They say a brave man dies but once, and a coward a thousand deaths. To Thalien, that had always sounded like a towering pile of horseshit.
Death is a singular event. The true difference lay in the life lived before the debt came due. For most of his years, Thalien had lived as a coward, though the world called it "filial piety."
He had been a dog at his father's heel, craving a scrap of Lechian's approval, molding his spine to fit the rigid expectations of the Prince of Herculia.
When it finally became clear that love was not something he would receive, Thalien stopped begging. He gathered up his rejection and built a nest out of hate. He was proud of that transition, proud to have been the one to pull the curtain back and show the world the moth-eaten cloth his father was truly cut from.
The banquet that came after he had surrendered the capital was the most memorable feast of his life.
