Oleksandr wakes up, still in the chair near the window in Savka’s bedroom, awoken by the young white kitten that hopped up on his lap. It’s the early morning, with sunrise a couple of hours away. He glances over at her, still sleeping soundly. He gently picks up the kitten, looking at its small face, its curious blue eyes. It makes a soft meow, squirming in his hands, its tiny body rumbling with purrs. He gently strokes its head with his finger for a moment, before getting up, as quietly as possible. He places the kitten down on her bed, and he looks over her small form, enveloped in blankets. He stands there for a moment, his heart surging with protective instincts, before he turns and leaves the room.
He goes down to the bathing chambers, taking time to clean himself and freshen up, watching his reflection in the mirror. He stands before the mirror, running a sharp razor over his face, scraping away the night's stubble. He stares into his own cool blue eyes, his mind drifting back to Thekkur. Every day, every moment, he misses him sorely, but in the mirror, it's like he's staring at his brother's face all over again. The memory of that day, five years ago, never fails to resurface every time he looks in the mirror, sees his own face reflected back at him. The image of his brother staring up at him, the life seeping out of him as blood gushed from his wound, still haunts him like a nightmare. The sense of helplessness and despair he felt, as he tried futilely to save his brother's life, was like a deep, bottomless pit in his stomach, mirroring a fragment of what his brother must've felt, with that spear impaled clean through his, cutting through his body, shattering his spine...
He puts down the razor, wiping the remnants of foam from his face. He fastens his belt about his waist, feeling the cold, familiar weight of the scimitar against his hip. After one more glance in the mirror at his reflection, he turns and walks out of the room. Oleksandr makes his way down the hallway when suddenly a servant hurries up to him, slightly out of breath.
"Captain," she says urgently, "the king wants to speak with you." The woman's tone leaves no room for question, and Oleksandr nods, striding towards the throne room. Oleksandr follows the servant through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, his mind racing with questions. What could the king possibly want to discuss with him? Is it about the assassination attempt? He doesn't have to wonder long, as they soon arrive at the tall, grand doors of the throne room, guarded by two burly guards. He walks into the room, the guards nodding in greeting as they open the heavy doors for him. He strides towards the king, his back straight and his gaze steady. He stops before the throne, bowing respectfully, waiting for the king to speak. The king sits on his throne, eyeing Oleksandr with a look that could almost be described as calculating. But there is a hint of something else behind his steely gaze, something that looks an awful lot like satisfaction.
"Captain," he says, his deep voice filling the room. "I'm glad you could come on such short notice." Oleksandr nods, his face a stoic mask of politeness.
"Of course, your majesty," he replies, his voice showing none of the curiosity and worry churning in his stomach. "What can I do for you?"
The king leans back on his throne. "I think you know what this is about," he replies, his tone almost smug, yet still serious. "That assassin last night." Oleksandr does not reply, simply waiting for the king to continue. His face is a stoic mask of indifference, but his mind is racing, trying to anticipate what the king will say next. The king leans forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his throne.
"I want to discuss what can be done about it," he continues, his eyes flashing with unease. "I need you to increase security around Vidosavka. I don't want any more attempts on her life, is that clear?"
"Yes, your Majesty. I had a similar idea I was to discuss with my guards this morning."
"Good," he says, his eyes intense. "I want the princess guarded at all times. Day and night, never leaving her alone. As her personal guard, I expect you to personally ensure her safety." He holds Oleksandr's gaze with a challenging look, almost daring him to object.
"She will not be harmed, not while I draw breath, sir." The king nods, satisfied with the response.
"I'm glad to hear it. I trust you, Captain. You, I know, will do everything in your power to protect her. I have no doubt of that." He leans back on his throne, studying Oleksandr. "You see, Captain, my daughter is very, very important to me. It would destroy me if anything were to happen to her..." His eyes widen slightly with severity. “She is everything to me. Everything. If she were to leave me…” He trails off.
"I understand." Oleksandr says softly. The king nods again, satisfied with Oleksandr's response.
"I knew you would," he says, a hint of relief in his voice. "You're a good man, Captain. Loyal, strong, and most importantly, you're not afraid to get your hands dirty. I like that about you. How did you know that the blasted assassin was creeping to her window?" Oleksandr stiffens slightly, but he does not falter.
"I have a bit of a sixth sense when it comes to detecting danger," he replies simply. "It's a skill I've developed over the years. It's what makes me so effective at my job." The king chuckles, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and respect.
"A sixth sense, eh?" He says, leaning back on his throne. "You're an awfully young man to be so skilled in the art of warfare. Nevertheless, I am indebted to you for protecting Vidosavka last night. Had you not caught that man, well... I don't want to imagine what would've happened to her." Oleksandr nods, his gaze unwavering.
