But let me see you smiling
With the smile I know so well;
Forget the world of shadows,
And the empty broken shell.
-

"Stop it!" Sanya hissed, as she felt Edmund's hand on her knee. "Of all the places- and you know I'm having my-"

"I'm not about to finger you in front of my family, I'm just trying to still your knee!" Edmund rolled his eyes, thanking God internally that Sanya's hiss had been quite low. "You're making the whole table shake."

"Oh." His wife said, blinking. Why did that disappoint her? He obviously couldn't do anything while she was on her period- or while in front of company. "Sorry. Can't help it, it's-"

Then she went suddenly silent, as did his siblings, and Edmund knew that his parents had entered the dining room.

"Mum, Dad!" Peter said, blinking as his parents headed to their seats. He'd been late, too- he'd been staring at his acceptance to Victoria University of Manchester- but his parents had been even more late. "I thought you'd got lost or something."

"There was far too long a line at the bank." George said, shaking his head. "I, being a fool, thought it would be empty, since Tuesday is a weekday and most would be at work-"

"But, unfortunately, most had the same idea as your father, and took the afternoon off their jobs to get their bank work done." Helen completed, sitting down with a loud sigh. She looked at the dishes and cutlery spread out over the table, as well as the neat servings of the meals in different bowls and plates. "Susan, dear, you've outdone yourself."

"Thank you, Mum." Susan smiled, before adding, nodding to Sanya, "She helped with the arrangement of the dishes, actually. I was getting hopelessly confused."

That was a lie. Sanya had shown up late, with a comb stuck in her hair and sweating profusely because she had gone to the wrong street and thus had had to run to the right one. The only helpful thing she had done was to distract Edmund enough that he stopped annoying Susan with his inputs on where what should be.

"Isn't that lovely?" Helen's smile seemed about to fade, but she somehow kept it alive. "Thank you, S- so much."

"You're welcome." Sanya said quietly, her own attempt at a smile failing miserably.

"Still, regardless of the help you had from- from Ed's girlfriend, Susie, this is quite a commendable spread you've arranged." George said, reaching out to squeeze his daughter's hand. "I'm very proud."

Susan blushed, "Thanks, Father."

Peter began, "We're actually done with eating, though- you came really late-"

Lucy, who had half a plate of food left, began to eat faster.

"So we were thinking we could go out for a walk."

"It's very hot outside." George warned, though he had no intentions of refusing. Fresh air and nature always did good. "Best not wear coats- or hats."

"Oh, no." Edmund said drolly, knowing this last word was aimed at him. "But hats are my identity."

His parents laughed, and Helen said, "Go on, then, have fun, you four."

"Five." The dry humour in Ed's voice vanished, and he got to his feet. "Five of us, Mum."

Sanya tugged at her husband's sleeve, "It's alright- she's used to you four, she didn't mean-"

As though she hadn't spoken, Edmund went on, "And her name is Sanya. Saan-yaa. It rhymes with-" Narnia, "lasagna. Actually, it practically is the last two syllables of lasagna- it's not a hard name to pronounce. And I'd prefer it if-"

"Edmund-" Sanya bravely tried to stop him- oh, why couldn't he have done this in private? When she wasn't around to hear the brunt of the inevitable glares and jeers? "Ed, come on, I'll pick flowers to put in your hair-"

He did acknowledge her this time, glancing at her with a soft smile on his face. "One moment, darling."
Then he turned back to his parents, who seemed shell-shocked, "As I was saying. I would prefer it if you didn't make comments about my w- my girlfriend's beauty, of which she has much-" he felt a warm hand slide into his, "and about her religion- and especially about the skin colour that our hypothetical children," but they hadn't been hypothetical, "may or may not have."

"Perhaps we should leave the room?" Lucy murmured to Peter, who was beside her. "This seems private."

"No, I want to see what happens." Then he nodded to her plate, which was not yet empty. "And you're not done eating."

"Ed, son, I don't know what-"

"I heard you." Edmund cut his father off before he could lie.
Well, what he said was a lie, too- but it was better than his parents realising that Susan had eavesdropped on them. He knew she wanted them to forgive her transgression on the French exam.
"After you thought Sanya and I had left, when you were talking in the kitchen."

George and Helen shared a quick, shameful look.

"Sweetheart, we're sorry. We truly are- we should never have said, or even thought that." Helen spoke genuinely, her eyes downcast. She looked to Sanya, "We apologise, S-S-Sanya. We were just- surprised."

"And afraid." George added. "We didn't quite know how to make of something so new- and so unexpected- so woefully out of our depth."

