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Logline
James Serrio, the sole prince of Roriark, has to overcome his mental barriers and discern his feelings for the infamous pirate captain, Sage Morrow, in order to thrive amongst the thieves he has been forced to join.
Blurb
Only the ocean can bring a prince and a pirate together, only the sea can keep their secrets, and only the waves can tear them apart.
James Serrio is supposed to be a prince, not a prisoner rotting away in the bottom of a pirate ship. His future was royalty, not death in a grimy hunk of wood, but it seems that fate had a different plan. Just when things couldn't seem to get worse, another ship attacks, and James is starting his prisoner journey all over again. But these new pirates are different, to say the least, especially Sage Morrow, the captain, with his black coat, gold buttons, sharp jawline, and steel-blue eyes. There's something about the captain that reminds James of a fire on a cold day. And, there's something about the new prisoner that reminds Sage of home.
But there are more important things for James to focus on than a man, like the fact he's somewhere on the vast ocean, in a ship full of hungry pirates, with nothing more than a necklace and a quick brain to call his own. The Sole Prince is the story of James Serrio and Sage Morrow, and their consequential fate after running into each other smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
First 1,000 Words
He was supposed to meet a princess. That was the point of all of this, wasn't it? To meet a princess? And now the prince is imprisoned in the bottom of the second ship he'd ever been on. It's truly miraculous how everything can turn to shit in the blink of an eye.
The worst part of the whole ordeal is that he had gotten lucky. He really should be dead, not here in a room that's obscenely too small and decorated with nothing but a bucket. A bucket in which the prince is supposed to "do his duties" and which he has tried to avoid.
On second thought, perhaps, he had gotten unlucky. Maybe death would be better than this living hell, this state of limbo, this horrid room with the ever-lingering stench of the bucket. He had an actual bathroom back home! And a room with a bed instead of wet, hard wood floors. And a pillow. Oh, a pillow! And books, so many books. Shelves and shelves of novels filled to the brim with worldly works that could transport him anywhere in the world. If anything, he's living the plot of them now, if the book were a tragedy. No blissful novel would start out like this, with the young, sheltered prince left with nothing but the clothes on his back and a necklace he had stashed away in his pocket.
He weaves it through his fingers now—over the pointer, under the middle, and so forth, going back the other direction once he reaches the pinky—and, once there's no more length left, he pulls it all out and does it again. There's simply nothing better to do. Is this his life now? Intertwining a silver necklace between his fingers and thinking about what could have been a love connection, sparked and kindled by a prince and princess meeting for the first time?
Yes, the prince may have feared that he could not have found a way to love her in the way required, in the way the king wanted, but at least he could have found a friend. And that would be far better than this.
Yet, destiny decided to reach out her hand and cause his ship to never make it to its destination, and, thus, pushed the prince off his course.
Really, the ship never making it was inevitable from the start, given how bloody small the crew was. Loaded with just enough people to make the journey, a crew of that sized never had the chance of a fair fight against a gang of pirates. The instant a pirate stepped onto the deck. the prince knew they'd lost. At least he was knocked out by an attacker before he could witness the ship's downfall.
The prince sighs, staring at the bucket that's taunting him, no idea of how long it's been or how long he was out for. He's been awake for possibly a week, but the first few days were quite foggy, and they blur into an obscurity of sea- and home- sickness. Waking up from blacking out for a few days is bad enough, but it's even worse when you're in a room you don't know, and you're too thirsty and hungry to even pick yourself up off the floor. It was embarrassing how long it took him to remember he was on a pirate ship.
Yet, he knows now, so that's some sort of progress. As for the thirst and hunger, they were only partially satiated when a crew mate brought down food for the first time. The prince had practically cried. He'd always been scrawny, a result of academic classes instead of physical training. But, after the undetermined amount of time of not eating, he was nothing but flesh and bones. And although the food didn't help in the process of un-fleshing-and-boning, it prevented him from dying. That'sprogress as well.
The boat rocks as the prince walks to the ocean-side wall of his room, the one with the cracked glass porthole coated in a thick spread of algae. He's barely able to use it as a window, only able to see the passing patterns of an ever-flowing ocean from a clean spot on the very bottom.
He fumbles with his necklace as he stares off, his eyes slowly un-focusing, his mind drifting away to a place of loss. Of losing a love that never was, of losing the luxury of food security and a full stomach, of losing the privilege of certainty. Gone and washed away with the tide.
A knock on the door wakes the prince up from his trance, and, soon, a pirate barges into the room. "Yer the prince, right?" the pirate asks a little hesitantly, yet still with the emphasis and swagger needed for his job. He looks young, a little unsure of his footing. If the prince had ever taken those dreaded fighting classes, he could probably take him. Well, probably is a strong word. The prince nods.
"Ya know how to handle maps?" he asks, walking further into the room and leaning against the walls. He's dangerously close to the bucket, yet the fumes don't seem to bother him. The prince nods again. "We thought so. We went into yer cabin after Beanie knocked you out and saw all 'em maps. A mate used to handle the maps for us. But yer captain offed him, so..." The word captain sends shivers down the prince's back. He was dead now. The whole crew was dead now. All of them killed by the people on this ship. All of them, but the prince.
The pirate reaches to pull something out from behind his back. "Help us out 'ere." The prince doesn't move, both of his arms staying by his side. "You don't have a choice, princie. Less you want to be useful in a different way," the young pirate says with a certain hunger that makes the prince gulp, and so the prince grabs the map. "We marked where we think we were when we ransacked your ship. Find where we are now, will ya? I'll be back in a bit, and you better be done." With that, the pirate turns on his heels and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.
