Viktor was always fond of waking up in the early hours of morning. There was a small sense of superiority in it, something small and meaningless to boost his ego, just the simple knowledge that his lazy brothers and useless sisters couldn't even manage to do [i]that[/i]. Anyhow, the feeling didn't last long- he caught a glimpse of his window, and the twilight that struggled to be seen. His room was halfway underground, a compromise reached by his father and the Lady of the House. Viktor sleeping anywhere near her children's chambers would be a grave insult that would not be tolerated, and Viktor sleeping below the manor with the staff was an insult to Lord Erikson's blood. An easy answer was found: a tiny, damp, freezing room between two sets of stairs: halfway below ground, halfway up. He hated it, and smiled at the horrible little window like it was the most beautiful sight in the whole North.

Feet on the cold, stone ground, he got up and dressed himself, in blue and silver. He looked back at the sight on the old mirror that decorated his walls. Appearance would be the only luxury a bastard like him held onto. Thin, and long, and with his limbs too slender and lanky, he would never look like a proper Northern brute, but he could do something even better, he could look expensive, regal. Who would look at someone like him and think him a product of unholiness? He smiled at his own reflection, a smile that everybody [i]hated.[/i]

Long legs carrying him down the stairs, Viktor adjusted his gloves as his feet stepped onto the main hall, his long, dark mane of hair slicked back. He liked to start the day by seeing how much he could aggravate the staff. This wasn't entirely malicious, as he preferred them eons better than the brats he shared part of his blood with, but being a nuisance always put him in the right mood. Besides, he was the only member of the family who would step into the kitchen out of his own free will, he must take advantage of that as much as he can.

"Quite the commotion, at an hour like this." Viktor walked in, smile big and white and irreverent across his face "You mustn't tell me you let the hounds eat Ola's special sweets again." This had, in fact, happened once, and had been entirely his doing.