The King's Weep I

Chapter XVIII

The young brother had pushed his older in a fear of loneliness in the future, or death.

Dragomir had studied Kahl, who stared at the ground in a self-hatred manner that made the older brother frown. Kahl could not believe he had let himself go in such a way, men and women alike would spit and growl at them.

Kahl, once done fighting an inner-war, decided to look up at the boring, ever emotionless eyes. But, at that moment, what had surprised Kahl, was the emotion swimming in Dragomir and his eyes. The emotion that spilled out upon Dragomir's cheeks, and created a faint, pale stain line down his face until it faded upon his chin. Kahl and Dragomir could hear the droplets of let-loose water from the big brothers eyes, fall into the dark oblivion, the place of items Kahl had never seen again from Dragomir.

Kahl ignored those tears though, and had focused on the truth of the situation. Dragomir was a brother, and Kahl had realized that there could be no more than brothers in the castle, or even upon the land. The younger brother pulled himself up, and let the older one watch him as the tears still coaxed the blood floor.

Kahl looked upon the vast window he had placed for dinner, to watch the snow fall. "We need to go, have we both forgotten the monstrous disaster waiting outside the castle doors?" The old king had asked to the unknown one, and he nodded.

Dragomir wiped away the remaining tears, and had became an entire different man as he dragged himself from the ground. His face was steric, a plain of just green, a nightmare painted upon a broken man, who was so rejected and worn he could not be sad no longer. The king, so-so tired, put on a brave face and looked at his younger brother, who had became quiet and plain, just like him.

"You are right, let us go."

The two had, as they made their way to the enormous gates that radiated a dangerous power, tried to forget the moment after Kahl had killed their innocent father. They both had felt the locks on their hearts open, a small crack, where only the most brilliant and sneaky could have made an entry. But, they felt those cracks slowly close in the span of forget-ness.

Kahl had pushed open the large doors, and the doors made a gigantic creaking sound as the bolts had been rusted and worn down from all the years they sat, back then. Dragomir followed as Kahl entered into the bitter cold, and the evil king, just a small bit, had smiled as he saw trees and mountains, houses and animals, and child, men and women burn.

But, it faded as Dragomir heard the gasp of his brother, and glanced upon him. Kahl, who had felt the need to fall to the ground in a prayer, did. Kahl collapsed, and buried his head deep within the blood red tunic he had been wearing on the fateful night. The young brother felt his lungs had fell, and his heart had broke, only holding on by the small strings Dragomir had provided.

Dragomir heard Kahl mumble in the swaying wind, and watched as white puffs of smoke exhaled within the frost. The old brother had once smiled again, and watched his own breath create whiteness that turned to wind for a new snow. Dragomir then watched as the dragon, in all its glory, flew through the grey and black clouds, releasing fire upon victims that had been in the wrong spot in such a tragic time. The sound of roaring fire had filled both their ears, but only one was used to it.

"Oh, brother, don't pray," Dragomir echoed. "The most horrible part has not even started, and you want to end it?"

But, these were the words, the only words, the wind had blocked out from the praying Kahl.