Hey there People! For those of you following me on tumblr, you'll know that I started posting this story but I haven't updated it in like forever. Well I'm halfway done with the second to last chapter and I'm hoping that if I start posting the story on here then it will encourage me to finish.
For now the story is rated T but it might change later for language and abuse.
Enjoy!
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Berwald Oxenstierna, Prince of Wellbourne, paced around uneasily. His nervous steps resounded off the high stone walls of the castles hall.
The Prince's usually stern face now showed obvious concern with his brows furrowed and his lips turned downwards in a small frown. Dark circles had formed under his eyes from his sleepless night. Many of the servants had insisted (at one point even begged) the man to rest, but it was impossible for him to think of sleep at a time like this.
Berwald stopped his pacing momentarily when he thought he heard a noise coming from the room beside him. He stared at the large doors as if hoping that they could tell him what was currently happening inside within the King's chambers.
It was the third time this month that King Gustav, Berwald's father, had fallen ill. It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, for the King had been carrying this illness with him for a few years now, but it was still distressing for the Kingdom to think that their beloved King might only have a short time left with them.
A low creak echoed through the halls as the door before him opened.
"Your majesty." A small servant girl curtsied as she greeted the prince. She trembled slightly and didn't make eye contact with the prince. This was normal since so many of the servants found the Berwald's hard looks to be a bit frightening. "The King is doing slightly better now. His fever has gone down and he has asked to speak with you."
Berwald nodded towards the girl in thanks and quickly made his way in to see his father.
The King's room was very dim since the heavy curtains were drawn closed. The only source of light came from a candle that flickered on a nightstand to illuminate the King's pale face. The dim light also revealed the rise and fall of the King's chest was unsteady, meaning that his breathing was shallow and shaky.
"Berwald…" The King called out in a weak voice.
Berwald approached the bedside and gently took his father's hand. He frowned at how clammy it felt in his own.
"Ah'm right here." The Prince reassured the King with his deep accented voice. The accent was something he had taken from his mother, the Queen.
The Queen had been a noble woman from the land of Fairseas before she met Gustav. The woman liked speaking her own language since she felt it connected her to her homeland. She spoke to Berwald in her own native tongue (something the King encouraged her to do) as often as she could before her untimely death 3 years ago… Incidentally, right before the King's health started deteriorating.
"My son…" King Gustav started as he weakly wrapped his hand around Berwald's. "I've been meaning to speak to you about a very important matter that cannot wait any longer… I'm afraid that my time on this earth is growing short."
"Father please…" Berwald whispered desperately. He couldn't help but feel distraught about his father speaking about his life coming to an end so naturally.
"Don't be disheartened my son." The King continued. "I've lived a good life and I know that the Kingdom will be left in your good hands when I'm gone… However, there is one thing that I cannot leave unfinished."
Berwald waited anxiously as King Gustav paused to cough harshly.
"Berwald, you have grown into a fine young man, but I worry about you. You will be nearing your 21st year and you have not yet found a bride to stand alongside you when you take the throne."
Berwald shifted uncomfortably. Ever since the Prince had turned 18, the King had been hosting balls and other events to get Berwald to meet someone. These events had proved to be uneventful for women either fled from him upon seeing his face or smothered him with too much attention when they discovered he was a prince.
"Ah understan' yer concern, but ya don' have ta worry abou' me. Ah'll find someone." Berwald reassured the King.
"But I do worry. I don't want you to be alone when you take the throne. I want to be reassured that you will have someone by your side to not only ease the pain of my passing, but to also assist you with the Kingdom's duties… This is why I have arranged a marriage for you with a girl from a neighboring Kingdom."
"No!" Berwald exclaimed suddenly, causing the King to jump in surprise. "Father, Ah can' marry someone Ah've never me'."
"Of course you can." The King replied in his weak raspy voice. "Arranged marriages occur all the time. It's how I met your mother and you know very well that I loved her dearly. Trust me when I say you'll like this girl. In her letter she seemed very eager to join the royal family."
