[ * 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 / 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 ]

Adalsinda had to smile, a warmth between them owing to the shared secret - the sense that she felt in her heart that Vasilisa was Konstantin’s daughter. One could never say with any certainty - a fact for which anyone else might judge her harshly - but she cared little to even know the truth, if she could believe whichever made her happiest.

“You flatter us both in the comparison,” she insisted, gazing up at Konstantin for a few moments as he twined their fingers together. “She does love you so very well. Always so contented in your company. We share that, at least.” She slowly but certainly relaxed, eyes closing as she just savored everything of the moment - the warm breeze, the gentleness of his touch. “For now, I would much rather have you to myself, Kostya.” The nickname was something that few people seemed apt to use, but she knew that she held the special privilege. “But only if you kiss me. It has been too long.”

⇢ Without responding with words to the woman he had grown to love over the past eight years within Russia, Konstantin raised his hand to the side of her face, placing a kiss upon her lips --- most certainly not the first kiss the two of them had ever shared, but the first in an extended period of time. This was a fact that the Crown Prince of Russia despised, which only made the kiss even more pleasant while also causing the thoughts of what would’ve happened if he had been the one to marry her to wash over his mind. A union between him and Adalsinda would’ve been excessively more appealing than his current union with Russia’s most prized lady, but regardless, this wasn’t a fact he could change. All Konstantin could do was damn his brother, as he always had done, ever since he was a child. 

Breaking the connection after a few moments had passed, the Russian man’s typical smirk was not apparent upon his face, rather he held a kind expression towards the woman: he never tended to present anything but warmth towards the Tsarina who he held so dear, even if the Russian people despised her presence. “ I have a feeling she loves me so since she is aware of her father may be. ” this was a topic the two of them hardly ever discussed, though the possibility always ran through the man’s mind, and he could never help bringing the fact up within their interactions. “ You must feel this way also, Ada. I believe I accompany you within your chambers much more often than my brother, even with the time we were apart. ”

His admission did not warm her heart, for such an opportunity was not in place, and Eudoxia was still guarded by his questioning over her maternal skill. Gently placing her headdress aside, placed atop her cloak of thin fur and pearls, Eudoxia dared to not turn towards her husband and said honeyed words.

There was a reason why he was not dead yet, why he was not already thrown to the wolves of the Moscovian woods. He was beloved, the people adored him and if there was to be an heir to Russia then he must be kept alive and well. That, and though she refused to admit it, she knew his charisma knew no bounds. Even when saying something sordid and malicious, he tangled himself into bowls of yoghurt and sugar, leaving his prey soft and melted for his greedy touches. Even then, as she placed her belongings aside, Eudoxia caught ehrself repeating his nicknames in her head, running them through again and again to make sure it was real and not a figment of her imagination. Slowly she turned, eyeing him from behind her tight coils of hair, her stomach suddenly clenching as if they were set back by two years on their wedding night, facing one another as newlyweds.

Against the wishes of her inner demons and guardians, the Tsesarena watched as her husband began to undress, throwing his clothes this way and that before he stood against her as a husband was supposed to do. Without wait, her eyes plummeted, her lids closing in a bid to protect her desires as his hand went to her waist, soothing her up and down like a master would do their pet. She was never something so fickle, and yet, there she was - eager to please him, eager for his attention and soft for his embrace like a girl rather than a woman. But all of this worked beneath her surface, lurking like a danger threatening the crown, as Eudoxia stood before Konstantin who’s lips parted to speak of their duty. 

Perhaps now, she hoped, he would listen and take her word as law. If they were to go for the throne, to push apart what was present and make room for their own, then they would have to make a child in any manner possible. They would have to create a child of worthy, Russian stock. The kind that would inherit the fortune of House Glinski, the kind that would inherit Russia with little outburst from a populace who already favoured Konstantin. With a breath of relief, she opened her eyes to look at him - allowing him to look deep into bottomless blacks and browns as she stood beneath her husband. 

When they kiss Eudoxia does not feel fireworks, she doesn't feel the tune of a lute and nor does she feel elation tickling her shadow. Instead, she feels duty and what must be done - or so she tells herself, as lust and girlish joy poke at her seams. 

Unburden yourself, someone tells her. Allow him to have you just as you are, as his wife and a girl unloved. 

