❝she'd gone from being irrelevant to being unavoidable, and what wouldn't peter give just to see her one more time❞
[book 2]
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good people always get second chances.
at least, that was what aslan had told phoebe the last time she'd seen him. no...
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She burst into the fresh air to the sound of silence. Her mind was racing fast enough that she barely had a spare moment to contemplate what that meant. Had the battle not started, or was it already over? She desperately hoped that it wasn't the latter. She couldn't be too late. Then, mere seconds after the fresh air hit her lungs, Phoebe heard a cheer, loud enough that it must have been at least two armies worth of cheering. The noise spurred her forwards, and it was with breathless lungs that Phoebe skidded to a stop next to Edmund.
There he was, fighting Miraz. Phoebe felt her heart almost stop each time Miraz swung. Peter feinted left and right, and yet Miraz struck and struck. He needed to go on the offence, not defend! What was Peter doing? Phoebe knew that she couldn't help, couldn't cry out, couldn't properly do anything, and that made her feel all the more helpless. She wished Susan were here, or Caspian, or anyone. Still, she moved closer to Edmund. The younger boy had grown to nearly be taller than her, and he put an arm around her shoulders. Both of them were watching in terrified, wary silence.
Phoebe was still clutching Lucy's fire flower cordial in her hand. Part of her was terrified that she may have to use it. Still, she held tight to it, as if it was her only lifeline. Ed's arm around her shoulders anchored her to the scene before her. She seemed unable to tear her eyes from the fight, the horrible noise of sword on sword, of Peter grunting and crying out in pain. Miraz had a sort of evil grin on his face, as though he was certain that he had already won this. Phoebe desperately hoped that he was wrong. Miraz may have been greater than Peter in terms of sword skill, but Peter wouldn't give up. Phoebe knew he wouldn't.
A blow from Miraz' sword landed awfully close to Peter's neck, and Phoebe felt her heart drop. A line of blood ran down from the cut - but at least it was shallow, Phoebe was thankful for that. Then, as if Miraz was aware of his advantage, he lunged forwards. With a great crash, Peter was on the floor. Edmund had to physically hold Phoebe back as she tried to move forwards. She could see the pain on Peter's face, could practically imagine him gritting his teeth, trying to make it through.
Miraz saw his chance and took it, striking and striking down at Peter, and yet by some miracle he evaded harm, rolling from side to side. Phoebe could see the pain twisting his face as Miraz lunged again and again.
Clearly realising that his current efforts were lacking, Miraz reared as if he was a snake, stomping down on Peter's shield arm. Phoebe braced for a sickening crack, but none came. Just the shriek of metal on stone and an angered shout from Miraz, followed by a bang not dissimilar to the one from moments earlier. He had moved his shield, positioned under Miraz' foot, and clearly, he'd brought Miraz down to his level. Cheers echoed from the Narnian side, interspersed with gasps of shock, and Phoebe almost smiled.
The older man groaned as Peter pushed himself to his feet, shooting a glance over to Phoebe. She met his eyes briefly, but she could see that he was limping on one leg, and cradling his arm as if it was injured. The cut on his neck was the least of their worries. A murmured exchange passed between Peter and the Telmarine leader, who sneered throughout the entirety of the small discussion. Soon enough, Peter was limping back to the Narnian side.
