Love, loyalty and blood.

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion - 
I have shuddered at it. 
I shudder no more. 
I could be martyred for my religion 
Love is my religion 
And I could die for that. 
I could die for you.” 
 
~ By John Keats ~

His breathing was heavier, and his legs were giving in. He had run for too long, not fast enough and they were catching up too fast. Fast forward this story and it becomes a story of war. Take a step back and it was a story of loyalty. Two steps back it was a story of love and a few more steps back it was still a story of love, the forbidden kind.

His name is not as important as what he represented. He was a loyal friend to his and when one of them was killed, he couldn’t let it slide. He went to the local where the deed took place and watched his victim as he laughed with his. They were joking and laughing about it. He was a child of royalty, which meant him and his walked on air, water and through walls. Untouchable they were, not like him and his. His were not very affluent but had learnt to cope, keep their distance from the arrogant that had and it seemed to work until she came into the picture.

Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes…just be an illusion. She was the girl of his dreams. When she walked she made them all look and that made him feel important, at least when they were she did. He had never felt this way about a woman before. When they were together, they were naked in the clouds and in their world they had their feet in the sand and the beach was their ground. Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that’s what their love was. Everything inside of them kept telling them to stop before they fall, but they just keep going. She was however making too many people look. He knew, no, they knew roses wither and dry but still held on hoping that they will last.   They did until he came into the picture and stole a kiss from his love. A lawful kiss is never worth a stolen one, but its worth is worth if you’re not caught, he caught him.

He was the quiet kind, loveable too and well mannered. His were cowboys and though his mama always warned him about them, their loyalty to him would not let him betray them. His always brought him the best laughs, memories and in times of uncertainty, clear mind. Like that one time when his heart was first broken, the liquor store blues with his and exposure to a few more pussycats courtesy of his was enough to aid the pain and heal the wounds. He couldn’t let his difference of opinion with his mother get in the middle of that.

His mother had aged gracefully. She was beautiful, caring and most importantly, she was the kind type. When she was much younger, even more beautiful and although she was modest, tales of her beauty had travelled far and wide. She had made more than her equal share look and a power did look. He came from royalty, rolled with royalty and was expected to marry from royalty, but he didn’t. What lied behind them, and what lied before them were tiny matters compared to what lied within them. He promised she would marry her but the father would not stand by and watch royal blood tainted. So he ran away from her, but deep inside he knew if she didn’t come after him, he would die, and he died. Everyday he died a little inside until this one day she came calling, crying.

She told him about his son, their son, their only son. Their son loved this woman; he killed for her, died for it and lost one of his friends for it. Their son reminded her of him, they had taken the only thing that he loved and reminded her of the love of his life. He couldn’t sit back and watch her heart breaking; it was breaking his heart too.

Rage was what was happening to him now. He gathered his troops.