The Golden Witch || Peter Pevensie x OC

54. A Mad Proposal

Peter wasn't fond of how this had all turned out.

That was putting it lightly.

Peter was furious.

That is, if he could even tell that he was furious.

After giving his final call for attack with the knowledge that they had no other options and nowhere else to turn, he had no choice but to put all of his focus towards cutting down as many Telmarine soldiers as possible.

But it was next to impossible for him to not be distracted by the presence of the Golden Witch advancing into the heart of the battle by his side.

There was no stopping her. They needed her there. But his eyes would flick over to her every free second he had during the times his sword was transferring from torso to torso.

He expected it to be of negative consequence. That being distracted by her would be a disadvantage. Because he would be worried for her.

But that wasn't the case.

Peter had taught Valera everything he knew when it came to sword fighting.

He remembered those memories fondly when they were separated. Clearly, despite how much longer it had been for her, she had too.

The way she was expertly slashing down grown men twice her size and strength as though they were made of paper was impressing the more experienced Narnian Knight.

The silk white dress she was wearing was now splattered with crimson red slashes, and her golden curls were falling wildly down around her shoulders.

It was clear she had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

Waiting to finally unleash her anger upon those who deserved to suffer from it.

It also seemed that her nature had been waiting as well.

Mixing the use of her sword, and the deadly attacks of the nature surrounding them, Valera was able to take down three Telmarines for every one Peter struck.

It quickly became evident that he would do well to not worry about her, and rather focus on keeping his own head intact.

The reason for that is because Peter had come into a few close calls.

Experience aside, fighting the number of soldiers that kept on coming for them in such an exhausted state was going to result in an eventual slip up.

A slip up that would cost him his life.

Peter knew he was one blink at the wrong time away from death. He could practically feel its presence lingering over his shoulder.

As he had heard some say, when death is at your doorstep, you flash through the entirety of your life, experiencing the best and worst of it, until you come to the conclusion that you are either ready or not ready to open the door and greet your fate.

And as Peter flicked through the life he had led, he came to a conclusion.

He wasn't ready to open the door.

Not until he had done one thing first.

Only then would he be as prepared as possible.

For when he went through the events of his life, the best of them were filled with the earth-coloured eyes of the witch across the field from him, currently fighting for her people.

The moment they met, the moment she comforted him despite the cold, the moment she saved his family, the moment he knew he loved her, the moment they shared their first kiss, the moment they shared their first night together in Irondale, the moment she told him her family approved of him, the moment they told each other they loved each other.