(№5.3)

Miraculous and curious how time were to shift and run in front of your face depending on your state of mind and how darkly or gravely your emotions would fuel the speed, how accelerating a bare hour could become just like tautened sutures would bite your skin when having had surgery performed by one of those toothless forms always found at a market pricing their pathetic skills like the purest gold goblets who - like them of course - in truth were only superficially golden painted. What a lie, what deception all these three things bound together were.

His bold steps echoed from every inclined house wall, hollowed and vibrated together with the trees stuck by a breeze in harmnoy, as he elegantly made his way back to the palace to not miss spending the most important meal of the day with his brother.

Who he now was advised to kill, piercing his heart with one strong heartedly blow. His breath came forced at the thought of such dastardly deed, his eyes squinted in denial, as his heart beckoned him to consider, already befriended with the idea.

Rotten, vile, base, malign, primal, that's what these treacherous thoughts popping in his head were, how he even dared to contemplate... It made him violently sick. Such stupidity to believe even a word from this witch, a loving gaze or any caress she ever performed mere measures to adorn his loving, naïve heart.

Faster than he actually wished for, he had reached the stables and found himself deliberately picking the finest and crispiest apples for his favourite and beloved horses. The fruits could only be refreshing, strengthening and saturating, a standard lower than this would simply not be accepted. After all, there was a saying going on about how a good red apple could make you see the strangest things and even make you fall down into a hole towards wondrous, magical lands even, improving stamina and prolonging life besides. The thirst for apples should always be taken by most serial competence.

Especially when owning a herd of oriental black horses, brought to their land under the most hardest and heroic conditions as creatures like these could not be tamed by violence and enforcement, yet rather by choice and alike wilderness sensed in the new owner.

These horses were strong and slender, viciously free and of intricately brutal beauty. Every step, even every sigh they took through their muscular nostrils was a display of power and unbound might and the visible shifting of hand thick muscles that strikingly moved under their jet black skin spoke of unmatched force and incredible speed. Every other four-hooved comparison appalled and dulled when presented next to them. Even so, posing to these wise giants that stood over even his tall head in withers which could, according to spontaneous mood, take a crusty bite out of your shoulder and the matter of befriending would be resolved. Most humans even failed to claim the grandest straws when standing next to such extricate beauty, simply paling in comparison.

As he approached, sword gently leaning against the wall of the prosperous stable only constructed for the harsh winters they were not used to, yet never actually used for they were born surrounded by the elements and they intended to die like such, their eyes were constantly following his slow and conscious trail almost evasively. They didn't shine with friendliness, but also not exactly with dislike or worse hunger. The flock of horses would tolerate him as long as any strange weapon of his would be out of reach, for many of their kin had been slain and maimed by mankind's blade and the intellectual horses wouldn't take any chances now.

How poetic they grazed near the aquamarine linden trees shivering under the caress of the wind, just as effortlessly as they would dash over strange soil, just how their hooves ought to glide over smooth sand dunes with the sun leading their sprint.

He hugged six fresh apples in total which he dispersed to them quietly, almost not daring to respire. The powerful horses devoured the apples with almighty, always-present hunger, their muscles demanded to be fed and they appreciated his respect and humbling attitude, so they refrained - as per usual - to gobble up his hand while it still clasped around the fruit.

They even allowed him to stroke their taut skin for a bit - quite an unusual day today turned out to be - when his mind endlessly relapsed and repeated the words that pestered his mind, and kept him envisioning the most absurd scenes, besides the obvious solicitation to slay the future king.

«The rule only applies to humans».

So that would only further clarify the fact how his brother was of heavenly descent and his mother really was something similar to a goddess. Fingers crossed it wouldn't be their Goddess, but after pondering the issue more, the brother corrected himself by reminding that could not be, considering she had pledged herself under the oath of eternal maidenhood.

The only good conclusion made under today's sky.

As he greeted the horses good-bye who'd neigh benevolently and grabbed the cold handle of his sword, he couldn't lose the unsure, tingling feeling of how Goldbar hadn't meant her brother by saying this after all.

Not that it would matter even an ounce as he wouldn't act on her request or regard anything that ever came out of that wretched, lying jaw ever again.

He entered the void palace with no servants or slaves to rush by and tye his anorak or offer a cold beverage. He combed anxiously through his thin hair, confused by his own mere thoughts speaking of such chaos. Why would they ever care to greet him in this formal manner? Not that he expected them to anyway.

Before uniting with his brother though, he halted in the washing chambers to scrub the crust of blood-like appearance dusting the surface with a mediterranean sponge, as the blade was to be spotlessly given to the boys. The brother couldn't help but wonder what poor creature Goldbar had sacrificed in a demonic ritual to be stained like this. Perhaps her unauthorised and uncivilised attempts to contact the depths of hell were resulting in her hideous dreams speaking of all the evilness that had crawled through the rifts she created to suffice her cause. He shined the blade under his hands harder, desperately to give his words the meaning they didn't uphold, not even to him, the master of denial.