Her hands, soft and gentle like newly thrown velvet, rise only to take his face into her grasp, her kiss hungry for substance as she pressed her tongue against his lips, parting wet flesh to allow him to taste what little of her should could offer; spiced wine, charcoal, tainted vodka and the juice of pomegranates. 

With bated breath, she parted, allowing her tongue still to linger against his lower lip before meeting his eye once more, coaxing him forward as a witch or seductress would do, rather than an estranged, taunted wife. “Then you must offer me yourself in your entirety, I do not do things by halves,” one hand danced against his neck, a thumb pressing tenderly against the spot where his pulse thumped, then to only drop against his shirt to explore a part of him she had not seen for some time. 

Releasing him, Eudoxia pulls back, allowing whatever loitered to swell before them as she began to remove her chemise; the sheer material and everything else dropping around her, pooling around her feet to reveal the girl he had been disloyal to, the beauty of Russia. “Then we make a son for Russia, we fuck for Russia, my husband,” Eudoxia wooed, her hands yet stroking against her hips, her belly and her chest before going to push her hair back behind her shoulder. “For I am the only one who can offer you what you really want, what you need.”

⇢ Konstantin was not a foolish man by any means, and he was well aware of the power which resided within his wife, the Crown Princess. He knew well of her ambitions, desires, and wishes, but most importantly he was aware of how similar the two of them were with their personalities, and he appreciated these similarities more thoroughly when she removed her chemise. 

Perhaps it wasn’t enough for him to only appreciate the gift of a woman he was given when she was willing to give him pleasure, but at least this was a sort of progression from where their relationship had been within their home country of Russia: he would constantly refuse her, and she would never receive an ounce of affection from him, unless it was to impress individuals within the public eye to maintain his status. 

However, he was aware that the citizens were eager for him to sire a child. The only Rurik sibling who seemed to be able to fulfill their duties of producing heirs was Irina, though her children would not be accepted to fulfill his rank or position when he passes in the future. Removing the loose clothing which still remained upon his torso, he revealed the large scar which resided upon his stomach from a major injury upon the battlefield from years ago, though he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. When she came over to him upon the bed within their chambers, he positioned the beauty of Russia so that she laid on her back, and he was hovering above her. “ I may offer myself to you, моя любовь, in my entirety in the time to come within Lisbon, ” As he spoke, he caressed the side of her torso with his one hand, enjoying the way her smooth skin felt upon his hand. “ Perhaps you deserve more from me than I have given you, since you still seem to desire me even after these two years. We’ll fuck for Russia, моя жена, and we will bring many children for the Russian people to love. ” Unlike most interactions which occurred between Eudoxia and Konstantin, he spoke with a softer tone, more pleasant to the ear than his usual cold remarks and passive aggressive comments. 

While his available hand found its way to the left cheek of his wife’s face once more, her curled locks making contact with his skin, he kissed her upon the lips again, his tongue licking her bottom lip when he parted from her as she did to him moments ago. He began to trail kisses down the woman, starting with her jawline, her neck, and her collarbones, giving some special attention to certain areas to leave marks that wouldn’t necessarily be visible in public. As Konstantin progressed to trail down Eudoxia’s stomach, he looked up to her to view her expression, continuing to place his lips upon her ski as his hands moved down to grab hold of her hips. 

As he glanced up to the woman he had mistreated up to this point, a myriad of ideas began to trickle into his mind, overwhelming him internally as he continued attempting to bring pleasure to his wife. It honestly surprised the man that she was so willing to accept his offer, even while he had initially rejected her within their carriage. The General-poruchik of the Russian forces couldn’t help but wonder if this meant the daughter of the Glinski house held a sort of love or fondness for him within her heart, even though she had expressed her distaste for not being given the Tsar’s hand in union. While Konstantin continuously never believed his actions to be unjust, he debated internally within himself over this woman on a consistent basis: she managed to hold so much power over him, even while he usually wished to not care about the girl whatsoever. 

