The Prince and The WarriorPrologue
The infant in his arms stirred, making the light from the nearby torches glimmer off of his lightly freckled porcelain cheek and the thin wisps of chestnut brown hair on it's new born scalp. All the while, it's mother slept on the bed next to them, burning with a terrible fever that she got just an hour after giving birth to their son.
As if he were touching precious crystal that would shatter under the merest touch, King Stoick lifted a hand to his son's face, stroking it once with a meaty finger. The newborn prince yawned, completely innocent and oblivious to the chaos going on in the palace because of his arrival.
A flash of affection coupled with confusion and a bit of fear shone in the king's jade green eyes.
How can something so precious, so harmless cause the devastation the oracle predicted would happen?
I foresee, that should his majesty ever beget a child, that child would be a peril. He shall be an abomination, she who bore him will die as soon as he doesn