~ To Be Chivalrous ~

Peter peered around himself in the dusty haze kicked up by the hooves of Telmarine horses and the Narnian military. He couldn't find his brother. Silently he cursed the demon god of Calormen for keeping such a shoddy eye on the Just King; his brother was not made for war, but for the war rooms; for the courts of Cair and the other kingdoms of Lumea. Though Edmund was smart –sly as a fox, many called him– and he exceeded Peter in swordsmanship, he was not a warrior such as Peter was.

The High King looked about, and as he did, his friend and companion on many of his campaigns to the North, Topaz the Unicorn, found him in the dusty haze surrounded by many Telmarines and injured or fiercely fighting Narnians. "Sire, whilst you dally here midst the gravest and most perilous heat of battle, General Oreius needs you to decide how to push these brutes back!" the white Unicorn declared before dodging forward to defend his king by running a Telmarine through.

His long horn caked and dripping blood was a fearsome thing to be met with in battle, and Peter imagined it took a great deal of bravery to be so close to your foe as you meted out their death. Why, Topaz nearly stared into their eyes and breathed the very same breath they did!

"I cannot find his Highness, King Edmund, and I cannot leave this place until I do!" Peter answered, turning once more and scanning the battle as best he could.

"Truly, Milord, we cannot forsake him to uncertain death and brutal injuries at the hand of these things that deign call themselves men; onward to find his Highness the King!" Topaz snorted, tossing his long mane energetically, his cloven hooves gouging the dirt beneath them. A Unicorn in battle was something aweing, Peter always thought, no matter how serious a situation was.

The two comrades fought where fighting was needed, aiding their soldiers; mercifully culling both friend and foe that would be dead long before the battle so they might not suffer agony long. That was when he heard, more than saw, Edmund. His brother, in an odd custom Peter never questioned, insisted upon carrying two blades into battle. The High King never bothered learning the skillset required in mastering two blades– he always found it difficult and cumbersome.

But with Edmund it was quite different; why, Peter did not bother hiding his awe at watching his brother practice. He was elegant and refined, and it seemed to be something that was as a part of him as war was a part of Peter, and gentleness a part of their sister, the Queen Susan. Peter's pace that had been a hurried walk turned into a run when he heard the loud rapport of the twin blades.

He stopped when he saw who his brother was challenging, not as in combat, Peter noticed, but as in duel. It looked uncannily like Marin, the first-born son of King Isshiah. Edmund, who never wore much armor –damn him– was bleeding from several cuts on his arms, where his opponent's sword had sliced through his military grade white linen shirt. Peter admired the way Prince Marin –for it was indeed the Crown Prince of Telmar clashing swords with King Edmund– fought so desperately against the Just King.

Edmund enjoyed the desperation, the hate and anger, his opponents began to cultivate towards him when he did not grow weary of dueling as they did. Edmund was ruthless; Peter had learnt that when he wrote sentences or interrogated spies, and seemed to get certain joys from this sort of fighting, but it was what made him a good king. He knew when to retain such tendencies. When they had been younger, and Peter witnessed this for the first time, he had shuddered, thinking it was a side the Witch might have managed to bring out in uncontainable force had she held Edmund hostage long enough.

But as Peter was admiring his brother, he watched the Prince jerk a dagger from a concealed sheath and fling it across at Edmund with all his strength. The Just King did not have time to react before the small blade found its mark in his side, thrust through the chainmail of his hauberk. Edmund staggered back heavily, dropping one of his blades. He reached halfway to the dagger hilt and then stopped, looking back at the Telmarine Prince. Marin was advancing with his sword, moving in to kill the king.

Peter reacted in reflex, and his sword clashed harshly down upon Marin's as Edmund collapsed to the ground not far from them, light-headed with pain. But the Just King only grit his teeth and sat in a slightly reclined position, watching his brother fight in his stead against the Prince he longed to kill. He hated the Telmarine crown zealously, and few knew why. But it was because, in his seventeenth year, he had been abducted by spies and held hostage in Javona, the court of King Isshiah, where he was beaten nearly senseless for information regarding Peter's "plans of attack on Telmar," which had not existed.

