Oleksandr wakes up early before the sun rises, and goes into the barracks, banging on the doors to wake up the guards.

"Wake up, ladies! Out of your cribs and to the training field!" The guards grumble and moan in protest, as they wake up and force themselves out of bed. Some of them grumble at Oleksandr, annoyed at being woken up so early, but Oleksandr just watches with a hard, unsympathetic look as they get dressed and make their way to the training field, still half-asleep.

He gets them going right away, leading laps around the castle grounds, then into drills, sparring, and intensive workouts.

"You're all soft and out of shape. I could clean the floors with all of you. Get on with it!" The guards grumble and mutter as they follow Oleksandr's commands, some of them huffing and puffing as they struggle to keep up. Some of the older guards glare at Oleksandr, clearly unimpressed by his harsh words and high expectations.

"Who the hell does this guy think he is, bossing us around like this?" One of them mutters under their breath.

"Your new captain." Oleksandr responds without looking over at him, overhearing the man. "I wont tolerate a lack of fitness or competence. I'll make strong men out of you." He says, addressing them all. Some of the guards grumble and roll their eyes, unappreciative of Oleksandr's tough approach. Others, however, seem to respect his no-nonsense attitude and determination to whip them into shape. The younger guards, in particular, are struggling to keep up with the intense workout, but they try their best to impress their new captain. "Finish up your sets and then clean up and go on with your positions for today." Oleksandr says, as he leaves the training field, going back to the castle. The guards finish up their final sets, their bodies exhausted and sweating profusely. They grumble and complain, but Oleksandr can see that some of them are starting to admire his strict but fair leadership style.

Oleksandr takes a seat on a bench in the royal halls, near the princess’s room, the morning sun warm on his face as he looks out the window. He lights his pipe, relishing the familiar taste and smell of the tobacco, and settles in to wait. He's unsure what to expect, but he knows that waiting is part of the job. After waiting for a while, Oleksandr starts to get bored. He puffs on his pipe, watching the passersby in the courtyard below, when suddenly, he hears footsteps coming down the hall, the familiar jingling of anklets. He looks up to see the princess walking down the hall, her movements slow and quiet, as if she's trying not to make any noise. She pauses a few feet away from him, her head bowed and her face completely hidden by the veil and her downcast gaze. Oleksandr quickly stands and bows his head.

"Good morning, Princess Vidosavka." She takes a moment to compose herself, before replying, her voice soft and melodic, barely a whisper.

"Good morning…" Oleksandr motions down the hall.

"After you.” The princess pauses for a moment, still standing in the hallway. She seems to be considering her options, her eyes flickering up to look at him from behind the veil. He can see a small sliver of her face, the curve of her lips, her delicate nose. Finally, she nods slightly, and walks slowly down the hall, her head bowed and her footsteps soft. Oleksandr watches her go, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness towards her slight, fragile frame. The princess walks slowly down the hall, her footsteps soft and almost silent on the stone floor. Oleksandr follows her, always a few steps behind, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. He can sense a mix of emotions in her, a sense of melancholy and fragility, yet there's something else that he can't quite put his finger on.

He watches her braid, partially held in place by her shawl, sway behind her, the loose ends brushing against the skirt of her dress in a hypnotizing grace. For a moment he imagines what it might be like to hold her braid, to even brush her hair, to feel the soft silk that makes up the skirt of her dress... The thought passes through Oleksandr's mind like a fleeting shadow. He's surprised by it, and quickly shakes it off, reminding himself of his duties and the boundaries of his position, but the image sticks in his mind, and he finds himself still watching her hair sway in its braid, his eyes tracing the curve of her back...

Oleksandr holds the door open for the princess as she enters the dining hall. The hall is relatively empty, as it's not quite breakfast time yet, and there's only a few people scattered here and there, eating their breakfast. He follows her in, his eyes darting around the room, scanning for any potential threats. He can see a few of the guards stationed in various corners of the room, also keeping a watchful eye.

Oleksandr pulls out a chair for the princess, gesturing for her to sit. He speaks in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper, so as not to draw too much attention to them.

"What would you like for breakfast?" The question seems to surprise her, and he can see her hesitate for a moment, her eyes darting up to him through the veil. She's clearly not used to being asked her preferences, as she sits there, slightly taken aback by his question. After a moment, she whispers, her voice soft and demure.

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"Perhaps some porridge?"

Oleksandr doesn't respond, going to the counter to fetch her porridge and tea in one hand and his rare steaks in the other. He brings the princess her breakfast, setting it down in front of her before moving to sit a few tables down. He makes sure to keep her within his sight, his gaze darting between her and the rest of the room, his senses always alert for any potential threats. As he eats his own meal, he can't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze drawn to her like a magnet. She looks around for a moment, before she reaches up and pulls her veil away, laying it back over her head so she can eat. Oleksandr freezes, the sight of her face surprising him immensely.

