So far, she was in the darkest parts of the wood, a soldier on the back of her tail with a very daunting looking crossbow sitting in his hand, glittering threatening under the sun as if it was winking at her. She didn't want to die like this.

She didn't want to be shot, hopeful and starry-eyed, by a soldier who didn't really want her dead, but only wanted to please the King who had assigned these tasks for him, that he would carry out through fear.

And Lucy was a child. She was still a young girl with hopeful dreams and aspiring future that she wanted to spend, here, in Narnia, with her new friends. She hadn't done everything she wanted to yet. She couldn't leave without spending more time with Trumpkin, or watching Caspian and Susan grow old and get married. She didn't want to die without cooking the muffins that she promised she would let Catherine taste, or grow into the dresses she left centuries behind. She didn't want to die, because of everything she had yet to achieve.

And Lucy Pevensie had a lot to achieve.

For these reasons, she tugged on the reins in an attempt to make her horse run faster, hoping that she could somehow outrun the death that loomed behind her, sat, nameless, on a horse that matched the speed of hers, and a mask that covered his unfamiliar, unknowing face. The soldier didn't' have a name, he barely even had a title. She didn't know what it was, and in a sick fascination, she wished she did.

It wasn't strange to wonder who was going to kill you.

As the trees past her, not seeming so unfamiliar anymore, there was a familiar glow in the leaves that she passed, a green much brighter than she had seen throughout the ride so far.

And she might have been wrong, but she was sure it was because of the Lion that she swear she saw in her peripheral.

...

She was not going to be defeated, yet again, by a man that had always despised her. She hated that man.

'We're surrounded.' Edmund said, seeming defeated. His eyes skipped across each direction, to prove that, in fact, his accusation was true. The Telmarine soldiers had them circled.

'Perfect.' Catherine said with a breathy smile. Edmund turned to her, furrowing his eyebrows. 'That means we can attack from any direction.'

A grin broke out onto Edmund's face and Susan began to laugh, her face brightening with a smile as she attempted to cover her snickers with her hand. With a look to Peter, Catherine gave him a respectful nod and she drew her sword. He nodded back, a grateful look on his face.

He began to run forwards, charging and leading the way for the passionate Narnians that yelled and chanted on their way towards war.

The slashing of swords made a spectacular display, Caspian and Catherine fighting back-to-back as they yelled and cried out, piercing soldiers around them with their weapons made of steel and painted with a crimson red.

Caspian threw a dagger towards a soldier, stabbing into his chest and drawing blood, before swerving around and slicing another. He locked eyes with his sister and picked up a wrong in his hand. He flipped it in his hand before throwing it into the air towards Catherine, who smacked it with her sword like it was a baseball.

'Come on!' Reepicheep announces, and Caspian follows him. Catherine waits for a few minutes, fighting a new group of soldiers who corner her and push her into the pit created earlier, which was now filled with a mix of Narnian and Telmarine soldiers.

She cradles her head from the initial pain, her vision blurry as it morphs from a blur of colours to hazy, vague images. Suddenly, her eyes focus and she watches as Glozelle picks up a spear from a nearby corpse, running towards her with a battle cry.

Catherine, defenceless, shuffles back in a desperate fear, her eyes beginning to turn teary and wide. His anger begins to fade, watching her fully. Catherine awaits for his attack, sniffling, and Glozelle no longer feels the urge to attack a Narnian, but wants to hold her in his arms, remembering her as the six-year-old that would run around the castle and convince him to play tea-parties with her, when nobody else would, and who taught him to braid her hair when her arms were too small to reach all the way, or make it as pretty as the Telmarine girls she watched from her window.

Glozelle breathed heavily, throwing down his spear and swallowing. Catherine watches him, wearily, terror creeping up her throat, watching as a tree root suddenly expands itself from the ground and takes him, pulling him away from her. She gasps, the initial shock shaking her body. Peter appears from the top of the pit, reaching out to grab hear and pull her up to level.

She opens her mouth to thank him, but turns around, staring in amazement to see that the trees had come alive.

They had woken up.

A gasp escaped her lips as she jumped over their grand roots, and she began to laugh once more, her eyes glittering in amazement and the knowledge that she would never be able to know all of Narnia's tricks because oh my god, the trees are moving!

'Edmund!' She calls out, without realizing it. Ahead of her, Edmund pierced a soldier in the stomach and spun around to her, his face filled with fear and concern until realizing that she was laughing. He relaxes, slightly, yet is still on guard, his eyes scanning the area around her, as she wasn't seeming to guard herself. 'Edmund, the trees!'

Edmund squinted, unable to hear her as a tree smacked a soldier onto the floor. He called back to her. 'What?!'

'The trees!' She said, ecstatically and raising her voice. 'The trees are moving!'

Edmund grinned, amused. 'Yes, they tend to do that sometimes!'

A tree branch thunders through the ground, heading towards the wooden canons, tearing it down with ease, it's strength tearing it apart piece by piece and crumpling it to the floor like an empty soda can. Peter looks up and smiles, turning smugly to Caspian, who watches the trees with the same astonishment as his sister.

