Peter and Edmund, Boarding School, Courtyard, after classes:

It was growing darker earlier now during the evenings, but it would be a while yet before they were forced indoors for dinner. Edmund was standing with a group of his classmates as everyone argued about what to do before they were called in. He didn't say anything, just listened quietly as his eyes searched for someone he had been desperate to see for some time - Peter.

It was only once a week that Peter's classes managed to coincide with Edmund's long enough for the older boy to be able to seek him out so they could talk, but Edmund looked forward to the talks with quiet eagerness. It was just so refreshing to talk to someone his own age...and by that he meant his real age.

Suddenly, he spotted Peter rounding a corner and excused himself from the circle of younger boys.

Peter had spotted him at the same time and he smiled at his younger brother. He wondered how Edmund was coping. Last time they had talked, Edmund had complained about not having enough intelligent company, and not being able to relate to any of his peers on even the most basic level. So Peter worried about his brother a lot. He knew Edmund could be slightly hot headed and could only hope that he hadn't done anything foolish.

"Edmund," he greeted warmly.

"Peter," Edmund greeted back.

They both walked over to one of the wooden benches lining the courtyard where the boys were allowed to play.

"How are you holding up, old chap?" Peter broke the silence first after they'd sat down.

Edmund lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and sighed.

"Same as ever, Pete," he responded. "You?"

Peter thought about whether or not he should finally mention the incident. He'd put it off last time because he didn't want to worry his brother, but, the more he held it off, the more it would eat away at his thoughts. Besides, Peter wasn't one to keep secrets, especially if it affected all of them. As High King, he had had to act responsibly. Now was the time to do so as well.

He cleared his throat, "Actually, Ed. There's something I've been meaning to tell you for some time now."

"Oh?" Edmund turned his full attention to his brother, not longer interested as to what his classmates were going to do with the pile of long sticks they'd procured.

"I acted out of turn," Peter finally sighed after some time.

Edmund's brow furrowed. What did Peter mean? He voiced this out loud.

"I forgot to pretend for a minute, Ed," Peter said, clearly ashamed of himself.

"Oh."

Peter snuck a glance at his brother and was glad that Edmund didn't appear angry at his slip. But he did feel somewhat ashamed at doing the one thing he had lectured everyone else against doing. He was a hypocrite. He was the High King, leader and elder brother...he was supposed set an example, but here he was breaking the rules.

Peter sighed again.

"What happened?" Edmund finally asked.

"It was during a lecture on war tactics and the like," Peter said, remembering the incident quite clearly. "You know, with that one professor I think is irritating?"

Edmund's face showed comprehension and he nodded.

"Well," Peter continued, "I wasn't really paying attention and I got called up to the front and...and when asked to formulate a strategy, I suppose I just got caught up in the moment and said more than I should have."

He turned to look at his brother's reaction, only to find Edmund smiling slightly.

"You always were such a brilliant strategist," the younger boy said wistfully.

Images of the past flashed through both sets of minds as the two remembered successful campaigns and long ago battles.

"But you were a much better diplomat when it came down to it. You could smooth talk yourself out of anything," Peter chided his younger brother with a grin.

"Ah, well, we both know why I developed that kind of skill. I wasn't about to be caught off guard like before ever again," Edmund mussed.

There was an awkward silence as Edmund realised he'd breached a subject best left unsaid, and Peter distinctly remembered how Edmund had been taken in by the White Witch's honey coated words.

Suddenly, Edmund broke the silence. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I also have a confession to make. It happened a few days ago." He stopped to wait for Peter's reaction.

Peter turned to look at his brother with a mild frown, suddenly afraid at what Edmund might have revealed.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Um." Edmund bit his lip. "You know how much I love horses, right?"

"Oh, Ed," Peter said with an exasperated sigh.

He knew only too well how much Edmund loved horses. While his brother had been awkward at first, he had soon grown to love the beasts, especially his own horse. Sometimes, Peter thought it might have had something to do with the fact that he was a better swordsman, so maybe if Edmund could become the better horseman, they would be evenly matched in a way. He had never voiced his suspicions out loud to his brother, but he knew they had always had a sibling rivalry, so it was very plausible.