He can't believe his eyes. It's her. The woman from his dreams. Her delicate features, her pale skin, her soft eyes... it's all as he remembered, but here she is, flesh and bone, sitting just a few feet away from him.

Oleksandr forces himself to return to his meal, his mind racing with questions, and emotions overwhelming him. He tries to act nonchalant, though the internal struggle is clear in the tension in his body and the look in his eyes. He can't help but glance up at her every few seconds, he quite literally can’t believe his eyes. Oleksandr glances up from his steak as he feels the princess's gaze on him. Their eyes lock for a moment, and it feels like time stands still. He feels a jolt of energy run through him, a recognition and familiarity he can't explain. But then they both look away, almost simultaneously, their gazes darting back to their food. Oleksandr tries to focus on his steak, but his mind is racing, his heart pounding in his chest. He can't help but feel a sense of confusion and bewilderment, his mind racing with questions.

Who is Princess Vidosavka? Why did he dream of her before they met? Why did she call him to Montenegro? And most importantly, does she recognize him from dreams too?

He steals a glance at her again, studying her delicate face, trying to find answers in her eyes, but coming up empty. Oleksandr watches her eat her porridge, his gaze fixed on her delicate little bites. She's so beautiful, like he had strayed back into a dream. She is like the elves and fairies he heard about in the tales told to him as a child from the other slaves, like a mythical enchantress. So modest, yet captivating. She makes herself so small, as if to hide away from the eyes of the world, yet she has a beauty men would eagerly die for. She is an enigma, a mystery.

She is like the moon, radiant and beautiful, a source of light in the darkness, yet elusive and untouchable. Her presence is both magnetic and frustrating, as he feels drawn to her and yet unable to capture her completely. So close, yet so far away…

He forces himself to look away, to stop staring at her. He looks at the steak in his hand and tears a bite off with his teeth, more aggressively than he intended to. It's rare, too well done for his taste.

He wants it tender, raw, untouched...

He shakes his head. He can't stop thinking about her, even in the steaks he eats. Oleksandr keeps an eye on her out of the corner of his eye, noticing that she has finished her meal when she lowers her veil. He quickly wolfs down the rest of his steak, his thoughts still muddled and chaotic. He stands up and clears her plates, his mind still racing. As he grabs her dishes, he can't help but glance at her again, his eyes drawn to her delicate, milk-white neck and soft manicured hands.

He forces himself to look away once more, reminding himself of his professional boundaries as her personal guard. He takes the dishes to the counter, his mind still a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He can't deny the effect that the princess has on him, but he also knows that he has to remain detached and vigilant. He returns to her side, stoic and professional, but feeling anything but.

Oleksandr approaches the princess and he asks, with a voice that is deceptively casual, "what is your schedule today, my lady?" She glances up at him, before she looks away again. He can see her hands twisting nervously in her lap, fidgeting with the end of her braid.

"Today, I will be attending my daily lessons with the tutor, and then I have a fitting for a new dress," she says softly.

"Lead the way then, my lady," he says, gesturing for her to lead the way to her lesson. The princess stands up, and he follows her closely as she begins to move through the castle. He notices the grace in her every move, the way she glides across the stone floor like a ghost. The other guards in the hallway give her a wide berth, as if intimidated by her presence. He can feel his heart beating a little faster as she approaches the door to the study where her tutor waits for her, their destination almost within reach. He opens the door for her and lets her enter. He then takes a seat on a bench outside, lighting up his pipe and taking a long drag, trying to steady his nerves.

Through the smoke that swirls around him, he watches the other guards stand at attention nearby, a stoic presence in the corridor. The day progresses, and Oleksandr finds himself escorting the princess to each of her duties and appointments throughout the castle. In the brief moments between, he takes charge of the castle guards, assigning them their rotations and checking their morale. He can't help but feel that he's constantly on edge, his mind always in a state of vigilance, both for her safety and for his own chaotic thoughts. He tries to focus on the task at hand, but his thoughts keep wandering back to her, like a relentless tide.

Early in the evening, as they reach the royal halls, Oleksandr holds the heavy oak doors open for the princess, bowing his head slightly as she passes through. He wishes her a soft, "goodnight, my lady," before straightening up and watching her walk into the hall. He stands there for a moment, his hand still on the door handle, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He forces himself to pull away from the door, letting it close behind her. As he stands alone in the corridor, the weight of the day's events and emotions hitting him, he lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair. The castle suddenly feels empty without her presence, and he feels a strange emptiness in his chest. He makes the walk back to his chambers, replaying the moment he saw her without her veil in the morning. He feels confused, dumbfounded, and completely lost.