Titles of royalty (according to this universe):

Tsar: King/Emperor/Supreme ruler

Tsarina: Queen/Empress/Supreme ruler/Wife of a Tsar

Tsesarevich: Prince and the heir presumptive

Tsarevich: Prince/Son of a Tsar

Tsarevna: Princess/Daughter of a Tsar

Grand Duke: Brother/Uncle of a Tsar

Grand Duchess: Brother/Uncle of a Tsar

Duke/Duchess: Tsar's cousin


The lights go out and I can't be saved

Tides that I tried to swim against

Have brought me down upon my knees

Oh I beg, I beg and plead

x

Come out of things unsaid

Shoot an apple off my head

And a trouble that can't be named

A tiger's waiting to be tamed

x

Coldplay - Clocks


He didn't know how long he stood there with his back against the wall, paralyzed and still in shock, blood pumping harder than it usually did after his performances, and the cold outside almost numbing his lips and nose to a point where he could barely feel them.

The orchestra inside was as loud as it was possible, but his ears were blocking the melodies. The applause had died down, the foreign praises around him concluded, the next dancers, all of them not slaves, had taken the spotlight, and Yuuri was once again alone and lost, his mind drifting back to the never ending abyss of nightmares he didn't want to recall.

The merchant was a complicated human being, Yuuri had realized during the first month of his captivity, before he was put into the auction that shaped the remaining of his life. That man seemed on a constant internal battle with himself every time he looked at him.

His eyes would twitch, his mouth would voice compliments, but his hands always contradicted his words. With every beautiful came a slap against Yuuri's cheek, with every obedient a whip licked his skin, and more often than not, a fist, a wooden stick, a kick, or even hands curled around his throat; he tried everything he could do to deliver any sort of pain.

The man always became furious when they as much locked eyes, and Yuuri spent a long time trying to understand why, despite himself.

After the first night, the first beating, Yuuri saw everything he needed to see, he knew that his capturer was too big and strong for him. Even as a man, he couldn't do anything to protect himself, so he never screamed or struggled, and he never allowed himself to show any emotions that the merchant could feed on.

Yet, he was still beaten twice as much as the other slaves, sometimes thrice, each time becoming worse than the one before it as the auction came nearer, as if knowing that soon someone else would own him was maddening.

And to this very day, Yuuri never understood why.

"Here you are."

Yuuri lifted his head. The sight of Minako in the corridor next to him, contemplating and worried, was enough to push the memories away for the time being.

He forced a smile. "Was it good?"

"You're my own student, of course it was good." Hers was a genuine one, at least. "Aye, everyone in that hall was completely enthralled by you, myself included, I think, perhaps, it was too good."

He didn't know what that meant exactly, but he allowed his heart to warm up by her words. It was as rare as sunlight in Russia to receive praise from that woman.

"Ah, Yuuri," she put her hands on her hips, "How will I be able to hide you if you shine so brightly?"

He gulped, "You're exaggerating, sensei."

"Your movements were more feminine than I expected," Minako quirked an eyebrow, curious. "Did you learn that by yourself?"

"You know I didn't." Yuuri curled his hand, allowing his head to hit the wall behind him. "It's the only thing they want to see me do."

"And what about it?" Minako almost sounded irritated, "It's stunning and it suits you, and you seemed happy when you performed." She shook her head, "All this self-pity won't take you anywhere, little one. What's done is done."

Yuuri sighed, not wanting to admit she was right, but not wanting to deny it either.

She looked around, taking in the surroundings before she started walking past him. "Follow me."

He detached from his spot and started walking behind her. "I tried to imitate the way you moved," he finally said, rubbing a hand down his naked arm to warm himself. "Or what I could remember from it, at least."

Minako seemed amused by that. "I thought so."

"Sensei, where are we going?"

"Away from the harem," she told him, "You're sleeping in the infirmary."

His brows furrowed. "I am?"

"The Taking is tonight," Minako explained, "I planned to pull you away an hour ago but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I lost track of time." He said guiltily, once again being reminded that she had more important things to attend to.

"It's alright," she brushed him off, "It's not necessary to do all this, but I'll keep you there tonight, just in case. I will leave you in the infirmary, go back to the banquet, and casually inform the Tsar that you fell down the stairs and hurt your ankle. Knowing his majesty, he won't ask any further or care too much. "

He swallowed heavily, the golden choker he was wearing almost hurting his throat. Lying to a Tsar was a crime worth being hanged for, even Yuuri knew that.

