"Arms up, c'mon," Thomas shouted before the stick smacked my leg. "It's going to hurt more and more each time."

"Seriously, this is so stupid. You know as well as I do that the minute you and I would get married, the king would give me a royal guard."

He raised the stick and slapped my shoulder with it, a smirk showing from the corner of his mouth. Oh hell no, I couldn't let him enjoy this!

I raised my stick and started swinging it: up, down, up, side, side, down. Finally the stick slammed into his calf, leaving a nice big red welt. He hissed out in pain and i leaned over beginning to laugh.

"The student becomes the master!" I yelled between laughs and gasps for air.

Suddenly, pain ripped through my calves before i landed flat on my back. Michael held back a smile as he graciously walked past me, holding his own stick, and lent a hand down to Thomas.

"That's cheating!" I shouted, staying down.

"Ah, no it's not." Michael imitated my whining. "You need to learn to fight, Charlie. What are you going to do when Ronan comes back?"

"Don't joke to her like that. We both know he died years ago." Thomas walked over to me, extending a hand down to which i smacked away with the stick.

"This is stupid. I'm hit, i'm down." I dropped my stick, exaggerating my fake death. "Go on without me!"

Thomas rolled his eyes while Michael walked over to the bench and sat down. He was laughing at us, amused by our petty drama and fights. Thomas grabbed my arm and tried to lift me, as if helping me up. However, I had different plans. I told him I was dead and couldn't fight so that's what I let my body act like.

"You're like a small sack of potatoes!" he shouted. I knew he could lift me up easily but he was playing along a bit.

"I said I'm dead. Let me die in peace! There isn't any reason to learn to fight with Ronan dead anyways!"

He dropped my arm and let me lay in the heap. Suddenly, I watched Michael jump up and start swinging the stick at Thomas. Thomas smirked slightly before dodging the first swing and beginning to swing his own. To my surprise, his movements were swift and gentle. Every step taken seemed planned out and graceful. He was even smiling as he dodged all the swings by Michael. Through the whole fight, never did he attempt to hit Michael back, only defend himself. Until one swing of his stick sent Michael falling to the ground next to me.

Michael stayed laying on the ground, his breath panting slightly and his eyes closed.

"I thought you're not supposed to give up." I turned over on my side and faced him, resting my head on my palm.

"Let's see you fight him then." His eyes stayed closed and he didn't move.

"You were the one who trained him, not me!" I shouted.

My eyes turned over to see him. I watched his hand brush back his already messy hair and smile down to me. He was cocky.

I jumped up and started swinging the stick. This time, i would cheat and start using our speed to my advantage. His cockiness caught him off guard when he allowed me to smack him on his back with the stick, causing him to stumble forward. The smile that his ungainly stagger gave me was clear as day. That only made his smugness disappear.

He shifted to face me swinging the stick at my head. On cue, I bent backwards allowing the stick to breeze past me and back to his side. Standing tall, I ran to his side and swung the stick, perfectly hitting him in the side of his abs.

This time, I was laughing out loud.

"You underestimate me!"

He stopped leaning over and glared at me. His body lurched forward before he sidestepped and turned, swinging the stick at my feet. I jumped nearly missing my chance. A hand reached out, grasping my neck, slamming me down into the ground. His other hand held his stick at his side as if it would be of no use to him.

"Ha, ha, I got you!" I continued to laugh. "I got two hits in on Mr. Pierce!"

Clapping from our side sounded. Both of us looked over, expecting the clapping to be coming from Michael. Thomas was off of me in a heartbeat and standing tall as his father approached us, guards in tow. My breath caught in my throat, no smiles or laughs clear.

"Well, I don't expect her to learn when you're putting her down like that!" His voice was deep and authoritative, sending chills through me. It was rare to see his father, the king of our sector.

Just like his son, he pressed his hand back against his perfectly slicked black and white hair. His beard defined his jaw, being mostly grayed out, and he clenched his teeth together. Even in his older age, I knew with a snap of his fingers, I would be dead. His speed, strength, and wisdom wasn't comparable to my own. I was a baby in his eyes.

"Father, I didn't know you were watching." Thomas quickly spoke up.

"Of course you didn't. Clearly you let your guard down when you allowed her to hit you...twice." he extended a hand down to me. Do I take the king's hand? It's probably bad if I don't. Slowly, I reached up and allowed him to pull me up to standing. "I thought you needed more practice but maybe I was mistaken."

"No, sir. I've watched Sir Thomas train for some years now. I've picked up a thing or two." I ducked my head, looking down at the ground. His hand raised back up, lifting my chin to his view. My eyes still avoided his, looking down at his arm full of tattoos extending to his fingertips.

"No need to use formalities. You will be family one day right?" My eyes darted back up to his to see a small smile appearing under his black mustache.

"Possibly," Thomas spoke up seeing the tension and internal fighting I had in my own brain. "Did I miss a meeting?"

"No, son, why would you ask?" he let go of me and turned over to Thomas.

"You don't usually attend my training sessions. I figured it must have been something."

"Well," he paused stepping back. "I'm not allowed to come watch my son fight? Maybe I wanted to show you some of my own tricks. May I borrow your bamboo?"

Michael tossed him his stick over and the king caught it without even looking. The King started to circle Thomas, preparing for a fight. Michael's hand gently pulled me back before the fight erupted before me. There was speed and swinging sticks all around. Thomas jumped to avoid low sticks and ducked avoiding the high ones. However, I could see the struggle to keep up with this aged man. He was getting hit left and right but that wasn't the king's goal. The fight only ended when he slammed Thomas hard into the ground onto his back, similar to how I was put down. I heard a loud crack and Thomas' face creased into pain.

I took a step forward, wanting to run to his side, only to be stopped by Michael yanking me back against him.

"Son, when you're training your future wife, I suggest you attempt to teach her more rather than hurt her." The king stood up and dropped the stick onto the ground. "If you continue to hurt her, why would she want to continue to learn?" he turned his back on his hurt son.

Each step he took felt like daggers being thrown at me. I so badly wanted to drop kick this man. Who hurts their own son like this? He stopped a foot away from me, staring hard at my face.

"I'm proud that you know how to fight somewhat. I hope that Thomas will be able to teach you more in the near future. We wouldn't want our future queen to get hurt from someone or something. Those mutts are always lurking around."

With that he began to walk back into the house, leaving me standing there and Thomas on the ground in pain. As soon as the King was inside and out of view, I ripped my arm from Michael and dived to Thomas' side. His eyes stayed clenched tightly, clearly in pain.

"Michael, what do we do?" I pleaded.

Michael crouched down on the other side of him. He looked around at the scene in front of him.

"Go home, Charlotte." Michael said sternly.

"No, I can't just leave him like this."

"Go. Home." he growled at me. It was a direct order. "I will take care of this."

I closed my eyes, holding back the tears from falling. Standing up, I couldn't even look at him. It felt like I was leaving him to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Running off the property was horrible. But rage was building inside of me.

I screamed out, punching my fist into one of the trees in the forest. How could a father just hurt his own son like that? Did he seriously not care about him? I jumped over a log, running still, reaching another tree and slamming my fists against it. There was nothing I could do against the king. If he even heard my thoughts right now, he'd kill me on the spot...probably.

The king was a hard man. Everyone here knew that. He has killed wolves and hunters all his life to protect those around him. It was a natural born instinct for him to kill that way and fight the way he did. Would Thomas be the same way? Obviously, some deaths were necessary. When people come full force after any of us, we can't just sit there and take it. We must stand up and fight. But this, this type of training was ridiculous. There had to be something I could do to help.