What good is winning if we discard the parts of ourselves we treasure? What good winning if I no longer recognize who I have become or if I become that person I swore to leave behind? I will not do that, Set.

[ And Dimitri, too, has that tinge of insult. Of having something, some vital part of him being dragged through the mud. ]

And the weight falls entirely on his shoulders, does it? He must pay for any perceived failure?