AN: I'll let you be the judge on whether you like this chapter or not. Let's just say that I was suffering from an acute case of writer's block.

Disclaimer: Not mine. It belongs to a genius who is probably rolling in his grave.

With her head on the table, and her hand in the sugar pot, Lucy was trying to wake up sufficiently to yell at her brother. Said brother, known to some as the Just, was grinning mischievously from the other end of the table. He looked bright and cheerful. Disgustingly cheerful, in Lucy's opinion, and was drumming a merry tune on the table-cloth.

" 'Wake yet, Lu?" he asked.

" No. Do you know what time it is?" was the snappish reply, as Lucy raised her head to stare at her brother.

" Somewhere in the region of four in the morning," proffered Edmund.

" Exactly! What insane person drags their younger sister to the breakfast table at four in the morning?" cried Lucy, blinking bleary eyes. " I'm going back to bed."

Edmund sniffed. " Don't you know what day it is?"

" If it isn't brother-extermination day, I'm not interested." Lucy was not in a good mood, at all. She got to her feet and staggered from the room, muttering something Edmund was sure Susan would not approve of. The massive door slammed with a bang.

Left alone, Edmund stared dolefully into his porridge. He twirled his butter knife and sighed deeply. He leant on his elbow and tried to think. Inspiration came in a flash. Rising from his chair, he ran from the room.

" Susan! Suuuusan! Wake up!"

Susan, her normal poise shattered, started up at Edmund's shriek and promptly tumbled off the bed.

Crack!

The sound of Royal head hitting Royal floor echoed through the room.

" Edmund Pevensie!"

Edmund cringed unintentionally and went into defence mode. Crouching on the floor, his hands splayed over his head, he waited with undaunted courage for Susan's customary tirade on the importance of eight hours sleep.

Silence.

Rising cautiously, Edmund peered around the end of the bed and frowned. Susan was asleep. This really wasn't fair - at all. If he was wakeful, Susan should be wakeful. It was the natural order of things.

Edmund slunk round to the other side of the bed and poked his sister in the arm. A quiet snore was the only answer he received. He poked again - harder, this time. A disgruntled snort was his reward. Edmund set his teeth and gave his sister's hair a light pull.

" Suuusan," he whispered in her ear.

Susan's eyes shot open. She was angry - very angry. Grabbing her brother by the scruff of his neck she hauled him out into the hall and dumped him against the wall.

" Go back to bed!" she shouted, as she bolted her bedroom door.

Recovering sufficiently from the shock of Susan's new-found strength, Edmund sauntered down the hall towards Peter's bedroom door. It was four-thirty now. There was no reason in Narnia why Peter should be in bed. He knocked briskly on the High King's door.

A familiar sound greeted him. Namely, the sound of silence.

" Peter," Edmund hissed, pushing the door open with his toes. " Peter! Wake up."

It was dark in the room and, as Edmund stumbled forward, he tripped over a low table and knocked something to the floor. Peter's snores stopped. Grumbling softly, a disgruntled Edmund got to his feet and felt around for a candle. He found one and lit a match. The match burnt out and Edmund grumbled, louder this time, about dratted elder brothers and drafty chambers. A second match was lit. It fell promptly to the ground.

A long, glistening sword was pressed to a startled Edmund's throat. Blinking painfully, the young King tried to see who his attacker was. He sighed in relief.

" Peter."

Peter, leaning forward so that his nose almost touched Edmund's, peered into his brother's face with squinted eyes.

" Edmund? What in the blazes are you doing here?"

" I'm playing blind-man's bluff with Orieus," was the sarcastic answer, as Edmund pushed the sword from his throat.

" Ha ha, very funny. Come on, Ed. I know that's not the reason."

" Well," admitted Edmund, lurching to his feet (he never knew how close he was to nicking his arm on Rhindon). " I came to see if you wanted to get up now. It's a beautiful morning."

" Ed. It's still dark."

" That's beside the point," said Edmund airily. " It could be a what-you-may-call-it. You know, when the sun doesn't shine."

" An eclipse?"

" Yes."

" Ed, it can't be five o' clock yet."

" Early to be, early to rise," quoth Edmund merrily.

" I went to bed late," said Peter.

" Oh, come on, Peter," a frustrated Edmund exclaimed. " You know you want to get up."

" No, Ed," Peter said firmly. " I'm going back to bed. You know how important eight hours is when you - "

" Oh, don't give me the Susan speech," Edmund interrupted rudely, before turning on his heel and storming out. Peter, with a small, bewildered grin, threw himself back into his bed. He fell asleep instantly.

Meanwhile, a wrathful Edmund paced the halls of Cair Paravel. Selfish siblings was uppermost in his mind. Silently bewailing the lack of pockets in his night-shirt, he folded his arms and tried to make his steps loud and heavy. They became heavier and heavier without his knowledge, and soon he fell to the ground, fast asleep.

Peter, Susan and Lucy found him there several hours later, at a more earthly time. They smiled fondly.

" Do you think he'll ever stop doing this?" Susan asked, kneeling by his side and smoothing the hair from his eyes.

" Nup," Peter snorted. " Not 'til he's old and grey."

" It is cute that he's so excited about his birthday," Lucy cooed, kneeling beside her sister. " If only he'd wait until we were all more awake and less grumpy."

" I'll carry him to his bed," Peter said abruptly, scooping his younger brother into his arms. " Susan, will you get the door?"

" Of course."

And, while Susan prepared a frilly ball sure to disgust him, the birthday boy slept soundly, dreaming of how he would annoy his siblings next year.