Fic : A Thin Veneer of Civility (Narnia)

[burntcopper]

Title : A Thin Veneer of Civility
Author : Gunbunny
Fandom : Narnia.
Pairing : none.
Rating : A bit of violence. No blood.
Summary : Some people really don't understand the concept of playfighting. (post-PC)
Disclaimer : Not mine. CS Lewis's.
Feedback : I accept burnt offerings and alcohol.
Archive : http://burntcopper.com/fic , anywhere else feel free.
Notes : Follows on from Original Suspicious Bastard.


Captain Llewellyn walks into the club, removing his hat and attempting to shake the rain off. The man behind reception looks at the puddles of water he's leaving on the rug and asks pointedly "May I take your coat, sir?" He's been trained too well to let the evident distaste show on his face or in his tone, but it's implied.

"Thankyou." Llewellyn says, shrugging out of it and handing him the sodden coat and his hat, before walking through from the hall. Inside the main room it's a bit boisterous. From the looks of it, it seems that they've been indulging. And it's busy enough that you can't spot someone immediately. He grabs one of the officers walking past. "Have you seen Pevensie? He said he'd be in here today."

The man he's accosted takes his fag out of his mouth and gives him a contemplative look. "That depends."

"Depends on what?" Llewellyn asks.

"Depends on whether you wanted the vicious bastard or the one with a complete lack of anything resembling a moral compass."

Llewellyn blinks slightly. It's not the first time he's heard unflattering opinions of Pevensie, but... "Ah. The blond one? Peter?"

"Oh, the leader of men." He jerks his hand in a vague direction. "Over there. His brother's doing that spooky act of shadow to his brother's sun of his if you want to talk to him as well. Bloody creepy if you ask me."

Llewellyn pushes through the crowd to find his quarry in an armchair, drink in hand and bag of ice held up to his face with the other. His younger brother Edmund's reading in the chair next to him. Pevensie looks up as he approaches. "Llewellyn, nice to see you. Problem?"

"I've got a message to pass on. What did you do to your face? You can't have been in a fight, there's no pile of unconscious or groaning bodies around."

"Fencing match," Edmund volunteers, not looking up from his book. "Got a bit boisterous."

"I wasn't aware you fenced." Llewellyn says.

Peter shrugs. "They insisted that it was our turn."

---flashback---

When it came to discussing the situation later, everyone agreed that it was Mcgregor and Bennett who'd started the bit on knights, jousting and sword-fighting when everyone else had been discussing fencing at school. They couldn't remember whose idea it was to take the swords off the wall and attempt to recreate the fights of one's childhood, but it had certainly been Mcgregor and Bennett who started it all. Trying to lift solid metal bars proves to be quite difficult as it is, let alone waving them about to crash against the other person's in a satisfying manner, but they're giving it a damn good try. Everyone's cheering the chosen fighters on as they stagger back and forth, attempting to hit the other's sword.

There's been four bouts before someone pokes the elder Pevensie. "Come on, old man, have a go, you're practically salivating. I bet you played knights as a child like the rest of us. Didn't you fence at school?"

Edmund murmurs "Do we tell him we were chucked out for being too violent, and that I lasted less time than you did because the fencing master was still carrying a grudge against you?"

Peter elbows him, then replies truthfully "I've done a bit. Didn't last too long."

Edmund steps up to fight him, since strangely no-one volunteers to go up against Peter Pevensie in any sort of fight willingly. Edmund doesn't have quite the reputation that Peter does. "Now, remember, old man, it's not fists," Jacobs says cheerfully as he hands Peter a sword. "Longer reach than a knife, and different handling from a rifle butt."

Edmund and Peter weigh the swords in their hands before moving into the cleared space. "You remember how to use one of these, don't you?" Edmund grins.

"At least they're real swords," Peter replies.

"Come on, chaps, touch blades at the very least. Show some effort," Walker admonishes, since they're not doing anything but watching each other and shifting their balance a bit.

"When we're ready," Edmund says mildly.

They shift a couple of paces, eyeing the other up, and it's looking boring. The other officers were hoping for some entertainment, since the Pevensie brothers are somewhat notorious for their violence in any fight. Even if they can't use a sword to save their lives, the crowd were expecting something. Hacking at each other, perhaps. Instead, all they're doing is watching each other.

