He never expected to find love in a dangerous viking.
Prince Charles had grown up in a world of isolation but what would happen if an attack upon his home would lead him to the world of the vikings.
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The cart sways in a nauseating motions, wobbling with every rock on the dirt pathway. A throbbing pain in the young boy's head, a stinging sensation spreads it way over his leg.
He has no idea where he is or what has happened beyond the point of him getting knocked out by club or something, he wasn't entirely sure of what had happened.
Well beyond the fact that he had been captured and tossed into a wooden crate with some type of fabric thrown over it. Preventing him some seeing what tue hell is going on or where they are going.
He runs his hands over the soft fabric of his thin nightgown, his legs are exposed to the cold air. He can hear breathing around him, he knows that there are more people around here. He knows that there are more people stolen from his home.
A couple of voices outside of the cart are speaking to each other in what he can remember must be something like Reykvikian.
He closes his eyes, tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he tries to recall what had happened the night before. Well what he assumes is the night before.
•••
The young Monaque boy gets jolted awake by his mother rapidly shaking him. He looks at her worried face, his two brothers standing in the door opening.
"Allez avec vos frères ! Cachez-vous dans le coffre-fort" (Go with your brothers! Hide in the safe room.) She speak in rapid Monaque.
His mother drags him out of his bed. He yelps as the cold night air hits his warm boy, he is quickly shoved into a nightgown.
His mother pushed him forcefully into the direction of his brothers, who had swords and shields on them. He could for the first time hear the screams of women from the courtyard. The swords clashing as they left his room down to the safe room in the basement.
He looked back at how his mother had drawn her own sword, fighting off some men that were coming their way. His younger brother had clasped his hand around the confused prince while they run down the hallway to the stony staircase leading down to the courtyard.
The oldest prince stops them from walking out of the door. The scared prince looks horrified on how the fight goes on between his people and the invading kingdom.
Dead men scattered around the once beautiful green grass, the once beautiful courtyard with a big cherry blossom tree was now nothing more then battlefield.
And there is nothing he could do about it, he can't fight. He is nothing more then the brain and the image behind the kingdom once his older brother would take over from his father. He closes his eyes as ye was never made for the battlefield since the day he had his first training session.
He was more into strategies and keeping himself busy with the cultures. He would be the image of the kingdom, he would do the wining and dining once he was of age, he would talk to the other kings. His role was befriending the other royals for good bonds and stuff like that.
