Rain House, Midday, 272 AC.

Damon’s breath caught as he kept reading. All of the rumors were true; this book was really something. His toes unconsciously curled as he kept reading, excitedly turning the pages. He paused only to wipe his long, dark hair out of his eyes. As with anyone and a good book (or at least, those who appreciated their own literacy, in his estimation), he was completely absorbed in the pages. Nothing could break him out of his reading stupor now.

That was, until the door to his room slammed open. Damon, wide eyed, completely fumbled the book, and it fell to the floor with a loud slam. He uneasily looked over to see who opened the door, praying to the gods that it was one of his cousins. His brother even.

No such luck. It was father.

Thurgood walked slowly over and picked up the book that Damon had been reading. Damon immediately began sweating, and reached up a hand. “Ah, father, it isn’t what it…” His voice faltered.

Thurgood glared at his son angrily as he read the title aloud. “A Caution for Young Girls,” he read slowly, with a deep, violent anger surging in his stomach. “...Damon. If I ever catch you reading slanderous filth about our family again, I will have you castrated and sent to the Wall. Get to the fucking training yard before I do it anyway.”

Damon managed to eek out something that could have perhaps been interpreted as, “Yes father!” Before running out into the halls and hastily making his way to the yard. He didn’t really see why he should train, if he was to be honest with himself. Casper was the warrior between the two of them. Damon didn’t go through six years of being a squire just to keep having his ass handed to him in the yard by his brother.

And of course, under the surprisingly clear blue sky in the shoddy yard filled with dirt and mud, was Casper. Who had just finished beating two guards senseless in what could charitably be called a spar, if you squinted and ignored that he had beat them half to death.

“Alright. Who's next?” Casper called out, looking around, before his gaze settled on Damon.

"Fuck,” Damon thought to himself as his older brother grinned deviously.

“Oh Damon, brother, it’s a rare day when you leave your room for the yard. How about a little match between us? You have to keep up your skills, you know,” Casper said with a loud laugh that rang throughout the yard. Damon grit his teeth together. If he declined, father would hear about it and more than likely follow through on at least one of his wild threats. But if he accepted, Casper would beat him to a bloody pulp.

He weighed his options.

With a sigh, he went over to one of the unconscious guards and picked up his dulled blade. Damon gave it a few swings before turning to face his brother. “What rules?” He asked tiringly. If he got this over with, he could go back to his room and read more without interference.

Casper gave a wide grin. “First to three hits sound fine to you?”

What sounded good in words was terrible in practice. Because Casper would always hit the same spot three times as hard as he could. Damon sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

It was over fairly quickly of course, though Damon counted that this might have been his personal best against his brother. On his knees, he tried to grip his stomach, which ached sorely. He spat out. “...Right. Good match,” he said through huffs.

His brother, of course, laughed. “Maybe next time you’ll get a hit, brother? Oh, what am I saying, it’ll take a biiiit longer than that.”

Damon watched as his brother walked away, laughing, before getting unsteadily to his feet.

He hated it here.