The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

Homeward Bound

A/N: Sorry in advance :)

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Though Miraz was a coward, he was also an undeniably skilled fighter. He and Peter seemed evenly matched in their duel, even in spite of Miraz's initial hesitation.

They traded blows, but ultimately, to no end. At one instance, Peter fell to the ground, and he thought that it would be the end of him. Miraz threw his weight onto the shield, and sharp pain burned in his shoulder. But Peter had always been the best at duelling in the Golden Age, and that skill returned to him now as he fought for his life.

He did worry, about what might happen if he lost, but at the same time, he felt oddly at peace about whatever end might come. Aslan knew what He was doing.

The sound of a horse neighing drew Peter's attention, and before he could curse his mistake of distraction, Miraz suddenly suggested a respite rather than taking advantage. Perhaps that blow he'd dealt to the other man's leg had affected him more than he let on.

"Five minutes?"

The other man hesitated, his breath coming ragged and heavy.

"Three!"

Peter limped over to his brother. The approaching horse caught his gaze once more.

Caspian.

He had Susan with him, but not their youngest sister. Peter's heart clenched with fear at the thought of losing another.

"Lucy?" he asked, as Caspian and Susan dismounted from the horse.

"She got through," said Susan, glancing at Caspian. "With a little help."

Peter nodded to Caspian as the fear dissipated. "Thanks."

"Well, you were busy..." he said, but his words were empty and absent.

It was then he remembered that Caspian, too, had been affected by the loss.

Peter dipped his head in acknowledgement, then looked to Susan. "You'd better get up there. Whether I live or die, I don't expect the Telmarines will keep to their word."

She nodded solemnly, and turned towards the How.

"I think it's dislocated," Peter told Edmund of his injury, and Caspian took his shield.

As he sat with a weary sigh, he noticed Caspian staring at the familiar compass in his hand, and it set his thoughts to Margaret once more.

Edmund came around to his side and began to tend to the wound whilst Caspian rifled through the medical supplies.

"What do you think happens back home if you die here?" Peter asked suddenly, his own voice sounding hollow to his ears. Was he asking on Margaret's behalf or his own? He couldn't say. His question drew the others from their thoughts. He saw it flicker across their faces; they too, thought of her.

Peter took a shaky breath and looked back at Edmund. "You know, you've always been there for me, and I never really--"

He cut short with a sharp groan as his brother put the wrenched shoulder back into place without warning.

"Save it for later," Edmund said.

Peter commended him for believing there would be a later.

Across the way, Miraz grabbed his helmet, murmuring something unheard to his Marshals of the Lists, but before he could put it on, he caught sight of something behind Peter, and fear kindled in his eyes.