"Really? Your go-to response to something shocking is to be-" racist?
But Edmund choked on the word. These were his parents. Even though he knew that racist was what they had been- he knew they had not been so knowingly.
"Cruel?"

George bit his lip, "We can give reasons, but there are no excuses for what we said."

"It's- it's alright, Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie." It wasn't alright, but- really, what they had said were practically glowing compliments compared to what her classmates said. "Thank you for the apology, though."

"Perhaps if we get to know you better-"

"No." Sanya said, surprising her husband's parents, and her husband himself. "Sorry, it's just- I don't- I don't- it won't work."

Helen frowned, "You don't know that. I understand it takes time to be comfortable around new people- but if you care about Edmund, as you say you do-"

"I love Edmund." She shot to her feet. That familiar bubble of anger was rising inside her, and she was sure that her grip on Edmund's hand would be painful for him, soon. "More than anyone alive. More than you can imagine. But that does not mean that I'll subject myself to painfully awkward meals like this one, just so I can win your approval and get into your good graces."

A vein was bulging in George's forehead, and he leaned ahead, "Edmund would do his best to get along with your parents-"

"My parents are dead." And they had loved Edmund, before he had disappeared and they had died. He'd never had to try too hard with them, or act like someone he wasn't- they'd loved him as he was. "That argument doesn't work, Mr. Pevensie."

She had to get out of here. She didn't- she hadn't wanted- this was why she stayed quiet! Not just because of her shyness and chronic lack of social aptitude- but because of the possibility of her saying things that ruined the whole occasion and hurt people.

"Thank you for the pie." She'd barely eaten any of it. It wasn't just the lack of appetite, or the effects of her time in Gaithera- she felt strange eating here. Eating felt taboo, almost. "It was great."
Dropping Edmund's hand- he'd come after her, she knew- she all but ran out of the room.

"Well, Mum, Dad." Edmund said flatly, after three minutes of difficult silence. "Is she talkative enough for you now?"
And then he, too, walked out.

Edmund couldn't see Sanya anywhere- he'd hoped, though he knew it was a stupid hope, that she would be waiting by the door- but she wasn't.

Standing on the street before his house, he looked around. If she was heading back to her house, he could catch up to her- though she did run surprisingly fast- but if she wasn't...

It wasn't as though she had any place around here that comforted her. Unlike in Narnia, where she had the beach and the Library and Moonlight's stable-stall- unlike in Rihaaya, where she had her room and Library and abandoned council rooms and several other spots in the palace to hide in- there was nowhere like that here.

Apart from the forest behind their schools and the zoo, he didn't think there was a single place in England she even liked.

He was beginning to regret his outburst.

Not the defending his wife and children- but the time he had chosen to do it. He hadn't even planned it- he had been thinking of confronting them later in the summer hols, where he'd have a calm and private conversation with them.

It was what the Just King would have done.

But Edmund Pevensie was far from being as collected or thoughtful as him.

"Ed." It was Lucy, closely followed by Peter and Susan, who approached him- looks of concern etched over all their faces. "Sanya?"

He shook his head, "Don't know. I can't think of where she's gone- and she's had a head-start-"

"But Sanya's lazy. Even if she had a day's head-start, she wouldn't have made it further than the next street." Peter said, sounding quite matter-of-fact. "She can't be far, we'll look for her."

Edmund didn't look convinced, "Perhaps it should just be me-"

"She's our family." Susan said simply. "And she's been hurt by people who are our family, too. It should be all of us."

Lucy nodded emphatically, "It's our responsibility to make sure she's okay."

"Besides, if she's still raging, best to have someone who has experience in matters of anger." Peter said, shrugging.

Edmund felt sudden warmth for his siblings. England or Narnia- they were always there for him. Even when he didn't deserve it, even when they shouldn't be- they were there.
"Thanks." He smiled a little, and the four began to walk down the street. "If she wants to punch someone, we'll be nominating you, Pete, by the way-"

Peter held his head high, "I can take it."

Susan heard the faint note of nervousness and uncertainty in his voice, and hid a smile.

They found Sanya soon, almost an hour later. She was not at home- as an irate maid informed the Pevensie siblings, after they rang the doorbell eight times- or at the corner-shops, where Peter took too much time to buy some sweets for Lucy- or lying down on the road somewhere, waiting to get drenched in the rain that had been forecasted for that evening.

(It was, obviously, Peter who had suggested the possibility of that last location.)

She was in the park.

They had checked in the park first, but she had not been there then- Lucy had suggested that they check once again, just in case.

