Chapter Three: Tournament

Edmund approached Rose to speak to her properly for the first time in three years. He felt bad about how surly he'd been with her before her departure, especially now that he knew the true purpose behind it. He sought her out, and found her in the gardens sitting down at a bench and just taking in her surroundings.

"You look happy to be back."

She turned at the sound of his voice, and when she saw him standing there, she wasn't sure what to say. Apart from the cool exchange upon her arrival, they hadn't even seen each other. She knew this couldn't go on forever. They were best friends, and she hated the tension that seemed to have sparked between them.

"Oh…yes. Your Majesty."

Edmund flinched at the use of his royal title, and he held up a hand.

"Please. It's just Edmund. I wanted to come and apologise for the way I spoke to you before you left. I was being selfish, and I was rude to you. That was unacceptable."

Rose raised her eyebrows. How much her friend had changed in three years. The Edmund she had left behind would never have accepted responsibility for his actions, much less apologised for them. She stood to her feet and shrugged.

"It was three years ago, Ed. It hardly matters. I don't even remember half the things we said. Besides, I was just as bad, if not more so."

He never would have thought himself capable of such romantic thoughts, but it hurt to look at her. She was just so beautiful, and the fact that she could never be his was something he thought may torment him for the rest of his life. He must have been looking at her strangely, because she frowned in concern.

"Ed? Are you alright?"

He nodded. "I'm just a bit tired at the moment."

Rose grinned mischievously at him, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Even Edmund, dressed casually and without armour, still had his sword by his hip for safety precautions. She tilted her head to the side, observing him.

"Not too tired for a duel, are you?"

Edmund shook his head and laughed a little. Only Rose. Only Rose could elicit a laugh from him when things were still grave and morose.

"I don't want to hurt you, Rose."

Her smile became disbelieving and she scoffed, her eyebrows rising even higher so that they practically disappeared beneath her fringe. She knew Edmund was a fighter – she had seen his capability during the battle with the White Witch. She had been alright. She had fought well enough to save her life…barely. Now she was better…much better.

"Excuse me? You haven't seen me fight since my return. What, you think just because I'm a girl…"

Edmund could tell that despite her serious, wounded tone that she was mocking him. There was a teasing glint in her hazel eyes as she planted her hands on her hips, and he raised his hands as if to placate her.

"No, it's nothing to do with that. I'm just a lot stronger than you are."

A surprised laugh burst free of Rose, and she observed him coolly.

"Oh, really? I think we should test that theory. I'm going to go and tell Peter it's high time we had some entertainment around here. I'll tell him that we're going to have a tournament."

Despite Edmund's half-hearted protesting, Rose got her way. Peter thought the idea of a tournament was a brilliant one, but for different reasons than Rose did. His captain of the guard, General Duran, had recently retired and the High King had yet to find a replacement. The tournament would be a festive occasion, but it would also cause Peter to find a new captain of the guard – maybe not the champion, as if Edmund entered it would most likely be him, but someone capable.

Planning for the tournament took a good few weeks. Lucy was especially enthusiastic about recruiting her friends to advertise the tournament in some of the lesser known towns, giving everyone an opportunity to participate. She also jokingly suggested that Peter should offer the champion – if it wasn't Edmund, of course – Susan's hand in marriage.

Rose was surprised to find herself the only female participating in the tournament. It wasn't as though the Narnian army didn't comprise females as well as males. But it seemed that such a brutal sort of competition wasn't just for anyone.

Susan and Lucy were in Rose's room the morning of the first round. Lucy organizing her friend's weapons as Susan started on getting Rose ready. Her hair was neatly plaited, and Susan was fussing over the straps of her armour.

"Goodness," she gasped as she fastened the last strap, "These things are always so…difficult."

Rose examined her reflection in the mirror, and concluded that she really did look like a warrior. Edmund had no reason to doubt her now, not when she looked like this. She looked so fierce with her hair drawn back and her armour, the breastplate and gauntlets all polished and shining.

There was a clang as an assortment of weapons was dropped on the floor, and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as she relinquished their heavy weight. Rose turned away as Susan released the straps, and she walked over to the weapons that lay in a clattered heap on the ground.

She couldn't take them all, but she was going to need to make some good decisions. She wanted to win this tournament, not for the pride or for the glory, but just to prove herself. She wasn't a Protector for nothing, and she was determined to show Narnia just why she had been picked. More than that, she wanted to show Edmund what she could do.

Her sword she sheathed immediately. It was her most valued weapon, one she could do a lot of damage with. She had fought with a tiny thing in the battle against the White Witch, and she could still remember Hadrian roaring with laughter as she had struggled to pick up the sword for the first time three years ago. Now she picked it up with ease, whirling it about in complex patterns that made Lucy clap and Susan flinch.

