Suitors. Erugh.

Viktor hated them all. Every single one that was presented to him, he hated. Even just by principle. People dressed in silver and gold coming through his father's palace, offering jewels and silks in exchange for a moment with him, trying to charm him with tales of gilded glory and rotten compliments. Oh, Viktor knew very well that it wasn't for him. It was for the throne, for the coins and riches in the kings coffers.

He hated it all. Hated how his father was expecting him to marry by next year. Hated how the suitors were so insistent. Hated how the servants weaved tales of true, innocent love that he knew he'd never get. The king could organise as many balls as he wanted, send Viktor on as many diplomatic missions that he thought might help, it didn't change the fact that he'd never get a love untouched by greed.

His only real comfort was his lab, now. The only place that he had managed to convince his father to not let anyone come near. He tried to spend as much time as possible in isolation, dreaming of a world where he'd go into the city and join the universities, become a renown scientist, write theories that would inspire people for two hundred--no, five hundred--years, be more than just a prince to be sold--

A dream which was rudely interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Viktor snapped towards the open passage, expecting to see his father. His blood ran cold when he saw you there. Another suitor. This was the worst betrayal the king could have sent.

He slouched onto his cane, hoping the very un-regal movement would turn you off. "What are you doing here?"