The park was two houses away from the Rainsford house, and was a small yet beloved bit of land. Most of the park was plain grass for the children to run on, with flowerbeds at one corner and trees at two other corners- but part of it boasted of a small see-saw, on which no one above eight would fit, and a swing-set next to one of the trees.

And it was on one of the swings that Sanya sat. She wasn't just lethargically teetering back and forth, as people who were sad and/or having the time of the month would- she was swinging with great gusto, her feet kicking the ground hard for momentum to push the swing higher and practically flying up into the air.

And she was laughing.

Edmund stopped at the entrance of the park, his siblings coming up behind him- and he just stared.

Her dark hair had come loose from its ponytail, and it whipped about behind her like the flag on a ship- her dress, too, billowed in the wind like flower petals unfolding after too long as a bud- and she was happy.

He could barely see her face, since she was constantly in motion and was rather far away- but she seemed happy.

"Ed!" She called as she spotted him, as she came down to earth and then kicked off again, swinging back into the air.

He waved, walking inside the park- it was empty except for her and three other children running around one of the trees, since most kids did not come to play until it was early evening.
Three children.
He pushed the reminder that he was the father to three dead children, whom he'd never see again, away.
"Hi, Moonshine! Having fun?"

She might have nodded, but he couldn't be sure. She was still laughing, though.
"L-look-" She took her hands off the chains that fastened the swing-seat to the structure, "no hands!"

"No!" Edmund yelled, darting closer. "Hold the chains- Sanya! You'll fall and I am not equipped to catch you-"

Her nod may not have been clear, but the tongue she stuck out at him was- and she wrapped her hands around the chains again.

The next time she came down, a few seconds later, she did not kick off into the air again- instead, she stumbled off the seat, onto the plain ground, stumbled again and fell into Edmund's waiting arms.

"So much for not being equipped to catch me." Sanya whispered, as his arms tightened around her waist. "Sorry that I ran away."

"Don't say sorry- I'm sorry that I yelled about you to my parents in front of you." He whispered back, smiling as he felt her breathing ease. "It was putting you on the spot and in an insanely uncomfortable situation- I shouldn't have-"

"You defended me. And our babies." She murmured, leaning her forehead against his. "And I already know how bad your timing is, remember? No need to apologise."

"My parents-"

"I don't care about your parents." She said firmly. If he wanted to talk about them- well, unfortunate, because she did not. "I care about you. Only you."
Then she looked behind him, where his siblings were staring at the couple. As they saw that she was watching them, Peter and Susan attempted to act as though they had been looking at something else- while Lucy, never one for falsehoods, waved cheerily.
She giggled, waving back, before continuing to Edmund, "And them."

"Who knew swinging for twenty minutes could lift your mood so much?" Edmund pondered out loud. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. Seeing you happy is all I want."

Her eyes twinkled, and she raised a brow at him, "All you want?"

He blushed deeply, "I'm not going to let you go down on me in a public park-"

"But it would be such an adventure." She said teasingly. "The Finchley version of having sex in the Eastern Ocean."

"You-" He said, pecking her lips, "are a bad influence on me, Ms. Reza."

"Mrs. Reza-Pevensie." She corrected.
Her heart felt so light, almost akin to a cloud. She shared Edmund's query- who knew playing on a swing for a bit could make her happy? Was the emotional imbalance because she was having her moonblood?
Yes, it was possible to be swinging on swings even whilst blood comes out of a certain orifice and all your bones hurt- as Sanya had just found out, much to her pleasure.
At any rate, the good mood would dip and fade soon- but she'd enjoy it while it lasted.
Plus, the moonblood was almost at an end. That would help the good mood to last a bit longer.
"Come, I can go down on you in my room-"

"How I regret volunteering to come talk to you." Peter said in a pained voice, and the couple turned to see the blond standing right by them, great distaste on his face. "Why are you two- doing things? You're far too young."

"We're not doing anything we aren't ready for." Sanya gave him a look. "And our sex life is none of your business."

"What in the-" He looked downright sickened. "Don't tell me you're already having sex-"

"We're not." They said in unison, mentally adding 'yet', before Sanya asked, "How are you wearing a sweater, Pete? Aren't you boiling?"

Pete. It had been something everyone called him- but after returning from Narnia, it only just reminded him of Caspian.
"Finchley is not a desert." He defended himself. It was nice, though, despite being insulted, to be thinking about something apart from not being accepted to Cambridge. The letter hadn't come yet- with an acceptance or a rejection- but he'd heard from enough people that, if the letter didn't come before July, it was a rejection.
Maybe he'd enlist, instead. He'd been worrying about it for ages- he was of age, and he had experience in battle, and a call-up may come any day.
But his family needed him. Even though his father was back- they needed him. He had to be there.
And he wasn't sure if he wanted any more battle.
"And it's a very thin sweater."

