This story has three main characters; the prince of Dankrieg Egill (Iceland), the emperor of Xiang Yao (China) and the heir to the Xiangese throne, Jia-Long (Hong Kong). Other important characters are the King Mathias (Denmark) and Queen Lukas (Norway) of Dankrieg. Dialogue written in italics is Xiangese, while dialogue written normally is spoken in the native tongue of the Dankriegian people.

The main pairing of this story is Hong Kong/Iceland, but don't expect it to be all fun and rainbows. "The Thistle Emperor" is not a happy story, and not one meant to be taken lightly. Be ready for the worst.


Chapter One – Prince Crashing Down

Come spring the goat willow blossomed, and prince Egill could take his first steps outdoors. The winter had been long and harsh, and he had been sick with a pestering cold for the last four months, the illness having deprived him of all enjoyment the snow and ice had to offer. No hunts for wolf in the forest with his brother, no skating on the ice and no long war of throwing snowballs even with the king; just months of lying still and coughing, sneezing and feeling miserable.

But with the gentle spring breeze entering his chamber, and the early morning sun blessing the sheets of his bed, Egill finally felt better; healthier than he had done for so long, well rested and almost eager for a new day. Everything was so idyllic; from the song birds outside of his window to the smell of freshly picked flowers of the bouquet near his bed; even a normally sour prince like Egill smiled when got up.

For the first time in months he dressed himself, feeling oddly proud as he did, and letting himself smile again in front of the mirror when he saw some colour back on his cheeks. He had always been pale, but the sickness had made him look like Death had visited him, and caressed his very face. Now he looked alive again, and stretched his lazy body, trying to wake himself up even more. His white hair was tousled, as always, but the king's hair was far wilder than his so no one ever bothered him about it.

When he walked out from his personal chambers towards the throne room to visit his brother and the king he started making plans of what to do for the day; he wanted to ride, and pick some flowers, and sit outside and read, and have some tea in dining hall. Maybe a game of chess with his brother, and an hour in front of a training dummy with a sword? He had been unable to do all of this for so long that he was surely out of practice. He needed to get his mind and body working again.

He expected, when he reached the throne room, to see King Mathias and his brother Queen Lukas both excited and happy to see that he was up. He expected to be showered with attention, and words of encouragement. A hug from the king which he would object to, and a rare smile from his brother he wouldn't return. After all, as the flowers and the song birds told him; today was a good day.

Except for the fact that it was not. His long time bound to the bed had kept him in the dark of the kingdom's affairs, and when he entered the throne room he had no idea it would be occupied not only by the king, queen and royal advisors, but also diplomats and a leader of another country.

The echo he caused by opening the port caused all attention to befall him, and with so many eyes looking to criticize him, Egill felt his knees growing weaker again. Mathias didn't even smile, and of course neither did Lukas; or the other man in the room dressed like royalty; an effeminate and strong looking man of eastern origins, with long black hair in a pony tail.

"Who interrupts our meeting?" he demanded of Egill, with a snappy voice and a clear accent. His advisors, all men from his home country, also seemed fit to glare at the poor prince.

"I-" he started, before realizing he should probably kneel; if only his body would listen. He was lucky to be brother of the queen, who saved him.

"My younger brother", explained Lukas, causing the attention to be shifted to him. "Who has been bedbound till today, your highness."

"Then tell this younger brother of yours to leave", the eastern ruler said. "We have more important matters to discuss."

There was no need to tell him twice; Egill was quick to turn around and leave, without even apologizing. He might get scolded later, as he probably should be, but he wished not to stay in the room with a man so petite, yet with an aura so dangerous. He could only hope they were negotiating peace, and not a war proclamation.

All servants and maids he met greeted him kindly, saying they were happy to see him up, but he could tell they were as nervous as he had gotten from the foreign man in the throne room. However, no one could tell him much about the meeting that was being held; he could just tell that no one expected things to go over well. It was a tense situation, and as he ate – lunch; it was around noon – he had a hard time swallowing his food.

After lunch was over he tried to force himself to relax, so he could do something else. Riding outside seemed like a relaxing idea, sure to pick him up, so he started heading towards the stable. The first months after Lukas' marriage to the king, when he had moved to the castle, he had gotten lost almost on a daily basis; and now, four months after not leaving his room, Egill was back on square one. The library was where he thought the study to be, and the living room where he had expected to find the stable; it was a miracle he had even found the throne room that morning.

Angered, he started to search for a servant to ask for directions, regardless of how shameful it was. But wandering about in his own home, completely lost, was even more embarrassing.

