Theme: Please...

Prompt: 'Stop, Please.'

Warnings: Bloody and violent. I won't give you any more warnings since they might spoil the story for you. Quite frankly, I've no idea how this turned into this. Another horrific tale. I'm telling you, I need help. This was supposed to be a different story with a different ending, a more satisfying ending. I made myself cry writing this. Sob like a child. Forgive me. But please, do read on.

The sun was singing above us. The leaves crunching as the horses galloped, whinnying in an exceeding enthusiasm and gladness that the light of the day provided the creatures. The trees swayed as the whistling wind rushed past them, making my hair fall over my eyes and obstruct my vision. But I didn't mind. I merely blew at the ends and they floated in the air for a grand total of two seconds before falling to my face again. My brother gave his horse a kick and laughed when he passed me, even though he was meters behind only seconds ago. I feigned a look of surprise and kicked my horse's back. A race it was. Warm and beaming laughter rang through the woods as I and my brother raced, making squirrels leave their trees, birds leave their nests, dryads come out of their sleep, and the naids wave at their Kings as we galloped by. I tried my best to wave back, unsteady as I was on horseback.

It had been an exhausting couple of days. And very terrifying, too. I, who was now of marriageable age—a shining eighteen! —was not to be shielded from the suitors by my elder siblings; only Lucy had that pleasure now—to last for another year. And I, who had laughed at my brother's misery, and the several hiding attempts from the tittering suitors who managed to flatter me but not my brother in the old days, now thought I ought to apologise. But that could wait for another day. For right now, I had a great lead on my brother. As my horse leaped over a fallen tree and then splashed in the water of the Caldron Pool, I laughed in sheer joy to see that I had won. Finally beat my brother in something! Oh, the pleasure! But then the smile faded as my lips curled into a frown, seeing that Peter had stopped and did not look pleased. I arched my eyebrows, looking questioningly at him. Peter blinked at me.

"We've come too far. At the edge of the Western Woods. Ed, we've heard rumours of bandits wandering near. I was preparing to leave with Orieus right before—"

I blinked. "You were what?"

Peter sighed, looking at me with guilty eyes. "You've been working so hard with that Galman treaty, and resolving our trade problems with the Calormen, and responding to the overly long letters of the Governor for me, and trying to convince King Lune that a short visit to the Terebinthian mines can't hurt, and—"

"Peter—"

"It's been that bad! Why do you think I dragged you out for a ride today! Have you seen yourself?"

I scoffed. "Oh, I'm sorry if I have my eyes on my face and can't do that."

"Have you seen yourself in a mirror?" my brother growled, clearly frustrated by my impudent reply. "You look like we haven't fed you in days! Edmund, you need to rest. And now finally, when you've got some time to look after yourself, I couldn't ask you to come with me to the West. I'm sorry, but you're staying."

"Peter?" I said, amused.

"Yes?"

"We're already here."

Peter looked like I'd just slapped him. He took a sharp breath and gazed around. Finding it quiet and unthreatening, he sighed, and looked at me with seriousness written all over his face. "We're leaving. Now."

He turned his horse about, and I sighed, feeling that I was forced to comply. He'd given me that big brother look. But then an odd sound reached me, though Peter seemed completely oblivious to it. He kept going. It was a scratching sound, like something cutting and scraping. Nails on wood. It was odd. Yet so familiar. I suddenly recalled the many times my little sister had annoyed me with that same particularly infuriating sound. I blinked, glancing around, finding nothing but orange leaves and some bare trees.

And then my brother's scream made my heart lurch out. "Edmund!"

I don't remember much of what happened after that. It's a blur. A hazed collection of memories. Snippets and glimpses. Almost unexplainable. But I shall try my best. First, my horse threw me off. I crashed down. Another hoarse scream echoed in my ears. My brother's voice again. Before I could make sense of what was happening, a large, black figure jumped on me. Literally. The wind rushed out my lungs as I was crushed under the man's weight. My hand instinctively tried to reach my sword but the man was fast. With the weapon he was carrying—I can't remember what it was—he knocked my head. I saw pink stars in the red sky. And then heard Peter's screams again. Though this time he wasn't screaming my name but a string of curses which would not at all look good in print. And then there was another smack. All I knew for a while was blackness. And the sweet taste of grape wine. My dreams were pleasant. Pleasanter than the ugly reality.

