Brother, brother.

You keep saying that word as if it means something. You keep saying that word in a way which betrays that it means something to you, and by some strange logic of yours therefore it should mean something to me as well. From the looks of it that word is full of emotion and, strangely enough, love. I never wanted a brother. I never wanted you. That word means nothing to me.

Brother, my only brother. My only real brother.

The third and youngest was faceless in his mortality. He was not around long enough to truly matter. He was only a name on the Badb family tree, and a small note in our own. Born, barely lived, and died, as is suitable for a mortal and a half-blood. That should have been your fate, too.

Brother, brother dear.

You cling on me, as if by pressing yourself closer to my body you would somehow manage to find a way into my heart. Your smooth black hair against my pale face, your soft breath against my neck, your warm arms around my back, your pained voice in my ear, your heart steadily slowing down again, beating against my own. There is no room for you in my heart. There never has been and there never will be.

Brother, I love you.

What would you not give for me to return this wretched hug of yours? Who would you not kill for me to feel some kind of affection for you? What would you not do for my love? Your desperation only makes you pitiful, yet you seem unaware.

Brother, I don't want to fight any longer, please, brother.

You would do anything, I know that. Kill anyone, give everything, and dance every dance that I would ask you to dance. Yes, even that dance my father taught us, I am sure of it. Desperate, pitiful, and utterly pathetic. Dignity was never a priority of yours.

Brother, no more, please, no more.

I feel you press your perfect lips against my neck. Glancing down I see you looking at me. The grey eyes you inherited from my grandfather desperate for just the slightest act of kindness. The weak beginning of a smile on your lips shows that you are hopeful still, despite all the rejections in the past. You are so pathetic, little half-blood, so pathetic and unworthy.

Brother, peace, why can we not have a little peace? Brother?

Fingers wander up into my black hair. We have the same thick, black and ever so soft hair, I know, I know. You kiss my neck again, so softly, higher now, and higher. Finally you kiss my ear. Yes, I know that you envy the one thing I have that you don't. I don't have your freakish ears; I have no elven blood in my veins. Unlike you I am not a half-blood, I am not desperate for acceptance, I am not like you at all.

Brother. no, no that is alright, you don't have to say a thing. Just. just be my brother.

I am not your brother, can't you see that? I am nothing like you. We share a bit of blood, that is all. For that I do not owe you anything, least of all loyalty and affection. You are a fool, you have always been.


You whisper, ever so softly, as you yet again press closer, wrapping your arms around my neck and even when our hearts are beating against each other you wish to get closer still. Still, I remain silent. You are unworthy of the gifts you have been granted, the affection of my family and your entire inheritance. You are no better than a commoner, when it all comes down to it.

Brother, please forgive me for all that I have done, I did not mean to anger you.

So you say, over and over, and you don't even know what you are apologizing for. You just cannot understand why I hate you, why I have always despised you. You must be the only one, precious little porcelain prince, you must be the only one who is so blind that they cannot see why I cannot stand you.

Brother, please, let us fight no more. brother?

I raise my hand and push you away, not roughly, no, not this time. Rather slowly and firmly until you are at an arm lengths distance. I can tell that you do not want to let go, anyone could.


You are not my brother; we share some blood and a name, that is all. You call me that as if it was true, but you should know by now that it isn't.

Brother, I. I just wanted to. I'm sorry brother.

What are you then? My personal punching bag? My precious little doll? My mighty guardian angel? My constant rival? My ever loyal friend? You look at me with those eyes, begging me to touch you, to say something, to smile, just a little bit. Disturbed little porcelain prince, twisted king of pain. You are nothing more than an abandoned and abused child on the inside, searching for a hand to hold. My hand. You use your magic, you use your power, you use your looks, you use yourself until there is nothing left to conquer but me.

Brother, please, I did not mean to offend.

You use that word again, as if it means something. You seem to forget that you are the only son. The moment you wandered into my view I disappeared, forever doomed to a life in your shadow. I wish you would just go away.


I have no brother. You were the only child and I was null. There is no need to change that or to try to make up for it. There is no place for a porcelain prince in my life anymore, and there is no reason why the king of pain should come to haunt me in this manner.

Brother, forgive me.

Even in your death I will not forgive you, precious little prince, I shall curse your name even on my own deathbed. Do not use words which you do not understand, immortal king. I never had a brother, and I shall never have one.