Just before he stepped out of the How's protective shadow, Edmund paused. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself five seconds: five seconds of acknowledging the churning nausea, dizzying lightheadedness, sweating palms, and trembling knees. And then it was over.

Head held high, he walked into the sun with Peter following just a step behind his right shoulder. Cheers rose up from the Narnian army as Edmund reached the ruins that were serving as an improvised arena. Susan, Caspian, and Glenstorm stood waiting for him, the centaur and prince bowing their heads at his arrival.

Edmund nodded to them before turning his attention to Usurper Miraz and his entourage: General Glozelle, the oily lord, and another that Edmund didn't recognize. A faint smile tugged at his lips when he noted how ornate Miraz's chair was. How many 'thrones' does he have? But the amusement faded quickly as he watched the Usurper glance at Glozelle and nod at the crossbow in the General's hand. Edmund didn't have to hear or even read Miraz's lips to know what he was saying: shoot him if things go badly. Two threats to watch. This could be a problem.

Spotting Edmund, the Usurper rose, sneering at the young king. Edmund ignored him and drew his sword. As Peter set the sheath aside, Edmund turned to face Miraz and grimaced. "I think he's taking the term two-face a little too seriously."

Peter glanced at him. "What are you talking about, Ed?"

"His helmet," Ed replied, gesturing to where the Telmarine was putting on a gold helmet with a mask shaped like his face instead of a visor.

Beside him, Caspian shifted and dropped a hand to his sword. Without a word, Edmund put a hand on the Prince's arm and squeezed. Slowly, Caspian's grip relaxed, but his expression remained dark.

Across the arena, Miraz stepped forward, sword and shield in hand. Glancing at Peter's shield for a moment, Ed raised an eyebrow at his brother who handed it over with a concerned frown. Edmund hated asking, but since he didn't know his opponent's fighting style he'd rather be safe than sorry. Unfortunately, Peter knew that it also meant Edmund wasn't completely confident. He knows too much. With one last nod to the others, Edmund moved to meet his enemy.

When they were only a few feet apart, they began to pace back and forth in front of each other, sizing the other up. He's balanced, Edmund noted, watching the older man closely. But he drags his feet. That'll slow him down.

"There is still time to surrender," Miraz observed, his voice sounding hollow behind the mask.

"Be my guest," Edmund offered.

"How many more must die for the throne?"

Raising his sword into on guard, Edmund stated, "Just you."

At his reply, Miraz took his own stance, angled sideways with his shield extended towards Edmund and his sword held back and parallel to the ground. A heartbeat passed and then Miraz was lunging forward. It didn't take long for Edmund to recognize the difference in their physical strength. Each blow he blocked with his shield jarred his bones and nearly knocked him off his feet despite his best efforts. If he was going to win this, he'd need speed which meant ditching the shield. Not yet, he decided, blocking another heavy strike. I don't know enough yet.

Two more minutes and Edmund had learned enough. Miraz's style was easy, predictable. After every exchange, he'd retreat a few steps, and return to his original stance before charging in again. As Miraz retreated once more, Edmund allowed the shield to drop from his arm. Before Miraz could take his stance, Ed went on the offensive, using his speed and agility to his advantage.

The Telmarine was taken by surprise by the sudden onslaught, but only for a moment; Edmund reluctantly gave him credit for that. Pressing harder, Edmund cornered Miraz against a slab of rubble and drew a line of crimson across the man's right leg. The man shouted and lashed out, forcing Edmund back several paces.

Behind his golden mask, Miraz's dark eyes went wide with panic. As he continued his attack, Edmund watched his opponent's gaze flick to the side. The crossbow!

His attention shifted to the Telmarine general for less than a second, but it was enough. There was a flash of gold and black in his peripheral vision. And then the world titled beneath him, sending him sprawling onto his back. His shield…A dark fog settled over his vision and he struggled to push it away.

"Edmund!"

Peter's warning cut through the fog enough for Edmund to see the flashing blade stabbing down towards him. It was only the instinct Oreius had drilled into him that kept him alive, but it didn't save him completely.

Edmund cried out, senses sharpened by the sudden, white hot pain in his left shoulder. Jerking his sword free, the Usurper drew back his arm for a second strike. As the blade came down again, Edmund rolled, hearing steel clang against stone. Miraz stalked after him and Edmund continued to roll, any attempt to get up would slow him down enough for Miraz to deal a finishing blow; he couldn't allow that. When he had gone as far as he could, Ed paused, waiting for the Telmarine to move closer. Just as Miraz took the final step that would bring him into striking distance, the Just King reversed the direction of his roll and crashed into the older man's legs.

