Prince Tohmil was in the training room, practicing his sword technique.
Usually, this was a matter of calm concentration. Today, he hacked at the
empty air around him as though a thousand hateful enemies stood in the way
of each slice of his blade. His sweat-soaked tunic suggested that he'd been
at this for some time. His expression of fierce determination suggested
that he would remain here a while yet.

"Jealousy does not become you, young prince," said a voice from the
doorway.

Tohmil ceased his frantic motion and gave a brief nod of respect to his
teacher before he responded with something like a snarl, "Who says I'm
jealous?"

He went to the side of the room to retrieve his water bottle while his
teacher entered. A tall dark-haired man, dressed in blue robes, Zordon was
a little over a decade older than Tohmil, but his manner always suggested
the age difference was much greater. The man was a trusted advisor to the
queen, Tohmil's mother, and was respected by all the court for his
knowledge. Tohmil had another reason to respect him though: he knew Zordon
to be a Ranger.

"Your brother is two years older than you," said Zordon, "You have plenty
of time left to prove yourself."

"But I'm a better fighter than he is!"

"You think being a fighter is all that's needed to be a Power Rangers?"
Zordon gave a slight laugh, "You could probably best me in a duel from the
age of ten. But I doubt you'd have made a better Ranger than me if you'd
been given a coin at that time."

Tohmil thought back on what he'd been like at the age of ten and gave a
little smile. "Maybe not. But I'm not trying to be better than you."

"Just better than Darvir?"

Tohmil stared at the floor. He hated it that everyone assumed it was just
sibling rivalry. He was a better fighter than Darvir and had been for
years. He trained so hard and yet Darvir only practiced when he was told
to. Darvir never took anything seriously. He got everything because he was
the oldest and the crown prince. Tohmil worked so hard for everything he'd
ever achieved, he outshone his brother in so many areas because of his
struggles and yet he still seemed to be standing in Darvir's shadow.

And now Darvir was to become a Ranger as well.

"It's not fair."

Zordon laughed again. "Life rarely is. If it were, the Rangers probably
wouldn't be needed."

"Why does he get to be a Ranger and not me? He gets everything else?"

"Because he is eldest. It's long been a tradition that the heir to the throne must spend some time as a Ranger. If he puts his life to the task of serving his people, it will shape him into a better leader."

"Seems a bit risky to make the future ruler fight dangerous battles."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. It's been over forty years since a Ranger was killed in the line of duty. Besides, this tradition has turned many a spoiled brat into a young adult of noble character. Give your brother a chance to do the same." Zordon gave Tohmil another little smile, "Besides, blue isn't really your colour."

He turned and walked towards the door, leaving Tohmil staring after him, hope and excitement rapidly replacing the jealousy.

"Then what is?" he asked, "Green?"

There was little difference between the five main Ranger colours. Tohmil wouldn't have cared between getting blue and one of the other four. But green was different. If Zordon meant he was destined for another colour, there was always a chance they intended to make him Ranger leader one day.

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Darvir was so excited he'd been unable to eat his breakfast. He was pacing around his bedroom waiting for the summons and wondering quite how it would come. This was a childhood fantasy come true!

And yet at the same time he was nervous he wasn't sure he'd be able to speak to accept the honour. He was terrified he'd mess up the words or drop the power coin when he tried to morph. He didn't know how to be a Ranger! Sure, he knew how to fight, but he was nowhere near as good as so many other people.

A treacherous thought told him that he wasn't even as good as his little brother.

But he'd been chosen. He was going to be a Ranger. He half wanted to jump up and punch the air in victory. Somehow such childish glee didn't seem like the best way to celebrate such a great responsibility. Yet he couldn't quite squash the desire to yell out and whoop with joy. He managed to restrain himself, but only because he thought of what Tohmil would say if he came in here and saw him celebrating in such a manner. It was obvious that Tohmil didn't think the right brother had been picked.

There was no more time for worrying. His bedroom dissolved in blue light and Darvir found himself standing in a dark chamber, the edges of the room fading away into distant blackness. Lights in the ceiling sent down beams of colour and in each a figure was standing in the armour of the Rangers. They stood in a circle around him, motionless and silent, as though they were passing judgement on him.

Darvir had to fight to keep from trembling, terrified they'd decide he wasn't good enough. How Tohmil would gloat if that happened!

Then the Green Ranger began to speak.

"You have been selected as a warrior of the people. You have been chosen to take up the duties of a Ranger and to fight any who threaten the safety of this world. Do you accept?"

"I accept," Darvir managed. His mouth was feeling so dry he was amazed the words came out.

"Do you swear to use your powers only for the good of others and never for personal gain?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to never escalate a battle unless forced, to always seek for a peaceful solution?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to keep your identity as a Ranger secret to the best of your ability?"

"I swear."

"Then take your coin and become one of us."

The blue Ranger stepped forward out of his cone of light. He reached for his belt and touched the morpher that was fixed there. The armour vanished, leaving the familiar face of Zordon looking down him. Zordon held out the morpher and Darvir took it from him, still hardly able to believe this was really happening.

"Welcome," said Zordon, "Power Ranger."