Title: Pick Up Lines
Author: RemyTehFrog
Genre: Family/Humor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,031
Summary: Edmund comes to Peter for advice on a very important matter.
Author's Notes: Set in the Golden Age, three years after LWW. I don't know how the idea came to me. I watched Prince Caspian again recently, and then spent the better half of two days mourning the fact that Peter and Susan can't return. This was basically written to cheer me up, sort of … Enjoy.

Pick Up Lines

Edmund watched in slight distaste as Susan and Lucy chattered away about the foreign prince who had asked Susan to dance at their last feast. It had been a week now, but Susan still went red and giggled at the mention of Prince Whatsisface (Edmund really couldn't be bothered to remember mundane things such as names of his sister's numerous suitors).

He glanced over at Peter, who smiled knowingly at him. "Ignore them," he said. "They're girls – this is what they do."

Edmund nodded. "I suppose," he said dubiously. "Peter, why is it taking them so much time?"

Peter's smile turned into a frown. "I don't know," he answered. "They were supposed to have arrived a half hour ago."

"Exactly," grumbled Edmund. "We've been sitting here waiting for them for ages. I'm bored."

"You can always examine the artwork on your throne," said Lucy, doing the same.

"No, thank you," Edmund answered. "I think I'll just sit here and talk to Peter." He turned to his brother. "Why is it taking them so long?" he demanded.

"Ed, how would I know?" retorted Peter. "I guess they'll be along in a bit so stop whining."

They were the King of a neighboring land and his sister, who wished to negotiate a deal with Narnia that involved trade routes. The King's name was Nobilis, and his sister's was unknown as of yet. Edmund wasn't sure of their exact ages, but it was said the King wasn't that much older than they were, which might make negotiation easier. And it wasn't the prospect of negotiation Edmund was worried about anyway; it was the fact that they seemed to be taking their own sweet time in arriving.

Edmund opened his mouth to complain (he was just a teenager after all, even if he was a king), but before he could do more than say "Peeeee-ter" the door to the throne room opened and King Nobilis was ushered in by Mr. Tumnus the Faun.

Royalty practically radiated off them in waves. Regally the young King (who couldn't be more than twenty, and very good-looking, if Susan's unexpected little giggle was anything to go by) walked in, his long velvet robes making it look as if he was gliding. Right behind him was his sister, smiling serenely. Her deep-blue gown seemed to drive home the fact of her royal blood, and her long black hair only emphasized the delicate features the females of her family were famed for having.

Besides Peter, Edmund inhaled sharply. Peter turned his head to see what was wrong, but just then King Nobilis said, in an overly-deep voice, "Greetings, your Majesties." He didn't wait for them to reply – instead he went on, "Please accept my heartfelt apologies for the delay. You see, we came face-to-face with a problem that had to do with my sister, Queen Elegantia. I hope we did not keep you waiting to long."

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Edmund got there faster. "It is no problem, King Nobilis," he said, his voice slightly breathless.

Peter frowned. Was Edmund not feeling well?

"Please accept this gift from me, as a gesture of my utmost respect," said King Nobilis. From out of nowhere, a short, stocky valet (a human, Edmund noted) came running, halted in front of the four thrones and bowed so low the tips of his hair touched the floor. Then abruptly he straightened, thrust a wrapped box in Edmund's hands and scurried away.

Edmund put the box aside with as much dignity as he could muster, and then said, "We thank you most sincerely, King Nobilis."

King Nobilis smiled, flashing pearly-white teeth. "You are welcome, King Edmund." Then his face reverted back to its seriousness. "Forgive my bluntness, Majesties, but I do not have much time. I have business elsewhere, you see, urgent business that must be attended to. Would it grievously offend Your Majesties if we were to start at once?"

Queen Elegantia said, "Aw, come of it, Billy. Going to the goldsmith to demand another statue of yourself isn't as important as this, is it?"

King Nobilis gaped at his sister. Edmund and Peter looked at each other and simultaneously mouthed Billy?, the eyes of each echoing the other's slight mirth and incredulity. Lucy looked as if she was holding back laughter.