As he advanced, a smirk appeared upon his expression as he washed away these concerns, his lust acting as a distraction for the underlying issues the couple possessed. One of his hands removed itself from her hip, moving down to the girl’s right leg as he placed kisses upon her inner thigh, a place where he frequently enjoyed leaving marks. It was a plus that most individuals were generally sensitive in this area, but it was better that no one would be able to see these marks, allowing the Crown Prince to do as he pleased. While Eudoxia had never witnessed such affections from Konstantin, perhaps he wished to make this a more well known experience for her: her worth was undeniable just as her beauty was, and maybe he was required to appreciate what she had to offer more. 

“ Do you enjoy this, детка? ” The question was delivered with the same tone he held moments ago, his eyes studying her features as he asked. After the last word escaped his mouth, he brought the other hand which remained on one of her hips down to her warmth, using two of his fingers to rub against the area which was most sensitive. 

Curse his heart, he thought as he stood before the Crowned Prince of Russia — it always seemed to bleed for his fellow Anjou family members, the nieces and nephews, the cousins and sisters. Marius was, it seemed, doomed to forever keep a vital window open for them, allowing himself to be believed as soft, reactionary and viable for discourse with strangers as well as acquaintances. His arms crossed, Marius straightened his back and squared his shoulders. 

What was known of Konstantin Rurik? As a French Prince and Holy Roman Empire adviser he did not know much, other than his eye seemed to wander in places one could not guess the coherence of. Not one to scorn infidelity, Marius quirked a brow and kept his emotions once more under wraps; allowing them to simmer as he thought on dear Adalsinda, who had always deserved more than the ice-ridden embrace of Russia’s court. 

“France did not dismiss me,” he answered, his approach cool and unapproachable as he circled his spot, instead turning the room with far away eyes and the flick of his fingers. France? It could never. For God himself had come to the Prince in a dream to tell him that he would have to be the very soul who would take France into glory — and he had done it, he had driven her into a golden age… or to the very precipice of one. It was not France that had thrown him away, nor it’s true people who had expected that Marius had chosen the hard decisions for their sound of mind and their well being. The bread-makers, the farmers and lowly courtiers all knew that it was Marius who had saved France from debt, who had surrendered his love affair in the hope to kiss France instead. It was King Henri and his scheming advisers who had spread discord amongst the council, pushing Marius to flee in humiliation and to secure the safety of his small family. 

Clearing his throat, Marius turned to look to the Russian, meeting his gaze against the stone of Portugal as they stood together as two overlooked sons of their country (though, he would learn that Konstantin was rather heralded as a hero to the Russian people). 

“I left France for the safety of my partner and children, it was not safe there for them… In any case, since I have left France is no longer France. It is a rogue version, meddled with by greedy hands who will see to it that I am painted as a villain rather than a man who gave up much for the health of his country,” a hand to his chest, Marius scratched — a small monologue he had thought through and through on sleepless nights, when sat by the cots of his infants. 

With dirt beneath his nails, he went to take a goblet of watered down wine, swigging at it to repel the distaste of the past. “Her Imperial Highness wishes to see an alliance between the Holy Roman Empire and Russia. Perhaps we could talk of that, rather than our respective marriages?”

⇢ There was an obvious shared sentiment between the two Princes who stood within close proximity of each other — they both cared deeply for the Tsarina of Russia, and they both wished to better her situation within Russia’s harsh and challenging court. While most of the interactions Konstantin experienced with Adalsinda were preoccupied with pleasures of the flesh, she had mentioned Marius D’Anjou once or twice before, though she never expressed how entertaining it was to aggravate the advisor of the Holy Roman Empire.

His reputation did not travel to the unforgiving Russian lands, and the court didn’t bother to speak of a French prince, as most of the citizens of Russia already had expressed their distaste with a Frenchwoman being titled the Tsarina. It was a tad bit infuriating to Konstantin that Marius seemingly ignored his remark, as he hated to not be acknowledged; however, he liked the challenge this man offered. The challenge Marius presented with his disregard for Konstantin mixed with his cold exterior intrigued Konstantin, prodding the Crown Prince of Russia to continue pressing him, attempting to get under his skin.