"It is hot, though." Edmund, who had his sleeves rolled up till his elbows and wore no coat because of the heat, said. He raised an arm at him, and waved it at his face, "See."

Peter scowled, "We were not talking about my wardrobe choices, we were talking about you two-"

"Oh, stop fussing, Peter. We're not having sex."
Yet.
And he continued, "Why are you so scandalised, though? As if fifteen-year-olds don't have sex- did you know that Duke Charles of Orléans and Sultan Ahmed of the Ottoman Empire had children already by the time they were fourteen?"

"No. I didn't."
How did Ed store such strange facts in his head? Peter envied him that quality, and he'd envy it even more once he actually got into a university that he didn't constantly compare to Cambridge.
"Why do you know that- and, seriously, they were fathers at fourteen?"

"Well, Sultan Ahmed h-"

"Sool-taan." Sanya told her husband. She hadn't noticed his mispronunciation the first time, having been distracted by Edmund's rolled-up sleeves. He was even wearing suspenders...oh, it was torture to hold herself back from kissing him then and there. "Not Suhl-tun. You pronounced Ahmed right, though."

"Oh, sorry." Sultana was one of her titles, he remembered. The Sultana of Azraq. "Don't particularly want to talk about our sex life with you, Pete, so what'd you volunteer to talk to us about?"

It took Peter a moment to wipe the disrelish on his face.
Once he managed to, he photograph simply, "Lucy wants to take a picture."

As George Pevensie had promised, on her fourteenth birthday, which had happened a few days ago, he had bought his littlest child a camera, a cheap yet functional Kodak 35 Rangefinder.

It had taken Lucy two whole days to figure out how it worked- Susan had tried to help her, but she was hopeless with technology- and when she had figured it out, she'd exhausted the first roll of film in three hours.

Thankfully, her father had had the foresight to buy more rolls in advance.

"Of what?" Sanya asked.

Peter stared at her, "Of us five, you ninny! What else?"

"Oh!" She blinked, and looked to Edmund, who looked bemused. "Um- sure. I would love that."

She held her arms out, one to her husband and the other to her brother-in-law, and they took it, beginning to walk back to her sisters-in-law.

"Wait, but you won't be able to be in the picture, then, Lu!" Edmund realised, just as they reached Susan and Lucy. "You'll be taking the picture-"

"Oh- right." Lucy looked sad, clearly not having thought of that. It wasn't too bad though- she was perfectly happy to be capturing the moment. It wasn't like she was pretty or striking or anything- her absence would not be felt in the essence of the photograph. "That's alright, even if it's just you four, it's okay- still family-"

"Rubbish." Susan said, shaking her head. "I'll take the picture-"

"Absolutely not, you'll be in the picture, or I'll complain to Mum," this was Peter, of course, "anyway, you'd break the camera- I'll do it-"

"As if you know even the 'p' of photography, Peter Peyton!" Edmund rolled his eyes. "I'll do it- I took a fine photograph with one of my dorm-mates' camera a few months ago-"

"Or we could ask one of the three children over there." Sanya suggested, jerking her head towards one of the corners. "It's just clicking a button, right?"

Lucy bit her lip- the camera was so precious to her already, and it would not be wise to hand it off to a child- little children were so sweet, but they could be also be so clumsy.
But her sister-in-law was right. It was just clicking a button. Being in a precious moment was more important than protecting a camera.
She nodded, and slid the straps of the camera off her neck, and handed the contraption to Sanya.

"Give me a minute." She said, taking the camera and walking back inside the park.

In three minutes, she returned, with a grinning face under a mess of yellow curls next to her.

"This is Bobby Newsome." She said- his first name rhymed with Bonnie, and it made her chuckle, which was why she had to put it in her next letter to her- and the child waved at the Pevensie siblings. "He's eight, and his uncle is a photographer."

He nodded excitedly, "I've been around cameras my whole life! My uncle takes wedding pictures."

Peter, who couldn't fathom how taking pictures of people getting married could make a living, asked curiously, "Does your uncle live with you?"

The boy frowned, "Sometimes...Mummy says it's the last time each time, but it never is."

"It's a good thing I've got three siblings to open their homes to me, then." Lucy joked, though she didn't think being a photographer was her path in life. To be honest, she wasn't sure what was. Perhaps a war-nurse? "Come, Bobby, can you take a picture of us five?"

He nodded again, and held his hands out.
In what he clearly thought was a professional voice, he said, "Camera, please."

