Peter

Aslan is alive. Somehow, some way, he lives and has brought a whole other army to fight, turning the tide against Jadis. When she turns back to me, her eyes burn with rage, and her attack is stronger than ever.

Her sword swings with such fury I struggle to keep up. I'm on the back foot, and she knows it. My anger still courses strong in my blood, but I'm distracted. Thoughts of Edmund, Susan, Lucy and Cress circle through my mind. Suddenly it all seems real and in all likeliness, this is where I die.

She's better than I am. Aslan could defeat her, but I don't know if I can hold out that long. She has two swords now, a second one picked up from a dead soldier.

Blood and sweat mingle on my face and drip into my right eye.

I can't keep this up.

With a slick move of her sword, Jadis knocks mine from my hand, and I fall. She drives one of her swords through the chainmail over my arm, slicing through my skin in the process and pinning me down. I deflect her initial blows with my shield, but it isn't long until that, too, is thrown aside.

This is it.

The witch steps down on my other arm.

"Ah!" I hiss and attempt to pull either of my arms free.

She has her sword pointed straight at my throat, poised to run it through my windpipe. I don't even have time to squeeze my eyes shut when a massive shape leaps over me, occluding the sun and taking Jadis with it.

Cressida

I turn just in time to see Aslan collide with Jadis; they sail through the air for a moment and come crashing down some thirty paces away from Peter's prone body.

Without a moment's hesitation, I sprint the last few meters towards him and wrench the sword from his arm. He hisses as I loop an arm under his shoulders and help him stand. We both stand stone still and watch as Aslan stands over the witch. Everything goes quiet, so eerily quiet. Like the moment just before the rising sun spills over the horizon.

Our chests rise and fall, one, twice, three times. On the third breath, Aslan rips out Jadis' throat.

Soldier's stream passed us in a blur, I can only watch as Aslan turns back to us, blood dripping from his maw. My chest is tight, so painfully tight.

She's dead.

The white witch. The False Queen of Narnia. My captor. She's dead.

"It is finished." Aslan nods to us.

I feel my knees buckle and this time it's Peter's turn to support me, quickly moving so his arm is looped under my own. He looks into my eyes. He looks as though he's in shock, mouth slightly agape.

"You're hurt." He manages.

"So are you." I huff.

The moment is broken when Susan and Lucy come running over.

"Peter!" Shouts Susan.

I step back as Lucy throws herself into Peter's arms. He winces but holds her tightly. Aslan is by my side, and I lean against his shoulder, my ribs aching from the ogre's club.

"Where's Edmund?" Susan croaks, looking around.

Peter's mouth pops open, and he whips his head around. The three children take off, and with what feels like the last of my strength, I run after them.

~~~

Edmund lies sprawled on the grass, one hand pressed against a still bleeding wound, the other scrabbling through the grass, trying to hold on to something.

Quickly approaching with a raised axe is Ginarrbrik, intent on finishing what I'm sure his queen started.

Susan is quick to knock an arrow. It flies with perfect precision, skewering the dwarf through the heart.

With a cry, he drops his axe and falls. Dead.

Peter, Susan and Lucy crowd around Edmund. Susan pulls his helmet off to lay his head in her lap. The boy's breath escapes in harsh pants, and his skin is waxy.

Anyone can see he is dying.

I hang back. I can't invade on this.

Lucy pulls a bottle from its pocket on her belt. Her healing cordial. She allows a drop to fall onto her brother's parted lips.

Edmund goes still, eyes closed. Peter's shoulder's tense and I hold my breath, hand clutched over my mouth.

Suddenly he gasps. A full, healthy breath, and his eyes open. Peter makes a half-choking, half-sobbing sound as he pulls his brother up to a sitting position and pulls him in tightly. He presses his face to his brother's shoulder, and I see him shake with tears.

Peter pulls back sharply, "When are you going to do as you're told?"

The siblings laugh. It's a sound filled with such joy, such wonder, that it makes my heart swell as they all cling to each other.

"Cressida?" Edmund asks, pulling back to look at me.

I walk slowly towards them and kneel down in the grass. I hold Edmund's shoulder and allow myself to look at him.

This boy, who, out of all his siblings, has suffered most at Jadis' hands. I hug him. I don't know why I do it, I don't know what possesses me to, but I hug him. Perhaps out of pure relief.

"Thank the ancestors. You're all right." I laugh.

If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

Peter looks at me as though he's about to say something when something else catches his attention.

Aslan approaches and we watch as he breathes upon a soldier turned to stone, restoring flesh.

Lucy gets a determined look on her face as she grips her healing cordial. She rises, looking at Aslan.

The lion nods with a gentle smile, and the youngest Pevensie takes off to tend to the injured.