"You're not going anywhere, if anything your little boyfriend will just have another seat next to you." Peter threatens.
A sharp laugh fell uncontrollably from my lips, which only seemed to make Peter angrier.
"What?" He questions harshly.
"I just t...
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If I can train this unskilled mortal into a swordsman, I can find Benvolio somehow and leave Narnia for good. Believe it or not, it seems easier to find Ben, who very well might be at the castle where my mother resides, than train the mortal that plans to be king.
"You know the deal, the faster I train you, the faster we can be out of each other's way," I announce to Peter, meeting him in the place even further than where I had met Aslan about an hour ago. We wanted to take extra precautions to make sure no one spied us together.
He unsheathes his sword, turning the blade over in his hands with a ready stance, "Couldn't agree more."
"Perfect," I grimace, "First off, give me the blade of destiny."
"What? Why?" He questions standing up straight, as I hold my hand out for the sword.
"If you feel the need to question everything I do, these sessions will not be efficient." I criticize, opening my hand more, ushering him to give me the blade.
He puts the sword back in the sheath, making me roll my eyes as he protected the blade. Even if I wanted his blade, I wouldn't take it. Stealing that blade could be the last straw to finalize this civil war. The tensions are high enough right now and I'm trying to avoid the war entirely.
I throw him one of the two swords in my hand. Neither sword could compare to Valyrian steel. They are actually quite the opposite, dull and heavy.
He readjusts the foreign handle in his grasp, "Since when are you allowed to carry weapons?"
"Since I became a walking hurricane," I respond, dully.
"Fair enough," He admits, "Why can't I use my sword?"
I groan at his excessive inquiries, I give in and answer, in hopes that he would shut up, "That sword was wielded for the prophecized King of Narnia, correct?"
"Mhm," He nods, peering down at his feet.
"You're not King yet, if and only if it's prophesied correctly, then that sword was meant for an older and stronger version of you. In short, that blade is too heavy for you." I summarize.
"We need to make you less of a soft... cupcake."
Peter throws an unamused glare my way, dropping any further questions. I can't help but wonder if I'm the first person to question his possible future kingship.
![Prodigy & Prophecies ➢ Peter Pevensie [1]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/162792795-64-k531773.jpg)