It is winter time in the year twenty hundred and fifty, and Christian Valdemar Henri John has been the King of Denmark for six years since his father's passing. Christian scratches his beard softly as he thinks to himself. He sits at his desk in his study at Amalienborg Palace, writing in his diary with music playing in the background. Christian is a fan of classical music, preferably the music of Romanov era Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. The King's taste in music has caused him to sometimes be ridiculed by his wife, Princess Eléonore Fabiola Victoria Anne Marie of Belgium, and his six children. They often view the King as a little old fashion in his taste of music. It doesn't bother Christian, since the King and his family loved each other deeply. The ridicule is nothing more than friendly banter.620Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdYc7CjBSje
The King sat up to look out his window, small frozen white crystals slowly descended from the clouded sky above onto the brick road of the Amalienborg Palace complex. He begins to travel into his thoughts, thinking of his planned trip to Japan to celebrate the ascension of Hisahito to the Chrysanthemum Throne. The situation in Europe alone is deeply troubling, so he felt it to be inappropriate to leave his country, especially in the possible event that the situation could boil over and his country may need him. Even as a constitutional monarch, Christian believed in a sense of duty that belonged to his father and grandmother before him. He walked away from the window, pondering to himself of all the possibilities of tomorrow. He poured himself a glass of water, and sat back down at his desk.
He heard what he thought to have been a thump in his chest and he turned toward it. The King squinted his eyes. He became paranoid and thought of grabbing his personal revolver, but rational thinking took over the King's mind and he then thought it was just his youngest son Knud planning a prank. He chuckled to himself, sat up and walked towards the old chest. Christian pat the top of the chest, expecting his son's usual "you got me" reaction. Instead he heard what sounded to him like a teenage boy in a state of panic. The King slammed open the trunk, and found what he thought to have been inside. A young boy, no older than the age of fifteen years, looks up to the King with fear.
"Who are you," the King demanded, "how the devil did you get in my chest?" The young boy, he had blonde hair and pale-peach colored skin, was silent at first, perhaps to think of a explanation.
"I don't know," the boy said, almost stammering in his speech.
"You don't know," the King retorted.
"I'm honest," the boy cried, "I really don't know. One moment I was in my bedroom playing GTA and the next I was in this box."
"GTA," the King asked in a puzzled tone of voice, "do you mean the Grand Theft Auto, the video games about committing crimes?"
"Yeah," the boy responded in a equally puzzled tone, "what do you think that I was talking about?"
"The Grand Theft Auto series ended production years ago," said the King, "and I thought the youth lost interest in those games." The boy then chuckled, thinking the King to be a stupid man.
"Are you high," the boy rudely asked while still laughing, "GTA is still popular." The boy then took a moment to calm himself down and stop laughing, the King on the other hand did not amused and took offense to the boy's remark. The boy then continued. "Granted, everyone plays Fortnite, which sucks badly, but GTA is still popular. I play every Friday night with my friends and we..."
"Enough with video games," the frustrated King yelled, "you still did not answer my questions young man! Who are you and how did you get here?!"
"I don't fucking know," the boy yelled back.
Before the boy could continue, Christian painfully slapped him across the face. The King was already disgusted by the young man's tone and manners, and he cringed over the boy's use of profanity. The boy then rubbed his cheek, closing his eyes in pain and anger. Just then, the sound of footsteps became louder and closer to the King's study. The door then swung open, the King's personal secretary Knud Olafsson Dahl, Queen Eléonore, and the King's eldest son, Crown Prince Frederik. The King's brother, Prince Vincent Frederik Minik Alexander, soon joined the small crowd.
"Is everything alright Sire," Mr. Dahl asked in obvious concern.
"No Mr. Dahl," the King responded, "we have an intruder." The boy then gave the King an evil stare.
"Is that boy one of your friends," Vincent asked a deeply confused Frederik. Frederik nodded and said, "I've never seen him before."
"Look, my name is Lars," the boy exclaimed in a panic, "I really don't know how I got here. One moment I was playing GTA, and the next I wound up here with you people." He then began to breathe heavily and started to shake. "I don't know how I got here," he cried in a sense of terror. Christian then sighed and cover his face with his hands.
"What are we going to do with him," the Queen asked frantically, "we have to call the police Christian." The King then looked toward the young boy, and then sighed again.
"Give me a moment with him," the King demanded, "then I will decide what to do next." The crowd then walked out, and Christian ordered Lars to take a seat.
"Everything about you confuses," the King said flatly, "you wear outdated clothing and play games that have left the mainstream long ago. How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen," Lars responded trembling, "I was born in two thousand and three." The King became even more confused.
"So you are forty-seven," the King interputed.
"No," the boy screamed, "didn't you hear me!"
"I did," the King interputed again, "and you said you are aged fifteen and you were born in twenty hundred and three. The year is twenty hundred and fifty!" The boy was far more puzzled now than he was before, he fainted and collapsed onto the floor below him.
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