“I abhor this country, with its ugly trees and people! When are we returning to Rus?” “Yuri, what is the matter?” Viktor raised his brow. But King Viktor had strategically relegated the prince to second-line defense and so managed to keep him from much of the fighting. Yuri Plisetsky was the King’s younger and much quicker-to-anger cousin and the latter had tried to bar the young man from joining the army to no avail. “I should have these peasants punished!”Ĭhristophe heard Viktor sigh as he turned, now looking at the young golden-haired man who had urged his horse onward. Viktor chuckled softly just as a loud voice broke through the quiet behind them. I am certain the cold I am feeling is not entirely from the snow.” “Well, let us hope the Katsuki royal clan gives us a warmer welcome than this.
King Viktor knew when it was time to change his façade, and he changed it well.Īnd to the awe of his people and to fear of his enemies, he had never lost a battle, not even once.Ĭhristophe smiled. It was a far cry from the exuberant King the country was much used to – though Christophe knew very well that was not all there was to Viktor Nikiforov. The young King was uncharacteristically solemn, as he always was after a difficult battle. “I would think not,” Viktor answered softly.Ĭhristophe looked at Viktor quietly. “You would think they would be a little more artificial in their reception.” Christophe Giacometti, Viktor’s trusted advisor, and closest friend, spoke under his breath, his horse trudging along beside Viktor’s. This was war, Viktor’s father had once taught him – and if he had lost, it would be his people that looked upon foreign intruders with equal hatred. They passed a small village on the outskirts now, and Viktor saw how the villagers huddled at their wooden doors, heads drawn low but eyes filled with poison. He expected no warmth from the people that would meet him at the end of his journey. Both beasts and men were tired, Viktor knew, and he hoped they would soon reach the warmth of a proper roof over their heads.
Their entourage needed no further attention. The deep white frost in the ground dulled the clang of the weapons and carts, and Viktor was grateful for that. Viktor always thought his land was coldest, but this one seemed a strong contender. The story is an alternate universe in the form of a historical fiction - you will find there is no historical accuracy, so this lazy author is afforded a lot of freedom.
The only way to stop it was to write it out. A little plot bunny I had running in my head.
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