Lionheart

by Escapeism

Mathieu is a native born fresh and new in the vast forest. After acquiring his spirit animal, he will become the leader of his tribe. But of course, Fate can do anything. Mathieu was born into a time where his homeland was being ruined and taken down by a strange power. A Royal Family. The Prince, Gilbert, meets this strange native and Fate ties them both together. (PruCan Story)

1. Prologue

Roots determine who we are, they affect our life chances. They affect who we truly are in life, and how we will live our life. As we grow up we learn to understand that there are barriers, barriers that separate people from each other; whether it be gender or where we come from. No matter where we go, we are judged... But sometimes, the threads of fate between two people tangle at the right place and at the right time. Then they are therefore forever intertwined, no matter what.

---

Screaming and grunting echoed through the outskirts of the dirty, broken Kingdom. Two men reaching for each other and crying their names out, as their arms are being tugged back by men in dirty armour, dirty and foul much like the Kingdom they resided in.
One of the men, his beautiful golden hair bouncing as his face was distraught with fear and longing, violet eyes shimmering with clean tears. His hair bounced as he continued to tug from the grips of the cruel men, and reach for his one. His lover. Screaming his lover's name in his native tongue, and then screaming it in English. Over and over again, like a prayer, like a chant.

The Prince, was being pulled back by his own men. No matter how loud his screamed, sending foul words at his men to let him go, they managed to hold him back. His pigmented pink eyes narrowing with hate and his silver hair filled with dirt and nearly soaked with sweat from how hard he was fighting the men. The Prince was helplessly reaching for the beautiful blonde that cried his name... What a beautiful voice... Perfect.
Their hands were intertwined for a pure moments just only a blessing by a cruel God, but in seconds their hands were pulled away again. Only causing the albino Prince to spit at his men and use his legs this time, kicking at them.

It was already too late. His blonde beauty was snatched away from him, snatched from his sight, but never snatched from his mind. The Prince could almost feel it, the threads of fate tugging at him, urging him to find his love... But he could not move. Fate had more threads, Fate was the puppeteer and The Prince was the wooden puppet. The Jester. Life was mean, Fate was cruel... The threads were pulling from everywhere, and The Prince could only scream.