“ Somehow I feel that it is a worse fate to have to run away from your country for safety rather than being discarded, ” Konstantin began his response, a specific type of teasing tone covering his words as he addressed the other before him. He would never understand the circumstances Marius had faced within France, as the Russian people had always held Konstantin close to their hearts: the Crown Prince would never have to make the decision of fleeing his nation for his own safety. “ It does cause you to appear quite weak, especially since you seem to still hold a deep fondness for the country, but I know otherwise; you obviously are an excessively powerful man, no matter how conflicted you seem to be. I would like to experience the strength and devotion which radiates off of you more personally. ” The condescending tone which he adopted previously was swept away by his suggestiveness, and though these type of comments he made could always be interpreted differently, he did wish to cause those he was speaking to to potentially ponder on him more intimately.

Konstantin locked his gaze with Marius’, and the second son of Russia could easily see that there was much more to the man before him than what he had gathered from this small interaction, leaving him both extremely curious and intrigued.

“ I guess we may speak of potential opportunities between the Holy Roman Empire and Russia, my brother is in need of a wife. Though, I believe we have a mutual understanding of each other. ” At this point, Konstantin’s regular smirk graced his face, along with his seemingly unamused tone which he deployed to speak politics. While Konstantin meant something further than what his statement addressed at surface level, he wanted to believe that Marius was intelligent enough to want to appeal to Russia, for both France’s sake and the Holy Roman Empire. 

“ Or, perhaps, we can speak on the forces of the Holy Roman Empire. Tell me, do you believe they rival Russia’s forces? I am sure you are aware of the strength which the military I command holds. ”

She studied her brother’s profile expectantly, her arm still looped in his as if she’d move in the slightest, their secret solace would cease. She’d once heard their mother rave over how radiant Konstantin’s likeness would shine on a coin piece, and though her eyes had rolled on such a notion, his sister would be first to admit the flame in his eye- a calm, prowess silence that filled the room whenever Konstantin’s mind started galloping off in calculating thought, fast and furious in momentum- he deserved such glory. How she would have followed him anywhere throughout the years, from the moment she’d learned to stumble into a run and chase him - much to his dismay- spellbound by her brother’s scheming. Her second eldest brother’s drumbeat, the lion’s roar he owned on the battlefield and through his own life’s convictions - however nefarious his passions had waxed and waned, Katherine leaned into him for this fierce strength. Of all of her siblings, Konstantin pushed her for greatness and ferocity. She dared to emulate his passion in a debate, a race, any opportunity to speed the pulse and push the boundaries in pursuit of something more. Baited and prodded her perception of achievement, and he’d tended to this forest fire trait he’d bestowed upon her. Despite preferring her solitude-- the idle freedom of a long-spent day reading texts and strategy, Kon’s influence enticed and further fostered their shared constitution.   

And then, he spoke. Her stomach knotted, following his gaze to the stone walls ahead, greeted by tapestries of mortals who meddled with gods. “Thomas..” She breathed at his first point about the heir presumptive, her pout fighting a slight frown at the thought of causing him any ill. “I’m fond of him - but England may one day share such fondness, and for that, we cannot sit, risking such reality to ensue.” Still, the tapestries looked onward at the Rurik siblings, and Katherine had to turn away from them to risk guilt. Rinse it, replace it with logic. “Richard as well, one of the kindest I’ve met during my time here, I...” She hesitated a beat, then squared Konstantin’s shoulders to face her own. “A betrayal on my husband’s ascension is a betrayal to us. A failure for England, for Russia.’ She muttered low, mother-tongue smooth although even stating such facts caused a creeping chill to drift down her spine. She rolled her shoulders back in an attempted revolution against such fear that latched onto the shiver, jutting her sharp jaw out at such a notion. A panther’s conviction remained. “We have always acted for the good of the family, Kon. I’m not going to stop this mantra, today.” She nodded after a beat, a silent agreement for her brother to do it as she held out her hand to shake. “Even if it’s idle gossip, it shall pick apart any stance for those who wish to usurp. John shall learn his place, and if such rumours batter validity of Edward’s other sons, so be it. Do it, Kon. You have my faith, in your capability and in our secrecy.”

