Fereydun (فریدون)

Fereydun, son of Abtin and descendant of Jamshid, which means he inherits both a legendary legacy and the lingering consequences of someone else’s ego problem.

He rises at exactly the moment the world has had enough of Zahak and his whole “feed snakes human brains daily” administration style. With the help of Kaveh the Blacksmith, who brings the working-class rage energy this story desperately needs, Fereydun overthrows Zahak.

And then, surprisingly, he doesn’t kill him.

Instead, he imprisons Zahak in Mount Damavand. Because apparently Fereydun believes in order, balance, and maybe the idea that endless revenge isn’t the only available policy. It’s a rare moment of restraint in a narrative that usually treats mercy like a design flaw.

He rules for 500 years. Which is long enough to stabilize things, rebuild, and almost convince everyone that maybe the cycle has been broken.

Almost.

Near the end of his reign, Fereydun decides to divide his kingdom among his three sons: Salm, Tur, and Iraj. On paper, this looks like fairness. In reality, it’s a stress test for human nature that fails immediately.

Salm and Tur, driven by jealousy, murder their brother Iraj. No war needed. No external enemy. Just internal collapse, delivered efficiently.

And just like that, Fereydun’s entire vision of peace disintegrates.

So he does what every ruler in this story eventually does when things fall apart: he assigns revenge as the next step. He appoints Iraj’s grandson, Manuchehr, to avenge the murder.

Which officially kicks off the long, exhausting Iran-Turan wars. Because nothing says “restoring order” like institutionalizing vengeance across generations.

Fereydun lives long enough to see all of this. The victory, the peace, the betrayal, the collapse. Five centuries of effort, undone by a single act of envy between brothers.

He dies at the end of his reign, not in battle, not by fate, but broken-hearted.

Which might be the most honest ending anyone gets in this entire story.

And somewhere in the background, some scholars point out that Fereydun echoes figures like Cyrus the Great. A ruler trying to build something lasting, humane, and just.

And discovering, like everyone else here eventually does, that the real threat isn’t always the tyrant you overthrow.

It’s what people do once the throne is finally stable.