Edmund ran down the stairs, jostling and shoving his way through the throng to the front

Edmund ran down the stairs, jostling and shoving his way through the throng to the front. Kids on every side were yelling and jumping, cheering and booing in turns. His heart was in his throat as he caught a glimpse of a chunkier, dark haired boy driving his foot into the side of a figure that had fallen to the ground.

"Peter!"

Susan's scream rises above the surrounding chaos. Edmund whirled around and caught her eye a moment; she silently pleads with him to do something. Lucy is on the verge of tears beside her.

He whirls back around, and the look on Peter's face is half fierce and half sad desperation. Time is inconsequential; Edmund hardly registers the activity slamming on around them. He understands, as no one can.

Peter has known the strength of a man and the glory of a king. He has wielded power and authority without equal or overlord. He has delivered justice and claimed victory in fields of battle. He has sat in the throne of the High King in the hall of Cair Paravel and held court before his subjects.

But here… a boy of common birth, he is thrown into a wall. A fist smashes into the side of his face and splits his lip.

But worse than the beating his body receives, the deep sense of loss that floods his resigned gaze is heartbreaking. Here he is no king. Here he must struggle to redefine the strength he grew into as a lord among men into something more suitable for his circumstances, his surroundings. He must live in a life that is ordinary, yet with the imprint of greatness beating strongly in his heart.

And Edmund watches as Peter takes another hit, and knows that he is at a loss of how to reconcile the two.

Edmund charges into the fray, to the defense of his brother and his king, and grabs one of the boys by the collar of his sweater, filled with cold anger. How dare they? He barely restrains the urge to scream in their faces, checking the rage that sears in his chest.

One of them flings another punch at Peter.

He has governed lands across the seas.

Peter struggled as two of them bore down on him, his hair in his eyes.

He has slain his foes and brought low armies.

Peter gets in a hit on one of them—his hands are grimy with the dirt from the station floor.

He has stood in the face of greater enemies and not shown fear.

But in a land where his chivalry is outdated, his grandeur beyond his grasp, and his authority left behind with his crown he must attempt to retain his honour and become a leader wherever he finds opportunity.

But today Peter wishes for a sword in hand and the breath of Aslan, for the Narnia sun and the feel of his country beneath his feet. He wishes to face these boys on the terms of men, not petty children squabbling.

He struggles to be magnificent in an ordinary world.

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Just saw the movie and this scene really struck me. I love Peter.

p.s. Susan + Caspian Agony.