AN: I repeat. Con Crit greatly welcomed, as I have a hard time keeping the girls in character. The kids are movie verse, but my own take on them. I own nothing, so don't sue me. The odds are good that you'd have to fly half way around the globe before you got any money.

You're still High King, Peter. Why can't you see that?

Edmund needs you. Susan needs you.

I need you.

I'm not a grown up queen anymore, Brother Eldest.

I'm trying to be strong, but I don't have the power here to protect myself. In England, I'm still a little girl.

I don't have my cordial, so you can't stop trying to get yourself wounded enough to need it. You always hated the taste of the fire flower juice anyways.

There are other things here to be fought, other injustices that Edmund would have your help in righting, other cruelties that Susan would have you address. There are other ways that I would have you use your hands.

They used to be so strong, Peter, those hands that hang loosely by your sides now, uncertain what to do now that the fight is over.

Someday, by the grace of the Lion, you will learn that there are weapons more powerful and less deadly than the sword.

With Edmund's help, you could use the pen to turn this place upside down, Brother.

These boys that you use to funnel your anger, would follow you without question if you only gave them something to believe in.

You know that there is more to life than this, more than waking up alone in the dark, when only the moon stands guard, to fight for breath that refuses to come.

I don't know what Susan said to you over hols, on those nights when she would wait by your side until your chest eased, but I wish that you could have said something that would bring her back to us.

You're not the only one that we're loosing, Peter.

Somewhere under that school blazer, blood flows through the veins of a king, but that pulse has grown so weak that even my touch can't draw it out.

I try, but I'm not sure that you feel me any more than a minotaur could feel the soft caress of one of our dryad saplings.

There's something missing in you now.

I'm just a little girl here, and I don't have the power to reach you, not even the strength to beat sense into your head like Edmund always threatened to do, back in the day when you knew him.

Back in the day when you would have done anything to ease the pain that has been tearing through his gut.

Your not the only one who has been awake keeping the stars company and listening for the song of the wind.

What happened to my protector?

You used to understand.