Take everything, my cruel love, without you for me life itself is not necessary.
I always with you in the same direction — any — paradise or hell.
O my love, allow me to descend in the abyss of your eyes.
I always with you on the way — towards paradise and hell.
“Iskander Al-Diva returned!” servants were reporting to each other.
In Libiya the family of Al-Diva was appreciated. They had lands, power, wealth, influence. Earlier, the family of Al-Diva had been the family of noble soldiers, mercenaries, but when the Osnan empire came to Libiya, they conferred a title to the family of Al-Diva. The sheikh Iskander Al-Diva returned from the sultan to whom he went according to trade agreements. Amelik Al-Tol, Iskander's friend didn’t go with him at that time, he had many things to do at home. Now the fiery handsome was sitting in the surrounding by girls of the seraglio of Al-Diva and waiting for Iskander.
The man entered the garden of the house. He was high and noble. White clothes indicated belonging to an ancient and rich family. Towards him rushed two children, his sons. One was dark-haired, bright, with the rich name Jallal. He was the senior. He was growing a worthy soldier and son. The younger had eyes of rare, heavenly blue and the fair hair, as at the northerner which under the moon or cloudy weather had a silver tone, and at the sun a gold one. Such heritage passed to the younger from his great-grandmother, the northerner. Captivated by a great-grandfather and taken as the wife. The family of Huruy was ancient too and notable from where Iskander took his Eyshan. The northern princess Enefeya, the grandma of Eyshan, rejoiced when the granddaughter gave birth to the second son, cherishing the hope that he would carry the northern blood further, in this south country. Eyshan at first was afraid that Iskander could suspect that the second child was not his, but everyone saw joy of Enefeya, there was no doubt whose blood wore the child. Enefeya, as the most senior woman in the family Huruy demanded the son was called in honor of her gone father — Enefrey. And so they called. Children and their mother Eyshan loved the father and the husband Iskander with all power of their hearts.
“What did you bring, father?” Jallal asked, running up to the father.
Iskander lifted the son in the air, he laughed loudly. The severe man smiled. The scar on his cheek, like-lizard one, as if revived.
Enefrey waited until the father paid attention to him.
“I will show everything,” Iskander answered, released the firstborn, and lifted on hands the younger one. Seated him on the hand. Enefrey was thin in the bone, and almost weightless, he would become a good equestrian, maybe, the fastest one in Libiya.
“You were absent long,” Enefrey softly spoke. The man stroked the son on the face, attentively looking at him.
He could have had such son from her. With the same heavenly face.
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