She glanced down at the flail, but somehow it seemed too violent and inappropriate. She was in a tournament, not attempting to murder someone by beating them to a bloody pulp. She shifted the weapon aside with her mailed boot.

Eventually, after sorting through the weapons with quite some consideration, Rose decided that her sword and a shield would do. She had a dagger stowed away as a last resort, but she didn't actually think she would need it.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, tossing her plait back over her shoulders. She felt powerful, and that was something she couldn't deny as Susan and Lucy accompanied her out to the arena.

Lucy nudged her friend slyly as Rose made her way into the combatants' quarters.

"Good luck, Rose. You show those boys."

Rose laughed and hugged Lucy as she moved past her friends into area for the fighters. It was busy and – with the exception of Rose – a very masculine environment. It wasn't just humans – fauns, dwarves, centaurs…all sorts were competing here today, and Rose watched them all embroiled in their betting and arm-wrestling.

Everyone except a dark-haired young man who lounged in the corner, watching the others with an impassive expression. His mouth opened into a gape as he watched the girl in the armour with a determined look on her face. This couldn't really be Rose Finley, could it?

She flushed crimson at his attention and hit him on the arm.

"Oh, close your mouth, will you?"

It was Edmund's turn to flush, but he folded his arms and jerked his head towards the other fighters. Before the tournament, the environment was friendly, but everyone knew once they were out on the pitch, things would take a dramatic turn.

He took a step closer to Rose, a smug smile crossing his lips.

"Don't worry. I'll take it easy on you."

Perhaps Rose was imagining things, but there was almost a flirtatious note in Edmund's voice. Apparently, the feeling of being drunk on power was getting to him, too. He thought he had won even before the match had begun, and she offered him a saccharine smile.

"I hope that's not your excuse when I flip you on your back."

The first few rounds of the tournament were easy for Rose. Many of her opponents were not as skilled as her, and whereas most had the advantage of strength, she had the advantage of agility. She was light on her feet, and she used that ability to win most of her matches.

Tomorrow would be the quarter-finals. Rose looked forward to it with much enthusiasm – would tomorrow be the day when she finally showed Edmund what she was capable of, that was not a little damsel in distress who required any assistance?

After Rose changed and bathed, she put on an evening dress and went downstairs to dine with the others. Peter stood and moved over to greet Rose as she came down the stairs. She looked so very different. He had seen her a few hours ago, covered in sweat and grit and with a few cuts and bruises, and yet she had still appeared so beautiful to him. As she had bared her teeth and slashed at her opponents, he never thought he had loved her more.

It seemed strange now, seeing her in a dress with her hair soft and flowing. It was such a contradiction from her earlier attire, but he welcomed this change as he kissed her hand and caused her to flush.

"You were spectacular earlier. I knew you'd been trained, but to be honest, I wouldn't have thought you would progress so far."

Rose tilted her chin up, a brazen gleam in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Well, now you know not to underestimate me."

She had decided on a new fighting style. Her shield wasn't taking too many hits, so Rose thought – since she, like Edmund, had trained herself to be ambidextrous – it would be better if she used two swords as opposed to one.

Peter smiled at her as they walked towards the table, and Rose sat between him and Edmund. She glanced at her fellow fighter, and he inclined his head to her, acknowledging her skill. A wry smile crossed her lips.

"Good enough, Edmund?"

Edmund shrugged. He hadn't watched much of Rose's fights, but what he had seen was impressive. He had never guessed that the fourteen-year-old girl barely able to lift a sword would have progressed so far.

"I suppose."

She flashed him a grin, before Peter tapped her on the shoulder and started talking to her about one of the more ridiculous matches of the day. Edmund fell silent as Rose and Peter conversed animatedly. He wished that he could make her as happy as Peter made her. He wished, with all his might, that – much as he didn't deserve it – she might love him back.

The quarter-finals came. Then the semi-finals. Then it was the part of the tournament that everyone had anticipated – the finals. It surprised no one that the two contestants battling for the title of champion were King Edmund and Lady Rose.

Both waited at opposite ends of the pitch to be announced, with a sword in each hand. This was the fight that Narnia had been waiting to see, and the crowd was roaring with enthusiasm even before their names had been called.

"King Edmund!"

Edmund wasn't much for fanfare. He trudged onto the pitch, nodding curtly in a few different directions, which prompted a sigh from Peter in the stands as he placed his hand over his face. Why couldn't his brother be more people-friendly? The young King on the pitch forced a smile as he glanced around him, and his swords and his armour gleamed as he moved to stand in the middle of the arena.