The resulting pain in his shoulder made his head swim and his stomach heave, but his "attack" had had the desired effect; Miraz was on the ground. With his injured leg, he'd be slow to get up, allowing Edmund to get back to his feet and retrieve his sword, which he had dropped when the Telmarine's shield had met his head. By the time Miraz had regained his feet, Edmund had his sword held in front of him in the basic on guard position.

Blood pulsed from his shoulder and trickled from a gash somewhere above his right eye, but Edmund stood firm and met the older man's gaze without flinching. He would never give the git the satisfaction of seeing him weak. Seeing the uncertainty in Miraz's eyes, Ed asked, "Does his Majesty need a respite?" hoping to further unnerve the Telmarine by his apparent lack of concern for his injuries.

Miraz hesitated before saying, "Five minutes."

"Three," Edmund countered, putting all his authority into the word.

For a moment the combatants stared at each other before Miraz limped to join his entourage. As he reached his men, he ripped his helmet off and snarled at Glozelle. Don't let it get that close again, Ed noted hazily before taking a deep breath. Schooling his features into a relaxed grin, he turned and made his way to where his siblings, friend, and general were waiting. Susan's hands were clasped in front her, knuckles white, while Peter stood rigid, gaze never once leaving his brother. Near them Caspian fidgeted his sword hilt, eyes restless. Even Glenstorm was showing signs of anxiety, pawing at the ground.

Before any of them could speak, Edmund focused on the restless soldiers. Slowly, he raised his sword and pointed it to the sky. It had the desired effect; cheers rose from the Narnian ranks as Ed finally turned to acknowledge his siblings. He sank onto the stool Caspian had brought over, wincing as each move jostled his shoulder. Once he was seated, Glenstorm shifted just enough to block him from the army's view.

Immediately Susan was at his side, inspecting the wound, brows knit, lips pursed, while Edmund passed his sword to Caspian. "Peter, tear that tunic into long strips," she ordered. "We need to slow the bleeding." Grabbing the tunic (Edmund had no idea where it had come from and at that point he didn't care), Peter did as he was told. Edmund swayed as the adrenaline began to fade away. A strong hand steadied him and he glanced at Caspian with a small smile before focusing on breathing through the pain.

"Susan." Peter handed her a wad of cloth.

Giving him a quick smile, Susan met Edmund's gaze. "This is going to hurt," she warned. Edmund wanted to say "no duh" but instead closed his eyes, bracing himself. But as the cloth pressed against the wound, he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Even so a muffled sound managed to escape and Susan withdrew instantly, eyes soft but tense.

As Edmund caught his breath, Caspian tore a section from what remained of the tunic and handed it to the Just King. Offering the Telmarine prince a grateful grimace, Edmund jammed the cloth between his teeth and nodded to Susan. More cautious this time, the Gentle Queen returned to the task of tending her brother's injuries.

While the cloth helped, Edmund's sharp gasps revealed just how much pain he was in. Wordlessly, Peter moved to stand behind his younger brother and put a bracing hand on his right shoulder. Comforted, even if only a little, by his brother's presence, Edmund leaned back against Peter.

After what felt like an eternity, Susan stepped back and sighed. "This will have to do."

"You can't fight like this," Peter muttered. "I should try to take your place."

Edmund shook his head, but he couldn't put the reason for his objection into words, his mind was too red. And there was a rag in his mouth. Fortunately, Caspian understood. "Edmund is right," he stated. "My uncle would consider a change in opponents as a forfeit and demand our surrender." Frowning, clearly as frustrated with the situation as Peter, he finished, "The Just King must continue the duel."

"Your majesties." Glenstorm's rich voice broke into their conversation. "It is time for the duel to resume."

Aslan, help me. Gathering his strength, Edmund rose and accepted his sword from Caspian, but shook his head at the shield, which one of them must have retrieved while he'd been encouraging the soldiers. The Telmarine prince didn't ask and simply set it aside.

As Edmund "tested" his shoulder, really it was more building a "resistance" to it, Peter moved to stand next to him. There was something in his expression that made Edmund nervous. "You know," Peter started. "You've always been there and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ed's throat closed and his vision blurred, but this time it wasn't from pain. Bloody hell, Pete. Swallowing the surge of emotions, Ed plastered a grin on his face as he lifted his right shoulder in a sort of shrug. "Die of boredom I suppose."

Before his brother could reply, Edmund stepped out into the arena to meet Miraz. The older man had refused his helmet allowing Edmund to read his every expression. There was a wild glint in the Telmarine's eyes that reminded Ed of a minotaur about to charge. That was his only warning before Miraz lunged forward, shield extended for a blow.

