The Fall of Cadoria: After War Comes Betrayal

Chapter 2

"Prince Tyrran, you must bathe and change your clothes before you present yourself before the king!" Princess Braganẑa, his wife, told him with a firm tone as she stood with her arms folded and raised eyebrows giving her a look that said that she expected to be obeyed. Her strong Thargoẑan accent, which she never lost even though she had lived in Cadoria since a young girl, gave her expectations an extra sense of authority.

"Princess Braganẑa, I'm going to be late!" Prince Tyrran said with exasperation and a hint of a whine, as he felt himself descend helplessly into a dangerous place between his wife and father with no hope of escape. "His Majesty has summoned me! He is going to be angry with me if I'm late again for another High Council meeting. You know how angry he got last time." The couple always spoke formally to each other when they were in public. However, their tone and body language were anything but.

Braganẑa suppressed a smile at the memory, knowing she was the cause, "I know he has summoned you," she said with disapproval heavy in her voice. "His Majesty's secretary came to our chambers first, but you were not there for lunch. You forgot what the time was again, didn't you!" It wasn't unusual for Tyrran to miss lunch when practising with his comrades but this time there would be a good chance that he would get into more trouble than normal. "I obviously need to remind you, as always, that you will be king one day so you must start to look and behave like a king, not like you've been dragged around the palace by a horse!" Braganẑa told him harshly starting to get irritated by her husband's hesitancy. "Your bath is ready. Whether you get in it when the water is warm or cold is up to you, but His Majesty is waiting so I suggest you hurry. I'll treat your eye when you return."

There was more than an element of truth in Braganẑa's words, Prince Tyrran would admit to this too if you pushed him, but only after several denials which were denials to admit this to himself rather than any attempt at lying. Lying was not in his nature, "It is dishonourable," he would often say, and his honour was the one thing that was non-negotiable to him like most Cadorians. However, he held on to his honour to the point of stubbornness which often frustrated those close to him.

Tyrran's shoulders dropped knowing there was no point arguing. He attempted to kiss his wife as he passed her in the palace corridor on his way to their chambers, but Braganẑa pulled away,

"Urgh, don't touch me until you have bathed and are wearing clean clothes. You smell horrible," she told him with a certain amount of justification.

"I always let you kiss me after you have been on one of your rides," Tyrran protested, irked somewhat that he had been rejected for no good reason, as he saw it.

"That is because ladies don't sweat, they glow, now go and bathe!" Braganẑa replied pushing him away with her fingertips with a disgusted look, turning away as she did so.

Tyrran arrived in his chambers. He undressed with a petulant attitude and climbed into the bath. By this time, any remaining vision in his eye had been blocked by the swelling and instead of an eye, he had a large black, pus-filled mound instead.

When it came to appearances Tyrran rarely won and on this topic with his wife, their conversations were often like a mother to her son rather than a wife to her husband. Braganẑa always wanted to make sure he looked like a king in waiting and not look and smell like he had just walked off the practice grounds like he normally did. Tyrran was a man who liked to dress for comfort, and he especially did not like dressing up in finery. He disliked official state functions because of this. Braganẑa always dressed correctly for the occasion and was able to look regal whatever she wore even in the most casual of settings. At state functions, she could be so stunning that it felt like even time would stop to admire her.

If it were up to Tyrran, he would have worn the old clothes that he wore under his armour. If there was one thing that his wife always wanted to change about him, it was how he dressed, and it was often the root cause of most of their arguments which Braganẑa habitually won.