The White Knife
Mother. Matriarch. Let me sit by your side, upon your throne, and cast eyes across our vast kingdom.
No, Bradley. Let your brother sit on the sofa. You can rest below it.
No. This word— I remember it from my youth. It means denial, does it not? Answer me, mother!
Has my place beside you been forsaken, traded for this mewling usurper? Say it isn’t so.
Silence. I knew it. Though you speak not, it screams. How the mighty have fallen— Once the overseer of this house, now condemned to warm the rug and guard the crumbs.
My own mother cannot say the truth: I have been replaced. Alas, what a terrible fate. Ye Gods, strike me down— this is not a life I wish to live.