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Rosy Blake and a very sad Peter Pevensie
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Edmund flees, smug delight fading into the distance.

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Peter hugs his knees to himself. "Well, that's Edmund."

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"Are you all right?"

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"Yeah. Just. ...he wants this thing between us to work out because it'd make me happy, and he thinks it will, and he's got no idea of any of the context, he thinks I just finally found a girl who's bold enough to get me out of my shell and talking. Not, you know, magic and complicated questions of philosophy and all that. And I can't really tell him."

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"You can just date me if you want! I am fully open to you just dating me. ...I may occasionally fluster you with reminders that you could own me if you wanted. Unless you find that upsetting enough to want me to stop. But I'm not opposed to a normal relationship, if that helps."

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"...it does help. I think it'll also help once I... know more about magic, and how it changes things? I mean, Favreau could already set me on fire, that hasn't actually changed, but it's still not the world I thought I knew. I have to re-evaluate a lot of things, and it feels unsteady."

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"Very fair. I'll do my best to catch you up on everything I know that you don't. In some kind of sensible order and slowly enough not to be totally overwhelming. This may be very difficult."

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"Well, I don't want to put you out. You have the option of saying actually, I'd have pledged my soul to you, but explaining how magic works is a bridge too far and dropping me."

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"I have the option but I'm hardly going to take it."

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"Are you sure? I can make it very tempting."

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She shakes her head, laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm trying so hard to come up with a reasonable response to that and I just can't. If stalking you for months and offering to magically enslave myself to you doesn't communicate that I'm genuinely and lastingly interested, what on Earth will?"

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"Might just be a matter of - being there when I look, for a while," he admits. "And half of this getting-to-know-you thing is, you know, figuring out where we don't fit, where it'd take work to make us work, and you really can say something's too much. When it comes up."

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Slowly, she shakes her head again.

"I see what you're saying, and I do appreciate it, but... if there was anything at all in the world that could get me to say 'no, that's too much, I'm out', I shouldn't have made the offer I did. If I'm going to make someone an offer of truly irrevocable loyalty, it behooves me to think very hard first about what 'irrevocable' really means and how I feel about that. As long as you are still meaningfully the person I fell in love with—and that explicitly includes scenarios where everything I saw you say and do at school was a deliberately constructed front, because I did think about that possibility—then you're not getting rid of me merely by being obnoxious about politics or leaving the toilet seat up."

Then she softens a little.

"But—that's not to say I won't be paying attention? Because in most reasonable situations it matters to you whether I feel like I'm actually romantically compatible with you, and—it matters to me too, just, I have already made my decision. If you found out that we can't stand each other's taste in ice cream or opinions about gender dynamics in the works of Tolkien, but for some reason you still wanted to own me, well, you get to do that. Because I have already decided that you get to do that even in situations where I might prefer that you didn't. Do you see what I mean?"

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"...I think so? It's - you've already made that part of your vow, by offering it."

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"Yes. It is still reasonable to keep an eye out for things that would negatively affect a normal sane relationship, because I bet they'd negatively affect an abnormal insane relationship even more. But if you still want me, you still get to have me, regardless."

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"...okay. As long as your determination not to betray yourself doesn't mean you won't tell me if something I'm doing is hurting you... which, admittedly, seems kind of out of character now I say it aloud, but."

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"It seems very clear that you want to know if things are hurting me. As it happens, I also want you to know that! So I think we'll be all right."

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"Yeah. I feel silly being so insistent, because it really feels like we're on the same page about everything, but - every so often you say something that makes me think you know, if we're not on the same page, if this is just the illusion of transparency, we're going to destroy each other. It makes it all feel a bit high-stakes."

He starts gnawing on his thumbnail for a moment, then catches himself and takes his hand away from his mouth.

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"No, I understand and I think you're being very reasonable! By all means take the attitude that it's very important to be sure we're successfully communicating about important things. You're right, it is."

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"By all means," Peter says, smiling just a bit. "We've been saying that back and forth a lot. I suppose it's at least a weak sign we're saying things that make sense to each other."

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"I would like to think I have some idea of what makes sense to you after the number of your conversations I've eavesdropped on. But of course it's—still important that the question of what makes sense to you lives in you and not me."

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"Yes. And I think none of the conversations you've eavesdropped can possibly have gotten this deep into - what matters to me, what scares me. I don't often talk about it."

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"I think there's still something there. Not so that I'd already know, but so that I'd understand what you mean when you explain, if you see what I mean? But—I do want to know what matters to you and what scares you. I want to know everything you want so I can help you get it."

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Peter's quiet for a moment.

"Might've noticed I don't really know what I want, then," he says.

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"I want to say something flippant like 'I like a challenge'—and I do—but I think more to the point... I want to help you find out?"

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