"If it will cause you problems," he said, "I can go… you said it yourself, it's not necessary. I don't… I don't want anything bad to happen to you because of me."

"Nothing bad will happen to me." she said with confidence that Yuuri didn't understand fully, stopping next to a large iron door to her right.

Before Yuuri could say anything, Minako had already pulled out a key from under her sleeve and opened the door, pinning him with her eye until he had no other choice but to step in.

"Only a handful of people have a key to this room," her voice echoed from outside, "You'll be safe, just lie on one of the beds and enjoy a good night's sleep, you've earned it."

"Thank you." He whispered, trying to find his way through the darkness surrounding him without any lanterns or lit candles in sight, almost tripping when he bumped into the closest bed to him.

"It's too early to say that, Yuuri," she began swinging the door slowly, the little bit of light starting to disappear. "I'll come to see you later when I have time."

He was about to answer when the room turned pitch black and he heard a click, Minako already heading back to the countless tasks she had.

Yuuri sat on the mattress behind him, the creaking and his breaths the only sounds that were audible in that quiet, eerie room, but yet again, the inside of his head filled with a storm of noise and voices, never failing to make an appearance when he was alone.

He wondered how many times Minako would be able to save him before his luck ran out.

He wondered if he would be forced to dance again under the judgmental gazes of noblemen and royalty.

He wondered if all that applause and cheer was a forced act, a bait luring him to believe that he was safe.

He knew he wasn't.

Minako's words were warm, but he knew they were biased, for he had heard so many compliments, sweet as honey, from a man like the merchant. Yuuri would never allow himself to believe any of it. He knew they were empty, and all that was coming next was beating, abuse, and darkness.

And so he did the only thing that saved him from the pain, he numbed himself, his features fading to resemble the face of the puppet everyone saw him as, his body turning rigid like the porcelain doll they desired, and his heart shutting itself behind a solid cage, away from the pain.

He shut his eyes. The only thing that was still clear in his mind, was a majestic and comforting blue, a picture of a handsome face, and a gaze so great Yuuri wanted to paint it.

The Tsar might be his next tormentor, but Yuuri wanted to at least remember his face as a lovely one; before it turned ugly in his eyes when the pain would start again.


He wondered why it was this night in particular that the memories of the merchant were so vivid.

He twisted and turned, his forehead wetting with sweat, the same images flashing back ever so often, never leaving him be.

He heard the faintest creak and Yuuri's eyelids shot open.

"Yuuri?" he heard Minako's voice behind the light of a candle, before the shadows settled in place and her features lit behind it.

"Is it over?" he instantly asked.

"Yes, the banquet ended hours ago," she told him, setting the candle on the closest table and making her way to his bed, throwing a wool pouch on his lap, "Take this."

He sat up straight, trying to examine the contents inside it. "What are those?"

"Poisonous herbs."

"W-What?"

"Rub it on your foot, it will make your skin swell." She said, ignoring his shock and heading to the other table, striking a match to light the lantern in the corner of the room. "A doctor is coming to see you and this is all I could think of."

The room instantly lit up, all surfaces coming to view, and suddenly the room was revealed to be a lot bigger than he imagined. Yuuri opened the pouch and carefully slid his hand inside, trying not to touch any herbs for too long as he spread them on his right foot, they were dried up and crumbled easy on his skin as he did so.

"How did it go?" Yuuri asked nervously, dreading the answer for reasons he couldn't comprehend. "Whom did he choose?"

"No one." That shocked him, to say the least, and the silence was indication for Minako to clarify, "He does that occasionally… when he spends the night with a lover or when he simply doesn't want to – why haven't you opened the fireplace, it's freezing in here."

Yuuri knew that it was impossible for any ruler to use their harem constantly and without fail, even a young one, but Minako's explanation was incomprehensible. "He… he has lovers, too?"

Minako hummed, heading to the next lantern, "Sometimes, but they last as long as concubines, really."

Yuuri wanted to ask more but the sudden pain crippled his tongue for a moment, he glanced down, the skin of his ankle already reddening, it was far more irritating than he predicted. "Sensei, why did you have to call a doctor from the first place?"

"I wasn't going to," she grumbled, a fire building gradually before her. "But when I told the Tsar, he asked if you were being treated and I couldn't lie."

