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‟Peter!” Lucy nearly screamed, beaming - far louder and brighter than was quite proper here, not that Lucy had ever cared - and breaking into a run.
Peter caught her easily, swinging her up in his arms and whirling around twice before he put her down again, returning her grin.
Susan had reached them by then, and she smiled slightly even as she shook her head, not quite approving. Peter grinned even wider, because of course he did, even if he - all of them - stepped carefully around Susan’s disapproval.
‟Hello, Peter.” Susan said, her much more restrained greeting no less warm, and kissed him on the cheek as he hugged her.
‟Your family is very close.” Roger said beside him. ‟I don’t think my sisters are ever half so glad to see me.”
Edmund smothered a laugh. ‟Well, we’ve . . . always been close;” it wasn’t untrue, ‟and then, you know, during the War, when we went away. . .”
That was also not untrue, in its many-layered essence.
‟We grew quite fond of the Professor who hosted us then, as well. Our parents say he certainly influenced our manners.” Edmund said, which made an excellent excuse for the mannerisms and language they struggled to hide from so many years at court, however informal Narnians were in the main.
‟It is good to see.” Master Bridges said approvingly, and Roger jumped, because his situational awareness was appalling. ‟It is a credit to your brother - to your family - that you persevered through such hardship with such an attitude.”
‟Thank you.” Edmund said, quashing irritation. What the fuck would he know of such, Edmund thought, but only bowed shallowly, accepting the sheaf of papers that had been the reason he was waiting, then took his leave to join his family.
‟Edmund!” Susan greeted happily, hands out, and with the confidence of knowing it would be seen as nothing more than playful teasing here and at their apparent ages, Edmund gave a courtly bow over one just to see her roll her eyes, smiling fondly as she scolded him with equal playfulness, then embraced her. Lucy nearly pounced for her turn, still just young enough in appearance to get away with it and more than willing - as she always had been - to put that perception to use; young, small, pretty . . . harmless, delicate, when she was anything but, his fierce little lioness sister.
Edmund propped his chin on top of her head to hear her curse him quietly, pinching his hip, and laughed even as he hugged her tighter. Lucy’s eyes flashed as she pulled away, but she didn’t retaliate further, only dropped back and took Susan’s hand; another gesture dismissed easily - girlish fondness, a younger sister clinging to the elder.
By the Lion, Edmund couldn’t wait to get out of the fishbowl that was school, the city, and spend some time stretching his true self with his siblings.
Peter slung an arm around his shoulders. ‟Ready to head back for our visit to Professor Kirke and the country, Ed?”