The thing with Peter...

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May 13th
Please don't

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"Edmund look at me."

Edmund hesitated greatly, heart pounding in his chest and he slowly lifted his head to look at his older brother, who was standing in front of him.

"You're - You're hurt." Peter murmured, clearly slightly uncomfortable but way too worried to let this pass.

That was the thing with Peter, no matter how angry he was, no matter how hurt he himself was, if someone he loved was injured, he just couldn't help himself, he needed to make sure they were okay.

Edmund had betrayed them all to the witch only a few days ago, but that didn't matter right now, all that mattered to Peter in that very moment was finding out just how hurt his little brother was...

After all, he was still his brother, no matter what he'd done.

Edmund swallowed hard at this statement. "Only a little." He said quietly.

"I don't believe you." Peter's reply was fast and blunt, there was no hesitation there whatsoever, and it was completely truthful.

Peter had seen the way Edmund had limped down to join him and the girls, he'd seen the way he'd walked into the tent, hunched over, steps screaming exhaustion. He'd watched in silence as Edmund tried to make his hammock a comfortable place to sleep (Edmund not knowing he was there) and failing because every movement he made with his arms made him wince. He knew Edmund was badly hurt, and he wanted to know.

He needed to know.

Neither boy said or did anything for ages, and the seconds seemed to completely drag, until Peter gently and slowly took hold of the hem of Edmund's jumper, hands shaking slightly.

Edmund didn't move, but he stared up at his brother, brown eyes brimmed with tears and he slowly shook his head. "Please don't." He whispered.

Peter stared back at him, guilt washing over him, but he couldn't get rid of the sickening feeling of worry deep in his stomach, and the overwhelming need to care for Edmund.

If he was hurt, he'd need help, and he couldn't keep that from his little brother, not when he so desperately needed it, and from Edmund's reaction, he most definitely needed it.

"I'm sorry," Peter murmured.

Edmund didn't resist, almost as if he knew Peter had won this, and allowed the jumper and shirt to be slipped over his head, so he was left standing there, slightly cold, eyes now anywhere but Peter.

Peter knew he had been right, but somehow seeing the injuries just made it so real and so, so horrible.

Bruises covered Edmund's ribs, ranging in colour from purple, to black to yellow. Small cuts and scratches littered his skin, which weren't severe, caused by nettles and brambles probably, but were probably irritating him all the same.

He was skinny... Skinnier than he usually was, which pointed towards him having not eaten for days, and it wasn't a visible sign as such but Peter knew he was also dehydrated as well as starved.

There was a nasty gash on his left collar bone, surrounded by a nasty bruise, and turning him around, Peter counted seven lashes crisscrossing his back, puffy around the edges and way too deep for his liking.

Making sure he was facing his brother again, Peter swallowed hard. "Why didn't you say anything?" He whispered.

Edmund just couldn't look at him and dropped his gaze again. "I'm sorry." He choked out, barely able to say much around the lump in his throat.

Peter sighed, running a hand through his scruffy blonde hair before taking a deep breath, almost subconsciously shaking his head. "This is-" He stopped dead though, unable to find the words to describe how he was feeling and what he was seeing.

This was his brother.

His little brother.

His 12 year old brother.

12.

And over the last few days he'd been to hell and back, experiencing pain that no one of his age should ever come close to experiencing, that no one of any age should be experiencing.

And he was apologising?

Peter swallowed hard. "Don't - Don't apologise." He whispered instead. "Please, don't apologise."

He hadn't expected the please to come from his mouth, and he winced at the desperation in his own voice, his heart aching with every second that passed.

"I am though." Edmund murmured. "I'm sorry, for all of it."

Peter found himself shaking his head. "We can talk about that later," He told him. "right now we need to concentrate on you, and getting you help."

"I'm fine Peter-"

"Don't even try it." Peter said, a firmness in his voice that made Edmund flinch and step away, fear passing in his eyes for a split second as he drew in on himself, a sharp breath escaping him almost before he could stop it.

Peter froze for a moment, before swallowing hard.

What had Edmund gone through for him to react like that to that tone of voice?

How had the Witch spoken to him and verbally treated him for him to be so delicate?

Peter had to push these questions to the back of his mind after a moment, especially when he tried placing a hand on his brother's shoulder but he just moved away, trembling slightly.

"Okay," He whispered instead, taking a step back so Edmund felt safe. "I'm sorry, you're safe I promise. But I need to help you Ed, ease the pain?"

Edmund looked hesitant at first, and Peter almost thought it looked as if he didn't want that, but he nodded his head after a long while, and Peter nodded his along with it.

"Alright," He breathed. "You wanna take a seat?"

Edmund immediately did as he was told, despite it being more of a question, he was sat down before Peter could say anything else.

Peter's heart broke.

He reacted badly to certain tones of voices, he flinched when unexpectedly touched, he did whatever he was told whenever he was told, immediately and without any hesitation, and it made Peter so... Angry.

But not angry at Edmund, angry at everyone and anyone who'd done this to his brother. Because no matter what Edmund had done, nobody deserved this.

So it was at that moment that he vowed to get his revenge, he wouldn't let the Witch get away with this, and that was something he could say with absolute certainty.

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I've missed coming up with 101 ideas for this specific scene 😂

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