The Ruler and The Hunter //Original Countryhumans Au

Chapter 19: A Weapon's Curse

Canada grimaced as he stared down at his boots, leaning against the door to his room in his own set of silence. Blocking out the other sounds and shouts of the soldiers who trained beyond the castle walls- for the battles that were looming over the distant horizons of the future.

The Prince's mind was clouded with a thousand emotions and thoughts. Questions and the images of his father who had brought him up with nothing but cold misery and the venomous tongue haunting his consciousness. Of a father who really didn't care for him or the bond that they lacked. His life had been filled with despair and it seemed to be getting worse for him; not that there was anything he could do to shape and rearrange his upcoming fate of future torture and depression.

With a wince, he pushed himself off of his door, sword swinging from his belt at his side and the collar of his jacket poking out between his hair and his fur hat.
He had been awoken at the usual time but hadn't been met with the usual quiet voice of the morning maid. Instead, by a guard who had nothing but a voice of concrete and rusted metal. Informing him to get dressed immediately and to meet his father in the throne room once he was done and had woken himself up completely from his daydreams.

As well as the daunting additional instruction to bring his sword.

Canada chewed on his bottom lip, anxiously trying to think of a reason to justify the instruction.
Maybe his father wanted to see his training up close? Or maybe inspect his sword as to see if it should be replaced or not?

But the boy couldn't push back the thought that maybe there was a different, more sinister reason.

Nonetheless, he turned and began to speedwalk through the hallway, trodding down the stairs and following the route he had come to learn that would eventually lead him to the throne room that had always intimidated him as a child. Upon reaching the door, he was encountered by the stone-cold faces and glassy eyes of two guards who glared at him, armed to the teeth and melded with tonnes of iron plates that decorated their bodies.
They clicked their tongue before gradually stepping to the side, opening the door as they moved for the young Prince who hesitantly stepped in. Swallowing the lump that had begun to form in the back of his throat.

Canada's boots tapped gently against the hard wooden floor as he headed towards the throne where his father sat, eyes narrowed with a frown across his scarred face. Draped in his darker navy blue uniform and the silver trinkets that decorated his blazer like a prize. The silver hanging down from his hat covered in olive-branch patterns.
A mockery of his actions.

The Prince glanced down, unable to hold proper eye contact with his father. Taking short and subtle glances to his sides to gaze up at the walls that had been decorated with the prizes his father had taken from each battle and war he had brought across the land.

Numerous cuts of circular wood had been made. Nailed into the walls on either side of the throne room, and upon them sat the horns and feathers and claws of so many species of people Britain had come to fight throughout the years.
Twisting antlers and goat-like horns sticking out from the wood, small sets of wings hanging down. Some were still grey and white, but the noticeable stains of blood still splashed upon them told a different story compared to their previous beauty. A gruesome reminder that they had once belonged to some soldier or Admiral of an army that had attempted to protect their land- all for it to have been in vain.
Pinned to the wood for all eyes to see- like some collectors' museum.

The sight made Canada's spine shiver and his heart thump roughly against his chest, a single bead of sweat running down his forehead before he ripped his gaze away from the misery that loomed around him.

It had always creeped him out as a child but...

Canada slowly glanced back up at the sets of wings and headpieces.