"H-he did?" Yuuri's eyebrows furrowed, "But you said-"

They were interrupted by a soft knocking on the door, Minako indicated for him to remove the herbs, and so Yuuri did, trying not to leave any evidence of what had happened. Minako crossed the room, taking the pouch from him and hiding it in her belt before she slowly opened the door.

Even with the faint view, Yuuri saw that her face had paled.

"Grand Doctor Cialdini…"

A chuckle came from outside of the door. "Doctor would suffice, Miss Minako."

Minako's entire demeanor changed. "Why are you here? What happened? Is the Tsar alright?"

"Oh yes, yes, he's healthy as a horse." The man stepped in, his height dominating Minako's, but his aura entirely non hostile, he looked away from her, his eyes travelling across the room until they met Yuuri's, and he smiled. "He sent me to take care of this one."

"And why would he send you?" Minako crossed her arms around her chest. "The boy is not dying, he just stepped on some poisonous herbs."

Yuuri thought that he was mishearing the whole exchange, they were speaking in English and as much as he was fluent in it, Yuuri was having doubts. A grand doctor was usually the king's personal doctor, a noble that was trained his whole life in medicine and alchemy, and was only called when members of the royal family were in danger.

So what was he doing here? Claiming to have been summoned to examine a concubine, nonetheless.

"Is that so? His majesty said that he fell down and broke his ankle."

Minako seemed utterly shocked, as if she had never expected the Tsar to remember those details. Her expression, however, immediately changed to annoyance, and the lie that came out from her mouth was almost too convincing. "Dear lord… that man's forgetfulness is almost legendary."

The doctor laughed lightheartedly, "It's alright Miss Minako, I don't mind. Truth be told, it gets quite uneventful when our Tsar takes care of himself so well, god bless him."

"I don't know, doctor, his memory worries me sometimes." Minako responded, and if it were anyone but her, Yuuri would think that she was talking about an emperor with too much informality.

The doctor didn't seem to notice that as his smile widened, nodding toward Yuuri, "Now shall I?"

"Of course," Minako waved, "Treat him before, god forbid, he dies from this fatal wound."

The doctor chuckled as he pulled the chair next to the bed, "You're being cruel."

"Yuuri, it seems that I will be leaving you in the most trustable hands in the empire," she told him, holding the door. "If you need anything, you know where to find me, don't you?"

"I… I think so." He said reluctantly.

"Don't worry, boy," the doctor ruffled his hair, his tone as sarcastic as the woman who had just left. "You will be able to walk again."

Yuuri gave him a tight smile, the itch on his ankle was the least of his concerns.

Later, the man jokingly asked him if he often enjoyed walking barefoot in the castle's gardens, and he looked away to avoid the mild embarrassment.

Doctor Cialdini kept talking and tried to make him comfortable, but none of it worked, because Yuuri's mind was entirely consumed with questions on why the Tsar did all of this to a mere slave that danced in his banquet, a slave he had only seen twice.

And he would wonder if this all was another bait that was being laid out before him.

Yuuri would later sleep contently and soundly for the first time since he arrived in that palace, the room warm and quiet. Absent were the voices of the other concubines that slept near him every night, a privilege that allowed him to drift away and enjoy at least one night without the harassment of their hateful whispers about him.

And yet again, he would try to understand things that will never be understood, contemplating on why the merchant treated him the way he did, why the nobleman gave him a golden armlet, why the Madams decided to turn him into a sex slave despite everything else he could do, and why the other concubines always despised him.

And he would also wonder about other things; things concerning a man that Yuuri had yet to know.

He would try to understand why the Tsar chose to keep him from the first place, why he forced him to dance, and why he clapped so loudly.


Upon waking up, and more often than not, Yuuri would be confused.

Occasionally, it was because he would forget his situation and wonder why his chamber was so dark, until he would remember that that wasn't the life he had anymore.

But that morning, Yuuri had a hand on his neck and many questions.

He knew he was wearing it. He had tried - in vain - to take it off the night before. Since his hands never figured out how, he had ended up sleeping with the chocker tight around his throat, the discomfort inevitable and his tiredness too overwhelming.

He was certain he had it on during the night, since Yuuri remembered rubbing it occasionally when it became too suffocating.

Yet, there it was, neatly placed on the table next to his bed.


"Sensei?" Yuuri suddenly remembered, days later, as he carefully placed a stack of books on the shelves Minako had asked him to organize. "Did you remove my necklace when I was sleeping in the infirmary the other night?"

The last book was set in place, and Yuuri had finished ordering her entire library according to the authors' names.