True, he had allowed for the abduction to happen, and gained valuable information while in Javona, but he hated them because of what they'd done. They had treated him no better than a common spy and it disgusted him. If he ever found the chance –which he had this day in the form of Prince Marin– he wanted the monarchy to feel his wrath.

~|:O:|~

Peter did not know how long he fought against Marin, all he knew was that the boy –Marin had only seen sixteen summers– was waning at a great speed. Then, in another moment, Peter brought the flat of Rhindon down sharply on the Prince's hand with such force that the weapon flew from the young Telmarine's hand. Yet a few moments more and the boy had stumbled away from him, only to fall on his back upon the ground, staring up at Peter with wide brown eyes, his long dark hair matted with blood and sweat.

The High King moved closer to him; Marin only retracted from the blade, fear coming into his eyes as he stared at it. Something caused Peter to stay the thrust that would end the boy's life. He didn't know why he halted, but he stood there, staring into the youth's eyes.

"Stop standing there, Peter! Kill him; he will cause nothing but grief in the future for us and our land! You must kill him. Discard the father and become the soldier for but a moment longer!" Edmund's voice was sharp, cruel, but also breathless from pain.

"Now is not the time for . . . chivalry!" the Just King spat, glaring contemptuously at the boy lying at his brother's feet.

But Peter could only imagine the grief of losing your son to war; he could not fathom the pain he might feel if Lucian were to die by Isshiah's hand. The Telmarine Prince looked from the sword in Peter's hand to meet Peter's eyes, and it was then Peter knew he couldn't kill the boy, no matter what the future yielded.

"I would have killed his Highness, King Edmund the Just King of Narnia. Had someone tried to murder my King, he would not have lived as long as I have. . ." the boy whispered, breathless.

Peter slowly lowered Rhindon. "I cannot kill you, Marin . . . I cannot. As a father, I could not bear to do such a thing; for I can only imagine the grief of your father should I lift my blade." Peter's arm fell to rest at his side, Rhindon's tip cleaving a small gouge in the ground as it dragged back with it.

"But this is war," the boy protested, almost as if begging.

"And some are spared death though they are wrong," Peter answered, smiling a ghost of a fatherly smile.

Edmund stared at his brother as the High King lowered his arm. After the boy had run off, the Peter turned to his brother. Edmund glared at him with distaste. Peter moved to help him, but Edmund stood on his own. Breathing heavily from pain and exertion, he looked into his brother's clear blue eyes with his own dark ones were filled with contempt.

"You shall regret that," he declared ominously, enunciating the words slowly and icily.

Peter gazed back steadily, slightly shocked at his brother's hateful attitude. "You do not know such things, only Aslan may tell of the future, and even that He declares can be changed and altered," he retorted, practically forcing his brother to lean on him for support as they skirted the battle field.

"I do not often repeat myself, but you. Shall. Regret. That." Edmund was silent for the remainder of their agonizingly slow trek to the Narnian encampment.

.

.

.

Peter stared at Caspian as they stood before the How. He could think of nothing but contempt for this boy, nothing but hate. Suddenly he remembered what his brother had told him long ago.

"You shall regret that."

He did, oh how he loathed sparring Marin's life! If he had but killed the brat then, perhaps Narnia would not be in ruins, this boy the unifier of a scraggly band of half-wild Narnians and the only hope of restoring Narnia they had if they won the war against Miraz.

"I am not the one who abandoned Narnia!"

For a moment, Peter saw the Telmarine boy trying to kill his brother so long ago; for a moment he saw what Caspian might become. He was filled with regret for what he should have done to end this accursed line nearly thirteen hundred years ago.

