Note: I mention a few pieces of armor in this section. If it's unclear what they are (hopefully it's well explained, but who knows), there's a list of definitions at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 25


"I'd like it, Caspian, if you helped Susan protect Lucy."

"Edmund, right now you're the one king we can't risk losing…"

"If the duel should end badly, you have to be the one to lead them."

"Watch out for yourself, Ed. I don't trust them not to try something, and there's only three of you."

"Of course he accepted, Caspian; Edmund brought the challenge."

"If you think Glozelle might be wavering, I trust your judgment."

.

Edmund shook his head to clear his mind as he tightened his leather vambraces. As much as he liked having the old Peter back, he couldn't help but worry about the abrupt change. It was…too good. Like Peter was trying too hard, burying his emotions and showing the façade of the High King. And Edmund knew that this wasn't a good thing. Burying emotions was how he dealt with problems and it was a coping mechanism that served him well. Peter, though, needed to unleash them; his feelings were too volatile to be clamped down on for long. Edmund almost hated himself for thinking that volatility might actually be helpful, if used against Miraz in the duel – helpful, but dangerous for Peter.

Speaking of Peter and the duel…Edmund glance over at the trunk next to his, still full of armor. If Peter was actually going to fight this duel today, he needed to get ready, not be going over the plan for the umpteenth time with the Narnian captains. Luckily, Edmund was not above throwing his weight around to get Peter away from the over-anxious captains, which he did the moment he entered the council room.

"Forgive the interruption, my good Narnians, but the High King is needed elsewhere. Peter, Caspian and the girls are supplied and getting ready to head towards the side entrance."

The older king hid his relief at the summons. "Excuse me, friends. I believe you have everything in control here, anyway." Of course, the captains could not refuse and Peter was able to make his escape.

Calmly striding out of the room, the two brothers walked in silence to where their sisters and Caspian waited. Lucy was a picture of readiness, though both Susan and Caspian's faces were tight with worry and nerves. When Peter and Edmund appeared, Lucy practically launched herself at her eldest brother. "You be careful, Peter, since you won't let me leave my cordial with you. You are not allowed to get seriously injured if I'm not there." After Peter finished hugging her and ensuring he would be extra cautious, Lucy released him and flew into Edmund's arms. "And you aren't to get injured trying to make sure Peter doesn't get hurt." She knew them both too well, so Edmund knew she wasn't surprised when he did not promise anything; he simply hugged her back tightly. With one last squeeze, Lucy pulled away and smiled. "I know we didn't have time to pray in the Stone Table room, but I figure the fact that we're seeking Aslan out now is better anyway."

Edmund returned to smile, and looked over to where Susan and Peter were saying farewell. He could tell that there was still lingering tension between them, but he was glad they weren't letting it overtake their actions. Their embrace was stiff, but heartfelt, and Susan's "Be safe" was laced with genuine worry. Then their dark-haired sister moved on to Edmund. "Since you refuse to say good-bye, I'll just say be careful. No heroics, if you please."

Laughing, Edmund embraced Susan. "I should say the same to you. And don't hesitate to call for help if you need it." Seeing the horn on her belt again had been a pleasant surprise. It also explained why Susan's anger towards Caspian had eased: apparently a sincere apology and the return of her gift had helped settled things between them.

Peter and Caspian's farewells were short, but not unpleasant:

"Take care of them."

"I will. And good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

He really needed to figure out exactly what had happened between those two that made Caspian not able to look Peter in the eyes, and made Peter act so jumpy whenever Caspian was near. That would have to wait until later, though. Instead, Edmund just clasped Caspian's shoulder and smiled. "Lion be with you."

"And you," returned the older boy, though his smile was still more tense and uncertain.

Again, there was no time to do anything about that. "Well, you had better be off. And Peter here needs to get ready if he doesn't want to fight Miraz in his shirt-sleeves."