Minako had joked that she was putting him into labour, and so gave him a simple task later that afternoon, but Yuuri didn't mind it one bit. He had spent the few days after the banquet translating and helping her write letters in various foreign languages, and after there were no more letters on postpone, he helped her with a budget she was struggling with, since he noticed that she took too long with simple calculations, something he found fairly easy.

"Your necklace?" Minako asked in confusion, busy reading a letter. "No, I didn't come back after I left with you with the doctor."

He frowned; doctor Cialdini didn't remove it either, and not many had the key to the infirmary, the more he thought back to it the more worrisome it seemed.

"You might've taken it off without knowing."

"Perhaps." Yuuri said, rubbing his forehead, not certain of himself anymore. He had a dreamless sleep that night, as far as he knew, but his hand stilled, the movement reminding him, once again, of a gentle touch, a brush of fingers against his hair and skin, phantom and delicate.

He shook his head, it was definitely a dream he had forgotten, and a nursemaid who came by and did him a kind favor.

"Yuuri," Minako appeared by his side, almost like a ghost; he wasn't surprised by that anymore, that woman was always moving, never staying put in one place. "I will be quite busy for the rest of the day, but I want you to do some tasks for me."

"Of course," he said, already following her to wherever she was now taking him. "Anything for you."

"I will send you to Cialdini's quarters," Minako was saying, quickly locking the door behind them. Yuuri was struck with the cold outside instantly, his body never adjusting to the constant cold, no matter how thick his tunic was. "I asked him if he could make you a pair of spectacles, and he said he would."

"I – What?"

"You squint quite a lot," she turned to him, "You can't see well, can you?"

"You're right..." Yuuri answered, almost wonderstruck by her deduction. He didn't know how eyeglasses were made or who made them, but Yuuri had seen people wearing them so rarely that he never considered seeking to have a pair made for himself. "But isn't it too much to ask the grand doctor himself?"

"Yuuri, that man has absolutely nothing to do most of the time, he was almost too delighted by the request; no one wants to wear spectacles in this castle so he never gets to make them for anyone."

Yuuri was confused. "But why?"

"They look very unflattering so people never bother," she explained, smirking, "Which is good for you, Yuuri. You're beautiful, and you need to hide that."

Minako was showing him the way, but Yuuri didn't find it in him to pay attention, he wanted to tell her that he wasn't beautiful, not even close to, and that it was only his godforsaken eyes that got him there in the first place, yet he held his tongue.

"And once with you finish with your session-"

He snapped his head toward her, "Sorry, what session?"

"With a handler," Minako said, her voice suddenly lowering, "You know you have to see one regularly, Yuuri, if you don't, the other concubines will get even more suspicious."

Yuuri stared at her silently for a long time before he realized that she was referring to a Madam.

He knew that it would come eventually, and that he had to relearn every lesson, verbal and physical, all over again, but he thought that he might as well try to escape it, nonetheless. "I know everything that needs to be known about seduction, erotic arts, preparations, sexual intercourse, and everything in between. Going there would only be a waste of time for them, sensei."

Minako sighed, not seeming very proud to hear that, but Yuuri tried not to succumb to the humiliation he just caused to himself. "I see."

He looked away from her. "Is there any way I can-"

"Well," she put a hand on her chin, "You just have to show them that you don't need any training."

"I tried before, I told them many times," he bit his bottom lip, "But they never believe it."

"Why, of course they won't." Minako told him, "I said show them, Yuuri, not tell them."

His entire face went red. "Show them… how?"

She blinked, as if she did not expect that question from him. "What do you mean, how? You go and seduce the one who trains you, that's what they want to see."

His eyes widened, "S-s-seduce? The Madam? Seduce her?"

"The handler, yes," she frowned, "Yuuri, you're a concubine… you have seduced people before, haven't you?"

He avoided eye contact, beginning to feel ashamed about something he never thought he'd be ashamed of. "I – uhm – I was taught to."

"Then it wouldn't be that hard, considering the way you danced." She raised an eyebrow, "Think of it as a private performance, and to make it easier, I'll send you to a handler called Sara, she's half in love with you already."

Yuuri might've as well heard that the Tsar had burst into the castle while riding a dragon. "W-why?"

Minako didn't see his confusion as she continued walking, handing instructions and receiving reports from the majority of the servants who passed them by, Yuuri had seen her do that so often that he didn't fully notice it as much as before.

