The Offspring || Edmund Pevensie Fanfiction ||

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💔For the Greater Good💔
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Charlotte peered down on the battlegrounds, which the mist faintly shielded from her view.

The creatures relentlessly fought their way to survive, dodging the heavy rain of arrows sent down from the higher ground. One by one, they were struck, falling lifeless to the ground.

"Hurry!" She urged the gryphon, who squawked in response.

On the spur of the moment, they were greeted by arrows flying towards the sky. She shrieked and clung tightly to the griffin. Fortunately for her, the griffin swiftly dodged its arrows, swivelling through the mists and abruptly swinging from side to side.

The gryphon came to a halt and she found herself floating over the balcony, staring face to face with the demon. His henchman positioned his crossbow at her, ready to fire.

"Wait," Miraz held his hand up, "hold your fire, General Glozelle."

"Find Edmund," sorrow strings her words in a whisper towards the creature.

She leaped onto the balcony, landing perfectly on her feet. She gulped down her fears, staring face to face with the Telmarine king. The gryphon proceeded to fly away around the castle grounds, surveying the environment with its sharp vision.

The corners of her lips sunk downwards at the majestic beast vanishing amidst the mists, but she had a strong feeling in her gut that it was for the best.

She glanced back at Miraz, who simply raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, at her.

"Who are you?" He barked as he examined her stature and physique.

"Please, stop this," she begged, refusing to answer his query.

Silence surfaced between the two. He exhaled in amusement, sending her a look of incredulity. His eyebrow raised, and he looked to his General, who anticipated his instructions patiently. He glanced back at her, pondering over her plea.

"Why would I do that?" He scowled.

"Look, you've clearly won," she attempted to persuade him, "please spare them."

"You are the ones who tried to invade my castle," he retorted with a scoff, "while my men and I were in slumber."

"It was never your land, to begin with," she shook her head, "your ancestors stole this land."

She pressed her lips tightly into a thin line, shooting daggers at him as her blood boiled. She was utterly repulsed by his malevolent intentions.

"Why should I spare these repulsive creatures?" He questioned her once more, "they are worthless and unfit to even live in my dungeons."

She clenched her grip on her sword, "They are wonderful creatures who only yearn to get back their home."

She continued with a desperate plea, "No one else needs to get hurt. End this now."

"Under whose orders," he began, pausing mid-sentence, "were they following?"

She remained silent, hesitant to answer his question.