AN: Another Susan-centred (or is it Edmund-centred?) chapter. I'm on a roll. This chapter is dedicated to all of you who suffer at the hands of a younger sibling, or, as in my case, younger siblings. You have my sympathy.
Reviews and Reviewers are loved to death.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish it was.
Queens do not get pimples.
Isn't that a rule?
Queens must be gentle, valiant, graceful, dignified - blemish-free.
Is it any wonder then, that on a beautiful sunny morning a Gentle Queen was sitting in her chambers, staring dolefully at her reflection in a gilded mirror?
Susan wasn't vain - far from it. She just wasn't sure if she would be able to stand Edmund's incessant teasing. The pimple was big - no, scratch that - it was huge, and the Gentle Queen knew it would provide ample fodder for Edmund's twisted sense of humour.
She wished, not for the first time, that he would grow up.
Staring at her reflection, the young girl touched the bump. It throbbed painfully, causing the tears to start to her eyes. She couldn't face the court and Edmund - it was asking too much of any mortal. But duty was duty, and no matter how unpleasant the task, she had to go through with it.
Peter, Edmund and Lucy were seated in the dining room, patiently waiting for their sister to make an appearance. Well, Peter and Lucy were waiting. Edmund, grinning mischievously, was making short work of the food.
" Edmund!" chided Lucy, snatching a muffin from his grasp. " Wait for Su!"
" Can't," was the muffled reply, as Edmund stuffed a boiled egg into his mouth.
" You can and you will," Peter said, thumping a choking younger brother on the back. " Really, Ed, you aren't starving."
" Need. More. Sausage." Was the only reply he received.
"Ed!" Peter and Lucy cried in unison.
" Well, you weren't dragged to bed without supper," stated Edmund, his voice regaining clarity after a swig of orange juice.
" And whose fault was that?" demanded Peter.
" Yours."
" M - Mine?" Peter spluttered, pushing his chair back and staring at his brother in amazement. " I wasn't the one who jumped from the second floor balcony onto the Palace guard. I wasn't the one who stole the chocolate cake from under the Cook's nose. And I wasn't the one who hid in the doorway and frightened that poor little badger into a fit!"
" Well, you jolly well should have been," smirked Edmund. " It was fun."
This unrepentant attitude displayed by his younger brother caused the High King, in a moment of most unkingly behaviour, to jump onto the table and pelt said younger brother with figs. Chaos ensued.
" Peter - Peter, stop!" laughed Edmund, after a particularly well-aimed fig found its mark. " I surrender - I surrender!"
" Very well then." Peter clambered off the table and sat back down in his chair. He stared unhappily at the squashed remains of a once splendid breakfast.
" Well, this is a fine to do," he said, picking up a flattened roll. " What do we do for breakfast now?"
" I'm full," a cheeky Edmund piped up. " I couldn't eat another fig."
" No," said Peter darkly, " you couldn't eat another fig, but I wonder if I could force it down your throat."
Edmund snickered.
" Well, I could ask the Cook for some more things," said Lucy.
" Brilliant, Lu. I'll come with you."
" No, Ed," said Lucy. " Don't you know that the Cook has banished you from her kitchen? That chocolate cake you sto- borrowed, was her pride and joy."
Edmund sat down grumbling. His fall from favour with the Cook sat heavily on his mind. His exile from Happiness, as he called it, would have to be fixed before he died of hunger.
" I'll go with you, Lu," said Peter, with a teasing grin at his crestfallen brother.
Edmund frowned.
The oldest and the youngest Pevensie departed.
Thus it fell out that Susan, finally finding the courage to enter the dining room, was greeted by the gloomy, pensive face of her little brother.
" Hullo, Ed," she squeaked, her hand moving to her nose. " Where's Peter and Lucy?"
" They're basking in the light of the pantry," groaned Edmund, slumping into his chair.
" What?"
" Getting something to eat."
"Oh."
" What's wrong, Su?" asked Edmund suddenly, brightening perceptibly and sitting up in his chair. " Why are you covering your nose?"
" Oh, no reason. How long have they been gone?"
" Twenty minutes, give or take a year. What's wrong with your nose?"
Susan flushed and gave her brother a death glare.
" Nothing's wrong with my nose," she said.
" Then why are you hiding it?"
" I'm not hiding it."
" Then take your hand away."
" Since when has my nose been any of your concern, Edmund?" Susan asked coldly.
" Since you became so obsessed with hiding it," Edmund quickly replied.
Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and, at that moment, Susan wished it would kill Edmund.
" I'm not obsessed," she countered hotly.
How long this useless and repetitive argument went on, none could say. Let us then skip to the moment when Peter and Lucy made their appearance, their arms laden with food.
" Hullo, Susan," said Peter, setting his loot on the long table. " What's wrong?"
" Nothing's wrong, Peter," an exasperated Susan said, trying to keep her tone light. " Let's eat. I'm starving."
She moved to the table, sat down gracefully, and picked up a napkin.
True to form, Edmund burst out laughing.
" Look at your nose," he cried, rocking on his chair. " It's red as a tomato and twice as big. Ha ha!"
" Oh, do shut up," hissed Susan.
" It's red as a cherry. It's red as - OW!"
Peter's foot had shot out and kicked Edmund's already tottering chair. The young boy landed on his back.
Now it was Susan's turn to laugh.
" Not fair, Peter," said Edmund, from his position on the floor.
" It is when you tease Susan," Peter retorted. " Apologise."
" I'm sorry," said Edmund with twinkling eyes. " I'm sorry that your nose is -"
"Ed!"
" I'm sorry.
Nothing more was said after that. Indeed, Susan's nose returned to normal in a couple of days. Two years after this, however, a frantic Edmund darted from his chambers.
" Look at my nose!" he cried, pointing to a large, red bump on that feature.
Peter and Lucy gasped. Susan sniggered.
Revenge is always sweet. However belated it may be.