My brother was a fool.
He had always been an idealistic, romanticist, airheaded fool. And that meant I had to be the one to clean up his messes.
It had been that way since we'd been born to our nutcase of a mother. It had been that way since before we'd been born, though that was a tale for another time.
He was the oldest. The strongest. The most alluring. We were twins, but even I knew he was above me in every way. I did not mind. I did not care. Hell, I took great pride in being his biggest fan.
But as great as he was, as godly as he was, he was so easily swayed by matters of the heart.
Why else did he still humor that foolish Demon Lord despite how much trouble they had caused us since they'd spawned? What did it matter that my brother had raised them since they'd arrived? What did it matter that he saw them as their child?
They weren't his child and they were a liability, their destructive tendencies going to bring them to their own doom.
