[He had been so ready to walk away. So very ready. And then Alex had to be small and vulnerable and remind him of that little boy who would let him dry his tears when he scraped his knees, back when they were too small to understand that their respective birthrights made them enemies.

He turns to face Alexander, sighing. He's so tired. So young and already so tired. How are you supposed to deal with this for an entire lifetime? How does their mother do it?]

I know. She keeps going on about wanting us to be friends. That we're brothers and should act like it. [Another sigh escapes him.] I think it's breaking her heart to see us fighting.