The Forgotten Prophecy

Chapter 6

Matthew knew something was off with Peter since they were kids. They both grew up together, but then again he didn't really know anything about him or how he ended up being a soldier. He always kept to himself and was distant from everyone.

When he was six, Matthew's parents died from tuberculosis and he was left to live on the street. During one of his expeditions at the market, the soldiers caught him running away from an enraged shopkeeper and thought they could use his abilities for a greater cause. At the camp, he trained hard and grew stronger and quicker day by day. He became one with his sword, his shield constantly there to take down his opponents.

Two years passed after he had been taken in by the army, when more boys were brought in. One of them was Peter. He was smaller than the rest, and didn't look like he could amount to anything, but there was a fire in his eyes, and that fire he carried with him on the training field. Matthew saw him slowly transforming into a formidable fighter and jealousy sparked inside him. He wouldn't let Peter rise above him.

He started observing him, watching his every move, analysing his fighting style. Every time they trained, he chose him as his opponent and pretended he was fine when Peter often managed to defeat him, even though his pride was eating him up. As they grew up, he never missed the chance to irritate him and tell him things just to spite him, he knew just the way to tick him off. He enjoyed watching his face flush in annoyance and that by itself was worth the beatings they were given for the trouble they had caused.

It was one of those days during their teenage years when for some reason Matthew he hadn't been able to sleep, and after hours of tossing and turning in his bed, he decided to at least do something useful. He was sitting outside the barracks by the training grounds, polishing his new sword. It was spring, but the air was still crisp. The night sky was clear, and the stars provided enough light for his work—and just enough light to also see Peter quietly sneaking out the camp. He had witnessed the same thing once every other week but hadn't payed much notice. Tonight, I'll make an exception, he thought and followed him without being seen. He was curious to see what he was hiding.

Although Peter was fast, Matthew's long legs covered the distance between them. The streets were deserted, for it was long after midnight. They drew away from the camp, walked past the old storehouses and entered one of the city's small groves of trees.  Matthew saw Peter sit down and rest his back on the trunk of an oak. He hid behind another tree and observed him.

Peter took out a clean bandage he had hidden under his clothes, and Matthew suddenly remembered their last duel when he had thrashed his sword at him. So, he comes here every time to tend to his wounds?, he wondered and puzzled over the reason why he preferred to do that, when they already had a physician at the camp. While he was trying to find some logical explanation, he saw Peter take his shirt off and slowly remove his wound dressing.

Matthew froze. Recognition dawned on his face and he immediately turned around sharply, too afraid to look back again. He remained still and didn't, or rather couldn't move even as he heard Peter raise and walk away without sensing his presence. Shock was written in his eyes as he struggled to accept the truth. After a while, Matthew managed to stand up and looked around him. That was finally when everything he thought he knew about him crumbled down like a domino.

When he realised that from that day on he would never see Peter the same way again.

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A/N: Thank you for reading my story! Don't forget to comment, like and subscribe lol ;)

Phrase of chapter: ἔργω κ' οὐκέτι μύθω / with deeds and not with words    - Aeschylus