First off, please let me warn you about the rushed and slightly choppy first two sections of this fanfiction. I'm not too good at introducing stories, and so this is what I could come up with. Also I have not written a fanfiction in… Oh, eight months?

Secondly, this is based off of an old, dead roleplay with an old friend. Loosely. It was over a year ago we did this roleplay.

Anyways, Enjoy~

Mathias was laying on the ground as cavalry forces surrounded him. He let out a low growl at the captain of the team. "You may have taken my kingdom, and no matter what you do to me my pride for my land shall never die!"

The leader laughed, steadying his horse. "Oh how I'd love to break your neck for saying such things." He looked down at the pitiful knight. "But I can only do so if my lord permits me."

"Which I do not." Forces parted as another man rode up on a calm stallion. The deep blue eyes looked judgingly on the fallen man. "Do as you will, but take him as prisoner. When you are finished, tie him by the ankles and bring him back to the castle."

"Yes, Lord Aleksander." The captain bowed as the man left, with a few other soldiers, before he got off of his horse and kicked the fallen man in the jaw. The beating continued for some time, before the dark-eyed man's orders were followed and Mathias was dragged back to his castle.

The blonde Dane was kept locked in the dungeon for an unknown amount of time, and water and some sort of mush was left for him while he slept.

But one day, Mathias was interrupted by a young boy opening the cell door. Dull blue eyes looked up to see the boy holding bandages and some sort of bottle.

"High Prince Aleksander would like me to clean up your wounds, sir." He said, setting the items down. "If you could please remove your shirt?"

Mathias looked at the child with suspicion, but removed the clothing anyways. His chest was covered in scars, bruises, and even some re-opening and fresh looking wounds. The boy got to work quickly, though he did not give the Dane much warning when he applied the odd-smelling paste to the cuts. The man hissed, tensing up. But he kept quiet, until the boy was finished.

"High Prince Aleksander wants me to tell you that you are only being healed because he needs a strong worker out in the horses' pasture." The boy stood up, leaving the chamber and closing the door.

Mathias just watched, confusedly, and put his shirt back on.

The same thing happened for only a few more days before a guard came in and half-dragged Mathias from the dungeon. He was brought to a large chamber hall, where the dark-eyed man was sitting at a chair at the end of a table that lined the rounded walls. He was dressed in a dark blue royal outfit, attention captured by the man being brought into the hall.

"I hope that Brynjar has been kind enough to you. You seem to be healed…" he murmured almost to himself, before standing. "Thank you, Hans. You are excused." The guard nodded before retreating out of the hall. "You are to follow me."

Again, Mathias watched the other with suspicion but did nothing to refuse orders given to him. "Where are we going?"

"The stables. You're going to be moving hay bales to and from the feeding holes." He said, almost boredly. "I'm going to be taking Liza out for a walk, if you're wondering why I'm showing you the way."

The taller blonde just nodded in slight confusion. When they reached the stables, Aleksander went straight to a young looking mare and led her out and into a field. "Ask Theodore what you are to do."

Mathias blinked as the prince got on the horse and left farther back into the field. He turned and went into the stable and saw a young teen shoveling horse droppings and stray hay strands into a large pile at the end of the stable hall. "Hey, you Theodore?"

The boy stopped and turned, looking Mathias up and down behind platinum bangs. "You're my help? My god…" he reached over, grabbing another pitch fork and tossed to Mathias, who nearly dropped it. "Weaklings don't last too long here in the stables, knave. You'll need to work hard."

"Hey! Don't you start damning me when you're twice as skinny!" Mathias growled, stepping forward and starting to follow the other's movements. He found moving the stinking substance was much harder than it looked. He grunted, feeling his cuts strained under the bandages.

"If you're that weak you can go and whine to the healing maids." Theodore said in an annoyed fashion, moving past the taller man and dumping his forkful on the pile. "I'm sure they'd help."

The blonde scoffed, forcing himself to work twice as much to match the other male's pace. After a few hours of work, the boys stopped- having finished, and started bringing in fresh hay bales for the horses.

Within moments of this, the prince rode up and gracefully dismounted. "Theodore, take Liza to her water." Dark eyes glanced at the Dane, before the short prince scoffed and started heading towards the castle. "You, Dansk, go take a bath or something. You smell like Hest dritt."

Mathias blushed slightly, taking a light whiff of himself before scrunching his face up. Sweat, blood and that gunky paste mixed with working with horse shit doesn't smell all that good. He trotted after the prince. "Wait up now, where am I supposed to go to wash myself? Hm?"

Aleksander groaned, "Why do you ask such stupid questions? Go ask one of the castle workers." The shorter man's pace quickened and he soon entered the castle once again.

Mathias scratched his head as he entered, stopping a rushed woman and asking her where the bathing area was. After he got directions he headed off and bathed himself.

Once out, he hissed at the re-opened cuts on his chest and arms. "That work did not much for me…" he was about to put his shirt back on, when he saw the child from the dungeon going through the bathing area and sweeping away any debris or rubbish that was left by others in the building. "Excuse me, kid!" he called, and purple eyes glanced up in question.

"Yes?" he asked, slightly bored sounding.

"Do you think you could re-fix my wounds?"

"No. Go to the nurses' chamber for that." He said before returning to his work. "I was only healing you to learn how to do so. I have no need to do that now."

"Oh... Right. Okay." Mathias said, again slightly confused. "So where is it?"

The boy sighed and looked at the Dane again. "Leave this bathing chamber. Head to the hall to your left and go all the way until the last door. That's it. It's even labeled."

Mathias nodded in understanding before waving and heading out the door to follow the boy's instruction. Once he got to the door, he entered wearily. There were a few maids sitting around, reading books or making some medication. The blonde stepped inside and cleared his throat.

Two of the maidens looked up, and smiled lightly to themselves. "Hello, young soldier. May we help you?"

"Yeah… I got these cuts that need fixing…" he said, pointing to his bare chest. The women only giggled and looked at each other.

A sigh came from right behind Mathias, and he turned to see Aleksander sitting on a cot in only a nightshirt, his trousers beside him. "Do not bother with them. Do not touch them in an ill way. These women have sworn to serve me as virgin maidens of healing." He glared at the girls, whom all shut up and rushed to get bandages.

Mathias looked questioningly at the prince, as no woman came rushing to his aid. The man grabbed a marked bottle and bandages himself, and sat down again at the cot. That's when the Dane noticed the other's thigh, wrapped up with stained bandages. Nimble fingers removed the cloth, throwing it to the ground, revealing a large, disgusting, and infected-looking wound. "Oh my…"

The prince paid no heed to the field worker, applying the pinkish paste to the wound easily before re-wrapping it. With the trousers back around his waist, the dark-eyed prince put the items away and left the room.

Mathias looked to the maids. "How come you do not help your prince?"

"Because." One answered, beginning to apply the odd-smelling paste to the man's chest. "Milord does not wish to be tended to, as he is far too independent for that. Just like he treats his own wounds, he receives and makes most of his own meals and fights most of his own battles."

The blonde looked at the door a moment before hissing as the paste was applied to a fresher scratch. "I-independent, eh?"