Remarkably but not unsurprisingly, Susan kept her composure. "It is no matter, King Nobilis," she said graciously. "Let us proceed."

"I thank you, Your Majesty," King Nobilis said, his face slightly red due to his sister's remark. "Now, what is your opinion about the Telmar route?"

"Don't be silly, Bill," said Queen Elegantia, rolling her eyes at him. "We might as well just invite them to war."

Peter almost smiled. To his side, Edmund said, his voice strangely high-pitched, "Yes, Your Majesty, your sister speaks rightly. We must use some other route."

But Peter was not interested in routes just then. "Ed," he whispered. "Are you all right? Do you need water?"

"I'm fine," Edmund mouthed back, before saying to King Nobilis, "I apologize. Now where were we?"

"The Telmar route –" started the King, but he was cut off once again by his sister.

"Billy, do you not understand what we are saying? We can't use the Telmar route. It is too dangerous."

"We shall have armies to protect us," Nobilis said haughtily. "We needn't out our lives at risk."

"But what about those of our men?" questioned Lucy.

"We are their sovereigns," said Nobilis indifferently. "It is their duty to protect us, to die for us if they must."

"We do not believe so," Peter said, as politely and pleasantly as he could. "We value the lives of our subjects, King Nobilis."

The King flushed. "I assure you, we do as well. But –"

Elegantia said coldly, "The silk for your pajamas is hardly worth the lives of our subjects, Billy."

Edmund sighed suddenly, his eyes half-closing. This time Susan and Lucy showed signs of concern too. "Ed!" said Lucy. "Are you quite all right?"

"Perhaps some other day, if His Majesty feels under the weather?" suggested Nobilis, but Edmund waved his off.

"I assure you that I am all right," he said, smiling apologetically at Peter, who was eying him with a worried frown. "I – I just felt a sneeze coming on, that's all."

And I'm a Faun, thought Peter. On a sudden, illogical whim he checked to see if there were hooves where his feet had been. There weren't, and he turned back to the foreign rulers, resuming the conversation.

Peter lay supinely on his back on his large bed three hours later, pondering Edmund's strange behavior. His brother had been perfectly fine the night before.

He wondered what was up. During the meeting Edmund had sighed five times, inhaled sharply thrice and gasped four times. In the end, an irritated Nobilis had all but demanded that the meeting be scheduled for later, when Edmund would be feeling better. Since his kingdom was too far, he and his sister were set up in the guest quarters of Cair Paravel.

Susan and Lucy had since retired to the Gentle Queen's quarters to discuss the meeting, and Peter and Edmund to theirs respectively. And ever since then Peter had worried over Edmund.

Just as he seriously considered getting up and going to see Edmund, the door opened and none other than the Just King walked in. Peter sat up in surprise; they stared at each other for a moment before Edmund said, "Hey, Pete."

"Hey, yourself," answered Peter with a smile and patted the bed next to him. "Come on in, Ed."

Uncertainly Edmund entered, walking towards Peter but not sitting next to him. Peter looked at him expectantly, but he wasn't meeting his eyes, instead opting to fidget with the edge of his shirt. "Ed," started Peter. "What's wrong? Sit, Ed," he added firmly when Edmund just stood there.

Reluctantly Edmund sat, but right on the edge of the bed. "Pete," he started, but was cut off.

"I will not listen to a word you say, Ed, if you don't sit right here, next to me. And don't act so formal. I'm your brother, Ed, not that prissy Nobilis."

Edmund let out a giggle. "He was, wasn't he?"

"Pompous peacock," agreed Peter with another smile, before getting serious again. He waited until Edmund had settled into the covers next to him, and then said, "So what is it, Ed? I got the feeling you weren't well."

"I was fine," Edmund said. "Just – nervous." He mumbled the last word.

"Nervous?" repeated Peter, astonished. "Ed, you're almost never nervous. And you were fine before they came."

"Before they came," muttered Edmund. His gaze fell to his hands in his lap. Then he continued, "See, his sister –"

"Did she bother you somehow?" asked Peter at once, switching into what Edmund liked to call Mother Hen Mode.