"There is no debt, your majesty," he says, his voice firm. "It is my duty, and I'll do everything in my power to ensure no harm comes to her. You have my word."
"What do you think about having a night to yourself with some courtesans as a little reward? I can provide you with your favorite food and wine." Oleksandr blinks, a little taken aback by the unexpected offer. Night to yourself with some courtesans. The thought of it gives him a small, secret thrill for a moment, but it quickly fades to a feeling of revulsion at the thought of spending the night with random women. What if Savka hears of this? It’s an unfamiliar, uncomfortable sensation. But he quickly recovers his stoic demeanor, schooling his face into an expression of polite rejection.
"That's… most generous of you, your majesty," he says carefully. "I am honored, but I... I would not want to neglect my duties."
"None of your duties will be neglected. I'm spending time with my daughter this evening, so I can watch over her." Oleksandr's mind races, torn between the thought of a night of leisure and the knowledge that he cannot refuse an order from the king. He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment, before finally, he nods.
"Very well then," he says, "If you are certain, your majesty. I suppose one night... wouldn't hurt…" The king gives a satisfied smile, his eyes gleaming.
"Excellent," he says, clapping his hands together. "I will arrange everything. The courtesans will be sent to you, along with food and wine. Enjoy yourself, Captain. You've earned it." Oleksandr bows in farewell, and leaves the throne room, his mind racing.
A night with some high-class prostitutes. Had this been any other time in his life, he might have eagerly accepted the offer. But now, it felt as if he were a man who had spent his whole existence in a pit of filth, only to discover the true richness of a blooming garden. I don't want them. I want her. As he walks down the castle corridor, towards the guard's barracks, he tries to push the thought out of his mind, but he can't help but feel a flicker of sadness.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He runs his guards through their daily training, and then takes a moment to discuss new precautions to be taken, especially concerning the princess. As Oleksandr runs his guards through their training, he makes sure to reiterate the importance of their new orders: the princess's safety is their top priority now, and they must be vigilant at all times. He reminds them to keep a close eye on the halls leading to her chambers, and to report anything out of the ordinary immediately. He also sets up a new station, for a guard to always be present in the field under her window.
After he finishes with the guards, he goes to pick up the princess for the start of her day. As he stands outside the royal halls, he hears the soft, unmistakable sound of the princess's anklets and jewelry as she approaches, like a bell announcing her arrival. He can't help but straighten up a little, his heartbeat quickening in his chest. This is the moment he's been waiting for all morning. He opens the door for her, letting her out. She says nothing as she looks up at him, her face emotional. He’s taken by complete shock as the princess suddenly hugs him, burying her face in his chest, her small frame trembling. He stands there for a few moments, stunned, his mind going blank as he feels the warmth of her body against his. Finally, he recovers his senses, gently placing his hands on her waist to hold her against him.
"Thank you," she whispers. Oleksandr's heart thumps in his chest as he hears her words. He swallows, his voice gruff as he responds, his arms still holding her against him.
"I'll always protect you," he says quietly. "As long as I hold blood in my veins, no harm will come to you." As the princess pulls away, Oleksandr's arms feel strangely empty. He looks down at her, his heart still racing, and can't help but admire her delicate features, her wide, innocent eyes. There's a soft, almost wistful expression in them, and he feels that strange tugging in his chest again.
"It's my duty," he continues quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "You need not thank me for that." Oleksandr watches as she lowers her veil, hiding her face from his view. Just a moment ago, she was so close to him, he could see every flutter of her eyelashes, every hint of emotion in her eyes. He clenches his jaw, that strange tugging feeling in his chest suddenly more intense. He has to resist the urge to reach out and pull the veil back, to see her face again. He follows her silently to the dining hall, his gaze fixated on her every step. Despite the veil covering her face, he can't help but admire the way the navy blue dress fits her curves, the way it hugs her waist and emphasizes her small frame. He watches the loose strands of her hair flowing behind her, almost mesmerizing, like a black waterfall cascading down to her knees. As they walk, he has to hold back from reaching out and touching a strand of her hair, just to feel its softness between his fingers...
He holds the door open for her, letting her in, and he does the usual. He pours her some tea, placing the delicate porcelain cup before her, followed by the rest of her breakfast, an egg with some fruit followed by some steak with a pint of milk for himself. Then, he settles himself across from her. As he begins to eat, he can't help but notice the princess's small, slender hands gently holding the utensils. He watches involuntarily, the sight of her delicate fingers wrapped around the spoon almost endearing. Oleksandr tries to focus on his meal, but he can't help stealing glances at the princess as she eats. The way she pauses to drink her tea, the gentle flick of her wrist as she places the cup back down, the small crinkle of her brow as she concentrates on cutting a piece of fruit... it all enchants him.