The next servant he saw was male, and just slightly taller than him, walking almost aimlessly in front of him when he turned around a corner. The servant seemed lazy, as he wasn't carrying anything, and just stared out the painted windows at the inner garden. However, Egill could tell he was a servant, for he was not dressed as a noble, or a guard. His clothing did appear odd, but since he had yet only seen him from behind, Egill thought nothing of it as he approached him.

Still he had a problem addressing servants, as he didn't want to be rude, but the king had taught him to not be respectful to the people below him. He had to show who was higher in rank, or something like that. Thusly, he did not say "excuse me", or "can you" before stating his request.

"Take me to the stable." He thought he sounded like an unpleasant jerk, but what would a mere servant do?

The servant turned around at his words, and when Egill saw his face he immediately froze; it was not someone below him. The boy in front of him shared an undeniable resemblance to the eastern leader in the throne room; perhaps he was even related to the ruler.

The eastern looking boy had a blank expression, and for a moment Egill dared hope that perhaps he was unfamiliar with the language.

As he wasn't speaking, just staring at Egill, he dared hope for this more, so he didn't address him. The foreigner also remained silent, but began moving, walking around Egill, studying him from every angle, with a thoughtful look. It was embarrassing, and Egill felt like he was treated as a sculpture, or piece of art, but if the boy did understand his language he couldn't be even ruder and tell him to stop. So, as he was being observed by such critical eyes, all he could do was flush and stand still, waiting for the foreigner to do something.

Finally he stopped, in front of Egill, expression still blank; but slowly turning into a rather twisted, if miniscule, smirk.

"You're pretty", he said, his speech far better than the eastern ruler in the throne room even.

It was not words Egill had expected to hear, and he was completely clueless as to how he should react to them. It was flattering to be called pretty… had he been a lady. But he wasn't supposed to be pretty; he was a man, a prince, even. It seemed liked beard growth wasn't in his genetics, nor were strong muscles, but he wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to be "pretty".

Trying to not act too flustered by the supposed compliment, Egill decided to avoid it, pretend it never happened; sweep it under the rug; and move to more important topics.

"Who are you?" he asked, and then added – just to be safe, "sir." He didn't want to insult the guests; he would get scolded by it.

At the sir part, the foreign boy smirked again.

"Wang Jia-Long", he said, his name sounding very confusing to the prince. "Heir to the Emperor of Xiang."

Xiang! Egill had heard of that far eastern country, seen it on maps, read of it in books. One of the world's most powerful nations, secluded and secretive, uninterested of forming alliances and fond of starting wars. Suddenly, he was all the more nervous.

"Did I scare you?" asked Jia-Long with a bemused tone of his rather dull voice, and he tilted his head to the side, before walking forward towards Egill again. He cupped the prince's cheek and made him look forward.

Heir to the throne of Xiang or not; Egill was not going to let the foreigner touch him. He slapped the hand away and glared.

"Don't touch me", he said. Jia-Long looked at the hand that had slapped him, and Egill suddenly realized that regardless of his personal feelings, he had just done something completely stupid. He was about to apologize, as he would otherwise be forced to do from his brother, when Jia-Long grabbed his hand instead and pulled him, forcing him to follow the foreigner through the hall.

"S-stop", he protested, wondering where they were going, and why – for whatever reason – Jia-Long seemed to know the castle layout better than he.

Jia-Long did not stop, despite his protest, and regardless of being the same build as Egill – from the looks of it at least – he was far stronger, and Egill could not escape his hold. He tried, of course, but his efforts were fruitless.

He acted like a kid, he was sure his brother would say, but he couldn't make himself care. He did not want to go wherever Jia-Long was dragging him, and he did not like the Xiang-heir one bit, so forget formalities and politeness.

Eventually; finally; Jia-Long did stop, but he did not let go of Egill's hand.

"What's your problem?" Egill snapped at him, trying to free himself again in vain, while his captor was looking right at the port they were in front of. As he could not get loose Egill turned his head the same way, and noticed that they were again outside of the throne room, and finally, began to panic. He would get punished for this. Hard. "L-listen, I'm sorry if, t-that I offended you", he pleaded, hoping the horrible Jia-Long had a decent bone in his body. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, and-"

"Be quiet", Jia-Long said with a bored voice, turning his head towards Egill. "You're cute, but too noisy. Shut up."

And like that, all of Egill's attempts to be civil vanished from the surface of the Earth, and his distressed expression was replaced with an angered one.

"Well, you're a rude brat", he spat, not caring if that would lead to a war in the future or not. His country's wellbeing was the last thing on his mind, as he glared daggers at the Xiangese boy.