~o~

When I came to myself, I was, of course, bound. That was expected. The dehydration wasn't. But winter was approaching fast, and the air lacked moisture. And the last time I remembered drinking water was about five hours before I and my brother went out for a ride. But I had large amounts of it then—a particular one of Peter's suitors' stare was making me uncomfortable. It was only natural I distracted myself with water. I slowly pulled up my head, feeling my neck muscles scream in pain. So, I'd been out a long time. Still. As a result, stiff. I blinked blearily. Until the dark lines invading my vision disappeared and the blurry face of the sneering, dark headed bandit in front of me cleared. I actually sighed, tired of the continuous attempts to kill me and my siblings. They never learnt. The man stirred in his place.

"Oh, we're awake, are we?"

I ignored him. And looked around for my brother. It didn't take me long to find him. Just a little west of me. Bound. But with rougher ropes. The skin around his wrists was reddening. And position more uncomfortable with his hands bound above his head and body hanging from the rope, dangling. His head was dropped ahead. He was still unconscious. The blow must have been bad. I exhaled, trying to suppress the urge to strangle the rambling man in front of me. I just wanted to get to my brother.

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh, nothing much. He resisted. Killed some of my men. They said he didn't deserve the nice treatment we gave you."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

The man only smirked. And I was inclined to look back at my brother. I hadn't noticed the blood—his tunic was red. And ripped from his shoulders and sleeves. Trails of dried blood had slid down all the way to his feet. I was overwhelmed with fury. "What did you do?! What did you do to him?"

"What we're going to do to you."

And then the man suddenly cut my ropes and my hands were barely supporting my weight as I was forced to my knees. I was weeping. Internally, at least, unwilling to let these men see me as weak and vulnerable. My brother had suffered hours of agony while I slept and drank wine in my dreams. Hours and hours of torture, he had endured. And I couldn't even be by his side. I guess it was a sort of punishment then. What followed. But a brutal one. They dragged me while I grieved. My back was covered in severe bruises and cuts and scrapes by the time they dragged me to the pole opposite to my brother's. We climbed the stairs, and were up on the platform in a second. They tied my hands to the rope hanging from the frame and then pulled the rest of it, lifting me off the ground by my hands. My body swayed under me, my legs kicking uselessly. My position was identical to my brother's. My brother who seemed to be waking. And at not a very convenient time. Not now, Peter, I say even now, you do not wish to see this. But it was not to be so. Unlike me, who had been spared from the torture of seeing my brother in pain, Peter was wide awake for my turn. He snapped his head around twice before finally finding me. His eyes widened, a look of panic on his face.

"Don't! Don't you dare touch him!"

The men all laughed. The one sharpening his butcher knife seemed to find my brother's words more amusing than the others.

"I will kill you. If you hurt him, I will kill you all!"

"Ahhh…" I groaned when I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I couldn't concentrate. My ears were suddenly ringing.

"What did you do? What did you give him?" Peter asked, voice low and calm.

"It elevates the senses. Ral's own creation here," replied the man who'd dragged me, tapping Ral's—I'm only assuming—shoulder. He seemed to be their superior. Chief? I found myself wondering. "He'll feel everything." I blinked thrice as my senses were proving him correct. I didn't just feel everything. I could see and hear and smell everything, too. The butterfly's flapping wings over the flower. The birds' sweet tunes that should've been impossible to hear with the clanging of knives. The small trickle of fresh blood on my brother's temple. His whimpers and silent begs. I could hear his thoughts. Read his face more accurately than I ever could. He was crying. He knew it was inevitable. Utterly unavoidable. I was going to be tortured. And my brother was going to watch. "I'm Hill," said the man who I had assumed as the men's Chief. He circled me, admiring his next victim.

I swallowed before asking, "Why?"

"For fun," came the immediate reply. I looked back at my crying brother. They had done that to him for fun?

"You are monsters," my own voice—which must have been only a whisper—sounded thunderous to my ears. "Who are you?"

"You already said the answer. We're monsters! But if you're really curious, we're hunters. From the West. From beyond those mountains. We hunt in the wild. Hunt animals, get food for our families. But sometimes…. sometimes we hunt men."

