A/N: Been reading a lot of Narnian adventures lately. Edmund is such an interesting character; I had to do a fic about him. I may yet do more of a character study, but for now, here's just a little something that's been forming for a few days that I've finally caught sight of. Also, it took me a good bit of digging, but I found a reference to the timeline of the books on Wikipedia: "According to Lewis' Narnian Timeline, Eustace was born in 1933 and is 10 years old when he appears in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader; and by The Last Battle he is 16 years old." "Edmund was born in 1930 and (according to the film series) lived in Finchley, England, and he is 10 years old when he appears in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. By The Last Battle he is 19 years old." "Lucy was born in 1932 and is 8 years old when she appears in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. By The Last Battle, she is 17 years old." "Peter was born in 1927 and is 13 years old when he appears in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. As a monarch of Narnia's Golden Age, he rules with his brother and sisters for 15 years, reaching the approximate age of 28 before returning to the age of 13 in England at the end of Wardrobe. By The Last Battle he is a 22 year old university student with his heart still in Narnia, though he had not been there since Prince Caspian, when he was 14 years old." "Susan was born in 1928 and is 12 years old when she appears in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. By The Last Battle, she is 21 years old, as the final novel takes place in 1949." Which basically means that this is set in 1944, when Ed is around fourteen. Obviously, you don't need to know this for this fic, but this information is going to be pretty darn useful to me at least and if it's on the internet in one big chunk I'll not lose it by writing it down and using it as a bookmark. So there! I can think ahead!

"Hurry along, boys! Don't dawdle! We've a long day ahead, so you'd better have everything ready! Stop looking so glum, Pevensie!"

Ah, there it was.

"And don't you pull that face at me, boy! Hurry along now and for goodness' sake cheer up!"

Sighing, Edmund ducked his head and hid among the unruly crowd of boisterous teens. Logically, he knew the others had reason to be excited. Yes; it was all terribly exciting, spending the whole day at a museum so worthless the bombs had missed it altogether and the only reason they were going was because they had an exhibit on loan from a place that could afford to be generous in peacetime.

Thrilling.

"Hey, Pevensie! What's up? We're actually to be released for the day and you look like the world is ending!"

Edmund gritted his teeth. "What's the point of freedom if you not allowed to enjoy it?"

The other boy groaned. "Oh, what's the use? You're always perfectly miserable - I don't know why any of us even bother. I swear I've only seen you smile once, and that was when you were off in that dream-world of yours. Ninny-land or something."

"Narnia."

"Bless you."

Before he could retort, the boy had slipped back into the throng, just as Edmund had done only moments before. He sighed again.

By the Lion, could this English school-boy life be any more mind-numbingly dull?

The coach pulled up in front of the dingy little building. The master let them trickle off and into the hall with a simple "Best behaviour, boys."

After the journey they'd had, it was no wonder he hadn't the strength for a stronger caution.

Edmund craned his neck and spotted his brother near the back of the procession, amongst the older boys. It was hardly any comfort; despite his best intentions, Peter, much like their eldest sister, had spent the last few years trying to live in the 'real world'. It was more than a little irritating for Edmund and Lucy to watch him, knowing that he'd eventually be forced to acknowledge that Narnia was too powerful to let go of completely. Susan was managing quite well, of course - but then, her greatest trial had been learning how best to mother the rest of them. She'd loved her country, but it had never brought about any abrupt change or brutal self-realisation, or-or anything really worth mentioning. For the rest of them, Aslan had changed their lives, and until he'd found himself back in the bedroom with the picture on the wall, Edmund hadn't understood just how utterly alone he would feel, how isolated he would be. Lucy was a help, but she was off in that dreadful girls' school. Peter was there, and he was of no use whatsoever whilst he was still going through this silly phase of his.

The schoolgroup was introduced to the tiny institution by a middle-aged man with an unreadable handwritten name tag and a somewhat nasal monotone. He was talking to them as they trudged around the grimy little building, Edmund was sure, but any useful information about the dusty artifacts held captive behind the grubby glass cases covered in fingerprints of varying sizes was lost as the boys' murmuring progressed to muttering and then to moaning because they were only here for one thing and in the name of God they'd not be awake for it if it was to be saved for after lunch!

Morosely, the boys huddled together on the floor as they picked at their sandwiches, trying desperately to liven up for the main event even as they were shushed by the master.

As one, the group stood and brushed crumbs onto the worn floorboards. Their guide from earlier mumbled something unintelligible.

"We're to be taken outside for the special display, boys!" The master translated.

The cheer was quite resounding.

Well, thought Edmund, at least I was expecting to be disappointed.

The others weren't - no; they were thoroughly enchanted by the two men shuffling about in a sad parody of what was apparently supposed to be an epic duel between medieval knights with full armour, broadswords and shields.

Unable to restrain himself, Edmund actually buried his head in his hand and groaned when the swordsman on the right slowly looped his sword in an arc around his head and brought it gently down onto the other man's shield, leaving the entire front of his body completely exposed for the duration of the manoeuvre.

"I know this is a staged fight, but come on!" Only when all eyes turned on him did he realise that he'd voiced his displeasure. Flushing briefly at the attention, he straightened and forced the red away from his cheeks. Despite appearances, he was not a common schoolboy to be cowed by a little moment in the spotlight.