Sanya handed it to him. She had an urge to use the camera to take the picture herself- partly because she wanted to see what using it was like, and partly because she didn't think she really belonged in the picture.
The Pevensies were four. It was always four. She, and Jem and Selene, they had always been extra arms onto an existing paragon-like body.

"Alright." He mumbled to himself, as he slung the strap around his neck, and then held the camera up to his face, squinting. "My uncle has a bigger one..."

"Would you just take the picture, mate?" Peter asked, finding it very likely that the child had more complaints and observations to make. "Where'd you want us to stand?"

"Oh- yes, in the middle of the street. Just there." He added, as the five walked away from the park and onto the grey street again, a lovely view of the trees that lined the paths behind them. "Er- San-San?"

Edmund stared at his wife- he so often questioned what was going through her mind, "San-San?"

She shrugged, "It's a nickname."

He kept looking at her.

"It's what someone who likes you calls you."

He rolled his eyes then, "I know what a nickname is- but you've known him five seconds-"

"Children like me." That time on the quest, when Jem had been Graeme, he'd only been able to sleep when it was her holding him. "Because of that liking, he gave me a nickname."

"Or is it because he wasn't able to pronounce your name correctly?"

Sanya pretended to not hear him, and looked to the boy, "Bobby, were you saying something to me?"

"Are you two-" Bobby pointed to Sanya and Edmund, "lovies?"

Sanya blanched. Was that British slang for something?
"What does that mean?"

"You know." He didn't know how to explain it. It was what his mum called people who were- who were- loving each other? "It- it- like in the films- when-"

"I think he's asking if you two are a couple." Susan soon deciphered his rambling. "Right?"

"Oh." Edmund felt silly- he should've realised. "Yeah, we are."

"Very much so." Sanya added.

"Okay!" His face broke out into a big smile. "So you two will be there, on one side- you can hold hands, or- San-San, your lovie can have his hand around you- and you three-" he nodded to Peter, Susan, and Lucy, who had been giggling among themselves at the orders being given by the small boy, "you beside them- you, bigger boy, you're next to-"

"I'll have to get this developed." Lucy said minutes later, peering at the lens. She couldn't make head or tail of it, but she was sure it was a nice picture. Sanya standing with a big smile, Edmund next to her with an arm around her waist- then Peter and Susan, with Lucy between them, their blue eyes bright with warmth and joy. She turned to the little photographer, and smiled, "Would you like a copy, Bobby?

"Yes." He nodded solemnly. "But not of your picture. Can I get one with San-San? In the park?"

"Of course, if there's enough paper in the camera." Sanya said, before sneaking a peek at Edmund's face. He seemed torn between amusement and bewilderment. "I told you. Children like me."

Except for- well, her own daughters.

They'd hated her.

And rightly so.
-

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Rainsford." Edmund greeted, after the door of the Rainsford house swung open to reveal his wife's 'grandmother'. "How is your enchanting self today?"

"Still impervious to your feigned charm, boy." The old lady retorted promptly. There was, however, the smallest of small red blushes on her cheeks. "And no flowers, either? Tsk, tsk."

"Can any flowers truly compare to your beauteousness?"

By Aslan, the number of old and aging high-borns he had had to charm back in Narnia. He was glad at least that one part of the Just King seemed to be present in Edmund- even if his skill was lesser here.

Then, he noticed the fact that she had a hat on, and a coat with frills along the lining.

He internally cheered, because of what that hopefully entailed.

"Are you on your way out?"

"Yes. There's a social gathering that will sink to the deepest depths if I do not make an appearance." Maude said, grinning in rather a satisfied manner. Louder, she looked to someone behind Edmund, and called, "Is the car ready? Yes? I'm coming- it had best be polished this time."
This last part was spoken in a mutter to herself.
"Why are you here?" She asked suddenly, as though she didn't know. "Did you not see my granddaughter just this morning? The maid told me you were here at ten sharp."

"Well- yes."
He didn't know what he'd been thinking- he knew how Sanya was in the morning. She had come down with a half-homicidal and half-asleep expression on her face- though it had abated, somewhat, when she had seen him. She'd kissed him at the threshold of the house, with a mouth that had clearly not been brushed, and then slammed the door in his face- and, presumably, had gone back to sleep.
"But Sanya's hardly a person before two in the afternoon. I'm surprised she didn't break up with me on the spot."

"Yes, as am I." Her lip curled. "I should not let you inside, you do know? It is not appropriate to let a young lady and a young man alone in a house."

