Author's note: Thank you reviewers and readers. Now the true story begins.
Without the terrible, the great could have never been great
Chapter 4: Peter and Ivan
"Why is it that wherever we go-?" started someone
"Something blows up?" finished this someone's brother.
These two brothers looked strangely out of place in the roaring flames of the nearby houses. Their royal clothing clashed terribly with the soot in the air.
"Ivan, it seems that we picked a bad place to stay" murmured the one who wore the general's uniform, medals crowding the space over his heart. He scanned the area with distaste.
"Not my fault, Peter" replied Ivan twirling a staff idly; he wore a royal robe, it was white with stripes of gold lining it. In a way it resembled a pope's robe more than anything.
"Anybody still alive?" asked Peter
"What would we care?" Ivan said, as he stopped playing with his cane.
"I want to find out what happened"
Just then a voice came from an alleyway that was formed by the now burning buildings, "Hey, I don't know what your problem is, but I'm not a fox! So stop calling me that!"
"Who would that be?"
Again voices from the alleyway, "Keep talking to me like that and ill cut out your tongue"
Ivan frowned slightly, but Peter grinned broadly
"Time for you to play the hero" Ivan said disgusted as Peter sped down the alleyway unsheathing a slither of a rapier.
Ivan stood there, waiting for his brother to return with a child by his side, worshiping him like a god.
A few seconds later Peter did come, but he was running for his life, a young boy in his arms, the child was bleeding slightly from his somewhere beneath his thick blond hair.
"Run for it Ivan!" Peter shouted as he ran past him.
"Whets wron-" Ivan stopped in mid sentence as he saw what Peter had run from, A person had emerged from the alleyway, they were wearing a dark blue cloak decorated with red clouds, but… it was headless! In its hand was a head, "Come back here you little bastard!" the head spat, Ivan, following Peter's example, ran.