Promises

Zarkhaïm was a warrior, and Jäwell was his perfect copy while Miroïr completed him in a deep connection. Thinking about it, Miroïr found the idea pleasant. Jäwell would be happy as the one and only king and Miroïr would have the eternity to live for his science, his life would no longer be threatened by his constitution. 

"I accept," he answered, holding his breath. "As soon as Jäwell assumes the throne, I will become your companion." 

Zarkhaïm was excited, he could no longer contain himself and laid his head in Miroïr's lap before whispering.

"Don't leave me, please." 

Miroïr caressed his long dark hair slowly. His beautiful face was at peace for the first time since they met. Zarkhaïm fell asleep on this bench, in this position. Miroïr stayed there with him all along, never stopping to caress him tenderly as he admired the world around him, dreaming of all the things he would explore and discover with him. 

Miroïr was happy. 

This peace was troubled rapidly. On the other side, a messenger ran while screaming. 

"Majesty! Jäwell had a hard time in the front, the enemy rallied some allies. The prince is asking for reinforcements."

That was the end of a dream, the end of peace. Zarkhaïm awakened and they rushed back to the throne room out of the garden with Miroïr. Zarkhaïm was suddenly extremely focused on the messenger and Miroïr discovered the expression of the warlord who had conquered many territories without mercy. A shiver ran down his spine at his imposing stance.

"What is happening? How many troops are present?"

The messenger's voice froze the air around them.

"We counted eight thousand horsemen," he answered, and his words sounded like a death sentence. 

It was the first time Miroïr had seen the king with this expression, he never thought he would see him worried like this. Zarkhaïm was usually so confident that he immediately understood the gravity of the situation. Zarkhaïm turned to Miroïr.

"We will need the mages. Jäwell has only two thousand men with him. We will need to gain time for the troops to join him. Prepare your unit, we leave as fast as possible. We will travel tonight." 

Zarkhaïm left the room running with the messenger. They were going to prepare the missive to reunite as many men as they could in a record time. Miroïr took the way to the mage tower. As he opened the door he spoke with a powerful voice to be sure to be heard by everyone. He didn't even know he could be so strong, Miroïr always has been accommodating, caring, and listening, but this day, he discovered himself to be a leader as well. 

"It is the day we serve the King. Everyone in the court as fast as possible. We leave now for the front." 

The men were mages but they were primarily civilians. Most of them were from wealthy families, they had never heard of war and were not ready for it, but Miroïr was extremely worried for his brother and the men were too slow to prepare themselves. Miroïr had a wave of anger boiling in him.

"If you are not fast enough, I will execute you myself!"

Leïlana was the first to join him. This was the moment of truth, the time to show the world the true power of the mages. 

"You know, what you do now will change the future of women forever. You will return as a war hero and thanks to you, women will become the men's equal. Your presence will change the world, Leïlana, Miroïr sighed. Despaired that men were not as involved in this moment as she was. 

A minute later, they joined Zarkhaïm's squadron. Miroïr had a chill after seeing him with his armor. His silhouette was large and robust contrasting with the elegance of his fin face. The silver color of the metal covering his skin made him look amazing. Zarkhaïm was a charismatic and powerful leader. All men were admiring his poise and respectfully listened to him, but Miroïr realized he was watching him differently. Even if he didn't know what it was yet, he knew it was something incredibly strong. 

Zarkhaïm had arranged some carriage for the mages as he planned that none of them would know how to ride a horse. At the moment Miroïr was ready to climb inside Zarkhaïm came from behind him and pulled him on his mount. Miroïr never felt so light, it was like flying and he had nothing to say at the moment.

He was surprised to be taken this way, Leïlana placed her hand in front of the bottom of her face to laugh discreetly. She made a sign of the hand to say goodbye to him as she was closing the door of the carriage with a malicious face. 

Zarkhaïm was behind Miroïr on the same horse, he was holding the reins with one hand and Miroïr's waist firmly with the other before whispering to his ear.

"You told me you would not leave me anymore, so now, you stay with me." 

Miroïr was laughing about the situation. All the men were watching them with dumbfounded looks, none of them dared to speak a word and the column left the city rapidly. 

Deep down, Miroïr knew that Zarkhaïm did not want to leave him alone in the stress of this situation. He knew that Jäwell meant everything to him and the thought of him being in danger was eating away at him. Miroïr was afraid but he was thankful to have Zarkhaïm with him to support him in this terrible moment allowing him to focus on the task to come instead of his beloved brother fighting.

Miroïr slipped his hand on Zarkhaïm's arm that was around his waist and squeezed it between his fingers to reassure himself. In his back, he could feel the breath of the king being deeper as an answer.