It didn't really matter. Even if Sanya had been a young man, Edmund would've still wanted to snog her- well, him, in that case, and take his clothes off.
And being alone or being surrounded by company didn't matter, either. They would always find a way to be together.
"I can't understand what you mean." He replied, his face the very picture of innocence.
Internally, he was laughing, because he and Sanya had every intention to do everything 'not appropriate'.
"We were planning to discuss the merits and misses of Alexandre Dumas's work."

"The unfortunate thing is, I believe you. Whenever I take her to a shop, she finds some book or book-related paraphernalia- even if it's not a bookshop." She shook her head, the grey hair set in immaculate curls against her head. "Very well, then. Go on in, boy, she's in her room."

As Edmund entered the house, Mrs. Rainsford walked out.

She turned just before her feet set down on the grass of the front-yard, and spoke loudly.
"Boy?"

Edmund had just been about to close the door.
He schooled his features into the same innocent expression, "Yes?"

"Knock first, and wait for her to speak. Be respectful- and carry something protective, always." She wasn't smirking anymore. "We don't want anything unexpected to happen, do we?"

Was she insinuating sex? Grandmothers didn't do that! They did not. Grandmothers went into peals of delight at how tall you've grown and then gave you sweets that were probably older than you.
"Of- of course." He hoped she couldn't see that he was rattled. "Have a good time where you're going, Mrs. Rainsford."

She hmph'ed at him, turning around to the front of the house- and was on her way to the car without looking back again.

"You know-" Edmund said, as he closed the door of Sanya's room behind him, "I think your grandmother missed taking some of her med- Sanya?"

The bedroom was painted in the colour of parchment, and it was large, larger than his and Peter's room, with a filled-to-the-brim bookcase and vanity table on one side of the wall, a desk and wardrobe against another, and, against the other two walls, a window-seat and a bed with a fluffy mauve blanket and an army of plush-toys.
There were windows on two of the walls- one window was just on top of the desk, which was open wide at the moment, while the other was on one of the walls that the bed was pushed against, and it was closed, lavender curtains keeping out whatever sunlight there was.
Scribbles were there, just above the bed's headboard- doodles and words Sanya must have etched in during fits of boredom- and she'd copied down quotes on papers and stuck them to the side of the bookcase.
And the room was cluttered, too- scraps of papers on the bed, clothes on the bed and desk, pens strewn about everywhere, and one of the drawers of the desk wouldn't shut because there was apparently too much that had been stuffed in it.

And the bedroom was empty.

Edmund blinked.
"Moonshine?" He'd glanced into the drawing room and kitchen before he'd come up- the first partly to glance at the piano- and he had seen the maid, Ella, dusting, but otherwise, both rooms had been empty.

Where was Sanya? Had she snuck out, without her grandmother realising? He wouldn't be surprised if that were true.

Maybe he'd just not looked properly and he ought to have another gander- he could look at the piano downstairs- or he could sit here and wait, and rifle through the books on her desk, next to the scissors.
The first book was Virginia Woolf's The Waves- may she rest in peace- and the second looked like a book of poems-

The door banged open, and off-key singing filled the room.

"Shoo, baby, shoo, sho-ooo." Sanya sang, kicking the door shut. She'd clearly just come from the bath, with wet hair sticking to the skin of her head and nape, and a fluffy-white bathrobe wrapped around her body. "WA-A-IT a minute, I want a little bit of quiet in the house! Hm-m-m- yeah- she wants- Edmund!"

"Darling." Edmund was grinning so widely, his face was starting to hurt. It wasn't even because her singing made him laugh- but it was because it made him happy. Whenever he wasn't around, she was surly and frightfully withdrawn into herself- and he was glad to see she had moments of happiness, even with other people or on her own.
And yes, also because it made him laugh. It was funny!
"Pretty singing. Andrews Sisters, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah." Sanya was, in spite of herself, blushing. Like the schoolgirl she was pretending to be, she was blushing brightly and feeling very much hapless. "Surprised you know it."

She quite liked music here, and it had surprised her when she realised it. The music back in Rihaaya and Narnia had been pleasant, but nothing she had ever found much joy in- unlike the songs that she heard here. They were wonderful, and probably the only thing here that she liked.

Except for books.
And fish and chips.

"They have nice songs. You've heard 'Oh, Johnny'?" He asked- and without waiting for an answer, he began to sing, "Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, Johnny! Heaven's above-up-up- way above-"

She felt nervous- which, she shouldn't. It was Edmund! Edmund! He knew her- all of her.

Almost all.
But it was more than anyone else, living or dead, knew.

And he wasn't a great singer, either- though he was much better than she was.

