Every warrior has his strengths

Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow

My older brother is a far superior warrior in every facet; his innate ability and genetic gifts cast a shadow that I can't escape. He will inherent my father's kingdom and he will do so with a clean conscience, for he is truly the better leader than I.

I am shorter than most and skinnier than a peasant on a diet. He towers over me, his height clearly favors my father's, and his body feels as hard as the armor that he sports during battle. I'm slow to draw my sword, clumsy in transition to my stance. His sword is an extension of his body and it moves as gracefully as one of his own extremities. With all the differences we glaringly have; our resemblance in features is eerily similar. We both bare sharp noses with a distinct jaw line and the angles of our face are known throughout the lands; we are said to be hansom but I don't know much about that. Our hair shines like it has for generations; the rustic blonde of many Kings before us. Our eyes beam as soft a green as any Irish pasture. I guess I can say we are equals in the category of our appearance but little does that appease my contentment.

Today, I reflect on my downfalls and I, again, become enamored and envious of his being. For today, we go to war and the pressure mounts, and everyone knows this is how my brother and I can make our legacy. We will fight side by side with hopes of ceasing the day as a duo. Or so, at least that's what he thinks.

"Titus, today is the day! Do you smell it in the air, young brother? It's thick; rich in flavor. That is the blood of our enemies!" my brother says, glowing as he looks into the distance. His eyes full of energy. I don't think he has an ounce of fear.

"Indeed, it's certainly going to be a glorious day!" I say, trying to match his bravado and confidence.

What my dear old brother does not know is that he will be riding without me into battle. His heart will break if he finds out about my condition, so he must not know that I've contracted the black death. I met him today on battle hill, pride intact and my full support given. For all his strength and power he possesses, his kindness and humility is truly what gives him his spark. He's told me since we were young boys that it is I, me of all people, that give him constant hope to rule a peaceful Kingdom and anchor him during the unbearable times. I lend that to him today, as my only gift to offer.

"Arthur, it is time! Take these men now and push forward! This is your battle, my closest brother and dear friend! There's no one mightier than you! Show the world!" I shout to him as I walk over to give him a hug. The soldiers seek formation behind us; their chants fill me with emotion and my skin tingles from head to toe.

As my brother pushes forward to endure a hardship I cannot, I retreat back to the castle without him knowing and make my way up the long staircase to my chamber. I walk up the solid stone steps, my armored feet grow heavy with each step. I reach the door, our engraved sigil hits me harder today than most; the emblazoned shield looks mightier than normal.

I fall to my knees and cry... My heart wrenches with anguish, what have I done? I will most likely die anyway, why not do it on the battlefield with our soon to be King?

I crawl into my bed, my silver armor now lies like an empty shell of a forgotten knight, it cowers on the cold floor. I continue to cry as my eyes get heavy with exhaustion. I did this for him, so that we can rule together. He needs me like I need him and my courage has always been silent, lurking in his powerful shadow. This is my courage, this is my contribution and it always will be, for I am my brother's keeper. I will fight here to live, so that we may continue to fight together tomorrow.

He'll be back and I'll be healthy. It must be this way for the Kingdom.

I rest for us now.