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.

His older and younger brothers were made for the battlefield. They were strong and knew how to swing a sword or how to fight in combat but they didn't cower in fear once they saw blood or dead bodies. They didn't think flight once they saw the enemy, they thought fight.

"Rêveur! bougez-le!" (Dreamy, move it!) His older brother snaps at him.

The terrified prince looks at his older brother who was already halfway through the courtyard with his younger brother.

He looks around him before he breaks into a sprint to his brothers, his older brother slices through the stomach of the enemy charging at him. His younger brother kicks away a guy while they make sure that the middle child gets safely to the other side of  the courtyard.

The scared prince looks back for a second to see his older brother get cut on his upper arm but not seeming to be affected by it.

His brothers both grab each a hand of the scared prince and drag him down the hall. He isn't sportive at all, he rather reads a book or plays a game of chess.

He can feel his legs ache from the running and his lungs burning in pain. He isn't made for running at all, he rather keeps himself busy learning things. His vision is slightly blurred by the tears rolling down his cheeks.

They reach the door of the safe room, his older brother grabs the keys from his pocket. It takes his older brother a second to figure out which key goes into the lock.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, if it isn't the royal family." A man says from behind them.

His older brother shoves the keys into the hands of the scared prince. His younger brother draws his sword but it's no match for the big club of the Reykvikian.

The scared prince's hands are shaking in fear as he tries to open the safe room door but he can't. He can't seem to get his hands under control enough to stick the key in the lock. He keeps on missing the key hole.

"dépêche-toi, rêveuse!" (Hurry up, dreamy!) His older brother shouts.

"Je suis désolé!  J'essaie!" (I'm sorry! I'm trying!) The scared prince shouts back at his brother.

He tries again, this time he succeeds in doing so but before he can open the door. He is pulled away and tossed to the floor, next to his unconscious brothers.

He tries to crawl away but the man grabs his foot, pulls a little dagger out of his waistband. He slices the scared prince's thigh before he uses the butt of the dagger to knock the poor prince out too.

•••

The prince pulls his legs closer to him, sliding the nightgown over the exposed part of his legs. It's completely dark, he knows that some fabric is covering the crate that he has been put into.

They went from the wobbling over a rocky path to the twisting and the swaying of a ship. He has no idea what time it is or what day. He has no idea what has happened or how long he has been here.

"Charles?" He hears his younger brother Arthur ask.

"Oui?" Charles mumbles softly back.

Charles tries to figure out where his brother is seated. He knows that his older brother has to be there too, he has heard Lorenzo mumbles some things a few times.

"Où sommes-nous? Est-ce que ça va?" (where are we? are you okay?) Arthur asks him.

"je ne sais pas mais je vais bien." (i don't know but I'm fine.) Charles replies to his brother.

They stay silent after that, Charles gets nauseous from the swaying of the boat. He wants nothing more then to get back home but they have been kidnapped and now they are either gonna get killed or they will be enslaved for the Reykvikians.

For a while nothing happens, for a while all he can hear is Reykvikian. Lots of men yelling and shouting happily as they seem to be happy about something.

Charles listens to the waves crashing against the boat, rocking on the waves. His stomach growls, letting the poor prince know that he is hungry. He can hear Arthur chuckle before his own stomach also growls. Which makes Charles chuckle in return.

The fabric gets pulled from the wooden crate, small square holes let the sun filter in. It blinds the lean prince, looking at the older looking enemies that had taken hostage of them.

Charles shuffles further away from the scary looking man that he is sure to get killed by. The man laughs at his attempt. Tears spill from his eyes as he wants nothing more then to wake up from this nightmare that he has to call his life now.

"мы повеселимся с этим." (we'll have some fun with this one.) one of the men points at Charles.

The others laugh loudly at that, Charles doesn't understand what is said but he has the feeling that it isn't any thing good.

"с таким красивым лицом из него вышла бы хорошая шлюха." (with a pretty face like that, he would make a good whore.) another one says.

Charles doesn't like the sound of the way they are speaking about things. How they seem to look like they would want to screw the young prince.