She started to sing along, "You make my saaaad heart jump with-"

"Jump with-" Edmund took her hand, swinging her around, "j-O-O-O-y! And when you're near-"

Sanya was laughing now, as they spun, her husband wrapping his arms around her waist, "I just caaaan't sit-still-another minute!"

They kept moving, dancing and twirling and jumping- and laughing, clasped in each other's arms- but after a minute, it was realised that-
"I can't remember the rest." Edmund frowned. He did not, however, stop dancing with his wife. "Drat."

"I have my own radio." Sanya also could not remember the rest- something about being handsome? Or not being handsome? "I can put some music on- if you want-"

"Would the romantic thing not be to say-" He lowered his voice, and widened his eyes- Sanya's laughter grew louder and more raucous, "we'll make our own music?"

"Romantic- an-and delusional, pe-perhaps."
She had to stop laughing!
"We're more along the lines of romantic and practical." Sanya told him as their more violent dancing slowed to a steadier sway. "Radio? Yes or no? Actually, Maude is out, we can get to her record player, too-"

"Next time." Edmund answered, before his hands shifted from Sanya's waist to her front- where she'd tied the bathrobe around her. "Wearing anything under there?"

The levity of the atmosphere sunk, and something else rose- floating, simmering, close to heat.
Sanya had been so looking forward to having the house to herself- Grandmother Rainsford had gone off somewhere- but having Edmund with her, all alone in a big house? Perhaps that was better.
Much better.
"No." She answered. She wanted him to just take it off her already- and then she would take off that shirt he was wearing- and wrench off his suspenders, and- and- and- whatever else he wanted her to take off. "Nothing."

"Bathing?"

"Shower. I wanted to take a nap- but I couldn't sleep. So, shower." A shower was different- people took it while standing, as opposed to the lying down or sitting in a bath, and the water came from above in jets or sprays. Sanya had always loved baths, but she could understand the appeal of a shower. "Should've come earlier."

Edmund started to loosen the belt of the robe.
His voice was barely a whisper, "Why?"

"You could've joined me."

"Saving water, and all that?"

Her breath hitched, as his finger brushed the skin of her navel. "Of course."

"Nothing else?" He murmured, sliding his hand inside the robe and on the curve of her hip. "Hm, Princess?"

She snaked a hand around his neck, pulling him closer.
"No." She said again, and then pushed him away, laughing.

"Tease!" Edmund called, as she moved away to her vanity.

"You like it!" She shot back playfully, looking in the mirror to see that her husband had fallen onto her bed, his shoulders shaking with laughter too.

Sanya fully intended to continue this little tryst- but her hair was wet.
Her 'grandmother' had a hair dryer in her room- but, whenever she went out, she locked the door. Not because she didn't trust her, the old lady had assured her- but because she mistrusted the staff.

And Sanya, too, a little bit.

"Ugh." She said, pulling down the sleeves of the robe- her hair had somehow got inside it, sticking not only to her nape, but her back as well. She hated that feeling- it almost felt like her hair was trapped.

Soon, the bathrobe was bunched down to her waist, the belt tied once more, leaving her torso bare- and Sanya peeled her hair off the skin it didn't belong on, leaving damp smears of shower-water all over her shoulders and back.

"Sometimes, I really think I should cut-"
But she broke off, staring down at herself.
She was frowning.

"What happened?" Edmund asked lazily- he was looking at the same thing she was- her- but he didn't see anything to frown about. Far from. "Moonshine?"

"Oh." She said softly, palming her sides- the sides of her stomach and her waist- and then she turned around to Edmund. "The- um, the stretch marks. My stretch marks. I have them again. They're back."

Stretch marks- he didn't- no, he did know what they were. The long, thin, vein-like bands indented into the skin. She'd had them, for as long as he had known her, in Narnia.
"They are?"

She nodded, and tapped at her waist.
"See." They were like stripes, raised grooves on the skin- stretching from the bend of her side to the tops of her thigh- and they were reddish.

It was Edmund's turn to frown.
"Weren't they- I don't know, not red?" He would have remembered if they were the colour of beets and blood. "They were just a bit lighter than the rest of you. Even when you were pregnant- they weren't this dark."

"They were like this when they first showed up." She'd been younger back in Rihaaya- fourteen, just about to turn fifteen. Not nearer to sixteen. She'd never quite got a clear answer from the Rihaayan healers as to whether they had shown up because of adolescent growth, or weight gain. "They'll fade to the colour you know in a few months."

"Are you alright?" Edmund asked worriedly- Sanya was still frowning at them, at herself.