"I said, shut up", Jia-Long replied, rolling his eyes. "So like", he placed a finger on Egill's lips. "Shut. It."

If he thought the one way to make Egill listen was by touching him, Jia-Long was dead wrong, and the prince was eager to show him that. He was almost ready to bite the finger off, even if it would mean taking it in his mouth, just in time for Jia-Long to remove it, and push the port open.

With the throne room again before his eyes, Egill's anger was replaced by fear, and he realized that insulting Jia-Long – intentionally, too – was the gravest mistake of his life. And as Jia-Long started pulling Egill with him into the room he had to face the reality; it was too late for apologies now.

The Xiang ruler seemed angered at first when the door was opened, but smiled when he saw that it was Jia-Long who had interrupted them this time. Lukas and Mathias said nothing, though the queen looked at Egill with worry, so he turned his head down in shame. He had doomed them all.

"Yao", said Jia-Long to the ruler, addressing him too casually for him to be the emperor's son, and not formally enough to just be a member of his party. His words of being next in line for the Xiangese throne were probably correct.

"What is it, Jia-Long?" asked the emperor, Yao, in Xiangese. Egill could only recognize his captor's name, and braced himself for the impact of a scolding; or something far worse.

"I want him", Jia-Long replied, in Egill's native language.

"How?" asked Yao.

"For myself", Jia-Long clarified, before turning to King Mathias. "Give him to me."

The room fell quiet, even if the three royals of Dankrieg and their advisors were the only ones truly stunned to silence. Yao seemed to think it was nothing out of the ordinary; this request of the prince as if though he was a pet; and the Xiangese advisors were most likely used to it. But Queen Lukas' eyes were wider than usual, King Mathias' mouth hung open, and Prince Egill…

"No!" he exclaimed, his voice loud, much louder than usual, and echoing in the hall.

"Give the boy to Jia-Long", Yao said, turning his attention to Mathias. "King of Dankrieg. Do that, and you will have the alliance you wish for."

"No", Egill protested, hoping his brother's stupid husband would assemble his brain cells for once to realize the proposition was lunacy. He knew Lukas would never agree to it, but by the end of the day it was Mathias who held the title and power of King, and was left with the ultimate decision.

It would be beneficial for Dankrieg, Egill knew. Having a powerful ally like Xiang would play out in their favor in coming wars with Svear, and would keep enemies at bay. It would be the wise thing to do.

However, call him a selfish child, but Egill did not wish to become the pet – a toy – of the awful future emperor Jia-Long. There had to be another way. He would rather be poor, live off the street, again, like before Lukas spit in the monarch's face and won his heart. He would rather eat rats for the rest of his life and live drink the muddy street water, dressed only in minimal rags, than move to Xiang for Jia-Long's perverse pleasure.

Mathias seemed to contemplate it. Lukas glared at him when he noticed that, and declared defiantly to Yao that he would not treat his brother like a piece of meat of the market. Both Yao and Jia-Long seemed unimpressed, and the emperor decided to show how serious he was.

"If you do not give the boy to Jia-Long", he said very calmly, eyes focused on Mathias with a forced pleasant smile. "We will invade in ten days, and demolish your puny kingdom. We'll give the leftovers to Svear, and hand you over to their king as a prisoner of war." Egill flinched, when he realized how serious of a threat it was. "But if you do hand him over", Yao continued, still with his faked pleasant voice. "We will form the alliance you have suggested, and not lay a hand on your land for the coming century."

The king bit his lip, in a rare display of insecurity. Jia-Long's face didn't change, as it hadn't done during the entire ordeal, and his dark amber coloured eyes continued just staring out into space, seemingly disinterested. He knew that he would get his will done, Egill realized.

Asking Mathias to even consider Egill's feelings, his humanity, would be pointless, and give the king unneeded guilt. The prince knew this, so he didn't protest more, knowing he had lost. He tried not to think of how horrible his future was bound to become, nor did he attempt to pull his hand away anymore. He had given up, just like Lukas, who stormed out of the room.

Mathias looked after his wedded partner, his Queen, with sorrow. It was not an easy decision, even though the answer was so obvious.

"What will happen to him?" he asked Yao, voice dry and lacking the usual energy Egill always heard in it.

"That is not your concern", Yao replied curtly. "I will sign the document when you give your consent."

The king of Dankrieg gave Egill an apologetic look, his eyes so darkened by guilt, that Egill felt horrible for even having met them. The anger he felt towards Jia-Long, and Yao, was immeasurable, but only increased when he saw Jia-Long's expression finally change. When Mathias gave in, and said "He is yours", Jia-Long had the nerve to smile.