As the King left the room, a servant came to the two brothers to lead them outside. It was the middle of the day, and with the stress accumulated, they were hungry. They decided to go to a fancy place. They never did this, they entered, and the owner was suspicious to see two young men together entering. Jäwell stopped him in his thoughts by paying first a large amount of money. The man smiled and installed them comfortably.
"You know, Miro, we could eat every day in such a place if we say yes."
Miroïr was much more reticent, he was terrified by the proposition. It seemed too beautiful to be true for him.
"It means that one day you will be the King. Do you realize it?"
Jäwell smiled with all teeth visible. "Oh yes, I realize! King Jäwell! How many concubines do you think I can take?"
Miroïr was despaired by his brother's attitude. He sighed, "You will never learn the lesson, will you?"
Jäwell was more than happy, he had already started to drink to celebrate. Miroïr whispered. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Anyway, nobody can refuse such a proposition I guess. Let's be Princes"
They finished the evening heavily drunk. Miroïr had to carry Jäwell on his shoulders to go back home. As he was also intoxicated and with a weak constitution, it was more about dragging his brother miserably and falling every two steps. Jäwell caressed his brother's cheek tenderly once they were home.
"Tell me, little brother, what do you think of him?"
Miroïr started to blush, which was even more visible with his very white skin. He turned his head, avoiding his eyes.
"Who? What?"
Jäwell laughed. "Come on! It's just the two of us. I saw how you were looking at him."
Miroïr raised his head sharply, he wanted to defend himself. He dropped Jäwell to the floor and went to sit down to get a glass of water and try to clear his mind.
Jäwell fell like a stone, he did not even try to get up. He was completely drunk and he only laughed more and more.
"You don't look at women that way, little brother. You were devouring him with your eyes."
Jäwell giggled as he teased him and Miroïr didn't know where to put himself.
"Don't add to it..."
Jäwell crawled to the table and looked at him very seriously.
"I want you to admit it. I'm not letting go until you say it."
Miroïr put down the glass of water, the alcohol wasn't helping and his head was now spinning.
"Okay it's fine, you win. I find him attractive," he stammered.
Miroïr crossed his arms over his chest as Jäwell collapsed to the floor with a large grin.
"Well, there you go. It wasn't that hard. Or maybe was it? Ha ha"
Miroïr was used to the humor of Jäwell, that was something he kept from his time in the militia. The kind of jokes soldiers could make after drinking way too much, but the worst was Jäwell insisting like an idiot.
"Hey! I said it was hard! Do you get it? I am so hilarious!"
Miroïr started to laugh at his brother's idiocy but before he could say something about it, Jäwell fell asleep in his wine with a victorious smile. Miroïr, on the other hand, was immersed in his thoughts. He found his heart beating as he thought of the King's sweet voice. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, whispering to himself, "he was smelling roses," before the alcohol helped him to fall asleep happily.
The day after, Jäwell had a very intense headache. They avoided the subject of the King for some time. They decided to wait a few days before going to the castle to give their final answer. The time to be sure, even if the decision was already taken.
When they felt ready for it, they went to the castle. They showed the coin to the guard and the commander came to search for them like the first time.
They arrived in the room but nobody was there so they decided to wait, standing.
After a few long minutes, the King entered. He crossed his arms watching the brothers. Miroïr still remembered the discussion he had with Jäwell and didn't dare to look the King directly in the eyes.
"I understand you took your decision?" asked Zarkhaïm, impatient to hear them. He was very glad and Jäwell was very excited.
"Yes, we decided to accept your proposition, Zarkhaïm. So what's next?!"
Zarkhaïm seemed like a different person suddenly, his face enlightened and his eyes sparkled. Miroïr was secretly admiring his glance at this moment. Without admitting it, he couldn't stop to watch his smile and it was contagious.
"Next, you take your stuff and you come to live in the castle. A servant will show you your quarters. This week we will see how I can train you to be my successors. We will see together the economy and the external politics of our land."
On the same day, the news was spreading. Merik was walking in the street when he heard a scream.
"The White Prince and the Black Prince entered the castle!"
Merik felt a tickle in his belly, he understood immediately. He ran to the forge and found the elder blacksmith alone. He understood what happened. He understood that now, a complete world would separate them, and he would probably never see the boys again, but Merik was happy, he was happy that the children he saw growing up, the weak child he saved, these children. The children of his childhood friend became Princes and they would never suffer from poverty anymore. Merik had this feeling to have succeeded in his mission.
"Do you see, Arturus? Your sons are royals now. You can be proud," Merik whispered to the sky with tears in his eyes. Before he added, "Me, I am proud."
This day was joyful in the Kingdom. Everybody was celebrating the continuity of the royalty. Alcohol ran in the streets and bards were making songs about the White and Black Princes.