A/N: I'm baa-ack. Did you miss me? Sorry about how long I've been gone. Chapter 1 and 2 have been edited slightly, the way. I focused specifically on changing Edmund's last line in 'Faith'. It just sounded too cheesy and OOC. Though the replacement may actually end up being only slightly better. Oh well...

To WillowDryad: Yes, but luckily the boys are fictional and just awesome like that (*sighs at how incredibly cliché that sounded*), so we get to have our little fun without getting a life sentence. :)

…And I just realized how dark that sounded. Hm…

To MissShakespeare72: So- here's your update! I'm sad to say that it's likely neither the talk at the Cair nor my Always companion will be up for a long time - I have so many other plot bunnies bouncing around in my head! (See the 'My Stories' section at the bottom of my profile for more on that, and on why I've been gone so long!) – but there will hopefully soon be some other brotherfics up for you to enjoy if you're so inclined. My next new fic up will actually be a short one about Susan in England as an adult. If you want to check out, I'd really like it.

Also- Companion, pretty please! (For 'Our Farewell'.) It would make me ever so happy.

And on my Always companion- The Calormene was a nice twist. If you don't mind, I think I might extend my companion further than one chapter, depending on what comes up.

You know, at the rate I read and review you two, I bet I just annoy you by now, don't I? Oh well. You're stuck with me. (As a reader, anyway.) :)

And now, a big thanks to my:
Chap. 2 Reviewers- MissShakespeare72 and WillowDryad
New Story Alerters- MissShakespeare72, XxHanneke, mysticmoon1331 and Mila31
New Story Favoriter- mysticmoon1331
New Author Alerters- Carannlau, and the lovely monsterinourheads (that message helped to brighten my day :)).

~Caity :)

Chapter rating: K+

TRIGGER WARNING: Emotional moments, severe physical injuries, references to warfare (and any and all forms of bloodshed/injury) and its impact on one's state of being.

Peas [1]
"Peter, Lucy, Edmund, dinner's ready!" Susan called.

"Um, Susan? We're right behind you." Lucy said, smiling down to Susan from a couple stairs above her.

"Oh, well come on then."

As they sat down Edmund looked at his food. Peas. Dang. 'Oh well, I just won't eat them,' he thought.

About half an hour later, Peter sat back in his chair. "That was good." Edmund agreed.

"Oh, wait, Edmund, you haven't eaten your peas." Edmund shot an irritated look at his brother, but nodded.

"Well eat them." Susan insisted. Edmund was getting rather tired of her continuous attempts to make him eat more.

Edmund refused.

When Susan still insisted, he told her, "I will say it to you once again: If you love me, you won't make me eat peas. They are not Narnian."

Susan was evidently quite frustrated, for she went so far as to roll her eyes.

"Edmund, eat your peas."

"Fine, mother."

Pumpkin [2]

"You look different…"

"Edmund?"

"Very different. Short, and round, and- orange, you're o'ange-"

"Edmund!" Peter cried out as he jumped off his horse and ran to support Edmund, who had swayed, and nearly fallen off his horse when he fainted. "Great Lion, Edmund." Peter said to his unconscious brother (whose weight was actually starting to become rather noticeable), as a soldier took Edmund's horse, and he carried the other boy over to his own. "Now my horse is going to have to carry both of us!" His tone was rather gruff, but the undercurrent of worry was quite noticeable. "Well," he told Edmund, his worry mounting as he trotted along with his concussed brother in front of him, "this teaches me not to take your word on these things. I'll only get mistaken for a pumpkin!" He exclaimed. His voice was tight, however, and seemed shocked and worried instead of sarcastic. He looked in the direction of Cair Paravel, counting the hours until their arrival.

Juice [3]
The flower juice is such a wondrous thing, Susan thinks. Always both loved and hated at the same time.

She loves how it brings back her siblings from even the edge of death, revitalizing them.

She hates how using the flower juice usually means they're so close to death that it's unlikely anything else would work. She hates the wait, the frantic mess that is flying there with that diamond bottle, always hoping she won't be too late. And worse than that is those rare times when she barely gets there in time, and the breath stops. They always breathe again, yet those moments feel like eternities, and it still haunts her sometimes, those times they might not have, and how in the future they might not…

She loves the taste of the fire-flower, ethereal, indescribable, blissful, sweet. It brings her back to life.

What she hates the most, therefore, is the look that it sometimes brings to her siblings when it is she who needs the cordial. Though their hands are tender, and there is caring and worry and hurt in their eyes, that look is the look of one who knows that someone beloved to them has been terribly hurt, who knows that that person was the only target; even if that anger is only shows for a moment.

But, Lion's Mane, she was blessed.

Red [4]
There were many kinds of red that Lucy knew.

There was the red of beauty.
Of Susan's carmine dress that she was sure Su would be wearing when they got home.

The red of passion, like the rose Edmund had tucked behind her ear as he reminded her that she wasn't named Valiant for nothing.
He wished he could come, but she would be fine.

...And there was the crimson of blood. She could see some on Peter, and felt it on herself, and she could remember quite clearly how…
She tried not to think of that.

She knew now, though, that there would be a talk in their tent this evening.
There would be many talks about such now…

But then there was scarlet.
The color of her kingdom.

The color of her tunic, the one she wore now.
Scarlet, so close to that terrible shade of crimson...

But it wasn't.

It was the color of the lioness on the shield laid against a nearby rock.
Aslan calls you his lioness and he quite agreed, her eldest brother had told her.

And it was the color of the lion on the shield propped up beside hers.
Peter's.

Her brother, who stood slightly ahead of her, making yet another victorious speech at the end of yet another campaign.
Her first.

Her brother, who brought a cheer from the lips of even the weariest of his troops, thrusting the scarlet banner into the air before they started home.

Scarlet, the color of Narnia in all its glory.

In that moment, she thought, Peter was the embodiment of his title, of his country.
Magnificent.

Pickle [5]
"…Peter?"

"Yes, Susan?"

"I know you're not the best archer, but surely even you know that's not the proper use of an arrow!"

Arrow [6]
"But it works so well… and it tastes so good!"

"Give me back my arrow. Now."

"Well…"

"Now that that's settled… Peter!"

"Peter Pevensie, you stop chasing me right now!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY DELICIOUS DILL PICKLE!"

[1] Another one written by my sister; inspired by Uyanga's Don't Ask of Me.

[2] See, look what I do! I get the word 'pumpkin' and give you a concussed/hallucinating Edmund!
I have no idea where this vignette came from, honestly. I really don't.
Also- this was written just a bit after the Battle of Beruna, so Peter and Edmund's relationship isn't completely comfortable yet.

[3] Once again, somehow, to me juice=death/despair… Well, kind of.

[4] And this is the one my sister thought I would turn all dark… it isn't even as bad as 'Juice'!

[5] This is, of course, a sequel to 'Pickle'.
Here we find out about Peter's dill pickle obsession.
Ah, those adolescent boys. How often they act like five-year-olds.