Prodigy & Prophecies ? Peter Pevensie [1]

Chapter XII - Amateur hour

"Show me what you got," I tease, readying myself and he does the same.

Peter takes his first swing which I easily block with my sword. I return the swing lower by his torso. He jumps backward, having the sword tip miss him. He then takes his blade and makes an attempt to stab my stomach, I use my sword angled downwards to push it out of line with my gut. This hard throw made Peter let his shoulders drop, giving me the perfect position to ruin his balance. I hook my foot on his ankle as he takes a step forward. Peter cannot get his footing correctly and falls to the ground with a thud.

A small smile crosses my lips as I stand above him as he pants like a dog. It felt so different to fight something other than a wolf or dwarf. Someone close to my actual size, even if Peter was a few inches taller than me.

He wasn't a terrible fighter but he also wasn't even close to where he needed to be for war. He still had some major points he needed to fix. My ten-year-old self still could've taken him down in minutes.

"Balance is one of the most important things, your arms might feel like they are doing all the work but your feet are more important. The moment you lose your balance is the same moment you're in the dirt." I tell him. I point down to him on the ground, trying to hide my smile for what I am going to add, "Both metaphorically and physically, you could say."

"Very funny." He comments sarcastically.

"Come on, get up. You have much to learn," I mention, walking to him, offering a hand up. He looks at me skeptically, as if I'm planning a trick on him. After a second of thought, he takes my hand and I pull him up.

"Thank you," He expresses, continuing to still not trust my intentions. Smart of him.

"Tash, can you calm down?" I snicker, looking up at Peter from where he stands, just a few inches from my face.

"What? I'm fine." He opposes instantly.

"I can feel your hands trembling, Cupcake," I tell him, making him look down at his hand, still ahold of mine as it lightly shakes without him even noticing. He looks to the left, trying to avoid eye contact to admit his denial. "You can be scared all you want but you can't let your opponent know that. Fighting as much a mental game as it is physical."

Peter's chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath.

I continue, "Your emotions can fuel your fight but they cannot, ever, control you."

I smirk as he relaxes. Taking the opportunity to teach another lesson. I bring one of my small spare blades to his neck. He keeps his head high, feeling the chill of the blade against the middle of his neck.

"Secondly, never let your guard down," I prove, telling him I just won, for a second time, if I might add. "You are the prophesized son of Adam and ruler of Narnia. No one will belittle you, so you must be prepared at all times."

"But you already underestimated me," Peter smirks.

I narrow my eyes, confused with his boldness until I feel a hard pinch in my side. The perfect place to pierce multiple vital organs.

My mouth dropped open, realizing that the blade was my very own from my ankle. He must have snatched it without my knowledge.

"The last thing I'm going to do is underestimate you," Peter whispers, focusing his eyes only on mine.

I push the blade closer to his neck condensing the space between us even more. At this point, I could feel the heat radiate off his body, still out of breath and sweating from moments ago.

"Is this the first time you've been beaten?" He asks boldly, making my eyesight go red around the sides. I let out a controlled exhale, knowing better than to let the anger turn into flames. If I had not worked with Aslan before I fear that little control would have been unstoppable.