Zeravia's Five

twelve

June 3rd.

Tate's legs felt like jello going up the stairs, holding onto the bannister for support. His training sessions had been particularly harder today. It got harder and harder everyday. Pushing him to the very limits of his physical and psychological state. He knew that in the end, it would only pay off. He knew that soon, they would be sent on a mission.

His focus hadn't been the best during training, to the point that even someone as oblivious as Simon had noticed it. He couldn't help it. He was filled with so much anger, it was unimaginable. Everyone was so happy, walking around as though everything was going perfectly. Even with the knowledge of a possible war happening... William held his stupid events and laughed at the table. They made light of everything. Tate was furious. He was furious about the fact that no one was truly seizing the situation. People should've been crying, beat down from the news of a whole village destroyed and countless lives lost. The castle walls felt less and less like home as the boy's world fell apart. He wanted to scream and shout... throw everything at the wall. He needed to let it all out. He knew he would explode soon because everyday he had to listen to people laughing and walking around in the sun... acting like everything was normal.

He heard the muffled sounds of Gia's laughter, probably from the yard, along with the crippling of a fire. He could count the amount of times they had done something together as an actual family on one hand and he was willing to bet his life on this family gathering to take on a business turn soon enough.

"We'll expect you to join us outside Tate," William had said as soon as he had set foot in the castle. An order he had responded to with a quick nod of the head.

The boy made it to the top of the stairs and entered his chambers, his eyelids feeling heavy as he sat on the edge of his bed. He'd change into clean clothes and join them, hopefully it wouldn't last too long.

Tate slowly took his dirty shirt off, tossing it with a light grunt from extending his sore arms. Lowering his head and holding it in the palm of his hands, he let out a sigh. As he stared at his old wooden floor, he noticed a small dent in the corner of one of the planks. He sucked in his lower lip, he didn't remember making a dent in the planks the last time he had pulled it off the floor to stash his books in. He moved off the bed into a kneeling position and pulled the loosened plank off finding his usual hiding spot for books empty. A hint of panic appeared on his face, hearing a creak behind him. He turned, reaching under his bed and pulling out a dagger, raising to his feet swiftly as he was spinning on his heels. The dagger ended at the throat of whoever it was that had sneaked up on him. Training constantly and being under attack almost for the entirety of the day had rendered him just a little paranoid.

Simon laughed nervously, frozen in place as he rose his hands up like a criminal that had been found out, "All that training is starting to show huh?" He spoke pointing at the smaller man's chest.

Tate didn't move, his eyes small as he glared at the other. If he had heard that comment a week ago, he would've blushed at the thought of Simon mentioning his body, but now... all he carried in his eyes was annoyance. He held the dagger there, watching as Simon pressed his lips together.

"Tough crowd..." the threatened man said flashing a quick smile.

Tate sighed and moved the dagger away, turning around and walking towards his closet to take out clean clothes. He looked over his shoulder at his friend who was now staring at his back with worry. His scars. He usually tried to keep them hidden at all times, but it seemed he had stopped caring somewhere along the way. Simon's brows rose up a bit as if he was searching for a way to ask about the darkened scars.