“I wanted to tell you.” Lydia was still speaking clearly in spite of the tears rolling down her cheeks, “I really did. But how do you just bring that up? ‘Oh, hey. By the way–you know that man we’re all fighting against who people are referring to as the antichrist and scum that shouldn’t be allowed to walk the earth? He and I shared a womb for nine months. Yay me!'” She wiped furiously at her cheek for a second before continuing. “Why do you think I refused to run raids, even though I’m clearly well-trained for them? Why do you think I was obsessed with making sure we’d done our research properly before we could go after him? I know just how strong he is. I know how much damage he can do if we’re not one hundred percent prepared to fight him. And I know I’ll never be one hundred percent prepared to be in an attack on him. Part of me will always hope we can save him, that he can return to the boy who grew up in the next bedroom over. He’s my brother. Could you kill your brother, Tristan? Look me in the eye and tell me that you honestly could kill your brother even if he had hell to pay. I accept that I might be weak her, that I’m going against some of our training–but.” Lydia ran a frustrated hand through her hair, “Could you do it?”
Tristan held her gaze for just a moment longer. Her brother had done terrible things. Her brother was capable of a lot of damage and seemed to the public eye to have no redeeming features. But he was her brother. Could he do it? He dropped his gaze to his hands. “No, no, I don’t think I could.”
“Tell me, Tris, what am I supposed to do?” It was half-anger, half-desperation, and it almost brought Tristan to tears. He didn’t have an answer for her.