Peter had resented him. A third. Both he and Valentine knew what that this meant; they weren't good enough. For what, they were unsure. All they knew is that some doctor, at some point in their lives, had taken them into a sterile, white room, and gave them something called 'monitors'. Evently, the same doctors had taken them into the same sterile, white room and taken away the small devices lodged into the back of their necks.
It had been confusing, like they had been looking for something, but couldn't find it. For days they would crane their necks, peering around, sure that there was something that they were missing.
Peter had finally come to terms with it. He had lost his monitor. He wasn't missing the protection; he could take care of himself perfectly fine, thank you very much. He was, even if he would never admit to it, jealous of Ender. He resented him for being good enough, for other people thinking that he was good enough. Peter was the smart one, the resourceful one, the violent one. Peter was the one that could bring this world through another Bugger war successfully. But no, they didn't acknowledge this. No one did, and deep down Peter knew that no one would. To succeed in life he would need to make a name for himself, no help from the military or government or men in white lab coats that put strange devices in the back of your neck.
Ender was still on the journey home from school, and Valentine was sitting in the armchair, reading, or rather pretending to, on her desk. Peter was watching her with calculated eyes. She lifted her head for a moment and looked right into Peter's eyes. Peter smirked slightly.
"Can I help you?" She asked? Peter's small smirk spread across his face into a wide grin.
"Actually-" Peter was stopped short by a disgruntled looking Ender entering the house. Peter's eyes narrowed into slits.
"What's wrong with you?" Peter asked Ender, disgust lacing through his words like venum. Ender just mumbled something and scurried off in the general direction of his room. Peter wasn't having any of that though, oh no, he wanted a straight answer, and if he didn't get it, he would force it out of him.
Peter followed Ender up into his room, slowly. After approaching his door, he heard a shuffling sound. Ender was getting out his work from school. Peter scoffed as he opened the door to see his third of a brother over his desk feigning a look of innocence. Peter's eyes narrowed as he stalked into the room.
"You know, I asked you a question earlier." Peter said, still slowly stepping through Ender's room, instilling a feeling of foreboding in the younger boy.
Ender took a deep breath in.
"And I chose not to answer it." He said boldly. Peter clenched his fists, attempting to stay calm and collected.
"I'm only trying to be a good brother, take care of you, try to comfort you, and how do you repay me? Now, I'm only going to ask one more time. What. Is. Wrong." Peter said, with a sickly sweet voice, but malicious undertones were present. Ender shuddered, knowing what Peter would do to him if he didn't answer. He had an plethora of games of Bugger to go by.
Peter was tapping his foot, in a very condescending way, as if he was daring Ender not to answer.
Peter could see Ender's resolve breaking. He knew that he had broken him, that Ender knew resistance was futile. Ender took a deep breath.
"They're taking my monitor." He said, wincing as if the words caused physical harm.
Peter's smirk morphed into a wide grin filled with painful promises. His beady eyes were practically glowing with his version of twisted pleasure. Ender's calm look briefly flickered into one of distress. Peter caught it.
"Aw, don't be scared, brother. Maybe now you'll be able to play fairly, huh?" He said, teasingly. He was messing with Ender's head. He enjoyed the power he had over him, and even though he was almost untouchable with that infernal monitor on, soon Peter would be able to do whatever he wanted. Complete power.
That's what this was all about.