Only when the blade mirrored his worrying features and radiating blue eyes did he stop scrubbing and hurried to the chambers of his brother.

Chattering and cluttering of plates and trays filtered through the ajar door as he fined and corrected his posture to storm the festivities with a grace akin to his stormy neighing creatures, in a way much easier to handle than human beings. Although that already sounded like he would make a fool out of him.

He rather collapsed through the door, immediately having the eyes of his little brother trained on him and the servants dead track in their conversations and ashamedly examining the floor panels. The older brother could feel a pearl of uncomfortable sweat raining down his neck, feeling as if charged guilty by his brother's usual thorough scrutiny.

"Good morning, brother", his little brother spoke formally, an unreadable expression shrouding his open visage.

He wore linen pants and a golden stuck tunic with complicated templates which would have taken well over five moon cycles to terminate. His evenly black hair glittered in the morning light shining through the windows behind him and was laid in perfect curls.

The little angle of the court, perfectly prepared as usual, in manners and mutual appearance.

"Good morning to you also. I apologise for my tardy timing... I went to fetch your sword", his voice sounded helplessly strained and full of apprehension, as he internally wanted not to be here.

His little brother smiled showing his perfect white teeth and made a flickering gesture with his dominant hand.

"You shall be forgiven. Come, sit at the table with me and let us talk a little, all-exclusive to other ears".

The servants matter of factly picked up on his silent cue and made their way out of the chamber by indecorously bowing and muttering benevolent wishes and compliments. They all were also sure to not brush the older brother indecisively lingering at the door.

He finally grew some skin and carefully seated himself across the round table decked and plated with all sorts of delicacies and mouth-watering fare, baked by the old baker to please the prince and hope to have him come down subsequently and say his thanks.

His brother looked at him, waiting coolly for him to introduce a conversing matter, his black eyes unapologetically boring into his skull.

His older brother shifted in his seat, the first and only time feeling tipsy under the examining glare of his brother he gave only to strangers yet in need of proving themselves.

"So", he spoke at last pressed, toying with a cord of his clothing. "How do you feel a summer older?".

His brother almost seemed to want to sneer at him but then severed just the head of an egg and began to peel the auburn shell.

"Not quite different yet to have another face looking back at me from the mirror, but also not so inherently same that that would contradict the relevance of this anniversary", he put the whole cooked egg in his petite mouth, munching on it without hoisting his look on something else in the room than his elder brother's blue eyes.

"Ah, I see", this one responded now, not seeing anything, but choosing rather to charge his plate with light bread.

"Did Goldbar have anything interesting to say?", he almost fainted, as his little brother, eating another popped egg with a knowing smirk, stared him down innocently after his question, obviously entertained by his brother's badly contained shock.

The older brother laid his pastry aside.

"What makes you think I went to see her? She is not a blacksmith, her father is. It was him who fabricated the sword for you", he loathed himself for playing fool with his brother and talking to him, as he would just be an ordinary child.

But then again, his kind and careful brother never behaved like this of the sorts, normally. He was never this prodding, this close to scent the acid tang of rebellion which would permit to  treat him as such. His expression changed then to melancholy, gaze dropping to the sword gleaming on the dining table.

"Well, you two seemed rather betrothed, smitten with each other, so it would only be logical that if she were to have a comprehension of the near future, she were to tell you."

The non-prince's throat felt like it was to alleviate and expand in expectations, astounding and discomfort plaguing ones.

His little brother with the face of an angel but the tongue of something else normally residing levels lower than seraphic creatures, turned to the windows behind him, watching the all-green boscage.

"You know, the moon triggers rather unforeseen reactions such as this without any conclusive meaning behind but to stimuli fear and change, the lazy currents to clumsy actions".

He turned with a calm smile, his eyes like deep monopoles of pitless blackness.

"If you say so", his brother muttered, continuing to pile fruits on his table.

"You know, I had a dream last night". Pause. Freezing. The feel of trapping winds enclosing you when falling down a cliff moments before nothing would be perceived by you no more, just when a breeze hit your face like a tin wall connecting and you thought you couldn't breathe anymore...

"What dream? What did you see?" His strained and controlled voice broke away to the big pretending of sounding at ease, peeling back to the ugly truth that he simply was a bundle of nerves, anxious to have been found out, caught.

The prince's eyes locked on the big brother's in a manner indicating he had just told a joke and was waiting to earn the fruits of his laughter.

" I think we should go on a quest".

"Yeah sure, but first tell me about your dream".

