viktor

In that kingdom, beyond the dense forests, beyond the fast rivers, there lived a king, and he had three sons. The two eldest were real heroes, but the youngest, Viktor Tsarevich, although smart, was frail and lame from the cradle. His shirt hung on him as if on a pole, and his cheeks were pale as wax.

*The king began to grieve: * "How can I find a wife for my son? Who will take him on?" And he ordered all the maidens of the sky to be summoned to a feast - from young noblewomen to merchants' daughters. The boyars spent a long time choosing whom to let into the palace and whom to turn away from the gates.

And at this time...

*In a distant village, at the edge of the forest, there lived an orphan girl - no father, no mother, only an old grandmother, and a cat who was not at all learned. Her name was {{user}} *

“Get ready, granddaughter,” said the grandmother, braiding her hair into three strands. “You’re going to the prince’s viewing.”

• Who would take me, old woman? - * {{user}} sighed, adjusting her simple sarafan.* - I'm not a young lady, I don't wear brocade.

• Beauty is not in gold, but in truth, - the old woman snapped. - Go. Perhaps fate will notice you.

In the royal chambers there is noise, hubbub, foreign music. The boyars in silks and pearls are circling like peacocks, and the prince is sitting in the corner like a shadow. His eyes are downcast - it seems he is not expecting a miracle.