"You invaded Narnia! You have no more right leading it than Miraz does!" Caspian did not deserve it; if anything, he should know it as a wonderful –unthinkable– privilege. "You, him, your father; Narnia's better off without the lot of you!" He raged because of his pity, the pity of fathers, he had shown on Marin. He had seen Marin in Caspian when they first met, and still he had felt that familiar pity well deep within. Now he only bemoaned it.

Caspian turned back on him, viciously pulling his blade. Though those surrounding them saw the High King fighting with the only Telmarine who had ever sided with them, Peter was standing on a battlefield several thousand years gone, with his brother shouting behind him and a boy before him that he must kill.

"Peter!"

He jerked when he heard his sister's voice, the images he had seen vaporizing, and only Caspian standing in front of him, defending the honor of his father; a man he had never truly known. That caused him to stare dazedly, realizing his own son must have fought like that for him. Caspian turned away while Peter looked to his siblings and his soldiers.

"You shall regret that."

He heard the words still echoing in his mind, taunting, mocking. Spoken with Edmund's long-silent Narnian voice; spoken with wisdom, knowledge and bitterness behind them.

.

.

.

Peter gasped, looking at Miraz. The man was injured, as his brother had been long ago. He would not repeat the sin of Marin and fight a defenseless, weak man. So when Miraz begged for respite, he willingly gave it.

"Now is not the time for chivalry, Peter!" Edmund shouted from the lists. Peter barely managed to hide his startled jerk. There was no hate in his brother's voice now, only a trace of impatience. Sometimes he wondered if Edmund ever remembered that battle as he did. Now was another of those times. Still he trusted Miraz; still he acted with kindness where others had not. And for his kindness Miraz tried to kill him.

.

.

Peter stared down at the usurper, breathing heavily. How he wanted to kill this man! To avenge his children, his wife, and his people; to avenge all that had been lost to him and his siblings. But, he knew what he was going to do would be right.

Miraz muttered in a breathless tone, "What, too cowardly to take a life?"

He stared at the man he would give anything to kill. "It's not mine to take."

He turned to Caspian. Calmly, he held up the sword that had belonged to Miraz, but was now his by right as winner of the duel. Caspian glanced fleetingly at Peter's face, meeting his eyes. Peter nodded slightly, stepping away. It was not his life to take, but he prayed Caspian would not listen to his conscience and deny what was his by right.

"You will regret that."

His brother's voice echoed once more. As he watched Caspian walk forward, he was suddenly filled with overwhelming dread.

A/N:

This was an idea that came to me after looking at a picture that cut from Peter's face right before the battle to Caspian's when General Glozelle nearly ran him through. I thought it an interesting idea, and so wrote it out for the rest of you in the period of an hour. Any and all mistakes are of course mine, otherwise, I own nada. Yes, this does fit in somewhere with my AU Narnia! ;) Edmund's words there at the end mean Peter will regret not killing Miraz, because Caspian's too much like him and will spare his life also. Yes, Marin does look like Caspian a bit (he is one of his direct ancestors in my AU, so he'd have to look like him)

I think my favorite part of writing this one-shot was the image I got writing this part:
"Stop standing there, Peter! Kill him; he will cause nothing but grief in the future for us and our land! You must kill him; discard the father and become the soldier for but a moment longer!" Edmund's voice was sharp, cruel, but also slightly breathless from pain.

"Now is not the time for… chivalry!" The Just King spat, glaring contemptuously at the boy lying at his brother's feet.
I can just see Edmund sitting/lying there as an adult, dark hair tangled and falling around his face, his eyes flashing hate at the boy, waiting for Peter to do what he would have done without hesitance. It's also a moment where you realize just how single Edmund is and just how married and a father Peter is in the Golden Age. Ed just doesn't give a damn - excuse the expression - and Peter can't help but imagine all sorts of scenarios like any father in his place might. Anywhoo...

Any questions ya'll have please tell me about in a review, I shall most certainly answer them as quickly as I can!

WH