[There's certainly a comfort in the closeness of her, in the familiar shape of her pressed against his side, and it's a comfort that grows rather than falters when the tips of her fingers pinch at the scant flesh over his hip. He yelps dramatically, more for effect than from pain, the sound of it breaking around an affectionate laugh.

He has thoughts about what she's saying. Thoughts he chooses not to voice because he already knows she won't agree, or will argue against them in some way. Thoughts to the tune of, if he's been made a second-class citizen here it's because in some way he deserves it, that they've seen into some ugly part of him and recognised him for what he is. To the tune of, whilst he doesn't doubt that the love they have for each other can ever be eroded, it doesn't mean that having him around for any length of time could be a good or desirable thing, that he's best loved from a distance. That when it comes to love of any other kind besides the familial, he'd only find some way to spoil it, to poison the hearts of all lovers against him.

Sensible and not at all melodramatic things like that.

So he decides the thing to focus on is her new-found love, something he fully believes stands far more of chance than anything he could ever have.]

My sister, the princess. Or is it Queen, Duchess, Countess? Should I be calling you Milady now? Don't go forgetting your lowly wretch of a brother when you're living the high life, will you.

[And he flashes her his most incorrigible grin.]