Chapter Two

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Two days later, five days before Tristan's birthday, Theo is in the gymnasium with a large two handed sword clasped tightly in his hands and a frown on his face as sweat dripped down his body. He had discarded his shirt a few hours before and was beginning to question if his father was trying to purposely make him sweat.

"Your mother told me you'd been with another woman the other night," his voice is calm and deep, bringing Theo's attention to him immediately. Even though he liked challenges and getting into mischief, he still respected his elders and would never talk down to his father.

"Is that why you're pushing me so hard today? Is this punishment for it?" Theo questions and his father just laughs, launching into another attack at his son.

"It may be, it may not be but you need to up your attack and defence son." Theo grunts in response, swinging the large sword at his father who ducks and brings his own sword sideways, just missing his son's chest. Theo growls lowly and lashes out with his leg quickly, taking his father by surprise as he drops to the ground; his son had swung his leg against his own to bring him down. The lighter blonde then places his sword against his father's throat lightly, so he doesn't break the skin and spill his blood.

Slow clapping sounds from the entrance and both men look over to see Tristan standing against the wall, his hands coming together slowly while a smirk takes over his face. Theo steps back from his father and allows him to stand, Elliot immediately bowing his head to the Prince, glaring at his son when he doesn't.

"Prince, what are you doing here?" Elliot asks, Tristan coming forward with his hands behind his back.

"Just coming to see how far my Captain has come since the last time I watched him spar. That last move was a dirty one, Theo." The Prince clicks his tongue at him.

"There are no dirty moves in combat." Theo states defensively, a frown taking over his handsome face.

"Of course not," the Prince laughs, walking over to the weapons hanging on the wall and grabs the other two handed sword. He moves back to Theo and Elliot with a grin taking over his features, Theo raises his eyebrow in question. "My turn, show me what you've got." Tristan takes his shirt off when he gets the chance, Theo tilting his head with a smirk while getting into position; holding the sword horizontal in front of his face.

In moments the two boys were clashing swords, both grunting at the force behind the metal in their hands. Even though the Prince wasn't as ripped as his Captain was, he had strength in his arms to knock back the small blonde a few paces. Though he came back at the brunette, hitting with all the force he could and Tristan revelled in the fire in his friend's amber eyes. The smirks wiped off both their faces when the alarm rings out through the whole mansion, the swords stilling as they look around and look to Elliot for what to do.

"Put your shirts on, Theo grab some armour and get the two of you dressed as soon as you can. Arm yourselves and come to the ballroom if you can!" Elliot shouted, the boys instantly doing as told and going into the armour room once they had their shirts on. They both set to putting on the right sized armour, helping each other tighten it before grabbing two more swords each, strapping the weapons to their hips and strapping the two handed one on their backs.

"Stay behind me, Tristan." Theo orders when they make their way out of the gymnasium, not even bothering to see if Tristan nods in agreement which he does. Even though he's the Prince, he respects his friend to know what he's doing when it comes to protecting him. They make their way to the ballroom as silently as they can, stopping in a shadowed alcove when they hear footsteps getting closer. Theo has Tristan pressed to the wall with his body covering his as a group of armed men and women go passed them, Theo holding his breath until they're gone. Tristan releases the breath he's holding when his friend steps away from him, bringing the big sword from between his shoulders and leaving the alcove.

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