The Pevensies: The Art of Adjusting

Edmund's Fight

Friday 9th January 1941 (4:30pm)
Hendon House School Courtyard, London

(5 months after the Pevensies return from their first trip to Narnia)

Edmund grunted as a fist collided with his right cheek. He grabbed the retracting fist and used his other hand to manage a solid blow upon his attacker. Surprised at his own power, the punch was strong enough that the other boy's nose made a satisfying crunch. The boy, Perkins, stumbled back, covering his bloodied nose with his hands. Much to Edmund's dismay, another of his 'friends' swiftly took his place, sending yet another fist flying towards the Just King. It was in this moment that Edmund became aware of a presence behind him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Within a second, he'd kicked back as he shoved the boy in front of him with as much strength as he could muster.

The fight lasted another couple of minutes (which, to all involved, seemed much longer) before Edmund heard his name being shouted amongst the cheers of the spectators. This particular shout, quite undoubtedly, belonged to his younger sister, Lucy.

"Peter! Peter, come quick! It's Edmund!"

'Aslan's mane, Pete. Took a leisurely stroll here did we?' Edmund hissed (to himself, of course), as he felt another fist slam into the side of his face, narrowly missing his left eye. He braced himself for another blow, which, as a pleasant surprise, never came. Edmund opened his eyes to see his new attacker, Tucker, being dragged backwards and thrown to the ground.

Edmund couldn't help but laugh to himself as he watched another two of the assailants run at his brother. He laughed at their stupidity. He laughed because no one in their right mind runs, unarmed, at the High King of Narnia- especially when he towers a good few inches taller.   

The Just King watched his brother knock one down to the ground with ease, another the same way, before watching the ringleader attempt to push his way through the crowd in a frantic escape. However, the boy didn't get far as, within a few strides, the High King had him by the front of his collar.
The boy was then pinned against the School wall.

Edmund brushed himself down and attempted to hear what his brother was hissing at Tucker through the drum of his heartbeat. The Just King heard Peter's threat of 'harm a hair on his head and you'll regret every breath you ever took'. Edmund couldn't help but flinch slightly at the tone of his brother- the hatred in his voice had never been so evident. Not even on the battlefield. The younger Pevensie let out the breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding as he watched his brother push the smaller, now shaking boy into the crowd, allowing him escape.

As he watched his older brother subdue his anger and allow the younger boy mercy, Edmund was reminded of just how magnificent Peter really was. He didn't get much time to marvel at his brother as, just a second later, Edmund felt something warm and metallic drip into his mouth. He spat out that something, in which he realised was crimson coloured as he felt his legs give way and black dots begin to swim in his vision. It must have taken him a while to process this, however, as he was already sat against the wall, siblings knelt around him and the crowd mostly dispersed. He looked up as his eyes met his brother's, disappointment as evident as the hatred had been for Tucker.   

"I didn't start it-" he began, but was cut off as he felt a sharp sensation above his right eye, causing him to flinch.

"Sorry." Lucy apologised, sheepishly, as she dabbed the cut with her handkerchief and a feather-like touch. He glanced at her with a look to show her he wasn't mad, but instead, incredibly grateful.

Edmund hadn't been able to think a single negative thing about his younger sister since the Battle of Beruna. Not since Narnia. He felt ashamed of how long it'd taken him to realise just how innocent she was- maybe not innocent, but just so- good. Anyone who treated Lucy with anything but the upmost respect that the young, Valiant Queen deserved, quickly knew about it. Whether by one of her brother's fists or Susan's sharp tongue, they swiftly learnt their lesson.