Rasputin- a love story:
(please note, this story IS NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE. It is written for fictional purposes only)
(also, this is an lgbtq+ story, if you're uncomfortable with that, click off.)
Characters:
y/n as Rasputin's lover
The Russian queen
Rasputin
Narrator
"There was a man in Russia long ago, he was big and strong; in his eyes a flaming glow." heard Rasputin as he walked along, a narrow pathway through the freezing streets of Russia. The night was clear, and stars glistened; almost as if they were smiling upon Rasputin. Rasputin was indeed a daunting man of 6'3 and possessed a ridiculously handsome face. He walked with a certain air of confidence while sporting a large, bushy beard. Usually, fangirls would surround him, begging for pictures and autographs while their husbands sulked behind them, but what nobody knew was that Rasputin, in secret, had a lover. And that lover was a man.
Rasputin sat at a desk in his office. He drew a long shaky breath as he shifted through the pile of papers that were strewn around. He wanted to get some work done before an unwelcome visitor arrived. His amber eyes flitted around his dimly lit room frustratedly as he stood up. He stalked over to the French window; which was covered in frost due to the daunting Russian winters. He stared out at the drab gray pavement, anticipating a shadow to pass into his snow-covered lawn. As if on cue, someone opened the iron gates and strolled into the premises of the mansion. Rasputin rolled his eyes and shook his head. Every night, the queen would make her way into the city to see him. She claimed that she loved him, but he knew better. The queen was like a Lamprocapnos spectabilis; beautiful to the eye, and poisonous to the heart. But until he found out what she wanted from him, he would have to continue playing her games.
The queen wore a long gray Minx fur coat and held a purse to match. She had an air of confidence and authority. She constantly wore an expression of disapproval and haughtiness, worn down after decades of being the queen. Her distaste often fueled contempt and anger from the men in the court, who expected her to wear a smile every day and act as though nothing was ever wrong. Although it infuriated her royal highness, she didn't bother to think about it much. "Ah~ it doesn't matter", the Queen often thought. After all, they weren't the ones with power. As she strolled into Rasputin's garden, she observed the broken branches everywhere, the unkept bushes and shrubs, and the barren ground. She frowned as she looked up, seeing Rasputin standing at his French window, looking down at her with disgust.