"Ed?" Peter gasped, struggling against his bonds. "You alright?"

Before I could give him a nod, Hill said, "Oh, he is now. But won't be. Poor him. And poor you! Forced to watch baby brother get tortured. You should've just slept. But hey, this is more fun!"

Ral was walking towards me with his knives. I could hear his excited laughs.

"Please," Peter begged. "Take me."

"Oh, but we've already have our fun with you, haven't we? You're boring now," said Hill, smiling evilly. "Let's get this done before it's dark, boys."

"Don't hurt him!" Peter screamed, thrashing now. "Don't you dare hurt him! I will kill you all! I'll kill you!"

And Peter screamed when they drew a long cut on my chest. I never even groaned.

~o~

I was panting. My whole body ached. And yet they cut me again. And again. And again. I heard the blood drip on the wooden platform. Felt the warmth leave when the sun sank. Felt the blood pumping ferociously in my veins. My heart beating at a furious pace. My fever come back. Sweat slide down my temple. The whip strike against my back. The painful groan I let out. Another cut, just along the shoulder bone. And I let just a squeak leave my lips. One tiny indication of pain. And my brother was begging again.

"Please. Please, take me instead. I beg you. I beg you, stop. Stop, please!"

But it was no use. And he was back to screaming with me when they took put another nail in my right foot. My body was slowly shutting down. Due to blood loss, of course. Or maybe shock. I've done quite a thorough study. Especially after this particular event. My left arm was numb. Whatever they did there, I couldn't feel. My chest was burning. My throat was itchy with thirst; the dehydration, too, was slowly killing me. Then they brought back the hammer. I dreaded the hammer. Broken bones are a nasty business. This time they hit my shoulder. My control snapped and I screamed. And wailed. And cried. Until my throat ripped. Peter was screaming with me. His cries were more desperate than mine. Screams hoarser. Wails more animalistic. It was as if he was dying beside me. When I was given the small mercy of a second's rest, Peter would start begging again. But he only provided amusement to the men.

"Please! Please! I beg you!"

When the begs didn't work and they started whipping me again, Peter threatened.

"I will kill you. I will kill every single one of you. I will kill you all! Do you hear me? I will kill you all!"

And he did. He killed them all.

~o~

"And you—oh, you don't get to die so quickly," I heard someone say when I came to myself again. Someone was holding me. Someone familiar.

"Peter, don't," a voice said, very close to me. It belonged to the one who was holding me. Male, I could tell. Familiar.

"Eat. Eat it!"

"Peter!"

"Chew. That's it. That's good. Feel it? Feel the pain?"

I groaned, stirring in the person's lap. Everything was so blurry and grey. And spinning. I couldn't focus. I couldn't see. I could only listen to the whimpers. Whimpers. Really sad whimpers. As if—

"Peter, don't do this, please. Edmund wouldn't—"

"Shut up!" my brother's voice thundered. I buried my face in my salvager's chest, groaning, gasping, feeling the intense pain consume me. "Now, this will hurt especially. The nail bit you did with my brother? Let's repeat that! How did you do it? Oh, yes, just take the hammer and—"

"Peter! What are you doing?!"

"I said, SHUT UP!" I moaned again, crying desperately. But the person couldn't hear me. He wouldn't tend to me. "Oh, you're afraid, are you? Do you think my brother felt the same way? Do you think so, Hill? But don't worry, it'll be over soon."

"Aaaa!" came a horrible scream. I hid from it, closing my eyes, curling further into the person's chest.

"Doesn't feel good, does it?"

"Peter, you will regret it if you don't stop. You. Will. Regret. It. This man has suffered enough. Just let him die."

"You will stay out of my way, Dracus."

"Or what? You'll kill me?"

"I'm not feeling very rational at the moment. I just might."

I was sobbing now. There was so much pain! "Please, Peter…Edmund is…Edmund's awake!"

