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Summary
After years of longing to be free of his sham of a title, Alexsandr, Prince of Lothal, is finally free. With only the faintest distance between him and his freedom, suddenly it doesn't matter he and his family don't speak, or Alexsandr barely knows what the inside of his "home" looks like, or even that he’s adopted and passed over for the throne. All that matters is playing his part until he can forfeit his title to live as Alexsandr, not "your highness."
Even when the King and Queen die, it didn't matter; Alexsandr was free, and could've fled the gorgeous winter-covered palace of Lothal to find love somewhere besides between the fluttering fans of empty-minded noblewomen in horrifying corsets and impossible streaks of color across their faces. He would've been free to forget his past and disappear beyond the kingdoms if not for one small detail.
Alexsandr loved his brother.
Despite the strained relationship Alexsandr had with their parents, and the falling out that preceded their deaths, Alexsandr couldn’t deny it. No matter how he resented them, the eldest prince was not capable of forsaking their son, his brother, Ezra. It never occurred to him the cold stemmed from more than the drafty palace walls.