Paris has never been her favorite brother; he is too callow, too flighty, too well pleased with himself.

And yet: he is sweet, and gentle; it was he who would bring her kittens and flowers when they were small, always wanting to please, always wanting to be her hero.

That is why, when he boards the fateful ship, she lays a hand on his arm, and smiles, and tells him, “Enjoy well your days in the sun, brother,” though he only laughs and kisses her hair farewell, a careless boy still.