Despite his insistence on maintaining the pretense that they would all meet again in victory, Edmund was well-aware that the entire plan could easily fail, and that especially he and Peter were just as likely to die as to live before the day was over. The others were just as aware, and so under the comforting smiles ran a current of unease and gloom. But Edmund kept smiling, even as he watched Caspian and the girls disappear down the tunnels to where the horses were being prepared. Then, biting his bottom lip, Edmund turned to his brother…only to find that Peter had already slipped away, without him noticing. For a moment he blinked, puzzled. Where on earth…?

Though not sure why Peter would want to leave unnoticed, after a moment's thought, Edmund was fairly certain he knew where he went. Obviously Peter needed to get ready for the duel, which meant he would be in the small room set aside for arming. Edmund made his own way toward the room, only to be accosted by Hwella.

The mare was not a happy Horse. "My king, General Glenstorm informed me that you will not have your shield and helmet available should the duel end badly."

Her disapproval was obvious. Edmund sighed and gave her the same argument he had given Glenstorm. "Traditionally, I carry Rhindon for Peter until we reach the field of combat. It would be unwieldy to carry both it and my shield. And it would be too obviously a slight to the duel truce if I had it already there: it implies we don't trust the Telmarines to keep the bargain. The same with wearing a helmet."

Hwella continued to express her displeasure, especially considering the Narnians didn't trust the Telmarines to keep the terms of the duel. But Edmund refused to back down, and Hwella reluctantly dropped the subject, muttering about the High King and plans as she left. Edmund might have been intrigued or nervous about this, but he was focused on finding his brother. He could deal with anything Hwella might throw at him later.

~*~

Finally reaching his destination, Edmund slipped silently into the room. Peter was already wearing his gambeson and had just finished pulling his chain mail chausses over his trousers. Vanius, a satyr lieutenant, was there, handing the High King his hauberk. As Peter tugged the chain-mail shirt over his head, Edmund silently placed a hand on Vanius's arm, asking with a jerk of his head that the satyr leave them. Understanding, Vanius nodded and slipped away.

Edmund turned to face his brother, and hid a smile behind a hand as he saw Peter's predicament. The High King was cursing something fierce as blond locks tangled with steel rings. This inevitably happened every single time Peter put on chain mail. Edmund himself could slip on his hauberk without a problem, but for some reason, no matter how careful he was, Peter always caught his hair in the rings of the mail.

Stifling a laugh, Edmund stepped towards Peter, gently untangling the golden strands as he had so many times before. The High King stilled, letting Edmund's fingers work until he could pull the rest of his head through. Blue eyes appeared and stared at Edmund with what looked like surprise, guilt, and even a little…fear? Ignoring his own curiosity about these emotions, Edmund pulled the scarlet tunic over Peter's head, its golden lion proclaiming the identity of Narnia's true protector and the King before whom even the High King bowed.

Neither spoke as Edmund settled the coif around Peter's neck so that it could easily be pulled over his head later. Then came the spaulders, which Edmund adjusted on Peter's shoulders, securing them with ease of practice. Deciding to leave arm guards for last, Edmund gently pushed Peter to sit on one of the stone seats. The High King had been moving automatically so far, eyes never leaving his brother; but he did not speak, even as he sat rather uncomfortably in full mail. It was disconcerting to Edmund, actually. Though they never really chatted while arming, usually there was a comfortable warmth between the brothers, not this cold uncertainty. Still, at least Peter was allowing him to help, instead of trying to do everything himself.

That is, Peter allowed it without objection until Edmund knelt before him in order to place the greaves and sollerets around Peter's lower legs and feet. Blue eyes widened, and Peter leaned forward, grabbing Edmund's wrist. "I can get them, Edmund, just…you can get up."

Edmund calmly pried his brother's fingers off his arm. "Don't be an idiot; I can get them much easier. Besides, I've done this dozens of times before and you never objected." He continued with his work despite Peter clearly being uneasy with, what? – Edmund touching his feet? Helping him arm himself? Kneeling before…

Edmund tried not to physically tense as he realized what was wrong, why Peter had not sought him out to help with his armor, why he was so uncomfortable now. It was the same problem Edmund had run into during the battle planning: Peter no longer puffed with intense pride; instead he had fallen too far the other way, and did not think he was worthy of Edmund's concern and help. Worthy of Edmund acting as his armor bearer and servant, as he had during the many battles of their reign.

