Green and intense eyes observed attentively the trot of the horses at his right side. The march back home was so beautiful that it seemed like a painting from a genius artist. His men could barely wait to arrive at the coast and get their ships. Masha's green land was waiting for them.
He lowered his head.
He wouldn't be going home. With his hands tied, he was leaving alongside the branians, in Atho's delegation. He would be taken to the martial court for rape, as well as all the soldiers that, under his command, took advantage of one of Cashel's women.
He laughed softly, dissatisfied.
Honestly? One sole order and Masha's army would rebel against Atho, triggering a new war. However, he would never do that.
The sound of the boots approaching him made him turn to face Bran's King. With a serious expression, Atho cut the tie around his wrists, while measuring with clear disappointment.
"We are the same age," Atho mumbled. "How can we be so different?"
"Are you accusing me of being irresponsible?"
"And cruel," he added. "A man shall never subjugate a woman. Don't you know even such a basic moral principle?"
Principles... For him, those were something too distant, unreachable.
"What will you do to me? I'm a prince and I'll soon be crowned."
"You father's will is quite clear. You will only be crowned when I decide it is time. At the moment, nothing seems more distant to me."
"What if you never do it?
"Your son, Cael, might become a good king."
Iran thought about the little three-years-old boy, for whom he had only a slight interest. Actually, getting married to Princess Tae was only an obligation. She insisted for them to consummate the marriage and she got pregnant during the few times they shared the bed. She died at childbirth and wasn't even mourned by him. Cael was left under the nurse's care and he didn't even said goodbye to the boy when leaving for war.
"You're planning to raise my child?" Iran laughed.
"Don't you think it's a good idea? The boy needs care."
"He is under care."
"He needs love," insisted Atho. "He needs people to hug him, to kiss him, to give him some encouragement."
"And beautiful Queen Lidia will give him all that?" he asked, ironically.
Atho sighed.
"I can't understand why you don't like her."
"While I can't understand why you do.
"She's my wife, I love her. She gave me a son, Cedric, who will become the King after me. She always receive me with a smile, gives me her body and her heart. How could I not love her?
Iran looked away, annoyed.
"Leave Cael to me, my friend. I'll raise him as if he was mine." He touched his shoulder. "You're my brother, Iran. I love you so much I would die for you. However, I can't take my eyes off your mistakes. I am a King. More than that. I am the Sovereign of the most powerful Kingdom of the whole world. I have responsibilities…"
"I know."
"Please, make my life a little easier."
They faced each other.
"Since you've became a man, all you do is give me trouble."
"We can cut all our ties, if this bothers you that much," he felt offended.
"We cannot cut our ties because they are made by love," denied Atho. "I'll always look out for you; you're a part of my soul."
After that, he left, leaving the young prince lost in his own thoughts.
"Part of your soul..." he repeated, in a mumble. "But it was her you've chosen."
***
The rain started in the second day of the march. Cashel's lands were made of a mountain range along its hillside. As soon as they reached the mountains, they realized the moist soil was sliding, making it almost impossible to proceed with the horses.
There were no detours and stopping there, waiting for the rain to stop, seemed to be a very stupid thought; even more for men who could barely wait to see their wives and kids, whom they had left almost three years ago.
Therefore, Masha's army decided to go ahead. Aligned, they proceeded through a risky trail, while the rocks kept rolling under the horses' feet. Despite the difficulty, they overcame the obstacles, arriving to the top and looking at the see, afar, with pure joy.
Nonetheless, the walking of those over ten thousand men only let the path even more slippery and, when the first regiment of Bran started the cross, following their brave and fair King, the situation got really dangerous.
Even before they had advanced a hundred meters up, two horses lost their balance. One had to be sacrificed, for his leg was broken.
Iran, who until then, was in the second regiment, left his saddle, leaving his mare next to a soldier, and went to Atho by foot.
With his heart racing, he seemed to be foreseeing a tragedy. And it came. Before he was able to reach his friend, he saw him afar, fighting bravely to keep his horse standing. He didn't make it though. As quickly as the days that went by in his youth, the horse slipped, falling down the cliff. The King, provided by strong surviving instincts, grabbed tightly the green grass that was beginning to grow near the place he fell. Nevertheless, the grass couldn't hold his weight and, with a last glance, he watched Iran with his eyes wet and wide open, crying his name.
It was a mourning day.
A day never to be forgotten.
Iran climbed down the mountains, running as a maniac. He reached his friend's broken body, the man he loved more than anyone, even himself, and found him lifeless, his open eyes staring at the sky.
He kneeled beside the body. Pulling him to his arms, he cried so hard that he almost believed he would die there, with him. He had only felt that pain once, when he watched his beloved getting married to Lidia.
Then, without thinking, he gave the man the sole kiss he had always desired, but never dared to give. Placing his lips over his beloved one's, he secretly promised never to love anyone the way he had loved him. He also promised to take care of Cedric as if he was his own son.
***
The woes from the mourning women were so loud that Iran feared getting death with the sound. The crying and the agony, however, was like a balm to his heart. Suddenly, he wanted company in his grief.