She turned to him after the group of servants were far away, "Because it would be easier for you to convince her that-"

"No," Yuuri interrupted her, "I mean, why would she be half in love with me?"

Minako shook her head, "Yuuri, you might be one of the most intelligent people in this castle, but your stupidity shocks me sometimes."

"But sensei," he asked nervously, "How would people outside of the harem even know about me?"

"Ah, well, your name goes around quite a lot." She answered casually, as if it wasn't one of his worst fears. "And you're not easy to unsee, not after the banquet, which is why you're getting those eyeglasses, little one, hopefully with them people will overlook you and pass you by as just another servant running errands for me."

Yuuri honestly never thought that he'd go that far, but the more he listened to Minako's reasoning the more certain he was that she was doing everything in her power to save his pride, and once again he was thankful for her; she made everything seem less hopeless.

Without him realizing, Yuuri saw that they had made it all the way to the reception hall's gallery. Nearly two weeks ago, he was standing on the ground below, scared witless, and now, he was standing above, on the other side, still scared, by all means, but his wits collected firmly.

The view opened to the entire hall as Yuuri reached closer to the rail, Minako standing next to him, her good eye fixed purposefully on the herd of numerous servants running back and forth below them, no doubt searching for a particular face.

Yuuri watched as a man walked hurriedly to the gate, a brass in hand that he quickly pressed the end of its tube into his mouth, a loud horn echoing throughout the hall and the gallery when he blew on it.

Yuuri recognized that horn, and almost instantly, all of the people below who were rushing and moving in all directions collectively stopped on their heels, spreading like the split sea and standing in two messy lines, the space between them vast.

Yuuri pressed his lips together, trying to imitate the way Minako stood, her hands crossed together respectfully and back straight, although he tried his hardest to hide himself behind the pillar next to him, his constant fear only worsening.

"Attention. His majesty has returned." the man with the horn announced.

The doors of the gate opened, and many people entered all at once, almost too many to count, walking in the front were two armored guards, and behind them, as Yuuri knew and feared, a silver haired figure appeared, the atmosphere surrounding him alone forcing the entire medium into silence and absolute awe.

He was tall, Yuuri realized, standing higher than the majority of the large attendance of men and women, his style contrasting with everyone around him with the rich and striking fabric he wore. He was clad in a long, black undercoat with close-fitting sleeves that showed his masculine limbs, and an armless coat that broadened his shoulders with its hard material. The garment screamed luxury, with intricate golden patterns decorating all of its visible parts. And to make him look even more intimating, a thick black cape was draped on one of his shoulders, its collar made of expensive-looking fur.

His hair barely reached his cheek, the short strands cascading on one side of his face. He wasn't wearing a crown, so Yuuri noticed how straight and silky it looked. The front of his hair fell to hide his eyes from display, as his head was titled to the side, and for that Yuuri was thankful.

Anyone with good eyes could see the amount of power radiating off of him, even if the man himself was smiling softly, not emitting it on purpose. The crowd that followed him only enhanced that even more. It was hard to see so many people trailing behind someone and not feel threatened by their presence.

A joyful giggle forced Yuuri's eyes to detach from the Tsar, landing on the lady that had an arm locked with his.

She was absolutely beautiful, even if her face was blurry from his spot, she had a gorgeous pair of navy blue eyes and hair so scarlet it was shining, long and straight and reaching the small of her back, and she was dressed in a dark blue dress that highlighted her large irises even further.

She was young, Yuuri saw, and her smile was laced with fondness and amusement.

He didn't know who that lady was. He was still unfamiliar with the members of the court, though, watching them - a presentation of the handsomest of couples - together, Yuuri guessed that she might be the lover that the Tsar spent the night with at the banquet.

Although her presence should've been comforting, given Yuuri's current circumstances, but the mere sight of the redhead sent a wave of dismay into his being, a dark, unwelcomed feeling of dread that itched his skin.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, or why.

She was amidst an animated conversation with the Tsar, when she unknowingly hit the person next to her with her elbow.

The poor girl, a servant slave who had a tray in her hand, shook for a second and it was enough for the bowl of soup to spill on the lady's sleeve.

The servant pulled away, her expression filled with horror when the lady stopped walking and examined her ruined sleeve.

"My apologies, duchess!" the servant almost shouted in fright, holding the tray aside like it was poison. "I – I didn't see. I am so sorry!"