Well, too bad, Peter. I'm not going anywhere. Finishing with the sollerets, Edmund helped Peter stand again before starting on the left vambrace. As he tied the metal plates, Edmund finally broke the silence, his voice clear and calm as he reiterated previous advice. "Remember, Miraz only gives the show of chivalrous dueling. He'll be taking any opportunity he can to inflict injury, so don't expect him to keep to traditional maneuvers. If you get knocked down, roll away immediately; keep moving and out of his reach if possible. He goes for brute force, so you can probably dance around and tire him out." Edmund was quite thankful he had taken the risk of spying on Miraz's daily practice during his time at the Beaversdam castle; it gave him a better insight to the Usurper's fighting style and ability. And Peter could use any advantage he could get: Miraz might be a tyrannical murderer, but he was also a talented – and ruthless – warrior. Beating him would not be easy, regardless of Peter's skill.

Peter knew this as well, judging by the troubled look on his face as Edmund moved from the vambrace to putting on the right gauntlet. "Edmund, I need to say something before…ouch, too tight!"

Edmund nonchalantly pulled the leather laces tighter for a moment, just to make sure his point was taken. "Well, you should know better than to try and pull any of that 'if I don't survive this' stuff on me."

"Our chances…"

"I know!" snapped Edmund with a glare. "But chances and odds and luck have absolutely nothing to do with success, Peter. You're going to win, Lucy will find Aslan, and we'll be celebrating victory before nightfall. After that, I promise, I'll sit and listen to you blather about whatever it is you're feeling needlessly guilty about."

Peter shook his head, clearly frustrated. "You know it doesn't work like that, Ed. And I don't want to die without…"

He was stopped as Edmund abruptly dropped his gauntleted hand and firmly grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet the younger king's gaze. Dark, fierce eyes blazed like fire. "You are not going to die. If you have the slightest doubt in your ability to win, I will duel Miraz and hang your idiotic reasonings why I shouldn't."

"Ed…" The younger king squeezed tighter and Peter sighed. "Fine. But promise we'll talk after?"

Edmund could never ignore the desperate plea in Peter's eyes. "I promise. After." Letting go of Peter's chin, Edmund gently pulled the coif over his head, careful not to catch any strands of golden hair. Then came the final pieces: the helmet engraved with oak leaves, and the shield from Father Christmas emblazoned with Peter's coat of arms of argent a lion rampant gules.

The High King was ready and it was time.

Edmund picked up a sheathed Rhindon, surreptitiously brushing the lion's head pommel in blessing and prayer. He looked up at Peter. "Ready?"

Peter nodded and the two kings walked to the main entrance of the How in silence. They could hear the cheering from outside, Telmarines and Narnians gearing up for the fate-filled fight. Peter paused and looked at Edmund, who stood behind and to his right side. "After we win," he insisted again, reiterating Edmund's promise.

"After we win."

And together they stepped into the sunlight.

.

For those who don't have time to spend hours looking up armor pieces:

gambeson - padded undertunic
chauses - chain mail leggings
hauberk - chain mail shirt reaching the thighs and including sleeves
coif - the chain mail hood that Peter wears for such a limited time in the movie...
spaulders - armored plates worn on the shoulders. The difference between spaulders and pauldrons is that pauldrons cover armholes. Deciding whether Peter was wearing pauldrons or spaulders took me hours, and I'm still not sure I got it right.
greaves - plate armor around the legs. Technically, I believe Peter wears half-greaves, as his thighs are only protected by mail (am I right?)
sollerets - armor that covers the foot
vambrace - armor for fore-arm
gauntlet - armored glove (which technically I think Peter wears with a a vambrace, but I'm just considering it the same piece of armor)