Suddenly, with no perceptible shift in mood, Peter moves forward, lightning-fast, slashing across Edmund's chest. Edmund brings his up in time to block, just. He turns it towards Peter's neck, Peter dodging and blocking as Edmund re-directs his aim at his stomach. As the block slides off, Edmund kicks at his knee, buckling Peter's leg, only Peter's coming up at the same time with an elbow to his gut. Edmund breathes in sharply, backing off half a step, then hitting Peter in the face with the hilt, just sliding away from another gut slice that's presented flat side on for some reason, turning and hitting Peter in the shoulder with the hilt of his sword, deadening his arm. And again until Peter dropped his sword, then aiming a slice at his neck.

It would've been nasty if Peter hadn't dropped and rolled, grabbing his sword with his other hand, striking at Edmund's feet with his and knocking them out from under him, the end of the roll sending him to his feet again, thumping Edmund in the gut as he goes down and Peter comes up. Another hit to his windpipe as that comes into range. Peter slashes across Edmund's throat with the flat side, Edmund just blocking before Peter kicks his wrist, then kicking the sword out of his hand as Edmund's hand spasms slightly, dropping a little to hold the sword to Edmund's throat.

"Yield?" Peter asks.

Edmund glares at him. "That was terrible and sloppy." He sounds like he's telling him off for badly done english homework, not sword-fighting technique.

"Out of practice, I know," Peter sighs.

"Precisely," Edmund grins, kicking out with his feet to get Peter's leg, pushing the sword away from his throat with one hand. However, Peter recovers fast, dropping to land on Edmund before Edmund's managed to move more than a few inches, using the weight difference to his advantage to pin him as he holds the sword across his neck.

"Not that out of practice to fall for that one," Peter grunts.

"Er, chaps?" comes the query from one side. "I think you can stop now."

Edmund grunts. "Listen to the man and get off me, Peter."

"If you insist," Peter grins, levering himself up, then helping Edmund up.

"I'm, um, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but fencing doesn't actually resemble a brawl with swords." Thomson pipes up.

"Good thing we weren't attempting fencing, then." Edmund says, brushing himself off. "Fencing's useless anyway. I don't know how you're supposed to kill people with a bit of whippy metal."

The audience sobers up on hearing that one, as they're reminded that these are Pevensies. They don't understand the concept of sportsmanship and only ever think of how fast you can end a fight in your favour.

"Ah. Well. I'm still sure that swordfighting doesn't involve bashing someone in the face with the hilt and kicking their feet out from under them." Helston ventures.

"Shows how often you've been in a swordfight, then," Peter says, grinning. He's not even out of breath, considering the speed they were moving at. He inspects the blade. "Decent balance, at least. Pity they weren't sharp."

"You'd prefer them sharp?" Morris says in disbelief. "You could've done some real damage!"

They turn to look at Morris blankly. It's Peter who asks "What do you think a sword is for, Morris?" As they're standing there, swords held loosely by their sides as though they were natural extensions of their arms, it's a little too easy to picture. Especially if you're one of the unfortunates who've been privy to watch one or the other in any situation where knives were involved. The swords don't look like antiquated toys anymore. In the hands of the Pevensies, they look like precisely what they were fashioned to be - a simple killing tool.

No-one else feels like messing around with swords anymore, not after that exhibition. Always seems a little unfair, somehow, when someone brings on the serious side of a prank.

---end flashback---

Llewellyn shakes his head. "How they thought it might have gone any differently is beyond me," he pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Peter. "Notice of your next posting, apparently. Or something like that. It could be a reprimand for all I'm aware. The important message that I've been told to pass on is that you apparently owe Ferrars a bottle of whisky. What did you do?"

Peter takes the envelope, holding it up to study the scrawl on the front, then tucking it into his pocket. "Cheers, I'll look at it later. I don't owe him a bottle of whisky, he just insists I do."

"From what I heard, it took him two weeks to get the mud out," Edmund remarks. "And then there was the matter of his moustache."

"I'm still not going to buy him a bottle of whisky, he should've been prepared for that kind of thing," Peter replies, lifting the ice and working his jaw a little before putting it back on.

Llewellyn sighs. "One would imagine that kind of thing was a natural hazard of being anywhere near you, Pevensie. I'm off to get a drink."

