Eight years ago...

A young man with dark brown hair sat at one of the tables in the park, alone. He was young, he only looked to be about 14 years old.

You could tell that he had something on his mind, his gaze seemed distant, his eyes glazed over. On the table in front of him sat a chess board, set up to play a game.

No one was interested, they were all too busy with their lives to care.

Which is fine. He thought.

I have other things to worry about.

He had been conversing with his brother, Soren, about their plan to start a new nation. They had been entertaining the thought for two years now. They weren't happy with the way things were being led.

They were constantly at war with someone. All he wanted was peace.

A nation of peace.

He looked up as someone came over to the table, pulling out the chair and sitting across from him. He was older than he was, and taller too. Dark black hair swept over his eyes, a thin scar running across his right eye.

He only looked to be about 22, still young.

"You play?" He asked, glancing at the chessboard.

"Yeah," he answered, perking up.

"Have been for about eight years."

The older man smirked and nodded.

"I've been playing for around eleven."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You could say that." He said, moving one of the black pawns.

He countered, moving his own piece. He watched him as he gazed at the board, the gears in his head turning. He knew that he was already thinking two or three steps ahead, and that he would need to be able to counter him.

"What have you been up to?" Asked his opponent, moving a piece.

"Nothing much." He answered, taking one of the other man's pieces.

"I heard that your entertaining the idea of starting anew." The dark haired man said, taking one of his pieces.

"Yeah," he answered, moving again.

"Aren't those big dreams for a teenager?" He asked, taking another piece.

"Maybe,"

The two of them locked eyes for a moment before returning to the game.

"But I am not satisfied with the way things are being run."

"Oh?" The other man inquired, taking a Rook.

"We are constantly at war. There's no peace here."

"We're human," said the older man.

"We were born to be at war."

"That may be true," he answered him, moving his last Knight.

"But there has to be peace somewhere, an escape."

The other man nodded.

"Maybe amidst the struggle for power there is something more."

They played in silence for while before he stopped with his hand hovering above his Queen, looking at his pieces, wondering what to do next.

He moved his Knight instead, taking another black piece.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Thorne," he answered, moving his Rook and taking the other man's Knight.

He saw him nod, scoffing quietly.

"Good move," he said.

Thorne smiled.

"Thank you."

They went on like this for a couple more minutes before the game was ended.

"Checkmate." He said.

Thorne looked at the board, realizing that the other man had put his King into checkmate with a pawn.

"Always beware of the little man." Said his opponent, standing.

"The weakest piece on the board may be your downfall."

He stretched out his hand and Thorne shook it, standing as well.

"Good game," he said.

The other man nodded.

"We will meet again." He said.

"Maybe for another game."

Thorne bid him goodbye and turned back to the board. He gazed at the final pieces, his King resting two squares from the left corner, the black pawn two squares in front of it to the right.

The black King was diagonal to it to the right, effectively blocking him off. He hadn't paid attention to the pawn, instead choosing to focus on the King, causing him to lose the game.

He smiled and shook his head, carefully putting the pieces back. The chess set had belonged to his father, before he disappeared.

He played all the time, he was the one who taught him how. Thorne had caught on quickly and had played against him in many games, winning some, losing most. He had fun though, and now he was good at it.

That's really all he remembered of his father, he was only six when he disappeared. His mother had died only months before.

He wished his father was still here, and that his mother hadn't died to an incurable sickness.

He had been left alone until Soren's family took him in. His brother was two years older then him and had been a guiding light in his life for years.

Thorne looked at the city around him, wondering if he would ever meet the man he had played with again. He seemed more... mature than most, like Thorne was.

He thought deeper into things, even the game they were playing. He found himself able to talk to him as easily as Soren even though he had never met him before.

It was then that he realized he hadn't asked his name. He had asked his, but he had never asked in return.

He had no idea who he had been, or where he might find him.

Thorne picked up the black King and gazed at it, the dark piece glittering in the sunlight. The weakest piece on the board had taken out the strongest piece. Not without help, but it was a twist Thorne hadn't seen coming.

Kings fall and lesser men come to take their place. He thought, putting the set back in its cushioned wooden box.

He left the table, the warm breeze brushing his face. He couldn't help but want to know who he was, if they met again he would have to ask his name.

Maybe we'll find each other. He thought as he walked down the stairs leading to the subway system under the city.

Maybe we will start another game.

He sat in one of the seats, electronic adds scrolling across the walls in the subway station, flashing green and red and blue.

He gazed out of the window, at the city that zoomed by him. Buildings rose to scrape the sky, ships tiny black dots in the sky above.

Sleek cars and speeders sped by on the roads, the familiar rumble of the train beckoning him to sleep. Thorne looked away from the city and closed his eyes.

Now it's time for a nap.