before him. Ignoring the complaints from Turfflehunter and the others, he headed for it, and grabbed the sword by its hilt carefully.
The sword of Oreius glimmered gingerly, absorbing the light of the sun with greed.
Adrien gasped. He knew where he needed to go.
He knew who the god was.
Before he could even process his rationing completely, Adrien looked up right into Trufflehunter's eyes with an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, my friend."
And then, he was off, again running through the woods.