Then came the sound of a metal clashing onto the ground. I sobbed, still gasping. I couldn't breathe! Then warm, sticky, and red—I caught just a glimpse—hands took me from Dracus. My brother settled me in his lap, cradling me as if I was a four-yea-old child. He stroked my cheek, pressing numerous kisses onto my face. Loving, full of warmth kisses. I melted, feeling at ease all of a sudden. "Ed? Eddie?" I couldn't reply. Couldn't move a muscle. I just wanted to sleep. He ran his hands through my hair, kissing my forehead again. "Edmund, come on, just nod. Or blink. Just tell me you're alright. Please…"

But the world was dark for me.

~o~

My hands were shaking as I stirred my tea, feeling too warm wrapped in so many blankets. I glanced at my brother once and then looked away immediately.

"Ed—"

"Don't."

"Edmund, please—"

"I said, don't!" I growled, and some of the tea spilled over my shirt—courtesy of my shaking hands. Peter offered me his handkerchief. I took it for the sake of politeness. Wiping my shirt, I said, "You beheaded all of them? Every single one?"

"I said I would. It was their own fault. They didn't listen—"

I shook my head, crushing the handkerchief into a ball. I threw it into the fire. I took just a sip of my tea. "And Hill? What did you do to him? Don't try to lie. Dracus told me everything."

"Then why make me say it?"

I remained silent, just glaring at him.

"I…I…"

I laughed. "You have trouble just saying it? I can still hear his screams, Peter!"

Peter flinched.

"Say it, come on. Be a man. Say it!"

"I…tortured him."

I sipped my tea again, trying my hardest to control my nerves. "How did he find us?"

"What, he didn't tell you?"

"I want to hear it from you. Tell me how he found us. Tell me how Dracus found us!"

I saw Peter flinch again from the corner of my eye. "One of…One of…One of Hill's men led him to us. He…He couldn't bear…"

Peter trailed off, cracking his knuckles nervously. I took another sip of the boiling tea, and said, "Get out."

"Edmund…"

"Get out now. And don't come back."

"Ed, please. Please don't do this." You have to forgive me. Aslan forgave me!"

"I will. But not yet. Now get out!"

Peter looked at me with teary eyes, sobbing. "Are you telling me you wouldn't have the same if they'd tortured me in front of you?" Peter asked, eyes glimmering with fresh tears. I shook my head disappointedly.

"No, Peter, I wouldn't have. If they'd done to you what they did to me, and had made me watch, I wouldn't have beheaded them and tortured their Chief," I replied, trying not to flinch at the look of hurt he gave me. "Now get out."

Peter wiped his eyes with his sleeves, ran his hands through his hair, and gulped. His voice was shaky from the sobs. "I…I hope you get well soon, Edmund." And then in an instant, he was at the door. He turned the knob.

"And Peter?"

He turned, watery eyes still hopeful, still begging me for forgiveness.

"Send Dracus in, will you? He owes me a game of chess."

It was the last slap. The last cruel slap. Peter nodded as I sipped my tea. And he left. I let out a breath, my whole body trembling. Those were the last words I said to him. Ever. He left then. And he just…left. Murdered in his sleep by Hill's brother. Stabbed in the heart. Lucy found him. She screamed for an hour. The irony. I, of course, killed my brother's murderer. Tortured him till his last breath.

And now as I write this, twenty-five, weeping every night even now, I just wish I could say, "I lied, Peter. I lied. I would've done the same."

Fin

Author's note: Definitely an AU even though Dracus appears. I wanted it to be a character I was familiar with. Someone Edmund could use to make Peter jealous. I hate myself. I hate Edmund. I hate this ending. Frankly, I think I hate this story. And the stupid tragic ending! Not what I had in mind. Definitely not. But it just seemed to be better this way. And I couldn't resist it. I've written three death fics out of six stories. In half my stories, one of the brothers or both die! I can't. I need to switch to humour again. Yes, definitely. Helps my brain. Keeps me happy. I'm switching to humour! My brain tells me my switch won't last very long. I always come back to angst. What about mystery then? I like mystery. Mostly because I've been binge-watching Sherlock. I'll write mystery! Yes, a humour story. And a mystery! Perfect. Just you wait, my lovely readers!

Sorry about the ramble. I just really hate the ending! But I also love it. A dark part of me loves it. Anyway, thanks for reading and do review!

And if any of you know how to get rid of viral fever, could you tell me? This one won't leave me alone!

With love,

~Pacifia