"Well?" He finally prompted.

Edmund shrugged. "What do you think? I saddled up their best horse and rode it out. They were a bit angry that I didn't wear a hat and that I jumped the fence and went into a gallop, but it was worth it."

"I'm sure it was." Peter rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

Edmund flashed his brother a grin. "I managed to convince them I'd taken lessons over the summer, but..."

"But?"

"But, I'm pretty sure the stableman didn't believe me." Edmund shifted guiltily on his seat and turned his attention to the loud cries of his classmates. He laughed. "How appropriate. Look!" He pointed at them.

Peter turned to look and gave a small chuckle as well. "Here we are reminiscing about the past and they're mock sword fighting. It fits doesn't it?"

Edmund nodded and watched the boys try to hit each other with their sticks, all showing very poor form and footwork. One of the boys (Roger, he thought his name was) tripped and fell and the other boy was proclaimed the victor, his stick waving around triumphantly.

"I wonder how the girls are doing," Peter murmured.

"It's a jolly big pain isn't it? Being separated," Edmund agreed, still watching the fight.

They sat and watched for a bit longer, not saying anything, but enjoying the company and memories. It was a bit of normalcy in an otherwise hectic life of pretend.

"Hey Edmund! Come fight one of us! Let's see how good ya are!" Someone was calling Edmund's name.

Edmund glanced at the speaker - he was holding two sticks and offering one up. Everyone else was watching him and Peter, waiting for him to agree.

Edmund instead tried to decline. "No, thank you. I'm speaking to my brother."

Peter shot him a look as if to say,'You should join and blend in.' The elder brother understood Edmund's desire for more mature company, but if he wasn't even trying...

"Older brother, right?" The boy asked. "Hey, he can come too. In fact, why don'cha go against each other. Younger brother against the older. What d'ya say, lads?"

There was a chorus of agreement from the other boys.

Peter looked back and forth between his clearly anti-social brother and his classmates and made a split second decision. Even if Edmund wanted to stay away, he needed to try and fit in, other wise he was going to have a miserable life growing up again with no friends.

"Come on then, Ed, I'm up for a bout." He nudged his brother.

"Peter?" gasped Edmund. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "What's got into you? They'll notice we're too good for it to be normal."

Peter's lips quirked. "Hold back, Ed, or is that too hard?" His voice was a clear challenge meant to provoke Edmund, and it was working.

Yet, Edmund couldn't help but feel that somehow they would slip up. It had happened a few times already and he'd made one big mistake with the horse - no need to add one more to the list.

"Not enough control?" Peter was now standing and staring down at his brother, although there was sincerity in his question. If Edmund said yes then they'd have to back down, but apparently the words really ruffled some feathers because he stood up as well and said, "A bout then."

"Great!" enthused the boy holding the sticks. He tossed them at both brothers when they got close enough to catch them. Neither boy thought as their hands reached out to snatch the sticks from the air with barely a fumble. They both took up opposing positions across from each other, slipping into stances automatically out of long standing habit. They saluted each other, also out of habit, and then waited for the first brother to make a move.

Peter went first. He stepped forward lightly, and then brought the stick down in an obvious strike to Edmund's head. His younger brother blocked it easily, disengaged, and pretended to swing out to catch Peter in the stomach. That one was also blocked.

And so it began.

They carried on in this strain for a while, getting increasingly more daring, but always going for the obvious strikes and clashing their sticks as hard as they could for effect. But, it was apparently too much for muscle memory. Their bodies remembered how they should be fighting and without meaning to they both began to spar in earnest, adjusting stances and grips and blows.

And in their minds, the leaf-strewn courtyard and cluster of cheering young boys began to fade, and instead they saw each other in a brightly lit courtyard surrounded by high stone walls and strewn with sand, while a centaur warrior watched on from the sidelines.

And just like in the past, their bodies danced and their arms struck out. Instead of thunking wood, they heard the clashing of dulled blades, and instead of wearing a simple school boy's shirt and trousers, they were wearing padded armour and tunics which glinted in the early afternoon light.