"But tha's just it… Ah don' wan' ta marry someone who only wishes ta be with me because Ah'm a Prince." Berwald countered. "Ah know how people see me. They fear me an' only approach me when they fin' ou' Ah'm a royal." Berwald paused to take a deep breath. "Ah don' wan' ta marry someone like her. Ah wan' ta find someone who loves me for me."
Berwald looked at his father hoping that the man would understand his feelings and call off the marriage.
The King sighed and turned his gaze away from his son. He seemed to be pondering over the Prince's words.
"Alright. I can understand your hesitancy when it comes to finding a life partner." The King replied. "However, I still refuse to see you unwed before my passing, so I shall make you a deal. You must find a bride within two weeks, otherwise you must marry a bride of my choosing for you."
Berwald hesitated to agree. He looked uncomfortable with what his father was asking if him…
"It will be my dying wish to see you married." The King said in a quiet voice. His eyes started to droop as he grew more tired.
It was then that Berwald knew he couldn't deny the King, his father, of the only thing he asked of him.
"Ah will find a wife." Berwald answered determinedly. "An' ya will be there ta witness our marriage."
The King, looking quite appeased, thanked his son before drifting off to sleep.
The Prince rose from his father's bedside and left the room to give the man some much needed rest. He knew it was best not to loiter there much longer anyways.
He had a task to complete.
He needed to find himself a bride that not only he loved, but who could love him in return despite his somewhat terrifying features…
But where would the Prince find such a bride?
18 year old Tino Väinämoinen tiptoed quietly through the living room of his family's small cottage. Well, technically this wasn't his family's cottage. It belonged to the Village's landowner Mr. Braginski. But that was besides the point. The point was that Tino was trying to move through the house as quietly as possible so he wouldn't wake up his step-father.
The man was a horrible drunk who always wasted the family's money on (I'm sure you've already guessed it) booze. So it was no surprise to Tino that he found the man asleep on the living room floor with an empty beer bottle in his hand. The pungent smell of sweat and alcohol filling the tiny cottage.
Tino clutched a notebook he was holding along with a few pieces of charcoal as he walked around the drunkard. When one of the charcoal sticks slipped from his grasp and clinked onto the floor, the teen stilled. The sound had caused his step-father to stir and groan from the place he lay. Tino held his breath in fear of the man waking up, but he soon let out a relieved sigh when the man remained asleep.
Hurrying as quietly as he could, Tino picked up his fallen charcoal stick and exited the cottage. Once safely outside, the teen did a small victory leap before running off into the town.
You may think it ridiculous for Tino to be afraid of someone who passes out into a drunken heap on the living room floor, but he had an excuse. While the man may seem pathetic when hungover, he could actually get a bit rough… both when drunk and sober. So Tino, just like his mother, liked to avoid the man as much as possible.
The afternoon sun bathed the street and trees in a warm yellow glow as Tino traveled down the narrow road that lead into town. Smiling and waving to the locals as he went, Tino made his way to his favorite place to sit and rest. The edge of a water fountain in the very heart of town.
The teen sat down eagerly and opened his notebook which was full of lively sketches. Skipping past the many drawings of animals, birds, and villagers, Tino found the first available blank page and immediately grabbed one of his charcoal sticks, ready to draw.
Oh how the violet eyed teen loved days like this! It was so easy for Tino to find inspiration in this environment. The sound of flowing water from the fountain behind him mixed with the bustling noise of villagers going about their everyday life was music to Tino's ears. Such sounds fueled his youthful imagination.
Paying a particular amount of attention on the pair of children playing and squealing with delight by the bakery with their small dog, Tino brought his hand down to make the first marks of a new drawing in his notebook.
Some of the villagers who passed by the teen gave him odd looks and would whisper behind their hands about how strange they thought the young boy was to always waste his time on what they believed to be a useless talent. They didn't think Tino could ever hear them but they were mistaken. Tino knew quite well of what others thought of him and although it bothered him it was never enough to stop the lad from doing what he loved most.
Now, because he was so lost in his thoughts and concentrating on drawing the scene before him, Tino did not realize he was being watched until a tall figure cast a shadow over him.
"Good afternoon, small one." A childlike voice greeted him.