⇢ Out of all the Rurik siblings, it seemed that Konstantin managed to develop the most dangerous and malicious yearning for influence and control, causing a myriad of individuals to be naturally drawn to him for various different reasons. Their mother, Vasilia, had implanted this within her son, never wanting him to become a content man, since no content man could truly become an excessively powerful figurehead. She held her second son so highly freshly from birth, naming him after such a famous emperor as she hoped he would live up to the name he was given. Living up to his namesake, he was a constant factor within their family’s schemes, often times leading the methods and plans which would tamper with the lives of other noblemen and royals. He was most definitely a slave to the institution of the Tsardom, and there was hardly anything he wouldn’t commit in order to advance the Rurik standing. Not only did he wish to advance the standing of the Rurik house, he craved the approval and affection which he received from the citizens of Russia who appreciated his military efforts, causing the infantry and cavalry of the army to consistently be increasing. The sole reason the Russian armed forces had made such quick progress with their abilities was because of the General-poruchik’s competitive and headstrong nature mixed with his obsessive ambition: he wished to forge the Rurik house into the most powerful dynasty Eurasia had ever witnessed, just as the Kremlin armory would manufacture the most durable armor any battlefield had ever been exposed to. 

It was true that Konstantin desired to implement Russian influence across the entirety of Eurasia with the help of his brother, the Tsar, and his other siblings who held the same capabilities for manipulation and persuasion. The plan which was being conjured with Katherine would surely increase the abilities of the Ruriks in England, as Harry would be the rightful heir with no questions asked — and if he was honest, the second son of Russia did not believe his sister’s husband to be too difficult of a task to manage. The only true intention Konstantin held within his heart was to make sure Katherine was placed upon the English throne beside her husband, as she both deserved to be a Queen and would be a powerful ruler at that. “ You cannot let fondness control your actions if you wish to be powerful, Katya. Those who are persuaded by their emotions are weak, and of all people I am aware that you are not weak. He must not be spared in this plan. ” The initial shock of his younger sister portraying the same sly and deceptive traits as him had passed over him, and now he spoke with a more demanding tone: in matters such as this, there was no room for fondness. In his mind, if she wished to gain what she desired she would have to accept this fact, no matter how delicate or sweet he believed his younger sister usually was. “ The kindest people are those who you have to destroy. They have no right to be tempting your husband’s future position upon the throne. ” His voice was deep as he spoke, and there was seemingly no emotion coating the words other than pure anger. Standing from where he sat with his younger sister upon the bed, he let out a deep sigh after she had finished her statements, as if he was releasing some of the frustration which the possibility of her not being upon the throne rose in him. 

“ I will also speak to Irina of this plan, as I am sure she will be able to help our cause. If we are not skilled with ruining reputations at this point, Katrinoushka, then I do not know what the Rurik dynasty excels with. You needn’t worry. ” 

As they rode, Nikita had taken to playing with the light mane of his horse, gently soothing her, while also allowing him to keep his hands occupied. The mare was gentle, and unlikely every to bolt without reason, so he did not find himself needing as much control, making his focus drift slightly. Resisting the urge to laugh at Konstantin’s remarks, he did instead give a rather overly dramatic exasperated sigh to Konstantin’s comments. “My incessant reading helps me deal with these ruthless nobles,” he said, defending his hobby, “as some of the greatest minds have dealt with similar problems. “Besides, even the most ruthless noble frequently has a reason to be so. And if you learned how to listen better, brother,” he teased with a raised eyebrow, “you could maybe learn them on a more personal level. What is the phrase?” he said, searching his mind for a moment theatrically, leaning back into his saddle as if lost in thought, head tilted back, “oh yes. It is best not to fight fire with fire.” His laugh rang out after that, shoulders shaking slightly from it, curls bouncing. 

“Perhaps that is why I am often greeted, although my reputation does not stretch nearly as far as yours does brother,” Nikita confirmed. Konstantin was the beloved son of Russia, and also made his way through the courts of other countries quite efficiently. Many times, Nikita had gone to open negotiations and been told of a meeting with his brother previously, including comments on his more dynamic nature. At his lauding of his own talents though, Nikita could not help but raise an amused eyebrow, clearly resisting a laugh. “Ah yes, I do think you carry much influence brother, I just wonder sometimes if you leave people praising your light or cursing your presence,” he shot back in jest. Although he was well aware of Konstantin’s occasionally more problematic nature, Nikita saw it as his place as the younger brother to be allowed to call his brother on his antics. After all, he did the same for Nikita. “Alas, brother, people do seem to be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. I just wonder how many you burn because of it,” he said, the compliment paid but a laugh following. 