"No," answered Edmund. "It's just … she's very pretty, isn't she?"

"Why are you changing the subject?" asked Peter, looking his brother in the face.

"I'm not," protested Edmund. "It's just … she's pretty." The last part was a mumble.

Peter stared at Edmund worriedly for a minute, before reaching towards him and putting a hand on his forehead. "There's no fever," he concluded after a few seconds, and then seemed to go deep into thought. Suddenly he put both hands on Edmund's face and steered it to look towards him, ignoring his cry of protest. After staring intently into his eyes, he said, sounding confused, "I don't think you're possessed either … but then, what is wrong with you?"

Edmund pulled away from Peter's grip. "There is nothing wrong with me!" he exclaimed indignantly. And then suddenly his eyes went wide, and he moved closer to his big brother, before whispering, "Peter, I can't get her out of my head!"

"Who?" inquired Peter, now seriously concerned for Edmund's well-being.

"Elegantia," answered Edmund, and everything fell into place.

Peter, to Edmund's surprise, grinned. "Ed, I never thought I'd see this day."

"What day?" asked Edmund, but Peter didn't seem to be listening any longer.

"Mother has probably been waiting for this day ever since you were born. Pity she's not here to see this …"

"Pete, what on earth are you talking about?"

Peter stopped staring wistfully into space and looked at his brother. "Edmund," he said squarely, "you're in love."

Edmund stared at his brother, his mouth hanging open. Then he seemed to realize how undignified he looked, and shut it, before opening it again to say, "Rubbish, Pete. I can't be."

"And why not?" challenged Peter, a manic glint in his eyes.

"Because – because –" Edmund looked around Peter's room, as if hoping any hidden reason would reveal itself. When none did, he finished lamely, "Because I can't be."

"Yes, you can," contradicted Peter. "Anyone can."

"But girls are smelly and tidy and they have cooties!" protested Edmund half-heartedly.

Peter looked amused. "What are you, five?"

Edmund folded his arms tightly. "Prove it."

"Prove what?" asked Peter.

"That I'm – as you put it – in love." The last two words dripped with sarcasm.

Peter laughed. "All right, then. But remember – you asked for it." He paused, took a deep breath and went on, "You couldn't breathe properly when you saw her. You kept agreeing to everything she said. You kept inhaling deeply every time you smelled her perfume. And now you're telling me you can't get her out of your head, not to mention this conversation started with you praising her looks. Ed, you couldn't even keep your eyes off her." Peter chuckled. "You were very obvious, Ed, if I do say so myself."

Edmund blushed. "I was not!"

"So you don't deny that you're in love?" questioned Peter, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"I'm not in love!" insisted Edmund, his face still red. "I – I just really like her, that's all."

"For now," muttered Peter, and dodged the cushion Edmund threw at him.

"All right, whatever," said Edmund, giving in. "Now listen, Pete – stop laughing – I need your help."

"What is it?" asked Peter, his laughter ceasing.

Edmund got straight to the point. "How do I get her to notice me?"

Peter stared. "You're asking me for tips on getting a girl to notice you?"

"No, I'm asking Mr. Tumnus," replied Edmund sarcastically. "No, seriously, Peter. Help me out here."

"All right," Peter said. "I'll try. But mind," he added, "they might not work, OK? This is more Susan's forte, not mine."

"But I can't ask her!" Edmund protested.

"Why not?"

"Because – you're my big brother, Pete. Not Susan." Edmund looked down as he said this.

Peter was moved. "Thanks, Ed," he muttered, feeling touched.

"You're welcome. Now where were we?"

"All right, Ed." Peter strained his mind to think of something. "First of all, don't be so obvious. Act polite and all, but don't overdo it. If she finds out you like her, she might take the opportunity to play games with you."

"Why would anyone do that?" asked Edmund.

Peter shrugged. "Girls. We're never going to understand how their brains work." He added a wise nod, before saying, "And if she starts trying to get your attention – play hard to get. Pretend not to comprehend her advances, or her hints – you get the idea."

Edmund nodded.

