An: When I wrote this story it was nothing but a one-shot... and then, somehow, I ended up with this chapter. Now more chapters are shaping in my head.

I have no idea where the idea for this chapter came from. It just wanted to be written, and I complied. Blame the plot bunny.

No Susan in this one, poor dear, but she will be in the next one. If I write another one... it depends on the reviews.

That said, please review. I love feedback. It inspires me and encourages me to continue writing.

Enough with the Author's notes. On with the story!

Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to a genius of a man who is, unfortunately, dead.

It is a universally acknowledged truth that older siblings must help and tolerate those siblings younger than themselves. Peter accepted this knowledge solemnly, Susan accepted this knowledge gracefully, Edmund did not accept it at all.

" You know full well what a nuisance Lucy can be, Peter," aforementioned youth complained to his older brother one autumn day. " Whenever I want to do something alone, she's there, at my elbow, going on and on about Heaven knows what."

" I could almost say the same about you," Peter observed dryly, as he flipped through a thick volume of Narnian history. " I thought you loved Lucy."

" Come now, Peter, is that fair? You know I love her - we all do. But sometimes, well, let's just say that my generous and easy-going nature can only take so much prattle."

" Edmund, let me make two things clear. One, Lucy never prattles. Two, since when have you displayed signs of a generous or easy-going nature?"

Thump.

Peter looked up with an injured air as his younger brother handed him back his Narnian history.

" Really, Ed, was that necessary?" Peter's tone matched his air.

" Yes," was the curt answer.

Peter, breathing in deeply, was on the point of a scathing reply, when Lucy poked her head in at the door.

" Edmund, will you go riding with me?" she asked.

" No." Edmund's tone was harsh. Harsher, perhaps, then he intended it to be.

" Why not?" Lucy's voice quivered slightly, as she fixed large blue eyes on her brother's face.

" Busy."

" Doing what?"

" Arguing with blondie."

Peter did not appreciate the nickname. Rising from his chair, he gave his brother a loud cuff to the back of the head.

" Be nice to Lucy, Edmund," he admonished.

" Shan't." Edmund sounded like a spoilt child.

" Be nice."

" No."

"Ed," Peter said, his voice taking on its no-nonsense tone. " Do I have to force you to go riding with your sister?"

" Why don't you go with her then?" Edmund parried.

" I have very important duties to attend to."

" Oh, yes, I'm sure the kingdom will fall apart if you don't have your bubble-bath at three O' clock."

Peter glared.

" Who told you?"

Edmund gaped.

" You mean it's true?"

Peter, his face a brilliant shade of red and purple, stammered: " N-no... I mean... No, of course not. Little joke. Erhem. That isn't that point. Either you go riding with Lucy or I proclaim to the world that you wear braces on your tights."

" Is it my fault if the dryads made them three sizes too large?"

" Don't skirt the issue, Edmund."

" And Narnia isn't the world."

" It's close enough."

It was Edmund's turn to glare.

" To think the High King should resort to blackmail," he sneered, pulling self-consciously at that offending item of clothing. " Fine. I'll go riding with Lucy. I'll listen to her prattle. I'll even refrain from suffocating you while you sleep tonight. If I do all that will you leave me alone for at least a week?"

" If you don't mention the bubble-bath to anyone I'll leave you alone for a month," bargained Peter.

" Done."

With a shaking of hands and another bout of glares the deal was sealed.

" Now then, Lucy," Peter began, turning to the door. His sister was not there. " Lu?"

" Must have left when we were arguing," said Edmund, flopping back down into his chair and picking up the book of Narnian history. " Oh well."

" Go find her."

" Why?"

" One word - braces."

" Another word, Peter - bubbles."

" Braces trump bubbles. Go find her." There was that no-nonsense tone again.

The Just King departed in a fine temper, softly vowing under his breath to make Peter - or those Dryads - pay. With an occasional tug at his tights (why were they bothering him now?) he began scouring the rooms and halls. Finally it dawned on him to check the only place he had not yet explored - her bedroom.

She was there, of course, sitting by the window humming a Narnian lullaby. She did not look up as he entered, but continued her song. Edmund wondered (not without a glimmer of hope) if she was ignoring him.

" Um, Lu," Edmund said, sidling in and sitting opposite her in a large rocker. " I'll go riding with you."

More Humming.

" Fine!" Edmund stood and huffed towards the door.

" I wouldn't want to disturb you with my prattle," Lucy blurted out, stopping her song abruptly.

Edmund paused, his hand on the door, and spun around.

" Your prattle?" he asked, feigning innocence while trying to ignore the redness of his ears.

" Yes, the one which makes me a nuisance."

Edmund's blush spread along the back of his neck.

" I didn't really mean it, Lucy. I was just joking."

" You sounded awfully convincing to me." Lucy's tone up to this point had been one of levity. It now became hurt and slightly angry. " Do I annoy you that much?"

Edmund, inwardly cursing Peter, sat beside Lucy on the window seat and tweaked her nose.

" I'm sorry, Lucy. You know what a grump I can be sometimes."

Lucy smirked.

" Only sometimes?"

" Alright, a lot of the time. Anyway, the point is this. Even though you're prattle does annoy me if I'm in a bad mood, I much prefer it to Peter's tales of heroism. Now, those really get on my nerves."

" And you don't mind my prattle when you're in a good mood?"

" No, I rather like it."

" You're a good brother, Edmund."

" I know."

They lapsed into silence.

" Edmund," Lucy said suddenly, " when I was leaving I heard something about bubbles. What was that about?"

Edmund smirked mischievously. His deal with Peter went out the window.

" You must be silent as the grave if I tell you, Lucy. Promise?"

" Cross my heart."

Whisper. Snicker. Whisper. A plan was formed.

Later that day, at precisely three O' clock, a Magnificent king strutted towards his bathroom and shut the door. A knock sounded instantly. Aforementioned king opened it. Puzzled, he gazed left and right, seeking the knocker. No-one. He was on the point of closing the door when a neat little package, complete with note, caught his eye. He picked it up off the floor.

Dear Peter, (the note read)

Enclosed you will find a small bottle of the bubble-bath Su and I use. It's called Fragrance of the Flowers. I hope you find it useful.

Your sister,

Lucy.

P.S. I often wondered what made you smell so sweet.

Lucy.

And, while Peter fumed, a brother and a sister exchanged a high-five around the corner.

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