"Lady Rose!"

She marched forwards, her hazel eyes narrowed with determination and focused only on her opponent. She had been taught to be concentrated from the beginning, and even the cacophony of the crowd would not distract her.

The gong was sounded, and Rose broke into a jog towards Edmund. She knew he was her best friend, but she couldn't afford to let that affect her judgement. Best friend or not, he was going down.

Edmund was surprised by the ferocity of Rose's initial strike, and he was forced to call upon every ounce of skill he possessed to hold her off. He was a lot stronger, but every time he pushed towards her, she would turn and strike again.

The crowd went suddenly quiet. They had never seen such speed or skill on the pitch before now. Of course, both opponents were excellent, but it was only now that they were duelling each other that their true ability was acknowledged.

Edmund had thought he would have to soften his blows, but now he was just as fierce as Rose. He realised that she hadn't been exaggerating. She was a brilliant opponent, and he wondered whether he actually could defeat her, or whether they would remain locked in battle until they both dropped dead of fatigue.

The Just King suddenly slashed with his sword, and without intending to, cut a jagged line down Rose's arm. She staggered back, and there was a collective gasp from the crowd. Could this be where Edmund triumphed?

She looked up at Edmund with wide eyes, clearly astonished, and he opened his mouth to utter an apology – his first mistake. Rose gritted her teeth and kicked him in the shin as she drove her attack forward, proving that although Edmund had drawn first blood, she was not going to lose because of it.

The exchange of blows continued for a good half hour at least. Both opponents were beginning to grow tired, but neither of them was going to give in if it meant the other's victory. Sweat riddled Edmund's forehead, and he raised a scrap of sleeve to wipe it away.

This slight deviation from what was going on allowed Rose to lash out, kicking his feet out from underneath him. Edmund fall onto his back, winded. He looked up at the sky, so bright and blue, and then he saw Rose's face as she leaned over him, her expression impatient.

"Get up, Edmund. I don't have all day."

Agonisingly slowly, Edmund clambered to his feet, as Rose watched and waited. He could tell that was now growing overconfident – she had knocked him down, and so she thought she would soon be the victor. He would prove her wrong.

Rose chopped down with her right arm, and Edmund moved quickly. He dropped one of his sword to grip Rose's wrist, preventing the sword from moving any further down. Her eyes flashed with surprise, and he twisted ever so slightly, so that she was forced to drop the sword.

Edmund released her now-weaponless right hand, and twisted her left arm – still clutching a sword with grim determination – behind her back. She dropped that weapon too, with a whispered curse. As Edmund pressed his remaining sword to Rose's throat, he realised just how close they were. He had her pressed against his chest, and realised just how small and slender she was as he held her fast.

"Surrender, Rose."

She laughed hoarsely despite the blade at her throat.

"I don't think so, Ed. Not this time."

She gripped his wrist with both her hands and tried to force it down, but he tensed the muscles in his arm. The crowd watched the struggle for power with bated breath. Rose frowned in concentration, but it soon became clear that the young King was stronger than she was.

Frustrated and unwilling to lose to him, she kicked backwards, getting him in the shin. As Edmund grunted in pain and released her, she ducked underneath his arm and picked up both her swords, whirling them about as she turned to face her opponent.

She circled him like a predator as he picked up his extra sword and his eyes narrowed as he faced her. He knew what she was capable of now, and he knew that he had to be wary of counterattack at all times.

They dived and then pulled back, their swords clashing and cutting through the air, though not the tension. Sometimes he had the upper hand, and sometimes she did. He knew when he saw her beginning to tire, to lose her strength. Her agility was her advantage, and now he had robbed her of that, he was growing confident that he could win this tournament.

A wave of fatigue hit him, but he pushed it back with a new frustration. He had to win this tournament, and every minute that ticked by, he was just wasting time. He lunged for Rose, and when she slashed he ducked under her sword, rolled and slid, kicking her feet out from underneath her just like she had done to him.

She landed flat on her back, winded, and Edmund wasted no time. He straddled her, jerking the swords from her grip and pressing one of his to her throat. He gripped her wrists with his other hand, pinning them above her head.

They both panted from exertion, as the gong sounded again from above them. With a sigh of relief, Edmund rolled off her and lay on the ground beside her. Both of them just lay there for a few moments, despite the roar of the crowd at having discovered that their King had won the tournament.

Then Rose got up off her feet, sheathing her swords as she walked towards the exit of the pitch. Edmund watched her leave, and a few seconds later, he got up off the ground – with some effort – and followed her.