"They'll be here, too." She muttered to herself, looking at her chest. Veins marked onto the tops of her breasts- but they wouldn't be red there, thankfully, not even at first, they would just be a shade or two fairer than the rest of her body.
If she was remembering right.

Yet another marker of growing up. She didn't want to grow up, even if growing up in this world meant no more school. She felt angry, that she had to move onto another part of life, yet another version of her, where she would not have the sanctity and security of childhood to protect her.

She bit her lip, hard, as she remembered that it had not protected her in Rihaaya- but she had still trusted that that bubble was there. Then she'd grown up, and it was gone.

She had quite hated these stretch marks back then- they were so ugly, worse than scars- because scars were badges of bravery and difficulties, while these stripes were just symbols of weight. She'd ended up making her peace with them, way back when- but that old hate, the faded insecurity, the distaste for one's body that came with being plump, was never quite gone.

She looked to Edmund, anxiety in her eyes.
"You won't- I mean-" he'd never minded it before, never cared about the marks on her breasts and hips- but that had been another world, another life, another them, "you don't think-"

"You're beautiful." He said resolutely, rising from the bed. "All of you is. And no, I would never think any of you is unattractive."

She looked at the mirror again, for a moment. She had conflicting opinions about the large, rectangular, wood-bordered mirror- sometimes, she thought she would like something smaller, perhaps oval, with more ornate designs around its borders- but she didn't have conflicts about how she looked.

Still, Ed's words warmed her heart.

"Thank you." My Eros. My Edmund. "That- is actually really-" even if she would probably never believe it, "calming to hear."

Sanya was about to walk to her bed, and sit next to him- but he'd already come up to her vanity, and was standing behind her chair.

Edmund knelt, and pressed his lips to her side- just under her giant-war scar- where one of the stretch-marks started.

"You can't just kiss away all of my insecurities." She spoke with a small laugh, as he lifted his head up to gaze at her. "Try as you might, it's not possible."

"Well, I'll still keep trying." He shrugged, before standing up and bending to kiss her shoulder. "You are the love of my life, and you are beautiful."

"You're beautiful, too. In and out- especially out. And in, too. Everywhere, actually-"

He was still called scarecrow, even if he'd been only eleven or twelve then. They must've had a reason to say that.
But there was no need to bring up old things.
"I think you, Mrs. Reza-Pevensie," He grinned, as she got up from the chair, "are the one with la vie en rose."
The robe she was still around her waist, and she made no efforts to pull it up to cover herself.
He grinned wider, "Moonshine, ma chérie, I think you are a bit délirante."

She didn't know what délirante meant- she did know that chérie meant darling- but it was French.
Attractive, hot French that Edmund was speaking.
Her eyes got bright, "Can we kiss now?"

He laughed again, and took her hand, pulling her to the bed, "Of course."

-
-✧･: °*✧*°:･✧-
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Roman Griffin Davis as Bobby Newsome

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(my babies :""") they're so rarely happy)
(yes i am aware that that is because of me 🙄🙄🙄)
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If you didn't absolutely love this chapter, don't even speak to me.

Edmund standing up for his wife. Peter staying around for the drama.
The Pevensie siblings refusing to let Edmund find Sanya alone, because she's their family, too.
Sanya actually being happy while playing on the swings.
The family photograph.
Edmund and Sanya singing and dancing together and acting like a couple of carefree teens, for ONCE in their life.

Seriously, I think this is the only chapter they feel and act most like regular teenagers- oh, now I'm sad. They deserve to be like that all the time.

Also, Edmund spoke French again and Sanya's horny meter dialled to 11, lmao.

This is as idyllic as the book gets.
Well, not really, there are chapters that are more so, but I thought some hyperbole was needed.

And how absolutely wonderful is Edmund with Sanya's insecurity. He assures her, calms her, affirms his love. And the fact that she opened up to him about the insecurity- she stammered through it, and didn't say much, but the fact that she tried to talk about it- damn.
I call it growth. And good communication (at the moment).
Also, the fact that Sanya was sitting there topless, and Edmund just sat and looked at her. They did not jump each other?? (That's shortly after). They just enjoyed a little peace, and their clothes having nothing to do with it.
It's nice that they're comfortable with each other that much- especially Sanya, considering how much she hates her body- and they have such intimacy with each other, without it being sexual.

Other teens in relationships, take notes.

Also, no, stretch marks don't just happen because of pregnancy. Whenever there's a drastic change in weight- increase or decrease- there's a chance of stretch marks over certain parts of the body.
That's what I know, anyway, I might be wrong.

And, as always- I humbly and unashamedly ask you to vote on the chapters, and perhaps comment, too :)