It takes a bit of effort to get the attention of the barman. Attlee and Walker are propping up the other end of the bar. "What're you in for, then?" Attlee asks. "I thought you'd been locked in that office with the paperwork for new orders until Michaelmas at the very least."

"Came in to see Pevensie," Llewellyn replies, picking up a couple of nuts from a bowl. "What idiot encouraged them to fight?"

"We're blaming McGregor and Bennett," Attlee says. "They started it. We'd just been messing around before then, but whoever it was forgot that they don't see any difference between battlefield and club."

Walker drinks some of his whisky and sneers. "That's the problem with those two. You keep being lulled into thinking that they're normal coves, then they do something that reminds you that they're really savages with a thin veneer of civility. Why they haven't chucked them out as a disgrace yet is beyond me."

Attlee rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his own drink. "Probably because we find them rather useful in the field, old chap. You keep going on about this and it's getting rather boring. I'd rather have them in front of where I can see them, at any rate, and I'm sure most of the men would agree with me."

END

Comments

[caramelsilver.livejournal.com]

I'm so in love with these war fics you've been writing. They are really really good. I especially liked this part:

They turn to look at Morris blankly. It's Peter who asks "What do you think a sword is for, Morris?" As they're standing there, swords held loosely by their sides as though they were natural extensions of their arms, it's a little too easy to picture. Especially if you're one of the unfortunates who've been privy to watch one or the other in any situation where knives were involved. The swords don't look like antiquated toys anymore. In the hands of the Pevensies, they look like precisely what they were fashioned to be - a simple killing tool.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

hee. thankyou. But it's so that image of when Trumpkin clicks on who the Pevensies are in PC, when they're holding weapons and don't look like they're play-acting in the slightest that inspired that bit.

[caramelsilver.livejournal.com]

Oh yes! It totally is!

[babydraco.livejournal.com]

Pretty cool story. Although do you mean that the others see him as having "a complete lack of anything resembling a moral compass"? Because I wouldn't exactly agree that this is true of Edmund. His ideas of morality may not be very mainstream but I'd still say he has some.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

Oh, I totally agree about Edmund having a very distinct moral compass (there's a reason he's called 'the Just'). The problem the officers have is that it's not *their* moral compass. Edmund's willingness to do whatever's expedient to get the job done (but mostly the fact that he's secret service) means they see him as far less 'them' than Peter.

[babydraco.livejournal.com]

That makes sense

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

Exactly-the compass he's using isn't the one that regular army (or even most people) would use. I suspect it has far too much common sense and willingness to call bullshit out than most people, and the things that touch him or inspire him to kindness wouldn't necessarily be what others would think worthwhile. *muses*

In any characterization of the Pevensie's, I think it's important to remember their titles, and especially the fact that these titles were given by the people of Narnia to their rulers (whom they knew well and loved). All of them are good qualities, but there's just something about "the Just" that's really moving for me.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

not to mention 'the Just' could also mean 'completely even handed for the situation' - which could mean he's far harsher sometimes than most would expect. With added 'vengeance is mine' stuff.

re: the titles - I'm still with bedlamsbard that half the titles they were given *weren't* given to them by their friends. And that 'The Gentle' is a warning, not a 'isn't she nice'.

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

A few months ago I read an Edmund ficlet about how "just is not the same as fair". It was good-I thought I saved it, but I can't find it, damn it! If I do, I'll pass it to you. *grumpy face*

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

oooh, yes. I'm not a fan of Pevensies-in-the-army, as a rule, but this was *good*. Nice work.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

I can't help it, my brain wants to know what they would do post-books because everyone else seems to dump them on civvy street without thinking about National Service. (Last Battle DID NOT HAPPEN)

Thankyou!

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

I'd not thought about National Service, actually. Got a handy link with information thereon?

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Service_in_the_United_Kingdom

They'd have been called up anyway at 19 or so, but I'm of the mind that Peter did cadet service at school and then joined up as soon as he left with the mind to a career because fighting's what he's comfortable with and could bear the hierarchy better in those circumstances than in civvy street.

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

Hunh. Interesting.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

I know! And you had to have a really good excuse/important job (coal mining, etc) to get out of it! It's like when they bloody forget *rationing*, which went up to '53 and got *worse* after the war due to the debts and having to support all the conquered bits of Europe. The next really gorgeous new dress I see Susan wearing that wasn't bought in America will be my breaking point.