"Come on, Ed," Peter panted, his eyes half glazed, "you can do better than that!"

He tried to sneak in a side strike straight after Edmund had blocked a high cut, but his brother danced out of the way, feet crossing nimbly, only to lunge back in with his own counter attack.

They had stepped up the pace.

Neither of the two, so caught up in their battle and better times, noticed that the boys surrounding them had begun to back off, eyes wide and mouths gaping. Nor did they notice that more and more people had wandered over, either having seen the fight from a window, or heard of it through word of mouth. Even one teacher, coincidentally Peter's history lecturer, Professor Morton, who had come down to break up the supposed fight, was left standing on the outskirts, gaping at the show of obvious fencing talent.

Why, he imagined that if the boys weren't wearing school clothes and sparring with sticks, he could almost see them as two opponents out on a battle field from long ago!

But Peter and Edmund were oblivious to all this, both only having eyes for the other; watching their opponent's every move and responding with years worth of conditioning. It was certainly a sight to see.

Eventually though, Edmund began to grow tired, his eleven year old body finding it hard to cope with all the strain of a duel that had been fought when he was much older and far more conditioned. He began to block half-heartedly, slipping up and almost letting Peter in to catch him off guard. But, fortunately for Edmund, Peter was also growing tired.

Soon, they were at an impasse. Both boys broke away at the same time and stood en garde, waiting for the other to strike and trying to rest at the same time. But then, Peter's eyes focused beyond his brother for the first time during the fight, and it slowly began to register in his brain that the amount of people he was seeing with astonished faces could not possibly be only the small posse of boys that had first entreated them to spar. Slowly he straightened, letting his arm drop to his side and gazing around him with slowly building panic. They had seen. All these people; Edmund's classmates, his classmates, and Mr. Morton, the one person Peter had never wanted to see him act out of turn again...they were all here, watching.

Edmund noticed his brother's face pale and the way his body tensed and dropped his own guard. It only took him a few seconds to work out why his brother was so frightened, and then he too was pale and tense, waiting for the inevitable.

"Th-that was amazing!" Edmund's classmate, the one who had started the whole thing, gasped out.

Mr. Morton was moving through the crowd of boys, trying to reach them. Peter dropped his stick like it burnt, and then reached forward to grab Ed's arm.

"Uh, we had," Peter swallowed and tried to sound more sure of himself. "We had lessons. Over the summer. Please excuse us, we need to talk." And then he dragged Edmund through the parting sea of boys, who all respectfully stepped aside to let them through, while impeding Morton's progress even more. Peter pretended not to hear his angry shouts.

"Peter! Ow, let go!" Edmund exclaimed, trying to wrench his arm free.

Peter yanked him around a corner and out of sight, before letting go and slumping against the school's wall. Edmund rubbed his wrist and watched as his brother mentally chastised himself.

"It's all my fault, Ed," he mumbled. "If I hadn't insisted on you trying to fit in and made you go up there with me...I reckon sometimes you have more common sense than I."

"Peter..."

"How could I possibly have made a good King? I make such poor decisions!" Peter clenched and unclenched his fist, evidently angry at himself.

"Peter," Edmund tried again, staring him in the eye, "you were never a bad King. Everyone messes up sometimes, and really, can you blame us? Besides, you covered it well. We'll just say we had lessons."

"But who can really call a fourteen year old and an eleven year old that well versed in swordplay?" asked Peter despondently.

Edmund shrugged uncomfortably.

"I..." Peter stopped and looked at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, "I supposed, deep down I'm not as alright with this as I said I was. I want to go back so very badly, Ed. I'm sorry."

Edmund almost smiled. Finally, Peter had honestly admitted what they'd all been feeling from the start.

"Peter?" He caught his brother's attention and forced him to look up, "Next time don't try to be our pillar. What we need right now is a brother, not a King."

Peter almost laughed, somehow feeling relieved and slightly insulted all at once.

"All right," he said, smiling slightly, "I'll be a brother...but I'm still a King."

Edmund smiled back and went to lean on the wall next to him. "Yeah, I know. So am I."