{-Natheniel-}

He couldn't forget the last few weeks he spent with his family. It wasn't the happy kind of never forget.

The rustling of the leaves in the breeze was second only to the sound of talking. Sitting in the mid-autumn sunlight were Natheniel, Tavin, and Philyra. They were upholding a idle conversation while Natheniel practiced his sword swings. Veronica and Xander were watching the children, whispering things to each other that Natheniel couldn't help but feel like were directed towards him.

He barely noticed when an Emblian guard came. "Empress Veronica," he said ominously. "If I may have a word."

"Of course." Veronica turned and glanced at the kids. "I'll just be around the corner. Should you need anything, we won't be far." He was pretty sure she was looking at him as she said this.

"Okay, Mother!" Philyra waved, smiling.

Tavin nodded in agreement.

Natheniel didn't do anything besides swing his sword again.

"Your form is off," Xander informed him casually. "One misstep and you might cut someone with that thing." Everyone in Embla loved saying how wrong his form was. But soon the Hero disappeared in the same direction as Veronica.

Tavin walked up to Natheniel, pulling his sword out of his hands. "You won't be needing this now," he said as he tossed it aside. "Maybe we can actually talk like normal people?"

"Hey!" Natheniel tried to get it, but Tavin was quicker. He stepped in front of him, pushing the sword further away with his foot.

He gave him the dullest look. "Not today, Dreamer. Get that damn head of yours out of the clouds." Tavin had enjoyed using "damn" to help describe Natheniel since he turned fifteen and his father allowed him to say it (or, more accurately, he said it once and no one corrected him). He never really said it around Philyra, though, who was almost twelve.

"Can't I practice?" Natheniel had to admit, he didn't feel as confident with a sword as he did with magic. He wanted to be amazing for his final exam a few months from now.

"At home," Tavin began in his a-lecture-is-coming-up voice. "But not here. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Remember we're here for Philyra's birthday not so then Xander can tell you things you already know."

"Easy for you to say!" Natheniel shot back bitterly. "The others are off fighting—"

"—to fix something YOU screwed up." Tavin finished matter-of-factly. A very fine moment to push up his glasses, if he had any. "I know you, Natheniel. Better than you know yourself. I'll be the first to tell you that whoever you think you are, you aren't. And I wish I could be there to see you realize that, but when you do, all of us would be dead. Because of you."

Philyra shuffled uncomfortably. "Tavin, maybe not now…"

Tavin's expression was completely unreadable. He really wasn't happy. "Philyra, please stay out of this." He addressed her in a cold manner. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"You don't know me at all." If anything, Natheniel should be the one that knew everything about Tavin. He'd lived with the know-it-all all the younger's life. Natheniel knew, for instance, where Tavin's favorite book was, who the author was, and what his fixation three years ago was—it had been dragons, and clearly annoyed Veronica by his constant questions about the dragon god Embla.

"I know a part of you that you don't even know exists," Tavin stated. "I know who your birth parents are. And I'll give you a hint, they aren't alive. I've known the answer to the biggest doubt you've ever had in your mind. But, unlike you, I keep my promises. Joining the Order wasn't the only thing I did before you."

"Shut up."

Tavin continued as if he'd said nothing. "You and I always thought differently. You blindly believed whatever they told you, and 'accepted' it; that you're a 'special kid.' I, on the other hand, knew better than to believe what I was told without the proper research to back it up. Not only did I find information about it, but I was told what you are. Too bad we'll die when you know it, too."

Natheniel had stopped listening. He felt like he stopped thinking, too.

In a swift movement, he tripped Tavin. Before Tavin could respond, Natheniel dove for his sword. A moment later, the thing that pulled him out of his trance was a high-pitched cry.

He couldn't believe what he'd just done.

Philyra was sprawled in Tavin's arms. A long cut stretched from her left shoulder to the right side of her waist. She was still breathing, but she was clearly in pain. Her hand kept clasping Tavin's, as if the thought the constant motion might keep her conscious despite her blood loss.

"Look what you've done." Tavin didn't even look at Natheniel. "You're exactly what they said you were. A monster."

"M-Mother…" Philyra wheezed.

"Save your breath," Tavin advised her. She nodded weakly. "Natheniel, get help. NOW."

For a second, Natheniel thought he might be able to get help and actually have credit taken for his side of the story. He turned out to be very, very wrong.

Veronica, Xander, at least ten guards, and—the most "gods I'm in trouble" of them all—Zacharias had already heard the cry. Natheniel found himself cursing. He might've been able to get away with it if Zacharias hadn't come (just when did he show up anyway?).

Veronica took one look at each of their faces and her daughter's bleeding chest. She was by Philyra's side immediately. Speaking over her shoulder, she ordered, "Someone get a healer."

Two guards nodded and left. Another guard pulled something out and handed it to Zacharias. One thing Natheniel learned from his time at the Emblian palace: every guard at a first-aid kit on them at all times, though Zacharias was usually the only one with enough experience to use it. He also knew there was an old woman who oversaw the well-being of the royal family. She was probably hobbling over here now.

Zacharias took it and went over beside Philyra. He whispered some things to her and began trying to slow her bleeding. "Natheniel, start packing up your things." He sounded disappointed. "It's time you went back home."

(A/N: I don't know who was being a jerk first—Natheniel or Tavin. It's bugging me.

There's also so much of both Tavin and Philyra's personalities that will never be described because this is the only thing they're ever in...

And I guess after having a ruler who literally not feel pain for, like, over twenty years you gain a brother that knows how to do stuff like that and everyone is stocked with first-aid kits. The only thing you all need to understand is that certainly isn't the case in the current—past?—Embla.)