Training, probably the most used word in the Morgenstern household. Though probably not the most dreaded, as there was many more things that Valentine ordered upon his sons that they hated much more. Especially Jace, who had never seemed to get tired of training ever since Valentine had started making them train at age five, they were ten now, and often used it as a way to let out his anger and frustration, and that was usually aimed at his father.

Jonathan, however disliked training. He was always too 'soft-hearted,' and Jace always beat him. Unless, of course, he allowed Jonathan to beat him. Lately, he had been doing that more and more often. Sometimes he would tell Jonathan before hand, and other times he didn't, and merely made an obvious mistake that even Jonathan couldn't miss. Jace would be scolded afterward, but he didn't seem to mind, and told Jonathan that it was unfair for him to always win, and Jace owed Jonathan after all the times he had kept him out of trouble. Jonathan didn't think Jace owed him, of course, but it was times like that that made Jonathan grateful that Jace was his brother. At least Jonathan was improving, along with Jace.

Now, however, Jace was obviously winning their little sparing match. They used training swords, thank the angel, or Jonathan would be dead. Literally. Jace seemed to be in an especially sour mood that day, and was striking especially fast and hard. His eyes were dark, and if looks could kill Valentine would be dead. Soon enough, Jace had dispatched Jonathan of his sword, and held his own to Jonathan's throat. Jace looked utterly bored, and ready to be doing just about anything else. He picked up his sword, and Jonathan's, and put them away as he threw a hasty, "Good match," over his shoulder. "Going somewhere, Jace?" Their father's feeble attempt at humor was studiously ignored by Jace, as he came back to the center of the training room to help Jonathan up, as he always did if he fought so hard that he knocked Jonathan down. Jonathan was the same height as Jace, and kind of lanky, though his shoulders were too broad for the rest of him. Jace, however, was built much sturdier, despite his shoulders being much less broad. "Sorry about that," he muttered, then proceeded to exit the room. "Jace, may I speak with you a moment?" Jace stiffened slightly, then said, "Yes, father."

After Jonathan left, Jace walked over to where Valentine was waiting for him. "You fought excellently today, Jonath-Jace." Valentine rarely ever called him by the nickname he preferred, or complimented him. "Er, thank you, sir." He said hesitantly, slightly creeped out by Valentine's sudden kindness. "So you decided not to let Jonathan win today, then?" Jace should've known he would try to bring that up. He usually brought up something Jace did incorrectly. He stifled a sigh, "I don't know what you're talking about." Valentine didn't look angry, just perplexed. "Yes, I suppose you just make exceedingly obvious mistakes right before your brother beats you from time to time, right?" Jace didn't miss a beat. "Right." "Jace, don't lie to me." He crossed him arms across his chest. "Why not? It makes things much more interesting, doesn't it?" He asked with mock innocence. "Just tell me why you do it, and I'll let you go." "I doubt that very seriously, and I could just go now, anyways. I don't need you're permission for everything." Jace said under his breath, just loud enough for Valentine to hear. But if he heard it, he made no move to show it. He rolled his eyes, "We both know it wouldn't be fair if I won every single match, and besides, how will he learn what he's doing right, and that he's a good fighter, if he only gets beaten? Not everyone is as marvelously skilled as I am," he finished with a smirk. Valentine's mouth twitched at the corners, "What have I told you about being too cocky, Jace?" Before Jace could answer, though, Valentine said, "Fine, I believe you, you're dismissed." Jace nodded, and left the training room.