A/n: Hello, everyone! Chapter 4 of King and Lionheart was so powerful! This story practically leaped off the page at me while I was reading it. Thankfully, the fabulous Valiant gave her permission for me to put pen to paper.

I hope I did justice to the depth of Peter's character. While reading the chapter, I kept picturing Peter's face, how angry it would look, but how his eyes would express the sorrow and fear he was feeling. I wanted to be able to get inside that, to show the emotions behind the rage that Valiant gave us in chapter 4.

Anyways, anything you see in Bold is from Valiant's story. And, I apologize right now for any errors in formatting. This is my first time publishing on FFN and I'm still getting used to how everything works. Additionally, I did not have a beta for this story, though I did read it over many times, so any grammatical mistakes are all mine.

For those of you interested, I listened to William Joseph's cover of Safe and Sound on YouTube almost the entire time writing this. I think it adds just the right touch that cannot be conveyed through mere words. I slowed it down to 0.75 to give it more of a lullaby/sorrowful feel.

Thank you once again, Valiant, for allowing me to write this story! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

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"I'm going to kill you!" I snarl as I grab my brother by the collar. Rage courses through my body and I shake him, not to hurt him — never ever that; I'd sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him — but because I can do nothing else. Doesn't he understand what he's just done?

"You bloody idiot! Why! I could kill you right now!"

I don't mean it. I never mean what I say to him in anger, but I can't stop the words.

It isn't supposed to be like this. I am the protector. It isn't his job. His job is to step back and allow me to protect him. It has always been my job: to keep my brother from harm, to shield him as best I can from the horrors of our life. Ever since he had been placed into my arms, I knew that it would be that way. It is my purpose, my joy. It is why my name had been entered twelve times this year, why I brave hunting in the woods and selling our supplies at the market for medicine or gifts for Edmund. And now my ability to protect has been taken from me; taken by the very person I am sworn to protect.

I will Edmund to understand, to sense the love beneath my harsh words and actions – not just the rage. My heart is breaking; my soul shattering into thousands of pieces as I realize that my choices have been taken from me. There is nothing I can do. My baby brother is going to die and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

My hold on Edmund's shoulder tightens. I can't lose him; I won't. There has to be something I can do!

"Let go of him." A girl is murmuring in my ear — Susan Pevensie — I realize. "Peter, let go of your brother. You can't hurt a tribute before the games. They'll punish you."

Tribute. The word sucks the air from my lungs, the fight from my body. That is what my brother has become – what he has taken from me. No longer is he Edmund Leonidas; he is a Tribute, a sacrifice to be offered on the bloody altar of the Capital's games.

I turn my gaze to him, knowing we have at most 10 seconds before I have to let go of him or be pulled away. I expect to see hurt, fear, even anger in his expression. I had all but abandoned him over the past year; angry that he had gone behind my back to put himself in further danger. I am disgusted with myself now… now that I might never see him again, now that that might have been the last year of us being together, of being PeterandEdmund instead of Peter and Edmund. I see none of them though, and what I do see almost drives me to my knees to beg his forgiveness.

Love shines from Edmund's gaze. It is so bright and clear anyone can see it if they look. It is the love that had sat in his gaze every day until I drove it from him with my cold behavior over the past year.

What did I do to deserve you? I question. And what have I done? My younger brother is going to die in my place, and I have done nothing but be cruel to him. It should be me.

"It's all right, Peter." Edmund whispers. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. "It's my turn to protect you now." He grins, but it is watery at the edges and tears are threatening to spill from his eyes at any second.

I pull him to me. Crush him to my chest and breathe deeply, memorizing his scent – memorizing him. My shoulders are shaking as I struggle to contain my own tears. I can feel wetness on my neck and know Edmund has lost the battle with his.

"I love you, Ed." I whisper back. "More than anything else in the world. Never forget that. I'm sorry for how I've treated you this past year."

"It's all right. I forgive you." Edmund answers. "I love you too."

I press a kiss to his forehead. Then... he's gone. Away from my arms, away from my protection. His head is held high and his shoulders are straight as he walks onto the platform next to Susan. The tear tracks marring his cheeks do not detract from the majesty of his bearing, but add to it.

Lion, protect him for I cannot. Keep him in Your paws and bring him home safe.

The words of the supplication spring unbidden to my mind. I pour my anguish into them, hoping that someone, somewhere, will hear them and answer my prayer.