Chess
Chess is a game of the mind, but more than that, it's a game of strategy, where every piece must be scrutinized and used to its full potential. It's about sacrifice, death for the sake of the king. In the end, he's the only one who matters.
Getting attached to chess pieces is unavoidable.
Pawn. He's a round, short man who cries at nothing. Awkward, silly, enthusiastic. Everything the king is not. He's pathetic, the way a small, trapped animal is pathetic. He's below the need for sacrifice. Except—a pawn can't afford to be curious. A pawn can't dine with kings, or he's sure to lose his head. A pawn who is important enough to be noticed is too important to live.
Knight. He's an imposing man, with long coats and bristling eyebrows. He'd like the world to think he's invincible. But the king sees between the cracks in his face and the fear behind his eyes. He carries a lance, but he's fallible. Still, diagonal moves can't always be predicted, and he's clever. Too clever. He will live as long as he can be manipulated.
Queen. She is beautiful, and she is cold, and she is powerful, like a bespoke sculpture made just for him. The king has killed to defend her. He would do so again. But not at his own risk, never at his own risk. She is the opposite of a liability. The queen will live until the last possible moment. It is his design that they should rule together, when the game is won.
Bishop. She is kissable. The king agrees with that as with all obvious assertions, such as the color of the sky or the taste of port wine. Like the wind, she blows where she will, but he has long-since mapped the corners of her mind. The law is the board upon which she moves, and she will not leave its confines. He has no need to mar the elegance of her movements. It would be vulgar to do so.
Rook. Castling is when the king changes places with his rook. He is the most important of all, though he cannot know his part in the plan. Words spoken in friendship, confidences given, hand on shoulder. They circle around one another, as bonds deeper and darker than friendship bind their hands together. He does not know that the king can shake free at a moment's notice, while he himself is a prisoner. When the time is right, the king castles, and the move is irrevocable.
En passant. She guts the boy with her knife, and he knows. Once in a very long while, a pawn is worthy of promotion. The king guides her trembling, feeble hand. In time, she will be something more, something he can be proud of.