Tino looked up to find a tall man staring down at him with a huge grin that made the teen's spine shiver.
"G-good afternoon… Mr. Braginski." Tino greeted the man awkwardly.
"Please, there is no need to be so formal. Call me Ivan." The man instructed. The grin never left his face.
"O-oh, I don't think I could ever do that Mr. Braginski." Tino replied as he shifted nervously in his seat. "It wouldn't really feel right to refer to someone as important as you by your first name. First names are usually used when you're close friends with someone… Not that I don't see you as a friend! Although I really don't see us as friends at all because our statuses are so different and we barely talk and you can be kind of intimida…"
"What is it that you have there?" Ivan cut off and ignored Tino's nervous rant to turn his attention to the teen's unfinished drawing.
Tino blushed with embarrassment from his rant, something his was always prone to do whenever he was nervous, but he was happy he had been stopped before he could say something really embarrassing.
"This is just a little sketch I'm working o- HEY!" Tino had begun to explain what he had been doing when Ivan had unexpectedly snatched the notebook right out of his hands. Tino immediately tried to swipe the notebook back but the other male was much too tall and easily kept it out of reach as he flipped through the book.
"Hmm… these are surprisingly good." The tall man stated aloud.
"T-thank you. Now may I please have my book back Mr. Braginski?" Tino tried his best not sound angry as Ivan rudely continued to look through the book.
"You mistake my comment as a compliment." Ivan laughed before placing the notebook back into the teen's waiting hands. "You must have wasted a lot of time to have perfected such a… hm… I can't really call this a skill since it does not put bread on the table, now can it?"
Tino clutched his notebook protectively to his chest, just in case Ivan tried to make another grab for it, and said with a glare, "Well, not trying to sound rude, but I believe that you and I have a very different idea of what the word 'skill' means. Besides, there are plenty of artists who get paid for their talents."
"That may be true in some other places, but your art will never be appreciated in such a small town like this one." Ivan pointed out. "Hard work is more esteemed than silly little hobbies."
At this point Tino felt his face turn bright red in anger. He turned his face away so Ivan couldn't see how aggravated he was.
"Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Braginski?" Tino asked, deliberately changing the subject. He felt if he didn't do so, then he would end up saying something that he would regret to the town's important landowner.
"Yes there is." Ivan said, his grin growing wider. "I was wondering if you could tell me why your father has not yet paid rent for that lovely little cottage that I own."
Tino's anger quickly melted away into worry.
So his step-father had forgotten to pay the rent again? It really shouldn't have caught the teen off guard more than it already had. The man often had trouble paying for things that weren't alcohol.
"I'm not sure why my step-father hasn't paid you yet, but I'm sure he will do it soon." Tino answered.
"I would hope so." Ivan replied. "It would be a shame if I had to kick your family out onto the streets… although, if it ever did come to that, you are always welcome to live in my home as a servant."
'You mean as a slave.' Tino thought bitterly to himself. He had seen these so called "servants" that Ivan had in his home and the three men always looked like nervous wrecks!
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm sure it will never have to come to that." Tino said as he gathered his things. "I'll be sure to let my step-father know that he needs to pay you. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way home. Have a good day Mr. Braginski."
Without waiting for the other man to reply, Tino dashed away in the opposite direction of his home, because there was no way he was going home were to where his abusive step-father was.
Instead the teen found a secluded patch of grass on the outskirts of town where he sat to rest. Taking a deep breath, Tino looked down at his notebook.
The people in this town were wrong… Drawing wasn't a useless talent. He just knew it wasn't. And one day he would show them. One day, Tino would be able to travel and share his art with people who could really appreciate it. And on the journey he would find more beautiful sights and scenery to fuel his maybe… just maybe… he could find someone along the way to understand why drawing was so important to him...
So here is the prologue for my sufin story.
OH!
And also before I go, I want to give a HUUUUUUUGE thank you to KuroRiya. I messaged KuroRiya not too long ago and asked her for some advice on how to write Berwald's part and she gave me the BEST advice. I wouldn't have known how to even start this story without her. Thank you sooooooo MUCH!