"I suppose you could give us a few tips, eh, lad?" Oh, this was just fantastic. The fight had actually stopped and the 'knight' that had spoken had his gauntlets on his girdle as he spoke mockingly. "Maybe you'd like to give us a demonstration?"

Suddenly, the desire to keep his stately mask in place dissipated.

If that's how you want to play, so be it!

"As a matter of fact, I'd like that very much." The words spilled out of him sharp and biting. He stood and gave Peter a look, to which he replied by standing in turn and nodding, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "If that's alright with you, sir?" This directed at the schoolmaster, whose spluttering Edmund took to be a positive response. "Excellent."

The 'knights' had paled and were shifting uncomfortably. "Well, er-"

"Your swords, gentlemen?" Peter's voice cut through the air crisp and clear. His 'High King' voice, Edmund remembered. The brothers approached the nervy 'knights' and commandeered their weapons, shooing their owners to the side where the schoolboys stood.

Ignoring the scoffing and catcalling from their classmates, the Narnian kings stood a good distance away from each other and tested the swords.

"Not of the best quality, eh, Pete?" Edmund called to his brother.

"Why - they're not even sharp!" Came the returning exclamation.

"Of course they're not, Peter - silly little Englishmen and their rules about 'health and safety', remember?" Edmund was surprised at the bitterness in his tone.

"Right you are, Ed. Shame really, but there you go. Want to start?"

"Do let's." Keeping his eyes fixed on his brother - who was being remarkably sensible about the whole affair, considering - Edmund addressed the crowd. "Sorry if it's not up to standard, boys. We're a little rusty, but we'll do our best." He sunk into a crouch as his words were met with further jeers, though they subsided somewhat when they saw that the duel was beginning.

The brothers circled each other at first, watching, waiting. They moved slowly, testing the ground underfoot and the positioning of the field. It was Peter who made the first move: a darting slash at Edmund's flank, met by a clang as his opponent swiftly parried. There was a collective intake of breath as even that opening move was faster and surer than any seen in the previous fight.

The circling continued.

The next move was also Peter's, another probing manoeuvre to test Edmund's defenses and possibly grant him an opening. This time, it was a swoop at Ed's legs which he leapt over and countered with a strike at his brother's wrist - a blow which would have severed it easily had he not withdrawn his blade and responded with an attack of his own. Edmund countered immediately and harshly; Peter stumbled for a second before retaliating. A succession of lightning-fast blows was exchanged as the boys finished warming up and the fight began in earnest. The audience gaped at the strength and speed the brothers possessed, wondering how they could have previously missed the dexterity of movement and obviously masterful body language now being clearly sung before them. As the near-misses got nearer and the clanging of the blades got louder they even began to choose sides and cheer on the fighters; the older boys for Peter and the younger for Edmund. The noise did nothing to distract the warriors from their purpose, however, as they continued unhindered in their deadly dance.

Every blow exchanged was a test of the other's ability no longer, but a real lunge for a limb, organ or momentarily-exposed throat. There were fires lit in both pairs of eyes that had nothing to do with the stress of the exercise and everything to do with the all-consuming, burning desire for victory, for glory, for Narnia and for Aslan! It was a fire they knew well, as it had won them many a battle in years gone by, now directed not against an army but from brother to brother in a desperate attempt to bring back the days when they had fought side by side as kings in their homeland, surrounded by their fellows and their own faith and love for Aslan shielding them.

The sad truth that Edmund came to realise as he smashed his blade against his brother's once again in a downward stroke was that they were not two boys playing soldiers but two old soldiers grasping at the last vestiges of youth. The appearances of fourteen and seventeen were in fact twenty-nine and thirty-two and crying out for a home forever lost with each blow.

Rolling his eyes as Susan excitedly drags him into the preparations for the upcoming feast. "Maroon or mauve?" As if he knows the difference.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Laughing with Phillip as they ride across the open plains.

Clang! Slash-swipe - CLANG!

Hacking at his enemies, fellow Kings Peter and Caspian flanking him as one sister's arrows fly overhead and another's dryads follow.

Clang! Clang! CLANG!

Rasping out a breath as the cordial touches his tongue, eyes fluttering open - they are there, as is - Aslan, ASLAN!

Snickt.

Breathing heavily, the brothers stared into each other's eyes, watching the briefly-rekindled spark fade. Neither noticed the tiny parallel nicks on their throats, nor the blades held there. They didn't hear the silence fall or feel the thin trails of blood running down their collars. They simplified the profound moment into one word, spoken in unison:

"Dead."

Huh. Maybe this was a character study after all. I didn't have anything in mind other than a semi-humourous, slightly bittersweet swordsmanship reveal for Ed when I started writing and now I've no idea what it's turned into. I like it enough to post it though - and I hope you'll like it enough to read it and tell me what you thought of it in a review! What was it about? What revelations were made, if any? Was the writing up to standard? If that means my usual standard and the answer is 'yes', is that a bad thing? Tell me! I want to know! Despite my rapid Googling to decide, do you think it's 'each other's eyes' or 'each others' eyes'? Do you feel that one is grammatically correct but prefer the other nonetheless? Do you think I'm a whiny, needy, substandard kind of author who you'll flame out of spite for her frankly ridiculous 'A/N's?

I NEED THIS INFORMATION.

VVxxxx