Rayne Drops (FFXV)

XVI) Bounty for Three

~Two weeks before~

"Again."

"Rayne!" Signum whines, digging the point of his sword into the ground and pulling himself back up to his feet. "C'mon, I'm not gonna win."

"This isn't about winning," I shrug. "You can't be weak if you're going to be part of the Crownsguard."

"I'm not weak," he protests, rolling his indigo eyes.

"I beg to differ," Arma says, stepping into the training room. He pushes his wild, sandy hair out of his eyes.

"You need to get that cut," I comment, watching him tie up the mess of curls.

"Or I could grow it out," he shrugs, shoving Signum playfully. "C'mon, fight Rayne again. Or are you too scared?"

"I'm not scared either," Signum huffs, yanking his sword out of the ground and readying his weapon. "Let's go."

"Alright," I reply indifferently, summoning my gunblade and speeding around to the spot behind him.

He parries one of my lazy strikes easily, trying to retaliate. Our swords clash; I push his away despite his best efforts at pushing back. He stumbles backward onto his rear, scrambling to his feet and rushing back toward me with a shout of frustration. I sigh, sidestepping and pressing my boot into his back. He falls onto his stomach. I plant my foot on his shoulder blades.

"Done?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I'm completely disappointed. He's sixteen and he can't do anything but flop all over the battle field.

"Get off me," he grits, trying to get up. I shake my head, sitting on his back. "Rayne!"

"You're not gonna be good for anything around here if you can't figure out how to fight correctly."

"What if I don't wanna fight?"

"You'll just have to get over it," Arma shrugs. "We're here to protect the king and his castle. We're not here to play video games and take up space."

"Why do we all have to?" he demands, attempting to roll over. "We've got enough family to make a small country."

"Because it's your job," I huff, digging an elbow into his ribs. "So suck it up, buttercup. You're stuck here."

"She's right, you know." I look up to see Ignis and Gladiolus entering the room. Gladio smirks at the crushed boy beneath me. "You run in a battle, you're judged and punished just like a traitor."

"Won't be running if I'm dead," Signum grumbles. "Rayne, seriously."

"I'm gonna see how Dad's doing," Arma mutters, glaring at Gladio's back as he leaves. I sigh, standing and kicking Signum lightly in the side.

"Ow!" he yelps. "I have a bruise there!"

"He's all too similar to Noct," Ignis sighs, looking over his daggers. He's ditched his usual (hideous) leopard print shirt for a simple t-shirt. I imagine there was something about the god-awful fabric getting ruined in that decision. I nod, watching the boy sulk out of the room.

"He really is. Except Noct wants to learn to fight."

"What's with him anyway?" Gladio asks, adjusting the end of his black tank top. "Signum, isn't it?"

"Doesn't want to fight," I shrug, refusing to look at the bane of Arma's existence. "It's gonna get him killed. They'll send him out whether he's ready or not."