“EDMUND!” Screamed Lucy, attempting to run to her brother but being pulled back by her sister, Susan.

Peter froze, standing beside his sisters as he stared at the army surrounding them.

And in the middle, tied to a tree was his younger brother, Edmund, beaten and exhausted from torture.

Poor Edmund, he’s only ten…

“That boy is my blood.” The White Witch stood before her army, glaring down at Peter and his sisters. “I own him.”

Peter could hear Lucy’s sobs and cries, watching Edmund struggle against the restraints, only cutting them deeper into his skin. Susan rubbed Lucy’s back soothingly, looking worried. She turned to Peter, her voice cracking slightly.

“Peter, do something.”

After hearing those words, Peter seemed to snap out of his daze, dashing to the tree and cutting the ropes, dragging Edmund back to the others. He laid his weak brother by his feet, drawing his sword as he stood before him.

“Come and get him, then.”

The White Witch was seething, snapping her fingers and looking at you pointedly. You try to stand, only to shortly collapse, unable to support your weight.

“Edmund, come here. Now.” She barks, raising her wand threateningly.

Aslan had been watching from a distance, and it was only now that he decided to intervene, escorting Lucy and Susan into the tent before returning back to Peter, standing beside him against the Witch’s army.

Aslan stares at the White Witch, but manages to keep his composure calm. Peter lowers his sword slightly, glancing down at his whimpering, injured younger brother who now lays on the dirt, still struggling to get up.