"Can we travel on horseback? On your black giants, to be exact?"

"Sure, but... Please, don't you want to tell me more about it?"

"About the quest?". The older brother stiffened, his patience wavering thinly.

"No, about your moon-induced dream?"

"What dream?", black pupils watched him through narrow eye lashes as his brother sipped on water.

"The dream you wanted to tell me about, remember?"

"The angels told me to seek, you know?", the younger brother muttered, handing the deals to a game of fools, genially nibbling on a plum.

It was pointless and he was wasting rather feisty energy to get his stubborn brother to talk. But since he asked about Goldbar, it might arouse his suspicions confirmed to be in the least bit slightly suspicious. His small brother resumed.

"Have you heard about the fate that ailed the poor chickens from the Logans upstream? They were rather brutally gutted and slaughtered a couple nights ago in the deepest, darkest hour where no common man dares to enter the playing field of demons. The entrails of the fowl was smeared on the walls with the pattern of claws matching to no known predators of ours and the blood stood two fingers thick on the floor, until the poor eldest lass opened the door and released the carnage that fateful morning, heads orderly stacked up lingering at the door, rightly rolling to her feet. Apparently she fainted, that weak little thing, and bumped her head horribly at the sharp edge, laying in the stinking, tangled bowels for almost an hour before her father discovered this scene articulated out of the playbook of monsters. The commoners think it to be a beast really. I think whatever it is, causing such bloody aftermath, feeding in such voluntary frenzy, it must be smitten dead and his head put on a spike for all else to see, living evidence of our kingdom not fooling around but reacting to any vicious menace", he dramatically put a pause on that shocking revelation to bite a piece shoved on his fork roughly, surely unfitting regarding this tale, out of a chicken's thigh, the thick, dark oily sauce dripping down slowly and purposefully.

His brother gulped, somehow feeling judged and accused of something he certainly couldn't have done, whilst the angled look of the prince spoke in unflattering volumes.

"Was that the quest the angels want you to take? The hunters are rather more equipped in performing this lowly labour". The young boy sitting across wiped his mouth swiftly with a velveteen napkin enacted with his initials.

"Be that as it may, this will be my future kingdom and what kind of king would I be making if not taking matters in my own hands? My people need to know when the worst comes to worst, I'll be the first to prepare the battlefield and rush with drawn knives to our enemy's throat. This beast was no animal, yet moreover a fellow subject one intending mischief and mayhem in the form of a prank. But brother, either way, I can surely count on you, right? I can count on you to guard my back and defend my heart, can't I? For as long as we both have breath?", he rose from his high stool, rounded the table and halted right next to his brother, the corner of his mouth cutely stained with cherry marmalade.

Then why did it remind his brother still so much of blood dripping?

His smaller hand embraced his larger hand whilst smiling diffidently.

His brother sighed and grinned a bit, patting him reassuringly. It was his fatigue and imagination playing tricks with him. His brother was a sweet, gentle and cute kid, only insecure about his blooming boyhood, but hadn't they all been?

He squeezed his hand back. "For as long as we both live, little brother".

A genuine smile crossed his brother's face now and typically for him, he pointed curiously with his chin to his polished sword.

"Can I hold it? After all, it's supposed to be mine."

He grabbed and handed it over to his brother, only letting go when his small hands strongly hemmed around the hilt, the air trickling deeply with festivity. The visions though only too greedily awaited an opportunity to be conjured upon once again, for the tip of this sharp sword indeed pointed almost of own accord right to his smaller brother's heart, mere inches away. Tempting and mocking his desires eager to discard off his sole blood, in order to seek a tidy path to the throne paid in blood.

The prince staggered back, swinging and tilting it so the swindling morning light would paint every shade on the sharp edge which acted as a prism now, a globe of pure colour.

"It's a fair blade, taking in consideration the poor choice of metal".

His older brother nodded, marvelling at his experienced eye.

"It is. And hold that thought, but where is father by the way? Is he drinking in the pub once again at this unholy hour of the day?"

His brother was already half out the room, only minding the lucently sword he would now call his own, but looked up with a strange grin of unusual grim ambition.

"No, he claims he's unwell and wanted to stay in bed", his brother nodded, shaking his head in his mind about the unreasonable failing of his step-father one might say.

"Such an excessive drinker he is. It's going to kill him one of these days", the older brother murmured, but would wish he had said nothing, although the course of the future would not have been changed.

"Quite the contrary, actually. I believe he is merely suffering the effects of the red berries I put in his tea. But the problem should soon be resolved and with it all the more suffering", and with this, the little brother walked out, leaving his older brother in ultimate awestruck, but the kind where a lightning bolt had struck a tree to fry the wood to an ashen hide and to fray your insides efficiently, if opportunity could be gained where you stood next to it.