Ever since the incident when he was three, Carlotta had made sure Eric always ate a substantial amount of breakfast at the start of every day. So once she was happy that he'd had enough, the two of them began the short walk into town. Usually they would've taken a carriage, but the weather was nice enough for them to enjoy a quiet stroll along the road towards the village. It was mostly silent, with Eric enjoying being away from his studies for a short while; but occasionally Carlotta would break the silence, and the two would talk about their plans for the day.
First stop: post office. It was astounding how many invitations Eric got; invitations from various Nobel's of the neighbouring Kingdom's to balls, dinners, parties; all of which Eric would politely decline in a letter. Then they would visit the grocers, the fishmongers, and the bakery and possibly stop at a café of the way back. To any other child of twelve, the day ahead would seem utterly boring; but Eric was just glad to get out of the palace for a while.
But, as much as Eric loved days when he could go out and pretend to be a regular citizen, every time he so much as looked out the window all he could think about was that one day he would rule over all of this. People would place all their trust in him and expect things of him that he knew he had no chance of fulfilling. He would have to accept responsibility for the Kingdom and everyone in it, and he was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been before. Even his father's unpredictability couldn't compare to the fear of failing and letting down the hundreds of people who lived within the Kingdom.
"Eric?" The young Prince was distracted from his thoughts by Carlotta's concern-filled voice.
"Are you alright" she asked? Eric nodded silently, only just noticing that they were only a few paces away from the village. The maid looked at him in such a way that any mother who was trying to get some sort of explanation from their son would. Eric sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to get away with pretending there was nothing wrong.
"Will people treat me differently when I'm King" he asked, deciding to avoid the question by asking his own?
"Well… I suppose that…" began Carlotta. In all honesty she hadn't a clue how to answer Eric's question. She knew he was extremely nervous about becoming King and didn't want to increase that nervousness by saying yes. But, at the same time, she didn't want to build up false visions of the future by telling him that people would treat him exactly the same way they did now. She knew that once he became King, people would respect him much more, and refer to him, not as 'Eric,' but as 'Sire' or 'Your Majesty'. But telling him that would only make him dread the day he turned eighteen even more.
"Some will, others won't, it really depends on the way you act." The fear on Eric face was now more than obvious and he stopped dead in his tracks.
"How am I meant to act" he asked, turning to face Carlotta?
"I didn't mean it like that," explained Carlotta calmly, "I just meant that people will treat you differently if behave so, otherwise, there's no reason for them to treat you any differently than they do now."
"But Grimsby said I'm supposed to act like a King, and I don't do that now!" Carlotta sighed, and quickly realised that everything she said did nothing but add panic to Eric's already worried state.
"Eric, being King isn't something you need to worry about right now is it? You've got another six years before you take the throne, maybe even more than that" she said in a more reassuring tone. Then she noticed something that caught her completely by surprise, and that was the quickening of Eric's breath. In that instant she didn't know how to act; Eric had be prone to panic attacks when he was much younger but it had been years since she'd had to help him through one.
"Eric darling it's alright" she said, extending a hand and placing it on the twelve years olds shoulder. She could feel his frame shaking and his blue eyes were wide with fear.
"No it's not," he said, his voice shaking almost as much as he was, "I don't want to be King." This was ridiculous. It had been years since he'd openly shown weakness like this and he hated the fact that he couldn't control his panic attacks. It was childish; how as he ever going to be King if this kept happening? But nothing he did ever helped in this situation and usually he would break down in tears until he was too exhausted to think about anything but going to sleep. But out here, in public, with a group of people now watching him, he didn't know what to do. His ears were deaf to Carlotta's words as he backed off, away from the eyes of those around him. Backing off… the boat, his father, drowning… he remembered the water, the cold, the way it filled his lungs, choking him… he couldn't breathe. Whipping round Eric spied a small, empty alleyway and, ignoring the heaving of his lungs and the pounding of his head, he ran.
"Eric wait" called Carlotta, hurrying after him! But Eric was much quicker and certainly more nimble, and was out of sight by the time she reached the village centre. She was so sure that Eric didn't need her anymore, but looking at it now it didn't seem as if anything had changed. She hated herself for being so blind, for leaving Eric when he obviously wasn't ready to do this on his own.
Eric didn't know where he was going but, all things considered, he really didn't care. Nothing was fair and he hated it; hated life and everything about it. The first four years of his life had meant nothing but constant misery, and for two years after that he'd been desperately trying to get over it. Now that feeling had returned with full force, and showed no chance of leaving. There had been four years in his life when Eric would say he was truly happy and they were over and he'd never be happy again and… Eric froze.
In front of him was a cottage, the windows were smashed, the door broken and the garden overgrown, but nothing could ever disguise it. The only place that had provided him with true happiness, although severely damaged by time and elements, stood in front of him. With trembling hands, Eric pushed the gate open and carefully picked a path through the long grass and overgrown shrubbery. He hadn't intended to come here, but not that he was, the twelve year old couldn't help but go inside. The entire house was a mess, mud and leaves covered the floor and cobwebs the ceiling. The wallpaper was grey and peeling and the stone fireplace had cracked and chipped in several places. Although his breathing was still quick, it was mainly just an effect of running now, and just being in this house made Eric feel a lot calmer, but, at the same time, brought tears to his eyes. He remembered being here with Grimsby and Carlotta when there was never an item out of place. It always felt warm, the sort of place that any family would want and love. But it was long forgotten, empty, faded into the shadows of the past. Taking a few steps into his old house, Eric began to think of days gone by. He could almost hear Carlotta's motherly tone telling him to take his boots off before her came any further. He could picture each piece of furniture and where it had once been, and the memories surrounding them. Cuddling up in front of the fire with Carlotta; sitting at the table as Grimsby read him old books and told him tales of his own childhood. It all seemed such a long time ago now, when, in actual fact, it had only been a few years.
But all his thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop when he noticed a slight movement in the corner of the room. Eric stopped his train of thought and stood perfectly still, unsure as to what exactly was huddled in the corner of the room. He didn't know whether to run or scream, but what happened next made it impossible for him to so either.
"Who's there" called a gravelly voice?