Peter stared in desperation at his brother's ashen, waxy face. The breaths that he was dragging into his lungs were hitching with every inhale, and Peter knew that Edmund's time was running out. Peter's ragged breathing matched his brother's, and words were spilling out of his mouth like so much of the blood that was pouring from his brother's veins.
"Edmund, please, my King, my brother! Lucy will be here soon! She will bring her cordial, and you will be fine! Do you hear me? Brother! Edmund!"
But his pleading could not keep his brother tied to the Earth, and the High King bowed his head over the broken, bloodied body, and screamed.