Kastor's little brother giggled. All the time. It was infuriating.
"He's six years old," Kastor's mother said. She laughed gently and ruffled her son's hair. "You were just as adorable when you were that age."
"I was never like that!" Kastor muttered and fixed his hair.
Kastor's little brother Damianos was a chubby kid who tripped over his own feet. Kastor knew that all children that age were silly and clumsy, but this one was different because he was the crown prince. Kastor found it ridiculous that grown men bowed to him and that slaves three times his age took his orders. As if a child that age knew what he wanted – much less what other people did!
Clumsy though Damianos may be, it never stopped him from climbing on everything he could get his chubby hands and feet on, which sent the palace slaves and physicians into a panic. Usually their concern was unnecessary, because Damianos was not yet tall enough to get far in his adventures, but it meant that more often than not the entire court was fussing over a rowdy child.
To make matters worse, the boy followed Kastor everywhere! He was surprised no one else had noticed.
"He won't leave me alone," Kastor grumbled to his mother.
"He looks up to you," she said, reclining on her couch in the sun. They were sitting on a terrace overlooking the palace gardens, where little Damianos was busy chasing the palace dogs and giggling every time he fell over, which was often.
"He's selfish," Kastor muttered.
"He's a child!" his mother said and laughed. When she caught sight of Kastor's sneer, she just smiled again and closed her eyes.
When Kastor had complained to his friends about his little brother, they all assumed he resented Damianos for taking the crown from him. But they were wrong; Kastor did not want to rule! Who would? Since he had turned thirteen, Kastor had been instructed to sit in on his father's meetings with the kyroi, but all the political talk sounded empty and unimportant to him. In the years that followed, Theomedes hoped his eldest son would take an interest in at least one corner of the realm. But that was not to be.
In the yard below, the dogs had knocked Damianos over again, and this time they descended on him, licking his face and his bare feet. Damianos laughed.
"Maybe if you stop treating Damen like a child, he'll stop acting like one," Kastor's mother said.
"But you just said…" Kastor whined, but received no reaction. She was not paying attention.
Kastor left his mother on the terrace and wound his way through the palace gardens, trying to find somewhere he could be alone. It was not long before he heard his footsteps echoed by tiny bare feet. Kastor heard a small giggle. "Leave me alone," he said, without a look back.
When he started walking again, Damianos was still following him. "I want to be alone!" Kastor said. "Please." He thought he had finally left his little brother behind this time, but tiny footsteps still padded after him.
Kastor whirled on his brother. "Why won't you stop?" He spoke as harshly as he knew how, but little Damianos did not seem to understand his tone. The little boy just stared up at him stupidly. "Go! Go away!"
Kastor did not wait for a response, and instead spun on his heel and started running, weaving in and out of the trees. Over the past year, Kastor had grown nearly a foot, and it looked like he would never stop growing. Now he was glad to have legs as long as his little brother was tall. The wind on his face felt wonderfully cool, and just as he was sure he had left Damianos in the dust, he heard a small thud, followed by crying.
Damianos was lying on a smooth, exposed rock, holding his chin. Kastor ran back the way he had come.
"Now what did you do that for?" he said, sitting down next to his brother.
"I wanted you to pay attention to me," Damianos said.
Kastor rolled his eyes. "It's not worth crying over," he muttered. "Now let me see that." He carefully peeled his brother's fingers away from his chin. There was a shallow, bleeding scrape, but no real damage. Kastor tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his chiton and pressed it against the cut. "Let's get you back to the palace."
"Will you carry me?" Damianos said, holding out his arms almost imperiously.
"No!" Kastor not only objected in principle, but he had also grown up long and lanky, while Damianos still had all of his baby fat. And more, Kastor thought to himself; but then he recalled his mother's words, Maybe if you stop treating Damianos like a child, he'll stop acting like one.
Kastor crouched down to his brother's level. "I'm not a slave, I'm your brother. And I can't carry you all the way back."
Damianos pouted. Kastor supposed the cut still hurt him badly. He stood up, and held out a hand. Damianos grabbed it tightly and hung on the entire walk back to the palace.
When they returned back to the carefully cultivated part of the palace gardens, a slave swooped down on them.
"What happened?" the man was staring at Damianos and the now blood-soaked rag on his chin. He wrapped the child up in his arms.
"I fell," Damianos said.
The slave was joined by other men and women, servants and courtiers. One or two threw dirty looks in Kastor's direction.
"I got him back as quickly as I could," Kastor said.
When they carried his little brother back to the castle, Damianos looked back over his shoulder and waved to Kastor. There was a somber expression on his face. Kastor waved back, but he rolled his eyes. He had never been so dramatic as a child.