"And – listen closely, this is very important – do not use pick-up lines. 'Are you Aslan? Because my world is icy when you're not around' or similar lines are the worst things that can happen to a potential relationship. Are you getting my drift, Ed? Good."

"I wasn't planning on using pick-up lines anyway," Edmund informed his brother. "In fact, I didn't even know that one. Where'd you pick it up?"

It was Peter's turn to blush. "I – er – I overheard one of Susan's suitors say that to her."

Edmund grinned. "In other words, you stalked them when they walked."

"Same difference," Peter said. "My point is – don't use pick-up lines."

"I told you, I wasn't going to. Anything else?"

"Yes. Do not ever mention another female in front of her, not even Mrs. Beaver. You never know what girls might take the wrong way. In fact, don't even praise Susan and Lucy too much."

"Got that."

"Good," repeated Peter, patting Edmund's head and causing him to scowl. "And if I were you, I'd try to speak of my fencing skills in front of her. Subtly, though. Wouldn't want to make her think you're boasting. And don't mention that time when Susan's arrow got you in the rear."

"Did you really think I was going to?" asked an indignant Edmund.

"No, but you never know," said Peter dismissively. "Always open the door for her, even if she insists she can do it herself. Act protective, but not too protective. That starts annoying them. Oh – and always, I repeat always, try your best to get along with her brother, no matter how stuck-up he may get."

"Is the last part really necessary?"

"I'm afraid so, Ed."

"Oh. Is that all?"

"No. By the way, if I were you I'd never ask her previous history with males. Or act jealous. Women get quite unreasonably mad when their history is brought up."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Eddy."

"Don't call me Eddy!"

"All right, Ed. So, like I was saying – if she cooks something for you, you always have to compliment it, even if it tastes like manure."

"I did not need that idea in my head."

"Listen to me, Ed. Never ever insult her friends – worst mistake you can ever make. And if she asks you how she looks – always say she looks beautiful. They don't accept anything less than that."

Edmund looked strangely at Peter. "Pete, I just asked how to get her to notice me. I'm not getting married to her!"

"You might," Peter said, grinning. "You never know, Ed."

Edmund blushed again. "I hate you," he mumbled.

"And I love you too," answered Peter, grinning even wider.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all. You might want to ask –"

"I am not asking Susan," said Edmund flatly. "I already told you why."

Peter's grin turned into a warm smile. "Thanks, Ed."

"Don't thank me," muttered Edmund, turning red for the third time.

They sat in amiable silence for a bit, before Edmund yawned and stretched. Peter looked out of his window and said, "I say, Ed, it's dark already!"

"Funny we didn't notice," yawned Edmund.

"Want to go down for dinner?" asked Peter, but Edmund shook his head.

"I'm not hungry, Pete."

"She might be there," pointed out Peter with a teasing grin, earning himself a glare and a hard nudge from Edmund.

"You really think so?" asked Edmund, when he was done elbowing his brother.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."

"Now you mention it, Pete … I am feeling a bit hungry after all."

Peter burst out in laughter. "Oh yes, Ed, I bet you're starving."

"Shut up," Edmund said, his voice dangerously whiny. "You wait till you fall in love, I'll never let you hear the end of it. In fact, I'll probably laugh till my dying day."

"I know you won't," Peter said.

"Watch me. Just you watch me, Pete, and we'll see who's laughing then."

They bantered like that all the way down to dinner (after having dressed, Edmund especially impressively for Elegantia). Right outside the door, they stopped and tried to keep their faces straight, but all it took was one look at each other and they started laughing again.

Just at that moment, the door to the dining-room opened and Elegantia walked out. She stopped when she saw the two laughing Kings, who seemed not to have noticed her. Giving them a puzzled glance, she looked around the corridor to see what was so funny, but having not found anything, walked back in.

Peter stopped laughing around five minutes later, and said, "Say, Ed, I wonder what would happen if Elegantia had walked out while we'd been laughing?"

Edmund looked mortified. "I'd have died of embarrassment."

They looked at each other, and started laughing again for no apparent reason.

Eh ... leave by a review, yeah? This is my first Narnia story.
-Peace