The Cold and the Just | E. Pevensie

XVI

Y/N's POV
I couldn't see a thing. But I had other senses that I tried my best to pay attention to.

I felt a cool breeze blow my hair off my shoulders.
I could feel Edmund's presence next to me.

He smelled like pine trees and cold metal - an odd combination, but a lovely one at that.

I felt a hand cradle mine, and I knew it was Edmund. Then I felt his hot breath near my neck.

"I'm worried," he whispered.

"Don't be," I whispered back. "Peter will be fine." I gripped his palm tighter and he rubbed circles on the back on my hand.

I couldn't hear much over the roar of the armies, but I could hear some.
Clanging of metal and the cries of the two competitors; Peter and Miraz.

I could hear their armor-clad feet scraping the stone battleground.

Every sharp noise of their swords clashing made me jump.

"Edmund," I whispered harshly, "what's going on?"

"Miraz's knocked Peter's helmet off. He's not-" I heard Edmund take a shaky breath, "Wait. Peter's got him. He cut Miraz's leg."

I stayed silent and listened. I could feel Edmund tense every so often, and each time matched up with the steely sound of swords against armor.

"Peter!" Edmund's ragged cry startled me. I almost ripped off my blindfold right then. "Edmund, what is it?"

The poor boy was shaking and I felt my heart break a bit as Peter's air-splitting shriek could be heard. Had Miraz actually won? Was Peter gravely injured...or dead?

"Edmund!" I pushed, untangling my hand from his and pushing against his shoulder. "What's wrong?!"

"It's- it's...Peter's sh-shoulder.." He finally answered, his voice quiet and his stutter prominent.

I made a mental picture of the ruins of the stone table and marched forward, praying I wouldn't foolishly run into something. "Stop!"

"Princess!" I heard Glenstorm say, just as both Edmund and Caspian cried out anxiously, "Y/N!"

I ignored them a took a few more determined steps and held my hands out. If I calculated my steps correctly, I would be directly in the center of the small rock battleground.

"Stop! 5 minutes. That's all. Peter is injured!" I demanded, desperately hoping I was facing the correct way and not speaking to a stone pillar instead of my uncle.

I could hear the ragged breathing of Peter and my uncle, though I couldn't tell which was who. I felt the eyes of the Narnians and Telmarines on me.

I heard a throaty groan and knew it was my uncle, very irritated. But he was also injured, so it wouldn't surprise me if he was also looking for an excuse.

"Fine," my uncle's gravely voice muttered, "You have 3 minutes, wench."

I felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around me and drag me backwards. I first was on guard and drew my elbow back, then slammed it into the person's side. My elbow was met with chain mail and hard armor, making me yelp.

I must of landed a good blow, because the person holding me let go and I ripped of the blue scarf that had blinded me. I was met with the sight of Caspian cradling his side.

"Oh, Caspian, I'm so-"

He started laughing and shook it off, looking directly into my eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm glad you have that fighting spirit. My apologies."