The wagon rattled softly along a narrow dirt road, its wooden wheels leaving deep tracks in the moist earth. Surrounding it, the sprawling Danish countryside was alive with the crisp air of early winter as snow rained down on the skeletal trees.

Ancient oak trees lined the path, their branches twisting together to form a natural canopy, dappling the road with shifting patterns of light and shadow. The faint calls of birds echoed through the woods, mingling with the creak of the carriage and the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves.

In these times power and dominance made the decisions. Murder and betrayal among royals and high ranking families was common. Which didn't spare the Danish royal family — Canute's life had been marked by betrayal and murder from a young age. The only person shielding him from that was the man who basically raised him, Ragnar.

But Ragnar was no more thanks to Askeladd. Now it felt like he had nobody to turn to. It's not like others had confidence in his abilities as a king. Hell, he looked like a girl, often getting mistaken as a princess rather than the prince of Denmark. And it really doesn't help that he's too shy and timid to speak for himself.

Without time to blink Canute finds himself thrust into the political world. And at such a young age. Next thing he knows he has a fiancée — You. A beautiful girl, daughter of a nobleman he's never heard of. How are you more strong and confident than him?

He finds himself clinging to you like a baby without a mother. Needing guidance, desperately. He can't help but look up to his own fiancée. And they say love can't occur in political marriages. Now in the bumpy wagon as usual he forced you to come along with him to another council meeting in a distant village.

"D—… Do you think I'll be good? M—… Maybe you should just talk for me," he stutters and suggests sheepishly. His head buried in your lap as snow falls. He's already accepted that he's not going to be independent — For as long as he has you, you're his anchor.