Pulling up his horse as they reached the square, Nikita stood in his stirrups in order to be able to look around better, getting a more accurate lay of what was in the area. Although the various vendors and stands looked interesting, when it came to Konstantin, Nikita knew the two of them tended to prefer less domestic pursuits. It was not often the brothers had time to themselves, with Konstantin’s frequent conquests and Nikita’s frequent travels on the behalf of Russia. Sitting back down to get ready to dismount, Nikita gave an almost undignified snort, “of course I remember our romps as young men. Despite the amount of liquor my body took in, I seem to remember our antics quite well,” he laughed. Waggling a finger at his brother, “and I will have you know, I have never been as inexperienced as you thought I was,” he said with a sly smile, letting Konstantin goad him into a more relaxed but exposed nature. Normally, Nikita was not one to talk of conquest or what happened in the quiet of closed doors, but Konstantin had always been an exception.

Sliding off the mare, he thanked the man who came and took her reins, leading her away to be held until Nikita was ready to return. Although he felt bad, that this man had been reduced to a duty of babysitting the horse, he knew the mare would likely need protection from Konstantin’s more mischievous horse. “Come, let us experience the new culture, we can talk about our adventures in this wonderful place,” he said to Konstantin, before turning to indicate a classier looking tavern, one that spoke of status wanting to pretend it was the true experience of a common bar.

⇢ The meaning behind the phrase ‘it is best not to fight fire with fire’ never resonated within the Crown Prince of Russia. Within matters of warfare and politics, Konstantin preferred to overpower his opponents, diminishing whatever fire they would bring with his own. Of course, this was the reason their older brother appointed Nikita as the Tsardom’s chief diplomat, as he was the better man to discuss matters of negotiation and relations, as Konstantin viewed any suggestions which went against his own as challenges. With what seemed to be an exaggerated eye-roll, Konstantin gripped the reins of the ill-tempered stallion which he claimed, as he was not as easy of a ride as Nikita’s mare. “ There are easier ways to deal with ruthless nobles, Kita. Maintaining strong forces is one of them. Imagine if you had remained within the military under my wing, what you could be accomplishing with me. ” A type of condescending nature covered Konstantin’s words as he spoke, even though this was not his intention --- he had remained particularly bitter ever since Nikita’s decision to not participate in military affairs, mostly because he wished for his younger brother to be seen as a powerful man.

“ I simply am a great and powerful man, Nikita. My reputation follows me wherever I travel, for there are no other men like me. ” Due to the fact that Konstantin viewed himself so highly, his ears selectively only deciphered the redeeming statements which Nikita made towards his brother, causing his ego only to be built up more. It was true that most meetings Konstantin attended went smoothly, because the second son of Russia possessed a quick wit and natural charisma, causing many nobles to comply with what he suggests. Frequently, flirtations would also be used by Konstantin to win over those he spoke with on political matters, and this too proved to be a forceful skill in Konstantin’s many tricks. “ When has anyone ever cursed me, other than our older brother? I believe Ivan only curses me since the man desires to possess the same qualities as me. I would disclose more, but I am aware that you view our brother positively. ” Even while Nikita was his brother’s confidant, the man refused to take implied advice from him or anyone else, as he was too stubborn and headstrong.

“ Those who get burned by my presence were too weak to be called nobility in the first place. I do not hold any sorrow for those who do not deserve their titles. ” The tone which Konstantin presented with this statement reflected his desire for further power and influence, and the greed he held within his heart was evident. Perhaps the only reason he didn’t attempt to mask his true sentiments while speaking to Nikita was that he had no instinct of having to portray a certain demeanor, as he knew his younger brother would always respect him regardless. “ Maybe you are more experienced than I credit you for, brother, but you will never match what I have achieved. ” Konstantin jokingly spoke, however, he managed to turn even this jest into a competition, his mind never seems to allow him to rest from gaining power over everyone and anyone in every aspect of his life. 

Demounting from his stallion, Konstantin did feel quite worrisome for whoever had to handle him while he spent time with Nikita within the tavern, though that worry quickly faded. While Konstantin was impressed with many things within Lisbon, their alcohol did not make it on that list, as he much preferred what his home country had to offer. “ I do not believe there have been many adventures experienced here within Lisbon, Kita, unless you count political endeavors as adventures, ” He responded, walking into the unfamiliar dwelling which Kita suggested. “ I will give you the responsibility of choosing what we drink, though I am sure nothing they can offer will rival Russia’s spirits. ”

⇢ DURATION : JULY 28 - AUGUST 3

total this week : 120 ( 80, -40 )

overall total : 230 

. . .