Edmund held his ground until the last possible second when he spun out of harm's way. As his momentum brought him back around to face his opponent, Edmund swung his sword, landing a heavy blow to Miraz's back. The Telmarine stumbled before turning with a bellow and lashing out with his shield.

Again, Edmund avoided the blow, this time ducking under the attack. As the shield went over his head, Edmund angled his blade and thrust upward, forcing the Usurper to jump back. Rising, Ed had just enough time to return to on guard before Miraz charged again.

The pattern continued for several minutes, Miraz attacking, Edmund dodging, with the Usurper becoming more and more frustrated. His anger made him sloppy and his wild attacks were wearing him down, giving Edmund an advantage. But Ed was tiring too, and each movement triggered a new wave of pain. He needed to end the duel and soon. Parrying another strike, his gaze fell on the hilt of the Telmarine's sword. It was beautifully crafted and, unlike Edmund's, had a knuckle guard that curved out and over the man's hand. Perfect.

Slowly, he allowed Miraz to "push" him back towards the rubble, feigning weakness. When his right foot was stopped as he tried to take another step back, he knew it was time. Just as Miraz struck again, Edmund leapt up onto the rubble, narrowly avoiding the blade. Eyes burning with hate, Miraz aimed his sword at Edmund's chest. Catching the Telmarine's blade with his own, Ed reached out, grabbed the knuckle guard with his left hand, and jumped down from the stone, twisting the hilt to the left as he did. The motion, strengthened by the momentum of the jump, wrenched the sword from the Usurper's grasp.

The moment his feet were on the ground, Edmund lunged at Miraz, using both swords to attack. Miraz's expression went from surprised, to alarmed, to panicked as the young Narnian king dealt blow after blow and forced him to duck behind his shield. When his gaze shifted to his men, Edmund laughed softly. "What makes you so sure they're more likely to put an arrow in me than in you?" he asked. "Don't you know about the treachery lurking in your court?"

For a brief moment, the Usurper's eyes widened and his guard fell. That was all the time Edmund needed. Lunging forward, he brought his sword down on Miraz's shield arm, severing the muscles. As his arm dangled at his side, useless, Miraz shouted, "Respite!"

Edmund's jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to end it, to kill the Usurper and claim victory. Glancing up, he noticed the oily lord watching him closely and, only a blur of silver, the Telmarine army across the field. Slowly, he lowered the swords; he couldn't risk starting a battle that might otherwise be avoided.

"Three minutes," he announced, tossing Miraz's sword to the side. As he made his way back to the others, he watched Peter's face for any warning of a Telmarine trick. He didn't have to wait long. He'd only taken five steps when Peter's eyes widened. Raising his sword, Edmund turned right as Miraz leapt at him with sword in hand. In one fluid motion, Ed drove his blade up and under the Usurper's golden breastplate. The man gasped and stared at Edmund in surprise. Withdrawing his sword, Edmund watched, expressionless, as his enemy fell to his knees.

For several moments, Edmund simply considered the Telmarine, his sword resting against the man's throat. "What's the matter, boy?" Miraz taunted. "Too cowardly to take a life?"

Edmund shook his head, dark eyes as hard and cold as stone. "This is no longer the Narnia I once ruled. The land and the people have changed. As such your life is not mine to take." Turning to Caspian, Edmund stated, "It is our heir who will decide your fate."

Expression unreadable, the Telmarine prince stepped forward and accepted the sword from the Just King. As Caspian angled the blade for the kill, Edmund retreated a few steps, watching his friend closely. What will you do, Caspian? Are you worthy of being the heir of Narnia?

"Perhaps I was wrong." Miraz's voice broke into Edmund's thoughts. The man was holding Caspian's gaze steadily. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine king after all." As he said the last words, Miraz bowed his head.

A scream, wild and terrifying, tore itself from Caspian as he plunged the sword down, and for a moment Edmund's faith in him faltered. Until, that is, he realized Caspian had buried the tip in a crack between two stones directly in front of his uncle. Trembling, Caspian snarled, "Not one like you." Slowly, he straightened. "Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom."

As Caspian strode back towards him, the Just King dipped his head in silent blessing. He'll rule well. Caspian swallowed hard and Ed gave him a weary smile. While Susan moved forward to speak to Caspian, Edmund allowed his attention to drift back to the Telmarines. The oily lord was supporting Miraz, but there was something off about the way he was positioned.

And then, to Edmund's horror (not shock, he'd known something like this was bound to happen) an arrow slipped from the lord's sleeve and, with a practiced twist, was buried in Miraz's back.

Hey guys! First off thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews. They really mean a lot. I hope you enjoyed Confrontation. Reviews welcome!