Charles turns his head around the crate and drags himself over to his older brother, who is holding on to his younger brother at the moment. He wants the same comfort as Arthur is getting.

Lorenzo wraps his arm protectively over Charles his shoulder. He doesn't want anything to happen to his little brothers.

"Я никогда раньше не трахал принца." (i never fucked a prince before.) another one howls in laughter.

Charles looks at Lorenzo, he knows that his brother would speak a couple more languages then he does. He speaks every language except for Reykvikian or Hollandian. Two of the most hardest languages to speak in the world.

He sees how they walk away and gather in the middle of the ship. Grabbing and eating like beasts, ripping with their teeth at the bread. Drinking something that Charles can't see. Maybe some ale or what was that called that they call water in their language?...Vodka!

He hides his face in the shoulder of his brother, who softly whispers a song in Monaque to him. Trying to lullaby his younger brothers to sleep while he would look over them.

Charles slowly slips into a light sleep, his thoughts wondering to his parents and if they are okay. He wonders what has happened to them. He hopes that they are okay, he wants them to be okay.

•••

A cackle of laughter rings into Charles his ears, he jolts awake by the sound of keys jiggling on a keychain.

The crate gets opened and a large man with a big and sickening grin on his face. He towers over the lean and small body of Charles, he grabs the drowsy prince from the floor of the crate.

Lorenzo tries his best to hold onto his younger brother but it's useless. The man is stronger and pulls Charles with ease away from his brothers.

His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach turns and a nauseating feeling makes him feel like he could throw up the empty stomach of his. He feels tears blur rhos vision and his body light and his knees feel like he can't carry his own weight.

The man shoves Charles onto the floor of the deck. His back hits the wooden floor of the boat. Laughing erupts around him, he looks up to the sky. His back aching in pain. He wants nothing more then to get killed quickly.

He knows that his end will be near, he can only hope for a swift and painless death but he knows that's a bit far fetched for the reputation these Reykvikians have. They do nothing more then kill others.

He shivers in the cold air, he knows that it's summer. But he doesn't understand why in god's name it's so freaking cold out here. He can't see over the edge of the boat.

"это будет весело!" (This will be fun!) the man that dragged him out of the crate cackles.

He looks at the man, his eyes almost pop out of their sockets. He feels tears stream down his cheeks quicker. He doesn't want this to happen. This can't be happening to him.

"Please! Don't do this to him! Take me!" Lorenzo shouts in Whales.

The men turn to his older brother, laughing harder as they shake their head. Not caring what Lorenzo had shouted.

Charles looks back at the tall man that was undoing the laces to his pants, shoving them down to his ankles. Charles chokes on air and wipes away the tears that are running down his cheeks.

The man's underwear soon follows and Charles closes his eyes to prevent from seeing what os going on. He doesn't want to see how they molest him, he sobs. To scared that this will end brutally for him.

"так красиво." (So pretty.) the man says.

He grabs the chin of Charles, sliding his hand down to his neck. He picks him up from the ground, the nightgown falls down to his knees. A sob leaves his lips, he has never wanted to die more then now.

He feels himself being dragged off again, his eyes open for a moment to see that he is pushed up against the railing of the boat, his eyes bulk out of his eye sockets as he sees the ice drifting in the water.

One hand stays on his neck while the other runs down his spine and over his small but plump ass. He feels the nightgown getting raised up over his ass.

"Please! Stop!" Lorenzo shouts one last time.

This has to be it. A sob leaves his lips as Charles can do nothing to stop this from happening. He can do nothing about the man as he is too weak, he has no basic fighting and how would he be able to fight of anyone like him.

Swallowing the lump, he closes his eyes for the painful and brutally attack on him. He wants nothing more than to be dead and not be in this situation.

"What do you think you're doing, Novikov?" A voice comes from behind them.

The man turns to the voice that had just spoke seconds ago. Charles turns to the man, only finding out that he had come face to face with a group of vikings on the boat.

"Ah, Daniel! What brings you to my ship?" The man that Charles now knows as Novikov said to the man named Daniel.