RESEARCH.

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

Makes perfect sense to *me*! What the hell use is fencing, anyway? Blades are meant for killing, right? *laughs*

I kinda wish there was a realistic way to get Lucy out there, too. Sweet, tender-hearted military nurse, maybe? Who keeps a knife on her at all times and can put an arrow in your eye at a frighteningly long distance?

Yeah, I know it's highly unlikely they'd station *three* siblings in the same area, but one can hope! *laughs*

I'm glad you're continuing this verse, it's fascinating to think about how they'd adjust to "normal" life, after being adults, kings, and warriors for so long. I bet subordination is a real problem!

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

:cough: you can kill people with untipped fencing swords, just not in the way that most fencers learn (see Romeo and Juliet for a decent example - they'd have been using sabres and epees along with daggers). And they're really not that much use on a battlefield because fencing doesn't tend to account for the other bloke's mate who'll come in and cut your knees off. Plus no decent footing. However, if you're used to broadswords, you get a bit testy because you can't use a fencing sword as a club or cut their head off with the weight even if the blade is duller than a dull thing.

:sigh: I wish. maybe if it was set in WW2 and Lucy was a member of the French Resistance. Or...er... set it a couple of hundred years back in the Regency period and make all of them exploring officers and Rifles. (aka the Sharpe-era AU)

Subordination. I tend to go 'Peter damn well learnt post-PC to keep his mouth shut'. I suspect I'm only writing this because no other bugger has, or at least not taken into account the national service factor.

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

*cough* Dr Who... Just saying.

[littlerhymes]

Pevensies FIGHTING! Awesome. :)

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

Ro, you are ridiculously easy to please.

[littlerhymes]

Hahaha, if you were to introduce Lucy or Susan, THEN we could reasonably talk 'ridiculous' :P

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

:wails: haven't thought about it yet!

[lunamazes.livejournal.com]

Beautiful, another one. You would think those soldier know not to involve them. love that Edmund as Peter's shadow. XD

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

I'm pondering how much it is that Edmund purposely makes himself inconspicuous and how much it is that Peter automatically stands out in a crowd....

[turkeyish.livejournal.com]

I stumbled upon your fics not too long ago, and already I love your style, and your characterizations. :) Especially Edmund, who's my favorite character to begin with!

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

hee. thankyou1

[sevter.livejournal.com]

*snickers*

I wish the officers could see them fighting with Lucy and Susan at the sidelines throwing criticism and advice. They'll act like it's a totally normal thing while the officers would just look at each other and goes, "the Pevensies are all insane/bloodthirsty bastards."

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

'Peter, that is the shoddiest -'
'Edmund, you can do *better* than that! it's not even sharp!'
'Oh dear lord, if he'd had a knife like he usually does - his eye was *right there*.'

Pevensies : scarier than any other family *ever*. :sigh: If only they'd been old enough to go into WW2, because then I could have Susan as a ruthless French Resistance agent.

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

While I am in no way disagreeing with your research (though I want to dig out the math I'd done and remember why I thought there was an arguable way to get Peter - just Peter - into WWII, arg... of course I've moved since then. I may have been tweaking everyone's age, too), I want to see that SO MUCH!

[naanima.livejournal.com]

I found this series of fics via a friend's rec list.

Ooooh, thank you for writing them. I love the way you are exploring what Narnia did to these children. That they grew up in a series of battle fields, learning how to kill without remorse, only to be thrown back into the bodies of children. All that knowledge and skill packed up into a child, all that extra time to perfect what was learned. Utterly devastating to their enermies as they age once more in England. I'm very interested in what you have Lucy and Susan doing; Susan, despite her initial shallow apperance and actions is kind of scary when she want things done, and I think, to be a Queen of Narnia was infinitely more difficult than being a King of Narnia. I think that Susan adapted, changed what she needed to change in order to survive without losing parts of herself.

Looking forward to future parts.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

heh, thanks - got a link to the rec list? I'm always interested in rec lists of any shape or form for reading material.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

*sheepish* You know how I don't read fic or use my flist at all? That would be why I hadn't seen this beforehand.

Now those are the Pevensies I see onscreen. Complete savage bastards who don't give a damn about anything that's not directly relevant -- and absolutely terrifying even when they're not trying to be.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

we'll forgive you. eventually. MORE CROSSOVERS.