He notices her glancing at his hands as he grips his steak, and he has to resist the urge to flex them, to show off their strength, to see if it gets a reaction out of her… He’s never felt such a desire to impress someone before, let alone a woman. He leans back in his chair, watching her. He watches as she turns to look across the room, her attention grabbed by something, but he doesn’t care what. He stares at her neck, her soft, supple, milk-white skin on her slender neck... her smooth, dainty little collar bones... He tears a large bite out of his steak. She looks back at him, not noticing the inner thoughts in his ever-blank face. She smiles softly, and sips her tea.
"Enjoying your steak, are you?" Oleksandr quickly composes himself as she turns her attention back to him, hiding his thoughts from her as he always does. He nods, his voice gruff.
"Yes, the steak is excellent." He takes another large bite, trying to focus on the food in front of him instead of her. But still his mind wanders, imagining her neck again, her soft, sweet smell, her small hands... What it would be like to tear open the neckline of her shirt, and taste the flesh of her bosom.
“Is the steak ever not excellent? You have it every day. It’s cute.” She giggles, her tone lightly teasing. His mind goes blank for a moment. Cute? Did she just call me cute? He’s never been referred to as ‘cute’ before in his whole life. He can’t help but slightly blush, trying to muster a nonchalant response, before she speaks again.
"I always found it kind of charming how you refuse to use a fork or a knife. My father and handmaidens hate it though." She giggles, a hint of humor in her voice.
"I'm more used to using my hands," he says bluntly, with a hint of a bashful smirk. He flexes his hands for emphasis, strong and calloused, and grabs another bite of steak.
"So, what are you doing tonight..?" She asks coyly, popping a grape in her mouth. Her question catches him off guard, and he hesitates for a moment, wondering what she is getting at. He shrugs, trying to come across cool, like he wasn't caught completely by surprise.
"Tonight? The usual, I guess. Training the guards, checking on patrol..." He pauses, then asks casually, "why?"
"I was going to sneak off to that place in the woods I told you about, after I was done spending time with my father…"
He raises an eyebrow, "the place where you like to go in secret?" A flicker of guilt passed through his mind, memories of the courtesans being brought to his attention. He had forgotten about that arrangement.
"You want me to go with you?" He asks, his voice hushed but betraying a slight hint of anticipation. The princess nods, her eyes downcast, and he sees a small, almost shy smile pulling at the corners of her lips. He can't help but feel a little thrill at the thought of being alone with her, in a place she clearly holds dear. He swallows, tries to keep his voice casual. "What time?" She peeks up at him through her lashes, her voice still soft, but laced with some excitement.
"After dinner, when father is distracted with the council and the court. We can sneak out through a passage in the servants quarters, down by the river."
He nods, the corner of his lip curving into a slight smirk. "I’ll be there."
As the day continues, Oleksandr follows the Princess dutifully, keeping his usual distance as required as her guard. But now, his mind is constantly distracted, his thoughts filled with the upcoming night, the secret meeting in the woods. He finds himself stealing glances at her more often, each glance making his heart skip a beat, his desire to be closer to her almost impossible to resist. That night, he stands silently in the corner, his stern, emotionless façade in place. He watches as the princess eats her dinner with her father and the other nobles, his gaze never leaving her petite form as she daintily eats her meal. He clenches his jaw, trying to focus on his duties, but his mind keeps wandering, going over scenarios of what might happen that night, being alone with the princess in the secret spot… He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He was supposed to be watching for threats, not fantasizing about the girl.
I thought this job would be easy, he thinks to himself. I'd just have to manage the castle guard, and follow this girl around from a distance all day. But it's proving difficult to do just that. He never anticipated being in a position where he'd be made to stare at the most beautiful woman in Europe all day, every day, and was expected to not grow fond of her. When he had sworn an oath to the king to protect his daughter, he never expected it to lead him to this. He had never anticipated being so captivated by a woman, let alone a princess. But here he was, trying in vain to keep his feelings in check every day. It was a maddening task, but somehow he was managing it... Even if it was taking almost all his willpower.
He watches as she finishes her evening meal, her plate picked clean. Her father gives her a tender look, before excusing her. Savka nods and bows her head, and then makes her way towards the exit of the hall. Oleksandr straightens up, watching diligently to ensure nobody follows as she exits the room. The princess walks calmly, her steps light and gracious, the epitome of regality and grace. Oleksandr follows at a respectable distance, his own steps heavy and deliberate in contrast. He keeps his gaze fixed on her, the sight of her slender figure striding down corridors making his heart beat faster. As they reach the servants quarters, he looks around quickly to ensure no one is watching, before entering behind her. They both step out of the door, emerging into the cool night air.