A big grin spreads over the face of the tanned man with long black hair, two braids hanging loosely down both sides of his face in front of his ears, the rest of his hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a couple of more braids in them.

"You're in the Hollandian waters, you know what that means." Daniel turns serious.

The Reykvikian scoffs at that and rolls his eyes. Daniel raises his eyebrows as in a way to tell Novikov that he is serious. Daniel puts his hand over the handle of his sword.

"You can have our treasures, Мудак." The Reykvikian growls at the man.

"Je hoort hem! Laad them in!" (You heard him! Load them in!) Daniel shouts in Hollandian.

The men of Daniel start to walk around the ship, breaking open crates which reveal to contain coins, jewellery and other items that are worth a lot of money.

It gets all loaded into this viking ship, Charles had never noticed how this Novikov man had dressed himself back into his clothes and was now looking at the Hollandian man that was commanding the Hollandian men with what to take.

Not a single coin gets left on the Reykvikian ship as Daniel turns to Charles his brothers who are watching from the crate before he turns to Daniel. A smirk spreading on his lips.

Charles feels his stomach drop and the colour drain from his face. He watches on as the viking walks up to Charles his tiny and lean frame, turning him around before he looks at Novikov.

"These are not part of your people, am I right?" Daniel speaks, almost accusingly at the man.

"They're useless." Novikov replies to the man.

Charles wipes away a tear, he wants nothing kore then to cry and go back home. He wants nothing more then to wake up from this nightmare and get comforted by his mother.

"Well in that case." Daniel smirks. "Pierre, Carlos and Alex! Zorg ervoor dat deze drie veilig op ons schip zitten!" (Make sure these three are safe on our ship!) Daniel shouts at three of the men.

Two of the three men head to the crate, this ashy blond guy with long hair braided in one braid, heads over to him. His facial features soft but almost unreadable. His light green eyes look softly at Charles, an almost safe feeling washes over him.

"What you think you're doing?" Novikov shouts.

"Loading in everything. You said they're useless so we take em." Daniel smirks, his hand back at the base of his sword.

Pierre gently grabs Charles by the arm and guides him to the ship of the Vikings. Pierre helps him into ship, having seen what Novikov was about to do to the poor boy, all Pierre wanted to do was make sire that the boy was at ease and didn't feel like he was going to be treated the way the Reykvikians had done.

He helps the poor prince to the middle of the ship. Making him sot between his brothers while The two others were busy grabbing some of the spare furs.

They get wrapped up in about four furs each as Pierre explains that it is too cold for them to be wearing these types of clothes around their country. Each of the three princes get two slices of bread and some cold water shoved into their hands and commanded to eat and drink it.

"Maak de touwen los!" (Loosen the ropes!) Daniel yells at one of the men around. 

Everyone takes their places at the peddles but Pierre and Daniel. Pierre sitting in front of them and keeping an eye on them while Daniel stands at the front and looks at the big land mass in front of them.

Charles has no idea what is going on and why these people aren't taking them as prisoners. He looks around him, Daniel doesn't look like the king of Holland at all.

Not that Charles knows who that is, no one knows who the king of Holland is or what he looks like but from the stories he has heard at the dinner table with wealthy men, he knows that the king of Holland is intimidating and scary looking.

Charles had learn from his tutors that Holland is the only kingdom in the world that no one would want to get into a fight with. His tutors don't know what it is but they always told him that they would always come across people that would never want to piss off an Hollandian.

Which also may be the reason why the Reykvikians were so quick to give Daniel everything. They didn't even argue with them, not that Charles minds that the Vikings had saved them for now. It saved him from a couple of nightmares and traumas.

"You guys okay?" The man named Pierre breaks the train of Charles' thoughts.

"We're okay, I think." Lorenzo tells the Hollandian.

Pierre nods at that, he doesn't say much more and turns to look at the landscape in the distance. He lets them know that they should get some sleep as the tip will be long to their capital.

Pierre gives them another fur so that they won't get cold while they sleep. Charles softly lulls to sleep, feeling a lot saver now than he had been in the last couple of days.