AN: Thank you so, so much to the people who reviewed the last chapter. I received eight reviews and am so very grateful to the people who took the time to tell me their opinion.

Disclaimer: I own many things. A bear pillow, a glass-encased clock, two pairs of stockings with a ladder in each... I do not, however, own the Chronicles.


"Edmund, pass me that knife."

Edmund sat up from his reclining position on the sofa and gave his little sister a dubious look.

"Lucy," he said, brushing his tousled hair into submission with his free hand, "we're not in Narnia any more. Why do you want a knife?"

"A butter knife, Edmund," said Lucy patiently. "You were lying on the handle. I have to put it in the dish rack."

"Oh," said eloquent Edmund, blushing pink and fishing the knife out from amongst the sofa cushions, "here you go."

Lucy smiled, curtseyed gently and took the knife from her brother's outstretched hand. She retreated to the kitchen, and placed the knife in its proper place.

"Edmund," she said, coming into the living room, "if I had asked for, say, your pocket knife, would you have given it to me?"

"Nope."

"But why, Edmund? I wouldn't have hurt myself."

"Not the point, Lu. You're so young here. Even though your mind remembers you as quite the little warrior --- stop blushing, Lu, you know it's true -- you're body isn't capable of keeping up. You're too little."

"Edmund, be that as it may, I'm not ten, no matter how much I may look it. I can handle the knife. My goodness, Ed, it's not like I'm going to go out and kill a Calorman with it."

"Ha, though you may try," smiled Edmund, tousling her hair. "The real reason, I suppose, is that Peter and I are so used to removing the dangers you face. From suitors to assassins, as you know. I'm sorry if we come across as overbearing, Lu, but you must see that after so many years, it's a difficult habit to break."

"I know, Ed, and I'm grateful," smiled Lucy in return, sitting beside her brother on the sofa, "but please tell me that you won't jump to my rescue every time you see a butter knife!"

"No, I won't Lu," laughed Edmund, "but I can't say the same if I see a fork."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," smiled Lucy, with mock seriousness, "now come help me do the dishes."

"What?"

"You said any danger, Edmund," said Lucy soberly, trying to keep the glint from her eyes, "and right now I'm feeling very threatened by the amount of crockery in the dish rack."

Edmund grinned good-naturedly and got to his feet. After all, it's always a good idea to keep to your promises.

"I'm washing, Lu."

And who could pass up an opportunity to shower a certain queen with suds?

Edmund, not being in a noble mood, was not about to let the opportunity pass.