Fencing Lessons

"No. Absolutely not."

"But, Peter!"

"No." His tone was final. "You heard what Susan said," the young woman in question nodded in agreement, "you're too young. It's bad enough Edmund almost getting himself killed and yes, me too. Teaching you swordplay is out of the question. You remember what Father Christmas said, don't you? 'Battles are ugly when women fight.' I'm sorry, Lu. But that's my last word on the matter." Edmund had tried to stand up for her, saying that she ought to know how to defend herself, and had nearly succeeded, too, but Susan had talked Peter into her point of veiw and there was no arguing with them.

A few minutes later, on the way back to her chambers, Lucy jumped as someone grabbed her shoulders. It was only her brother – the younger one, that is. "Don't do that!" she yelped once she'd slowed her racing heart. He laughed. "Battles are far worse, little sister."

"I know that, don't I?" she snapped. It was true: she'd seen that at Beruna two years before.

"Not content with the High King's decision?" His voice betrayed a hint of sarcasm, but it wasn't malicious. She sighed. "It's just frustrating, that's all." He nodded. "Thanks for taking my side, anyway."

"That's okay. I think Peter's being foolish anyhow. But you know what Susan's like – as a general rule, what Susan wants, Susan gets. Voice like sugared honey, that girl. She always sounds so reasonable." Lucy nodded and sighed again. "I tell you what." The sudden change of tone caught Lucy off guard, "What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Tommorrow afternoon, d'you fancy a trip along the beach? Just me and thee… We'll take a bite to eat and that sort of thing. Make a bit of a session out of it." Lucy was still on guard.

"Why?"

"You look like you need cheering up. We can finish all that paperwork tonight and tommorrow morning. Don't worry about the others – Peter knows I won't let anything happen to you. I'll get his say-so tonight. And Phillip can come along. What do you say?" She relented, "I'm game." He grinned.

"Until tommorrow then, fair maiden." He bowed elegantly to her, then kissed her hand. The long-suffering Courtiers who had the thankless task of trying to teach the Pevensies royal etiquette would have been proud. She giggled as he vanished back up the corridor, then she turned and headed back to her chamber, where a large stack of papers waited to be read.

The sun streaming through the library window was exceeedingly distracting, and tiny specks of dust danced and swirled in the shafts of sunlight. Edmund was staring at a large tome which lay open on the desk in front of him. He had that glazed look that told Lucy he wasn't actually reading it; he was just trying to look busy. She wasn't doing much better, unless a pencil sketch of her brother counted. Admittedly, she thought it was pretty good; it looked like him, anyway, even though she hadn't really been much of an artist before coming to Narnia. But Elijah – their tutor, a fusty old owl – probably wouldn't be impressed. It was one of those Summer days which made study impossible. Thankfully, they'd finished everything that actually needed done. This was just - effectively - schoolwork. They could do it later. Lucy was snapped out of her reverie by the toll of the bell that signalled midday. She closed her sketchbook, and a heavy thud told her that Edmund had done likewise. "Get yourself into some clothes more suitable for riding and moving around – you won't get much done dressed up like you're going to a ball. I'll prepare the horses and meet you by the stables." She nodded in agreement.

"So where are we actually going, Ed?" She laughed as her hair streamed out behind her. She loved horseriding; she loved the exhilaration. The small party slowed and came to a halt on a deserted strip of beach a couple of miles from Cair Paravel. Both dismounted, allowing Phillip – Edmund's loyal steed - to graze on the grass above the dunes. "So?" She asked again, "What are we doing, and why so far from Cair?" He continued to ignore her, instead disappearing into the treeline. "Ed?" He emerged a few minutes later with a pair of sturdy sticks. "What the..?" He tossed one over to her.

"Still up for that fencing lesson, Lu?"

Swordfighting was hard. She hadn't realised how hard. Before long, she was breathing hard and feeling somewhat battered. Even with his little sister, Edmund wasn't exactly a gentle teacher. After what seemed like hours of parries, blocks, lunges and, yes, bruises, her brother finally said, "Respite, little sister?" She nodded, too breathless to speak. He didn't even bother to kill the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. They sat on the dunes and devoured a late picnic lunch that the kitchen workers had prepared for them. Once Lucy had caught her breath, she looked quizzically at him. "Aren't you left-handed, Ed?"

"Last I checked."

"So why were you fighting me with your right?"

"Well, after years of going to that school in Spare Oom," (named thus by Mr. Tumnus) "where I was forced to use and write with my right hand, I can pretty much use either hand for whatever I want. If you had to fight me while I using my left hand, all of the moves would be different. Make sense?"

"Nope. Do go on." He sighed in a manner that reminded her a little of Susan, but she decided not to say that; they might move on from sticks earlier than planned. "Swordfighting's a bit like a routine, at least when you start out. Your opponant makes one move, so you match it. Then it goes on (and on, and on) until somebody makes a mistake. Then the other fixes it, or loses. Which, incidentally, usually means death or severe maiming. So..?"

"I'd only be able to fight you?" He grinned.

"By Jove, she's got it! Therefore, sister dear, it makes sense to teach you right-handed first. You start getting really good, then we can go sinister." She laughed and said teasingly,

"Was that a Latin reference, Ed? You're not letting the education get to you, are you?" Feigning offense, he retorted with, "Aslan's mane, no! Spare Oom couldn't manage it, Elijah won't either."