His eyes were red and all his face was swollen. Since Atho's death, he hadn't been able to stop cry for even a moment. He watched the embalming and speeded the trip in order to allow Cedric to see his father one last time before burying him in the lands Atho loved so much.
The castle remained the same. It was built five centuries ago, by Atho's ancestors. Made of solid calcified rocks, his white tone brought a beautiful contrast against the green area surrounding it.
Around the castle lied the feud of beautiful and comfortable houses, as most of Bran's houses were. There would never be a King as kind as Atho, who would supply his people's needs with the same enthusiasm as he cared about himself. Iran would dare saying that Atho would stop eating if he knew that any peasant, as poor as he could be, didn't have food in their dish.
He didn't know where such generosity came from. Atho was raised by his teachers; his parents died young, victims of a disease that took over the country, years ago. Even then, his childish eyes seemed to be always smiling and his words were kind and tender.
He turned his look to the carriage that was bringing the body. There would be no more smiles or kind words. Only silence.
All of a sudden, the sound coming from the women ceased. Iran looked to the castle once again and saw Lidia, with her damned face unchangeable. She was already aware of her husband's death, since he had sent a message to the castle on the same day of the happening.
However, she didn't seem to be in grief. And why should she be? Differently from him, Lidia had never loved Atho.
He looked away from that damned bicht and focused on the little kid with deep black hair.
Cedric was two years old when Atho followed him to war. Now, at the age of five, he seemed not to understand the relevance of the man lying on the carriage, but even then, he was sensible enough to mourn his death.
He walked in his direction, kneeling in front of him.
"Hello, Prince Cedric," he greeted, in a childish tone, touching his hands. "Do you remember me?"
The boy shook his head, in a negative.
"I'm the Prince of Masha, Iran, a friend of you father." The words hurt him and he had to refrain the tears that were threatening to come. "Now, I will be your uncle; I will take care of you until you become a man and turn into a King as good as Atho.
The boy accepted those words with the kind obedience of a child.
Then, Iran straightened up his body and faced the Queen. The sick satisfaction he saw in her eyes revolted his stomach. With a bow, he got inside the castle.
***
— Will you stay in Bran?
The feminine voice echoed through the huge chapel. In the center, in the top of a stairway, a stage was receiving a board of rocks, where Atho's body was being mourned. Many of the people from the court had been there, saying their goodbyes to their young King. Nevertheless, when the sun disappeared, only Iran remained beside the body.
"I will designate a regent to Masha and send for Cael. I will raise the boys together, as brothers."
Lidia climbed the stairs, stopping by his side. Her girly fingers ran up young Iran's muscled arms, in a lustful caress.
"I like the idea," she mumbled, against his years.
Iran kept his anger inside.
"He loved you," he whispered.
"He was a fool who loved everyone." She laughed, completely oblivious to the body. "He loved even the dogs. I once caught him petting a pig's head. He liked anything, was at anyone's reach."
Iran shook his head, denying it.
"Do not scorn Atho's pure feelings, because you were the most important thing for him." His voice fell down, suddenly, while he was holding a sob, but returned unwavering soon after. "You married him, even when you were indifferent to his feelings," he accused. "I'll never understand how such a beautiful face can hide such a corrupted heart."
She kept a smile on her face.
"You loved him," she affirmed. "You loved a man while despising my feelings for you." She seemed to be reminiscing. "There would never be such a better revenge."
Finally, Iran faced her.
"And what do you think that might happen now? Do you believe that living in the same castle will bring us together? In what kind of disgusting dream are you living?"
"In the dream of being owned by the only man I have ever loved," she affirmed. "And the man I hated the most, with the same intensity."
At last, the woman turned her words into acts. In a quick move, she held the man's face, pulling him closer for a kiss. A kiss stained by Atho's image, resting on his coffin.
Burning with rage, Iran pushed her with strength.
"I hate you!" he yelled. "I hate you," he repeated. "You bitch! You took away from me the person I loved the most." He advanced towards her.
Lidia realized that the man in front of her was completely out of control. Retreating, she heard a series of insults that seemed to be coming from the depth of the male soul. In the end, she made a misstep. She had reached the stairs.
"Iran!" she tried to call his attention, but caught his evil eyes.
"Cedric will become a good man," he said, enraged. "A good man, just like his father. I promised Atho that I would see to it. And I will not have a bitch like you to jeopardize that."
In a matter of seconds, Lidia felt her body being thrown into the air. Rolling the stairs, she noticed Iran had pushed her with so much force that it seemed her chest was about to tear apart.
The shock against the floor had hurt, but the pain disappeared when the light was extinguished from her eyes. With a broken neck, the Queen of Bran lied dead on the floor; Lidia, the most beautiful woman among all the others from the Kingdom.
A few moments later, one of the servants entered the chapel. Scared, he faced Iran who simply mumbled.
"She killed herself," he told him, as if he couldn't believe his own eyes. "She couldn't bear to live without her beloved husband."