It was in that instant that the entire temperature of the hall dropped. He didn't know what had caused it, but when the Tsar turned toward her, everyone around him, including Yuuri, was able to see the almost frightening shift of his mood.

He smiled, one of the coldest, most demeaning and dark expressions that anyone could make, "You call her Tsarevna, not duchess." The Tsar said, his tone wielding the chill of ice itself. "Tsarevna Mila, Tsarevich Georgi, Tsesarevich Yurio; they are your princess and princes," the girl began shaking visibly from utter fear, even a drop of a needle could've been heard then. "Do you understand that, slave?"

Yuuri, from above the gallery, had started to reflect the girl's reaction to his words, he was shivering, and not from the cold, but because it was the first time he heard the Tsar's voice, and it was the first time – inevitably one in many to come – that he had seen his cruelty, verbal, with a manner degrading and emotionless, the word 'slave' coming out of his mouth like a spit.

"Victor," the red haired lady said, unaffected and annoyed as she put a hand on his arm. "Enough with your dramatics. Shall we go inside?"

In the blink of an eye, the Tsar's expression changed. When he turned toward her, his smile charming, Yuuri felt a harsh thud in his chest. His blue, breathtakingly beautiful eyes finally appearing in sight. "Of course, your highness, lead the wa-"

The Tsar stilled, shutting his mouth all of a sudden, his eyebrows closing in together, as if he sensed something unnerving nearby. A moment later, his head slowly started turning upward, his eyes wide and seeking.

It took Yuuri less than a second to realize what he was doing, and before he knew it, his body had whipped to the side before the man's gaze found him, his back plastering against the pillar, hiding himself on sheer instinct and as fast as he physically could, his heart thundering against his ribcage

His staring was so intense that the Tsar felt it, all the way from the floor down, but of course he did; Yuuri was consumed with both familiar and foreign emotions, all too powerful to not notice. He had just seen how his new owner treated his slaves for merely using the wrong honorifics. God knew what he would do when he found out about Yuuri's schemes.

And as much as he didn't want to think about it, the horrific burns on Minako's body were becoming less mysterious the more he considered it.

His breathing was loud and unstable, he knew. But when he looked at the side, Minako was relaxed and smiling, her stare pinned on one spot. Undoubtedly, the Tsar's eyes had found hers instead of Yuuri's. She bowed her head, gracefully, a short nod of acknowledgment toward the man he was so scared of.

Minutes later and after hearing so many footsteps disappearing from the hall, Minako sighed in sympathy. "It's a sensitive topic for his majesty."

Yuuri frowned, not understanding what she was saying.

"You're a resident of this castle," She turned but did not look directly at him. "So you must know about this."

What Yuuri heard next was perhaps a sad story, but not a tragic one; it was an in depth explanation of the way the Tsar acted toward that slave, a story that would benefit Yuuri in the future when he learned it.

The Tsar's mother passed away the day she gave birth to him. For the remaining of his childhood, the newly named Tsasarevich and the heir of the empire merely saw his father, the Grand Duke of Russia, on occasion, sometimes years apart with every meeting. By the time he passed infancy and was able to walk and talk, his father permanently left him in his aunt's care.

The Grand Duchess Lilia, her noble husband Yakov, and their three children were the only family the boy had, growing up. And as he later claimed, they were all he will ever have. It was a highly controversial subject, especially after changing their titles soon after being crowned, and announcing his cousins as prince and princesses.

More problems arose when he announced his youngest cousin, Lord Yurio, as his heir. It meant that if the Tsar never had a child - something that he never seemed too interested in - the throne would pass down from House Nikiforov and to House Feltsman, which was something that the entire empire was against, considering that they were ruled by the Nikiforovs for centuries.

The Tsar, however, never paid too much attention to what his people wanted regarding the monarch. He made sure, with everything he had, that the cousins he considered to be his own siblings were treated as any other princes and princesses. Victor Nikiforov himself wasn't the son of the Tsar before him, so he didn't find anything worrisome with that fact that the throne wouldn't pass down to his own children. And not once did he find anything flawed with the way he planned the succession.

Day by day, the importance of his female concubines were becoming higher the older he became and more offers of marriage he refused, nonetheless, The Tsar did not care about fatherhood. And stubbornly, he had full faith in the Tsesarevich he chose to rule after him.

"No one belittles his cousins, Yuuri," Minako finished. "Don't you ever forget that and dare make the same mistake."

Needless to say, after the incident, that girl was never seen again inside the castle walls.