"Go on," she said, trying for the wide-eyed look. Manipulative as Susan in her own way, he thought with a wry smile. "Impress me."

"Very well, then. Sinister was originally the Latin word for left. But, of course, everyone knows that us left-handers have the devil in us," at these words, he shot her his best evil grin, "so the word came to mean threatening, unnatural and strange. Romans wouldn't even let us join the army."

"Their loss."

"Glad you think so."

"Well, I'm sufficiently impressed. Elijah would be so proud." He prodded her non-too-gently with his branch, making her yelp.

"You deserve some more bruises for that, Lu. Ready to go again?"

"Not quite. Leave off a while, will you? It's a nice day." She paused, "had it occurred to you that the others might wonder why we look so battered?"

"We'll think of something. Sing out when (or if) you're ready to go again." He pulled their crowns out of the saddle-bag on the grass next to him – one never knew when the famous-monarch-of-powerful-country-and-chosen-one-of-Aslan-card would come in handy – and set Lucy's over her tangled hair, smoothing down some of the stray strands. "There," he said, "very pretty." Then he shifted back so he was lying propped up against the knarled roots of an Oak Tree, his silver crown glinting in the sunlight. He pulled it down to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, basking in the afternoon sunshine. Lucy laughed and pulled out her sketchbook.

Edmund listened to the scratching of her charcoal for a while, wondering what she was doing. Writing? Note-taking? The idea of putting swordplay on paper made no sense to him, but you never could tell with Lucy. Minutes passed; he might have dozed off. It was kind of nice to get away from the castle for a while. They had to be back by sunset, but that was ages away. Lucy was singing to herself, still absorbed in her sketchbook and charcoal. He opened one eye. "What you up to, Lucy?"

"Nothing," she said, far too quickly. She was fast, but her brother was faster. He grabbed the book before she could stow it in the saddle-bag. "Hey!" she protested, then muttered bashfully, "They're not that good…" Edmund wasn't listening; he was too busy rifling through the pages. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. The images were like photographs, capturing a series of moments perfectly. There were a few portraits, mostly of him, with Peter and Susan too. Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers and Oreius also featured heavily. Apparantly, anyone who came into view was at risk. She was pretty good at, like, action as well. She'd evidently been watching him and Peter training with some interest. "Lucy, these are incredible. Back in Spare Oom, you never- how long have you-?"

"Not long. I just sort of… started. After the coronation. Planning my embroidery/tapestry things, you know? They weren't any good at first, but it sort of appealed to me – felt right, in a way, so I stuck at it. I quite like them now."

"Quite like them? Quite?" She shrugged, and he said, "I can't believe you've gotten away with keeping these a secret for two whole years." She smiled,

"I've still got some secrets, Ed."

"Haven't you just?" He went on, "So, with your aptitude for the whole songstressing lark, you're quite the talented little queen, aren't you? Tell me truly, Lucy dear, is there anything you can't do?"

"Mathematics. Swordfighting. Reaching tall shelves. Jousting. Make-up. Doing my hair. Hosting balls. Staying awake while reading long and boring contracts. Dancing. Need I go on?"

"Ah, but Lucy, dear. That's what me and Peter and Susan are here for." Lucy grinned,

"Being the littlest has its advantages."

"Indeed, little sister." He got up and offered her a hand, "speaking of swordfighting, ready for a another go?" She took the proffered hand and faced him down,

"You're on."

xXx

So… that was kind of pointless.

Just sibling-y stuff. We all love it really.

I love these two. So much.

But not in an incestious/ romantic way. I don't like all thast stuff. But if you want to see my stories that way… **shrugs** Whatever floats your Dawn Treader. XD

So, basically I've had this mental image of Edmund and Lucy in a sunny clearing in the middle of no-where (Edmund dozing with his crown balanced on the bridge of his nose, Lucy singing to herself and sketching a portrait of him) for ages, and this little story kind of developed around that.

Edmund (in my mind) has, um, shall we say authority issues. He does what he thinks need to be done, whatever his superiors say. Oh, yeah, and a couple of other Narnia headcannons that are addressed here: (1) Edmund is dyslexic (in the days of Narnia, it wasn't recognised – they were just called lazy or stupid)and that's kind of why he went wrong; he got frustrated over how everyone thought he was stupid. (2) Lucy is actually a talented artist, and has a natural talent for drawing people. She also has a flair for music, and is an accomplished singer/songwriter (in my previous story Susan's Promise, I credited her with writing Regina Spektor's The Call. It makes sense in context.) Don't ask where they came from – my mind's a weird place.

So, guys, I really, really hope you enjoyed this (Well, you made it this far XD) and, if you did, please review. It really does mean a lot! If you did, you might like my other Narnia stories too… I've done several Edmund/Lucy ones.

Finally, I dedicate this to the awesome onceuponabloodynight. She sent me a lovely message requesting permission to feature my Narnia stories in her new community The Dream Land. I agreed, and I guess they'll be up soon. It's only just setting up at the moment, but it promises to be awesome in the future – you might want to go and have a look.

Thank you for reading!