:sigh: I know. All the people who seem to think of them as such nice innocents and I'm going 'um, warlords, monarchs in a medieval court - what do you *think* that did to their personalities?' (you're at least partly to blame for it, though)

And then you have that bit where Trumpkin looks up and it's the four of them standing there and :flail: and the way they think of putting people down instantly as the *first* and *right* option in a battle scenario, which scares the fuck out of others.

I see a hell of a lot of instances where they refuse to fight anyone not on their level during playfights, precisely because they know how much damage they could do with someone who's not trained for it and so doesn't have the reflexes. You see it a lot in martial artists, just refusing and refusing to fight or show off to others - I did thai boxing for a while and everyone used to be so peeved that I wouldn't show off, and I was barely a baby grade. And then you do the move that gets them to go 'oh shit sorry sorry sorry' so they never ask again. (in my case, a spinning elbow that stops three inches from their face) One gets the feeling that the Pevensies do that a lot.

Confidence in your own body and abilities : infinitely scary/entrancing to the rest of the populace due to it being so rare - hence why dancers and so on always get so much attention. With added 'no, really, I don't have time for any of this'

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

NO MORE CROSSOVERS. There are at least three WIPs I want to get done by the end of the year, and then there is Dust! Which is not going to be done by the end of the year. (Although I venture a strong suspicion that reading your stuff got me back into going at Dust hardcore, because kickass Pevensies).)

*snorts* Oh, yeah, they're innocents. Their idea of "innocent" is "DEATH DESTRUCTION MORE DEATH." (Even in the books. Peter being all, "well, obviously the only answer is single combat to the death, and obviously I will win. Next!") Their gifts from Father Christmas all included weapons; that's not what you give to someone who's going to rule a land of peace and plenty, and their reactions in PC are not what you get from someone who ruled a land of peace and plenty. You don't bring a peacetime ruler into a wartime situation.

[quelle-bordelle.livejournal.com]

*high-pitched squeak of joy*

I'm flailing wordlessly here, having just discovered this universe while LJ-surfing. This is brilliant!

I loved the books as a kid, but have been unwilling to look at them as an adult for fear of spoiling my childhood enjoyment. Painful stereotyping, in-your-face religion of the most simplistic sort... I know it's there. But having read your post-Narnia universe, I'm really tempted to try again. Because your stories are there as a fix now!

I'd love to see how you think Lucy and Susan would adapt back in the real world. At least the military gives the boys some options to be who they were in Narnia, but it would be much harder for the girls in the 40's.

[wordwitch.livejournal.com]

What they said.

I'm here via Delicious, and I'm always a bit - wary - when it comes to Narnia. I loved it so much that when I developed my allergies to Christianity it really bit big time.

But this (these) are such savage competent boys - innocent psychopaths - that I cannot help but love them.

Question from an ignorant Yank: what does "CT" stand for? And where does one battle Communists post-WWII, with bases?

Re: Lucy: if the club in question is in England, wouldn't she come into town to visit the boys in the Visitors' Room at some point?

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

heh. ta.

CT = Communist Terrorist. General term for the enemy in the malaya and Korean wars.

Post-WWII? Malaya, Korea, Vietnam, take your pick. Pevensies were in Malaya.

re: Lucy - quite possibly, but not likely - you were more likely to meet up outside the club since there's far more places that don't reek of testosterone.

[autumnia]

So I'm totally late to this, but this was amazing. LOVED the swordfight, and the comments made by the other men about Peter and Edmund. Between you and bedlamsbard, I've suddenly become addicted to these crazy, somewhat violent versions of the Pevensies.

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

bedlamsbard and I maintain that this is the realistic version of the Pevensies. (Golden Age that wasn't forged in blood given that a very powerful ruler of a rich country had just fallen, leaving children on the throne? Excuse me, coughing fit time...) Though my Peter tends to behave better in public than hers.

[hungrytiger11.livejournal.com]

Always seems a little unfair, somehow, when someone brings on the serious side of a prank.

Somehow this is my favorite line in your story because it shows that while the Pensvies are viewed as violent and unbalanced and creepy that well... these men are *use* to that and consider their disturbing presence to be someone bringing in the "serious side of a prank."

Am loving your Pensvies very much!