⇢ Konstantin always wishes to portray a powerful and demanding image, though this frequently appears as an envious and spiteful persona to those who can see through his charm and manipulation. He desires to be seen as a man who doesn’t need to grow weary over potential rivals and threats, but the aggravation and rashness he displays when challenged do not help him portray this image.

⇢ As bad as it may sound, Konstantin would not give his life for anything or anyone if it would cost him the chance or ability to accomplish his ultimate dream of gaining the most power he possibly could. Due to the fact that much of his years have been surrounded by warfare, he has seen lives end with little effort and importance, so it is not the fact that he is afraid of dying; rather, he is afraid of passing before becoming one of the most influential men in the world. 

⇢ To the Crown Prince of Russia and the General-poruchik of the Tsardom’s vast and grand military, there were few countries that could rival the strength and pride which the Russian citizens held in their hearts. There was a powerful and pitiless ambition which resided within the soul of Konstantin Rurik, and perhaps the people of Russia and its soldiers held him so highly within their minds due to the fact that they appreciated this evident drive to gain more power and influence, as they held a similar viewpoint to his. This characteristic of his, along with his mother’s favor and desire for him to be an excessively respected man, caused Dmitri and Vasilia to place their son in the line of the military, knowing he would command the forces when his time came.  Different military campaigns and political endeavors which were led and directed by the second son of Russia brought the nation more wealth and respect, causing a sense of superiority to grow and thrive within the man, as he felt that he personally was above many who dared to challenge or go against him. 

A factor that allowed for Konstantin’s instructed campaigns to gain success and esteem was the fact that he single-handedly appointed skilled and advanced officers: men who were educated soldiers and would always be beneficial in an armed endeavor. The Crown Prince’s own younger brother, Nikita Rurik, was a high-ranking officer before being appointed as the nation’s chief diplomat. While this was angering to Konstantin, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t replace his brother with another trained individual; however, he wished for Nikita to accompany him on the field. It was even more aggravating that Konstantin knew if his younger sister, now Katherine of Wales, was a man, she would be his right hand man, as she held the same traits as he did. Due to the fact that Katherine constantly devoted her time to Konstantin as a child, she developed into a woman with many of the same personality characteristics, and his ambition and pride were not left out of these similarities. 

There were benefits and issues that came with these similarities, but only one fact mattered: the confidence and drive which she learned from Konstantin would enable her to be an excessively powerful figurehead within England, and one of Konstantin’s most crucial goals were to establish her as such. As expected, Konstantin did not hold a very flattering perception of the English, since he believed the forces he commanded had the ability to overpower those of the nation his younger sister’s husband belonged. Many hours were spent by the Crown Prince contemplating just how the nation managed to become so influential, but he wouldn’t dare show these sentiments in the public eye, rather he would appear at the English residence in Lisbon unexpectedly as a ‘friendly gesture’. The not so frequent trips to the temporary English residence may have been a tad dreadful for the Crown Prince, but he appeared to always be enjoying himself as he kept a similar routine: smiling to those nobles he was acquainted with while insulting them behind their backs to his Druzhinniks. 

After arriving to the Palácio de Queluz, Konstantin dismounted his horse which was curated by his brother Nikita, leaving the ill-tempered animal who only seemed to appreciate the Crown Prince’s presence in the care of one of his guards. Due to the fact that the guards which protected the residence were familiar with his own name and appearance, entrance was not a difficult task, as they all assumed he was simply seeking out his dear sister. His usual practice of quick and simple derogatory comments directed towards different English nobles in his native tongue were made, such as ‘слабый идиот’ and ‘Английский дурак’. He never suspected any of these citizens would take the time to educate themselves on his native tongue, as he didn’t believe most of them to have the willpower to do so. Walking past a man he was not so familiar with in the English residence took the second son of Russia by surprise, as he had never witnessed someone with such a unique demeanor live within the English court. However, this did not stop his usual habits, another ‘крестьянский’ slipping from his mouth which was formed into his typical sly grin.