'Lucy.' He says, simply. Peter cheers, raising his sword, filled with a familiar pride and dignity. 'For Aslan!'

The Narnians don't hesitate to chant, calling back his own words in response.

...

he had won the battle by leading the Narnians to the water.

He also believed that he owned the river, as he was the one who helped fund and build the bridge that sat upon it, a symbolism of the Telmarine's stretch into Narnia, their cruel connection made from metal and screws.

What he didn't believe in, however, was the myth of Lions and little girls.

But Lucy Pevensie was old enough to be his great-great-great grandmother and therefore, she was not capable of being classed as a little girl. Not anymore. She was a Queen and a valiant warrior.

Catherine's eyes glittered and she mumbled to herself, hoping that she was somehow loud enough for Lord Sopespian to hear. 'Oh, you are so screwed now, you Telmarine bitch.'

Lucy, appearing to hear this, felt her eyes glimmering in mischief and continued to block the Telmarines escape from the bridge. Lord Sopespian drew his horse to a sudden stop and commanded his soldiers to wait. For a second, a momentary flicker, Sopespian felt something he had never felt before.

Compassion. Guilt. How could he attack an unarmed little girl?

When Lucy pulled out her small, sharp dagger, he almost smiled, for he was perfectly allowed to attack a small girl with a knife- a very threatening knife he would say - was he not?

'Charge!' He yelled, causing the Telmarines to run towards Lucy and the Lion that stood behind her, seeming to be waiting for something. Lord Sopespian was determined to not give them any more time than he already had.

This was his war. He had killed, slaughtered and murdered to prove it, and a little more blood on his hands wouldn't stain his crimson-coloured clothes anymore than it already had. He could wash it when he got home.

Aslan didn't like Lord Sopespian. He didn't know him personally, not yet anyways, but he didn't like the bridge he had built, or the stone castle, or the trees that he had knocked down to create their small villages, where they treated their tenants like prisoners. He didn't like Sopespian's cruel, calculating mind or the way his eyes scanned over Lucy as if she was nothing more than a little girl – something he could easily squish between his fingers.

Most of all, out of everything, Aslan didn't like that he had taken away the Narnian's homes. His home. So, of course, Aslan did what he did best.

Aslan opened his mouth, bearing his teeth, and he roared.

The Lord halted once more, shivers trickling down his skin and seeping into his bones, soaking them in a cold, lifeless fear. He froze. His brain continued to think, harder and harder, louder and louder that Aslan was sure he was about to burst. Sopespian looked behind him, a fleeting expression of despair drawn on his face as he noticed they were blocked in; the Narnian army wavering behind him. He turned back, hoping he had enough time to coordinate a strategy, anxiety reflecting on his face and his heart throbbing in his face.

He was too focused on his next move, that he hadn't been watching the water.

Around the bridge, the Telmarines that had decided to run through the water found themselves to not be so deep in as they previously were, the clear liquid seeming to draw itself out and connect towards a large, invisible force in the distance, drawn like magnets. They murmured, confused and becoming fearful and turned back to the Lion, who smirked.

They had never met a Lion who had smirked at them before, nevermind cast a Water God from the river.

Soldiers ran, beginning to retreat and make their way back towards the shore, shouting and yelling in fear and urgency as the Water God flew effortlessly towards the bridge. Catherine's eyes widened and her jaw snapped shut. Edmund started to laugh beside her, amused at her startled, pale expression and the Water God began to throw itself towards the bridge, making Telmarine soldiers jump and scream in fright, landing in a large cluster together as they struggled to make an exit.

Suddenly, with a huge strength and mighty arms, the beast extended it's arms, picking up the middle section of the bridge and lifting it up into the air. Around it, he dismissed the other soldiers that surrounded Lord Sopespian, sweeping them off gently and allowing them to fall into their friends below, who stared up in amazement and terror.

Lord Sopespian struggled to keep his horse on the bridge, threatening to slip forwards and into the God's open, awaiting mouth. They locked eyes – well, eyes with water – and the Lord raised his sword, making Catherine chuckle into her palm. As if metal was going to save him. The Water God was going to eat him alive.

To her surprise, and slight terror, it was exactly what it did.

Extending it's jaw, the Water swallowed Lord Sopespian hole, his screams disappearing by the waves that lapped over his body, consuming him and entering his system, before disappearing completely, falling back into where it came from, sweeping away the rubbish and soldiers down the stream, clearing the path for the Narnians to cross.

Catherine was the first to speak.

'Yes, Lucy!' She yelled, beginning to clap and whoop, fist-bumping the air. 'I knew you could do it! Those bastards didn't know what hit them!'

The young girl grinned and started to giggle, childishly, her freckles and dimples glowing from the celebrating sun.

It's over!!! Damn, we're so close the ending it's insane.

Lmao my bitch Sopespian really thought he was just going to run over this little girl, are you kidding me man. I don't think so. This bitch will SLICE you