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‟I’m surprised you didn’t snag Peter for this.” Edmund said idly, checking his tie.
‟Are you really.” Susan said, not a question, angling a look at him.
‟I mean,” Edmund said, expression carefully composed, ‟a last-minute social function, something one needs a fine appearance for. . . He does look very well. . .”
Susan raised an eyebrow.
‟You’d cut a very fine picture together.” Edmund said, fighting to keep his voice even, as she scoffed and waved it off.
They did; it often brought comments - from those who knew they were siblings as much as those who didn’t. Both of them, Edmund thought fondly, always seemed to be wearing a crown - whether or not the crown was physically there. It showed in their bearing, their eyes. It made them look both lovely and slightly untouchable, in this world, only more so when they stood together.
‟I did not ask Peter,” Susan pointed out, straightening one stocking, ‟I asked you. And I am glad of it.” she added, flashing an almost impish smile as she rose. ‟For many reasons.”
‟It’s not like he could cause an international incident.” Edmund said wryly. ‟Not here.”
‟I wouldn’t put it past him.” Susan returned, shaking her head, but she was laughing, working a glittering clip into her hair.
‟Surely not at a wedding.” Edmund paused, musing, ‟. . .no, surely not. Not this wedding. It’s not likely there will be anyone highly placed enough for an international incident among the guests, for one.”
‟There is that.” Susan said absently. She sighed, her eyes on her reflection in the mirror as she pulled one wayward lock away from the modest beading on her bodice. ‟I miss it.” she said quietly, suddenly melancholy, and a weight settled in Edmund’s own chest. He moved towards her.
‟. . .Peter causing international incidents at even the most banal of functions only to right them by force of will, you and I standing behind him pulling strings and whispering, and the fact that he’s both very loud when he chooses and a very skilled swordsman?” Edmund questioned dubiously, catching Susan’s eye in the mirror.
Fortunately it made her laugh, as intended.
‟No. You fool.” Susan said fondly, shaking her head. She leaned into Edmund as he slid a hand over her hip, and he wrapped his arms around her with a hum. ‟No, I. . .” She cleared her throat. ‟It’s silly.”
‟You?” Edmund scoffed. ‟I doubt it. What is it?”
‟My hair.” Susan said quietly, and Edmund concealed his surprise, hugging her tighter. ‟It feels wrong; my head is too light all the time and I can’t do half the things I wish with it, and. . .” She sighed. ‟Growing it out that much again would probably be foolish.”
Possibly so, but it was, at least, something she could reclaim here; Edmund would say not a word against.
He kissed her cheek. ‟I miss it, too.” he admitted, meeting Susan’s eyes in the mirror. ‟But you are, as always, impossibly lovely. Shall we?” He gestured to the door.